I came to a halt, slithering on the lumpy sods, and leaned forward to catch my breath. I hung my head, nesting with my hands on my knees.
When I looked up again I could see Seri's ghostly figure at the bottom of the dip, by what appeared to be a hedge. Behind her, on the gently rising slope of a hill, was the lighted window of a house. Trees stood darkly blurred on the close horizon.
She did not wait: I saw her white movement, sideways along the hedge.
I sucked a deep breath. "Seri! I've got to rest!"
It made her pause momentarily, but if she called an answer I did not hear it. It was difficult to see: paleness moved like a moth against a curtain, then it was gone.
I looked back. The main road was lights sweeping behind trees, and the distant sounds of wheels and engines. To think made m head hurt. I was in a foreign country, needing translations, but my interpreter had left me. I waited until my breath steadied, then walked on slowly, raising and lowering my feet with the deliberation of a shackled man. The mud made deadweights of my legs, and every time I managed to scrape some of it away more clung on.
Somewhere invisible to me, Seri must he watching my ponderous, arm-swinging progress through the clay.
At last I reached the hedge and wiped my feet in the long grass that grew there. I moved on in the direction taken by Seri, and peered towards where I had seen the house with the lighted window, seeking a reference. I must have been mistaken, though, because I could now see no sign of it. A wind, mild and steady, came from beyond the hedge, laden with a familiar tang.
A gate was let into the hedge and I went through. Beyond, the ground continued to drop away in a barely perceptible gradi ent. I took a few steps in the dark, feeling for the unwelcome cling of waterlogged soil, but here the grass was short and dry.
Ahead was a horizon: distant and fiat, flickering with a few tiny lights almost invisible in their remoteness. The sky had cleared, and overhead was a display of stars of such brilliance and clarity as I had rarely seen. I marvelled up at them for a while. then returned to the more earthly business of cleaning the remainder of the mud from my shoes. I found a short branch on the ground and sat down to poke and scrape at the gluey muck. When I had finished I leaned back on my hands to stare down the slope at the sea.
My eyes were adjusting to the starlight, and I made out the low black forms of islands; the lights I had seen were from a town on an island straight ahead. To my right was a shoulder of land, which ran out to sea with an aged, rounded resilience, forming the high end of a small bay. The land to my left was flatter, but I could see rocks and a sand-bar, and beyond these the coastline curved back and out of sight.
I walked on and soon came to the beach, clambering down a small cliff of soil and flints, then running out across dried seaweed and powdery sand that seemed to crush beneath my feet. I ran as far as the water's edge, then stood still in the darkness and listened to the special sound of the sea. I felt utterly reassured and complete, able to face anything, free of worry, cured by the essences of the ocean. The faint pungency of salt, warm sand and drying seaweed held powerful associations with childhood: holidays, parents, minor accidents, and that sense of excitement and adventure which, for me, had always overcome the envies and power struggles between Kalia and myself.
My clothes had dried in the warm air, and I felt invigorated and fit.
Seri had vanished, but I knew she would reappear when she was ready. I walked the length of the beach twice, then decided to find somewhere to sleep. I found a place in the dry sand that was sheltered by rocks, and here I scooped out a shallow bowl. It was warm enough to sleep uncovered, so I simply lay on my back, cupped my hands behind my head and stared up at the dazzling stars.
It was not long before I fell asleep.
I awoke to the sound of the sea, and to brilliant sunlight, and to the crying of gulls. I was instantly alert, as if the transition from sleep to waking was as easy as turning on a light; for months I had been used to a slow, sleepy recovery, dogged by mental and physical clumsiness.
I sat up, regarded the glistening silver sea and the sweep of bone-white sand, and felt the sun warm on my face. To the side, the headland was yellow with flowers and beyond it was a clean blue sky. Lying on the sand beside me, an arm's length away, was a small pile of clothes. There was a pair of sandals, a denim skirt, a white shirt; resting on the top, in a shallow recess made by a hand, was a small silvery cluster of rings and bracelets.
A small head, black against the light, was bobbing and ducking in the swell. I stood up, narrowing my eyes against the glare, and waved. She must have seen me, because as soon as I was standing she waved back and began to wade out towards me. She came with sand-crusted feet and matted hair, and beads of cold water were dripping from her. She kissed me and undressed me, and we made love. Afterwards, we went for a swim.
By the time we had walked along the coast to the nearest village, the sun was high and the unmade track beside the shone was burning beneath our feet. We ate a meal at an open-air restaurant, while the air was drowsy with insects and distant motorcycles. We were in the village of Paio on the island of Paneron, but it was too hot for Seri and she wanted to move on. There was no harbour in Paiö; just a shallow river running down to meet the sea, and a few small boats tied to rocks. The bus would arrive in the aftennoon, but we could rent bicycles. Paneron Town was a three-hour ride away, on the other side of the central range.
Paneron was the first of several islands we visited. It became a compulsive journey, travelling, travelling. I wanted to slow down, to relish each place as we found it, to discover Seri. But she was discovering herself in a way I barely understood. To her, each island represented a different facet of her personality, each one vested in her a sense of identity. She was incomplete without islands, she was spread across the sea.
"Why don't we stay here?" I said, in the harbour of an island with the odd name of Smuj. We were waiting for the ferry to take us on to yet another island. I was intrigued by Smuj: in the town I had found a map of the interior, where an ancient city lay. But Seri needed to change islands.
"I want to go to Winho," she said.
"Let's stay one more night."
She seized my arm and there was the force of determination in her eyes.
"We must go somewhere else."
It was the eighth day, and already I could hardly distinguish the islands we had visited. "I'm tired of moving on. Let's not travel for a while."
"But we hardly know each other. Each island reflects us."
"I can't tell the diffenence."
"Because you don't know how to see. You have to surrender to the islands, become enraptured by them."
"We don't get a chance. As soon as we land in one place we set off for another."
Seri gestuned impatiently. The boat was approaching the quay, the hot smell of diesel fumes drifting around it.
"I told you," she said. "In the islands you can live forever. But you won't know how until you find the right place."
"At the moment I wouldn't know the right place if we found it."
We sailed to Winho, and from there to more islands. A few days later we were on Semell, and I noticed that from there ships sailed regularly to Jethra. I was frustrated with the journey, and disappointed with what I had learned about Seri. She transmitted her restlessness to me, and I began to think of Gracia and to wonder how she was. I had been away too long, and should not have abandoned her. Guilt grew in me.
I told Seri my feelings. "If I go back to Jethra, will you come with me?"
"Don't leave me."
"I want you to come with me."
"I'm scared you'll go back to Gracia and forget about me. There are more islands to visit."
"What happens when we reach the last one?" I said.
"There is no last one. They go on forever."