“He couldn’t move the statue,” said another passenger, a merchant. “The agreement said where the feet had to be.”
“Right,” said the captain. “But he could move the statue’s hand.”
Umri frowned. “But wouldn’t that just move his whole territory over to wherever the king was crowned?”
“The five hundred miles was centered on where the king and the statue were standing,” said the merchant. “And if the statue had to stand in Gnarr…”
“The center of the five hundred miles would be a line, instead of a single point,” said the captain. “That territory wouldn’t be a circle anymore, it would be…” he made a pulling motion with his two hands. “Stretched out.”
“Ah,” said Umri, understanding.
“So the prince of Gnarr,” the captain continued, “broke the hand off the statue—only one was outstretched, you see, the other one held a spear—and boarded a boat, saying he was visiting the Gerentarch of Kalub. He brought chests and chests of gold and jewels with him, for gifts and also for himself, for money or whatever else princes keep gold and jewels around them for.
“Now, the Nalendar was one of the gods concerned in the agreement, and you can imagine her anger when she discovered what was on that boat”
“It sank!” Umri guessed.
“It sank.”
“I’ve always wondered where,” said the merchant. “Will we pass over it?”
“Doubtless,” said the captain, with a laugh. “Though I don’t know where it is exactly. It was some seven hundred years ago, after all.”
“Somewhere between here and Gnarr,” said the merchant.
“The man who found it would be rich,” said the merchant’s wife.
The captain took another swallow of wine. “I don’t imagine the Nalendar would allow it to be found. Not that hand, in any event.”
“Surely there aren’t any princes of Gnarr left to hold it and swear the oath,” said Umri.
“Oh, there’s always some lunatic claiming he is,” said the captain.
The skink had been silent and motionless from the moment the captain had begun the story of the lost treasure, and all during Umri’s walk to her tiny cabin. It did not move when she took off her headscarf, or lay down on the narrow bunk and pulled the blanket up over herself.
“Why did you do it?” she asked after a few moments of silence.“Why did you think the river would let you?” For nearly a minute she thought it wasn’t going to answer. There was no sound but the river, and the thunking and low voices of passengers on the other side of the wall.
“Why shouldn’t she have let me do it?” the skink said finally. “I was stronger than any of my neighbors, only the agreement was holding me back. Had I succeeded, I’d have shared my power with her. Why would she turn it down?”
“I suppose the river isn’t that kind of god.”
“Every god is that kind of god,” said the skink.
She decided it was best not to pursue that. “How are you going to get the hand out of the river?” It said nothing. “How are you going to find a prince?” Still no answer. She wondered what it must be like, to have been such a powerful god, ruler of a kingdom, and now tiny and powerless, without any worshippers. “I suppose if you find one, and he sacrifices to you, you can eventually make him king of Gnarr, and keep the agreements you haven’t been able to keep.”
“That’s the worst,” the skink said in its tiny, high voice. “To have made the promise—You’ll be king!—and not be able to keep it, not in any way. The people calling on me to keep my agreements, my contract with them, and not to be able to, each time a fresh injury, my power bleeding away. A god can’t lie, not and escape the price. But I meant to keep my word!”
“You meant to cheat your neighbors,” said Umri, but quietly, the walls of the cabins were thin. “And now I know I can’t trust you.”
“You knew it before,” squeaked the skink. “But I never meant to cheat you. I’ve done what I said, and you’ve done what you’ve said. And the treasure is real.”
“Real? Not just the hand? Gold and silver and jewels?”
“Chests and chests of it, just like the captain said.”
“And how are you going to get it out of the river?”
“It’s not in the river. Not anymore.” The skink’s voice took on a fresh enthusiasm.“The river changed course, and left a lake behind, and the boat is there.”
“And the river has left it completely unguarded.”
“Some things we can only concern ourselves with when we get there. The gold and silver is no good to me, but I imagine it interests you.”
“I don’t care about money.”
“You lie! You paid your fare on this boat without so much as a wince. You’ve been pouring tea and hiding your money away, probably investing it, too, and I think it’s why you left the Silver Isles to begin with. You didn’t want to spend your life with nothing to your name but a loincloth and a knife, watching someone else grow rich off the fish you harvested for him. Am I right?” Those shellfish were packed in ice and shipped up the Nalendar. They served them at the bathhouse in Kalub, and Umri had gasped at the price. “Chests and chests of gold,” said the skink. “You’d never have to work again unless you wanted to. You could travel anywhere in the world.”
“Are you making a promise?” asked Umri, half afraid of the answer.
“I don’t make promises,” said the skink. “Not anymore.”
The captain brought the Reasonable Expectations to the shore, at a place the skink had indicated to Umri. “You’re well south of where you said you wanted to go.”
“Yes. I’ve changed my mind.”
“Well, it’s your right to do so, no question. I’ll be coming back downstream in a couple of weeks, signal me if you need a ride.” He hesitated a moment. “I won’t say I’m not worried. There’s nothing around here for miles.”
“I’ll be fine, Captain, thank you.” She leapt onto the grass and turned to wave as the crewmen pulled back the gangplank and began pushing the boat back out into the channel.
“Make sure they go,” said the skink.
“You’re suspicious. Which way?”
“Directly west. About a mile and a half.” The skink scurried down her neck and arm to her outstretched hand and made a quick circle, stopping suddenly and pointing with its nose. “That way.”
It was cool and shaded under the trees, and quiet except for an occasional birdsong and the shushing of wind in the leaves. Both Umri and the skink were silent for some time, until she stopped and set down her bag. “What?” asked the skink, behind her ear again.
“I’m cold.” She shivered, and brushed gnats away from her arms.
“If I had enough sacrifices,” began the skink.
She untied her bag and pulled out a shawl. “Considering the shape you’re in that would be a lot of sacrifices. And I’m not much of a hunter.”
“There will be fish in the lake.”
“And the Nalendar won’t be offended?” Umri settled the shawl around her shoulders and retied the bag.
“It’s not the Nalendar anymore!” The skink was indignant.
“But it might have its own god by now.”
“True,” said the skink. “Perhaps you should pray to me as we go. It will be better than nothing.”
“I can pray as hard as I like and it won’t…” From up ahead, faintly, had come the sound of horses.
“Damn!” piped the skink.
Umri waited, but it said nothing further. “I got off a perfectly nice boat in the middle of nowhere…”
“Hush, woman!” the skink squeaked. “Perhaps it’s only travelers passing through. Wait here and I’ll go ahead and see.” It skittered down her arm and jumped off and was lost under dead leaves.