It wasn’t the first time I had cut myself. In my own coastal waters coral is omnipresent, and sometimes the damned stuff almost seems to reach out for you. I knew what to do and I did it, moving by pure instinct-a sharp kick that brought me straight up to the surface. I spit out my mouthpiece and headed for shore with my fastest crawl, and I didn’t worry about being seen. I had to get out of the water before the blood attracted some predator. I hadn’t gone ten yards before I knew there was a more pressing danger. Already I felt myself weakening. The cut must have been deeper than I realized. I was losing blood too fast, and shock was having its effect. The water no longer felt warm.
I was still some distance out when I knew I wasn’t going to make it.
Everything had slowed down, like a broken movie film. One picture after another flashed through my mind. Not my whole life, in chronological order, just disconnected pictures. The piece of metal, coiled like a spring, that had flashed out and slashed my arm. The empty rock where Frederick should have been. Jim’s smiling face, under that absurd cap with its topknot of plastic flowers. The side of the amphora and the painted octopus, like the spreading shape of blood in the water.
Then another face, thin and lined, with brown eyes and black hair streaked with white. The face of a man I had never seen before. I recognized him, though. His face and hair were streaming with water, so he had to be Poseidon, come to finish me off. I had invaded his domain and threatened his sovereignty, and now, because I was taking too long to die, he had come to finish the job. A long, sinewy arm reached for my throat. I made a last convulsive effort, trying to avoid that grip, and water closed over my head and invaded my lungs.
Chapter 10
I
WHEN I WOKE UP I THOUGHT AT FIRST I WAS STILL UNDERWATER. Space swam in a clear, cool, green light. Then I saw that there were sea-green curtains at the windows. The shades were drawn against the sunlight. I was lying in a bed; the softness, the smoothness of the sheets added to the illusion. I hadn’t slept in a decent bed for weeks.
I felt pretty good, except for the ache in my arm. I turned my head. My right arm was bandaged from wrist to elbow. I remembered quite clearly what had happened; I could even reinterpret the facts that had been clouded, toward the end, by my growing weakness.
The rustle of linen as I turned my head caught the attention of the woman standing by the window. She came toward me. I had already recognized her; the shape was unmistakable. She was wearing a long embroidered robe, slit at the sides.
“Madame,” I said, with difficulty. My tongue felt as drugged and lazy as the rest of my body.
“But surely you must call me Kore.” Smiling, she sat down on the edge of the bed. “You are better; that is good. Jürgen has said you would take no harm. He is an amateur doctor. More amateur than doctor, I tell him.”
Her smile was no longer aimed at me. I rolled my eyes toward the other side of the bed.
I had a moment of panic, then; between the two of them I felt imprisoned. But the face of the man who stood looking down at me, though severe and unsmiling, was not frightening. It was, of course, familiar.
“You brought me in,” I said. “Thank you…”
“Should I allow you to drown?” He didn’t exactly smile, but the corners of his long, rigid lips relaxed a trifle. At one time he must have been a strikingly handsome man, if you like the military type. He was still lean and broad-shouldered; the streaks of white in his hair only made him appear more interesting. Yet the face was forbidding. His dark eyes fled from mine. He looked at my hands, at the wall, anywhere except directly at me.
“I was trespassing,” I said weakly. “My fault…”
“Don’t talk. You are still weak, you have lost much blood. There is no way of giving a transfusion here, but I think there is no need to carry you to a hospital. You are young and strong. Rest is all you require.”
“But…”
“What worries you?”
He took my wrist. His touch was professionally cool; the long fingers, resting lightly on the beating pulse, barely touched me.
“My…employer. He will worry about me.”
“Minos,” said Kore. She emitted a tinkle of laughter. “I will inform him. And the other, the young hero, him too I will see. I think he will be the one to worry. Do not fret, child, all will be in order.”
My eyelids were so heavy; I had to close them, but I didn’t sleep for a while.
So this man was the mysterious occupant of the villa-the Colonel. Kore had called him Jürgen. A good German name, that one. He was rather intimidating, but his withdrawn manner seemed to be caused by reserve rather than ill will. Certainly I couldn’t complain. He had undoubtedly saved my life.
He must have had some trouble doing it, too. I had a vague recollection of hitting out, the way I had been trained never, ever, to do when someone was trying to rescue you. I wondered what had brought him to the shore in time to see my floundering progress. Had he been on his way down the cliff?
Or had he known that an accident might happen?
I had to dismiss that idea. I couldn’t be sure that the coiled metal spring had been planted. It was an extremely inefficient method of attack; I might have been quick enough to avoid the cutting edge or received a glancing blow. It seemed much more likely that the accident had been just that. Certainly no villain would rush out to rescue his intended victim. If there was a villain, it couldn’t be the Colonel.
Sleep began to overcome me. My last waking thought could not have invaded a wholly conscious mind; I would have fought to keep it from surfacing.
If someone wanted to stop my diving, a minor accident would do the job. It was just bad luck that the cut had been so deep and that Frederick had chosen that time to absent himself. And Jim had said, only a few days ago, that he would do whatever he had to do to stop me.
When I awoke the second time it was evening. Lamplight cast a yellow glow, and the windows were dark squares behind the draperies. As soon as I stirred, Kore came into view.
“Ah, you are awake. And hungry, perhaps?”
I was ravenous, and I said as much. Kore beamed.
“Good, that is good.” She clapped her hands.
The woman who entered, carrying a tray, wore a neat maid’s uniform. She was middle-aged, with iron-gray hair. Her nationality was questionable, but I thought she was Greek. Obeying Kore’s imperious gesture she placed the tray on a small table, moved it close to the bed, and left.
Kore pulled up a chair. She had changed clothes again. This outfit was the most gorgeous I had seen yet, a kind of caftan of gold brocade that twinkled with rainbow-colored jewels.
“Now I feed you,” she said, smiling. “I am a good nurse, I tell you. I do it neatly.”
“I think I can feed myself,” I said. “In fact, there’s no reason why I should stay in bed.”
“No, no, you must rest. But you may sit up, if it does not make you faint.”
She hadn’t been kidding about her talents as a nurse. Deftly she arranged the pillows behind me and helped me raise myself up. Then she spread a linen towel across my lap and lifted the tray into position.
I don’t remember what the food was, except that there was some kind of soup, thick with barley and lentils, the inevitable fish-and wine. It tasted good, but I had to eat left-handed, which was awkward.
“He has taken twelve stitches,” said Kore, patting my bandaged arm. “Twelve! It is terrible! No wonder it is hurting. How could you be so clumsy? Always you seem like a…what is the word? A mermaiden, yes; at home in the world of water.”
“Things happen,” I said vaguely, and put down my fork. The effort had tired me more than I would have believed possible. Kore whisked the tray away and then settled down in a chair by the bed.
“Did you see Frederick?” I asked.