“Why, of course, my Lady. He turns away none who come to him, and it would honor me to instruct one as wise and lovely as you. This gives a purpose to the empty hours of our voyage,” said Durwin, pleased to have a pupil and an excuse to discourse on his favorite subject.

As these last words were spoken the rowboat bumped against the side of Captain Pyggin’s ship.

“Passengers!” cried Trenn, grasping for the rope that dangled from the taffrail. A squinting face appeared over the rail; the man regarded them closely and disappeared again. A rope ladder then dropped over the side of the ship which was quickly secured by the rowers. Trenn clambered up the ladder and reached a hand down to the others. When they had all assembled on the deck Pyggin came wheezing up.

“Everyone aboard? Yes, well… excuse me, I did not know we would have the pleasure of a lady on our journey. I am honored.”

“This way,” the captain said, bustling them off. “I will show you to your quarters.” As Pyggin herded his passengers before him he gave the signal for the crew to cast off. Neither Theido nor Trenn saw the signal, nor did they see several crew members skulking along behind them toting belaying pins in their thick fists.

“The Gray Gull is a small ship, but a tight one. I think you’ll find your accommodations adequate.” Pyggin indicated a narrow door leading to stairs descending to the ship’s hold.

“Are there no other passengers?” wondered Theido.

“No, we seldom take passengers-but we have made an exception for you, my lords.” So saying he opened the door and ushered them down the stairs.

No sooner had Theido, being the last of the party to enter the hold, reached the bottom step than did Pyggin throw the door shut crying, “Enjoy your voyage, my lords!” And before Theido could hurl himself up the stairs against the door, the sounds of heavy bolts being thrown and locks clicking shut let them know they were now prisoners.

Theido beat on the door with his fists. “Open this door, you scoundrel! In the name of the King! Open, I say!”

The sound of derisive laughter came through the fast bolted door, and the prisoners heard footsteps departing on the deck and they were left alone.

“Well, we are in it now,” said Theido. “It is my fault-I should have listened to the counsel of our good warder, Trenn.”

“If my wits had been sharper my warning might have had some teeth in its mouth,” said Trenn. “But let us consider what is best to do.”

Just then a low moaning, barely audible, drifted to them from behind a wall of stacked barrels. “A monster lurks among us!” said Trenn in a strained whisper.

“Listen…” said Theido.

The sound came again, starting low and growing louder, then trailing off at the end like a wounded animal exhausting the last of its strength.

“It is no monster,” said Alinea. “It is a man, and he is hurt.”

Feeling her way in the dark hold, lit only by a few lattice-covered hatches cut in the center of the deck overhead, Alinea moved slowly around the musty kegs, followed closely by the others. There in the dim gray light she saw the form of a man stretched out upon a pile of dirty rags and ropes. His head was bandaged and, upon perceiving his fellow prisoners, the man slumped back on his filthy bed in a swoon.

Something about the unconscious form struck the Queen. “I know this man,” said Alinea, bending close to him. She took the bandaged head in her hands and peered intently into the insensible face.

Her eyes grew wide in recognition. “Can it be?”

“Who is it, my Lady?” asked Trenn. “Do you recognize him?”

“Look,” she said, pulling Trenn down beside her. The ship, already under way, dipped and turned, and for a moment the feeble light from an overhead hatch fell full upon the man’s face.

“It is Ronsard!” said Queen Alinea, cradling the great knight’s head lovingly in her arms.

“It is Ronsard!” shouted Trenn. “By the gods! It is!”

TWENTY-FOUR

“YOU STAND there blinking, young sir,” replied Yeseph kindly. “Is there something your heart would say, but your tongue cannot?”

Quentin, suspended by the feeling that he had once stood in the very spot, talking to this venerable little man, could only stare in wonder.

But the feeling passed like a cloud sweeping before the sun, and Quentin came to himself again.

“I had the feeling that I have been here before, and that I have seen you before, too,” he said, shaking his head slightly.

The Curatak elder smiled knowingly and nodded. “Perhaps you have-all the more reason I should treat my guest with honor.” He turned and led the way between the towering shelves. “These are my life,” Yeseph said, indicating row upon row of books with his raised palm. He went on to describe the work going on in the enormous library.

Quentin followed in rapt attention, fascinated by all he saw, and haunted by the lingering feeling that he belonged here, that somehow he had come home.

Presently their tour led them to a row of copy desks where Curatak scholars were hard at work over manuscripts, making notes and translating. Yeseph made his way along the desks, stopping at each one to offer some word of encouragement or answer a question. Then he reached a door which stood ajar, and Quentin entered Yeseph’s own work room.

The small room was sparely furnished with a desk, piled high with scrolls, and a table straining under the weight of still more books. Generous light poured into the room from a round skylight overhead.

Two fragile-looking chairs faced each other, and Yeseph took one and waved Quentin to the other, after closing the door for privacy.

“Now then, Mollena tells me you have questions which only I can answer. I will try,” he nodded, smiling encouragingly.

For a moment Quentin had quite forgotten his questions, but upon recollection they came back to him, if somewhat reduced in importance by the things he had seen around him. Quentin explained to Yeseph, who listened patiently, about the disagreement between Theido and Durwin, and Theido’s reluctance to come to Dekra. He ended by saying, “… though I can see no reason for fear-surely there is only good here.” He paused and added, “Unless the danger lay not in the destination, but in the reason for coming.”

Yeseph smiled. “Your mind is quick! Yes, I could not have put it better myself.”

“There is no danger here. The stories,” he dismissed them with a mocking frown and a wave of his hand, “bah! Superstitious prattle-made up to scare the children. Though I admit we do not discourage them. Our work is very important; it is best that the world stays far away and troubles us only rarely.”

“But that is not why Theido did not want to come, or rather, did not wish Durwin to come.” He stood and began walking around the cell, hands clasped behind his back in the manner of a teacher instructing his pupil.

“Dekra is a place of power, one of the last remaining on the earth. Durwin knows this, as does Theido.” He laughed, “You little know your hermit friend-a man of amazing talents. He came to us as High Priest of the temple of Ariel. On a pilgrimage, he was, seeking to further his quest for knowledge. He believed at that time that knowledge alone could transform a man, make him immortal, exalt him to the status of the gods.”

“Here he found how far wrong he was-it would have crushed a lesser man. But not him. He grew from strength to strength, discarding all his previous beliefs as fast as he could embrace his new ones. In three years’ time he learned all that we had to teach. He went back to the temple and renounced his position and his faith. They nearly killed him-would have, but for the scandal.”

Yeseph stopped walking and placed his hands on the back of his chair and looked at Quentin. “Durwin returned to us then, but only for a short time, though we begged him to stay and join us in our work. But he had greater things to do-the god revealed that to him.”