"Scattered were the Sons of Cimmer, wider with each wind. We pastured our ponies in their palaces and tented in their temples, princes of their plains.

"Long ago, low we laid them. Careful chroniclers count the kings since we came to the country of the Sons of Cimmer, but count them I cannot." He sighed, his recitation ended.

I felt I knew why he had given it, and I asked, "But what of the Neuri, Oior?"

"How can a simple bowman speak of the sorcerers? They live in their ancient land, east of the Island Sea. But they live among us too, and no one can say who they are. They have our speech and our clothing. As well as we they draw the bow, and with a touch, tame horses. No one knows them, unless he sees the sign."

"And you have seen it," I prompted him.

He bowed his head in acknowledgment. "Apia burned her brand on the Neuri, price of the boy's blood. Once in each year, and sometimes more than once, each changes. 'Sorcerer' is your word, Latro. Neurian, say the Sons of Scoloti. Apia is earth, Artimpasa the moon."

"I understand," I said. "How does a Neurian change?"

"His eyes dim. His ears sharpen. Swift then are his feet across the plain-"

A dog howled in the distance. Oior gripped me by the arm. "Listen!"

"It's a dog," I said, "singing to the moon. Nothing more. There's a town-Teuthrone, the kybernetes called it-not far from here. Where there's a town, there are always dogs."

"When the Neuri change, they drink the blood of men and eat their flesh, pawing the dead to wake them."

"And you believe there is one here?"

Oior nodded. "On our ship. You have seen our ship. Have you stood in the lowest place, where the water laps the wooden walls?"

I shook my head.

"There is sand there, and water and wine, bread, dried meat, and other good things. Often I watch the man, the woman, and the child. You understand?"

I nodded again.

"Once they thirsted, and when the rest had eaten, no one had fed them. The man spoke to Hypereides. Hypereides is a kindly man, for he has not even put out their eyes. He told me to go to the lowest place and bring water, wine, bread, olives, and cheese. I got them, and I thought it might be I would never go there again, and it might be good to see all that was there. I was where the oarmen stand, and do not sit."

"In the stern?" I asked. "Where the steersmen are?"

"Beneath them. A step I took with back bent. Then two, then three. It was very dark. The food is where the oarmen stand because the evil water runs away when the ship is pulled onto the shore. If I had turned and gone back then, I would not have known. I took one step more, and eyes opened, far before mine. Not a man's eyes."

"So you believe one of the other bowmen is a Neurian?"

"I have seen such eyes before," Oior said, "when my sister died. Eyes that were like two white stones, cold and bright. But now when I look into the eyes of the others, I cannot see the stones. I heard the man and the woman, and even the child, when they talked. You are blessed by your gods and see unseen things. You must look into the eyes of all three."

"I am cursed by our gods," I told him, "like your Neuri. And Hypereides will not believe us."

"Behold," Oior said, and drew the dagger from his belt. "Apia's prayer is scribed along the blade. It will send him to his grave, and I will heap stones upon it. Then he cannot return unless the stones are taken away. Will you look?"

I said, "Suppose I look and see nothing? Will you believe me?"

"You will not see nothing." Oior pointed to the crescent moon. "There is Artimpasa. You will see her in his eyes, or Apia's black wolf. Then you will know."

"But if I do not see," I insisted, "will you believe me?"

Oior nodded. "You are my friend. I will believe."

"Then I will look."

"Good!" He rose smiling. "Come with me. I will take you to the other bowmen. I will say, 'Here is Latro, friend to the Sons of Scoloti, friend to Oior, enemy to all that is evil.' I will speak the names, and you will take each by the hand and look into his eyes."

"I understand."

"The rest will be listening to the man in chains, but the bowmen do not listen, because this talk is like the cackling of geese to us. Come, it is not far, and I know the path."

It was not easy to see the way in the moonlight, for there was in fact no path, though Oior moved as readily as if there were. He was five strides or more ahead of me when an arm circled my throat.

CHAPTER XI-In the Grip of the Neurian

I fell backward, half-strangled. For an instant there was a long knife, its point at my chest; perhaps its owner hesitated for fear his blade would pierce his own heart.

Steel flashed and he cried out, his lips near my ear. Oior was rushing back toward us. I was flung to one side. As I drew breath, I heard bone snap-a horrible sound, but a joyful one because the bone was not mine.

When I got to my feet, Oior was wiping his dagger on the hair at his belt, and the bowman who had watched the prisoners lay dead, his head twisted to one side.

"Thank you," I gasped. "Thank you, Oior."

If he heard me, he gave no sign; his dagger cleaned to his satisfaction, he plunged it back into its sheath.

Louder I said, "Thank you, Oior. We were friends already; now we are friends forever."

He shrugged. "A lucky throw. If not… Indeed, the goddess was in it."

"I have no money, except for what you gave me. But I will tell Hypereides. He will reward you, I'm sure."

Oior shook his head. "As you are my friend, Latro, do not tell. To the men of this land, the Sons of Scoloti and the Neuri are one. This would bring dishonor upon all. Go to the fire. Hear the man in chains. I will dig a place here for this Neurian with his own knife and pile it with stones so he cannot rise. Tomorrow he will be here, and we will not."

"I understand," I said. "Oior, even what you did-I'm afraid I may forget. But we are friends forever. Tell me."

He held his dagger out to me and with his free hand drew the bow from his bowcase. "Put your hand on my bow," he said. "Put your hand on my dagger. So we swear."

I did as he asked, and he pointed dagger and bow toward the moon. "More than brothers," he pronounced. "Though I die."

"More than brothers," I replied, "though I die."

"When you forget, I will tell you, Latro," he said, "and then you will remember. Go now."

I gathered up the trenchers and cups, and turned to say good-bye to him. I wish I had not, and perhaps I will write of that later, when I find words to tell of what was, perhaps, only a trick of the moonlight.

Afterward I ran, and I had nearly reached the fire when I heard shouts and groans. A party of sailors was carrying something along the beach. Those who had been sitting about the fire rose and went to them, and I went too.

Blood still seeped from the dead man's ragged wounds. I turned aside from the sight, and the sailors from the fire crowded around him. In truth, I was thankful I could see him no longer.

Hypereides and the kybernetes pushed through to look at him. I heard the kybernetes ask where he had been found, and someone said, "At the edge of the water, sir."

The kybernetes must have felt the dead man's hair, though I did not see him do it. "And dripping wet. Washed up. He went for a swim at an unlucky time, I'm afraid. I've seen things pulled from the sea-" If he finished the thought, I did not hear him.

Hypereides said, "You, there. Go to the ship. There's a roll of sailcloth in the supplies. Cut off a piece big enough to wrap him in."

A sailor darted away.

The black man appeared beside me, asking by signs whether I had seen the dead man, or whether I knew what had befallen him; I could not be sure which. I shook my head.