按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
kness before dawn until it was time to crawl into the hammock at night。 He had little respect for the village elders； but now he felt a sudden fear that his mother's spirit might be watching him。 She would never understand her son turning his back on his people for the sake of strangers。 She would want him to go to Nabban。 Serve his own folk first； then take care of his personal honor； that was what his mother would say。
Thinking of her made it seem very clear。 He was a Wrannaman first： nothing would change that。 He must go to Nabban。 Morgenes； that kind old man； would understand his reasons。 Afterward； after he had finished his duties to his people； he would go back to Kwanitupul as his drylander friends had asked。
The decision lifted part of the load of worry from Tiamak's shoulders。 He decided he might as well stop soon and scare up something for a noon meal。 He reached down and tested his fishing line； tied to the back of the flatboat。 It seemed light； as he pulled it up he saw to his disgust that the bait had been eaten again； but whatever had dined at his expense had not waited around to pay respects。 At least the hook was still there。 Metal hooks were painfully expensive items…he had paid for this one with an entire day of work as an interpreter in the market at Kwanitupul。 The next month at market he had found the parchment with Nisses' name on it； and had paid a full day's wages for that as well。 Two expensive purchases； but the fishook had indeed proved much sturdier than the ones he whittled of bone； which usually broke on the first snag。 The Nisses parchment…he patted protectively at the oilskin bag lying at his feet…if he was correct about its origins； was a gem beyond price。 Not bad work for two days' marketing。
Tiamak hauled in the line； wrapping it gently； then steered the boat over closer to the bank of mangroves。 He poled along slowly； waiting until the mangrove roots gave way for a while to a short stretch of soggy dirt cluttered with waving reeds。 Bringing the boat as close to the edge of the watercourse as he could； he pulled his knife from his belt and dug in the wet soil； at last turning up some spitfly roe。 He wrapped the shiny things in his kerchief； saving one only to bait the hook。 This done； he tossed the line back into the water to trail behind the boat。 As he poled out into the middle of the stream once more； thunder grumbled in the distance。 It seemed to be farther away than last time。 He shook his head sadly。 The storm was in no hurry。
It was late afternoon when he passed out of the overhanging thicket of mangroves and emerged into unshadowed sunlight once more。 Here the waterway grew wider and deeper。 A sea of reeds rolled out toward the horizon； all but motionless in the oppressive heat； crisscrossed with the shining tracks of other watercourses。 The sky was gray with threatening clouds； but the sun burned brightly behind them。 and Tiamak could not help but feel more lighthearted。 An ibis rose； white wings flapping slowly； then settled down into the reeds a short distance away。 To the south； past miles of marsh and swamp forest； he could see the dark line of the Nascadu Mountains。 To the west； invisible beyond an endless prairie of cattails and mangroves； lay the sea。
Tiamak poled distractedly； momentarily caught up in a correction he had decided to make in his great work of scholarship； a revision of The Sovran Remedies of the Wranna Healers。 He had suddenly realized that the shape of the cattail itself might have something to do with its use among the men of the Meadow Thrithings as a marital potion； and was planning the wording of a footnote that would delicately suggest this connection without seeming too clever； when he felt a strange vibration against his back。 He turned； startled； and saw that his fishing line was pulled taut； humming like the plucked string of a lute。
For a moment he was sure it must be a snag…the pull was so strong that it had imparted some of its tension to the stern of the boat…but as he leaned over he saw some silver…gray thing rise briefly toward the surface； wriggling； then dive down into the blackish water again。 A fish！ As long as Tiamak's arm！ He gave a small cry of delight and began to pull on the line。 The silver thing seemed to leap up at him。 For a split instant one pale； shiny fin appeared above the water； then it vanished beneath the boat； stretching the line tight。 Tiamak heaved and it gave a little； but not much。 It was a strong fish。 A sudden image of the line snapping and his next two days' worth of meals swimming away filled Tiamak's heart with sick horror。 He lessened the tension on the fishing line。 He would let the fish tire itself； then he could reel it in at his leisure。 In the meantime； he would keep an eye open for a dry patch where he could build a fire。 He could wrap the fish in minog leaves； and surely there would be wild quickweed growing somewhere nearby。。。 In his thoughts he could already taste it。 The heat； the recalcitrant thunderstorm； his betrayal of Morgenes （as he still saw it） and all else receded in the warm glow of the contemplated meal。 He tested the line again； rejoicing at the firm； steady pull。 He had not had fresh fish in weeks！
A splash impinged on his reverie。 Tiamak looked up to see a rainbow of ripples spreading beside the shoreline； a couple of long stone…throws away。 There was something else as well： a moment later he picked out a row of low bumps like tiny islands moving smoothly through the water toward his boat。
Crocodile！ Tiamak's heart quailed。 His wonderful dinner！ He tugged hard at the line； but the fish was still beneath the flatboat and resisting fiercely； the line burned his palms as he struggled unsuccessfully to wrestle the fish to the surface。 The crocodile was a dark blur just below the surface； the motion of its powerful tail sending eddies across the still water。 Its craggy back breached for just a moment； a hundred cubits from where Tiamak sat； then it was gone…diving toward his fish！
There was no time to think； no time at all。 His dinner； his fishing hook； his line； all would be lost if he waited a moment longer。 Tiamak felt a black rage flare into life in his empty stomach and a band of pain tighten itself around his temples。 His mother； had she lived to see him at this moment； would hardly have recognized her shy； clumsy son。 If she had seen what he did next； she would have stumbled to the shrine of She Who Birthed Mankind at the back wall of the family hut； then fainted dead away。
Tiamak looped the cord tied to his knife…hilt around his wrist； then flung himself over the stern of the boat。 Mumbling inarticulately with anger and despair； he barely sucked in a hasty breath and closed his mouth before the green； cloudy water closed over his head。
Flailing； he opened his eyes。 The sunlight filtered down through the watercourse； passing through plumes of drifting silt as through clouds。 He darted a glance up at the rectangular darkness that was the bottom of his boat and saw a glittering shape hanging there。 Despite his wild； heart…thumping panic； he felt a moment of satisfaction at the size of the fish lying torpid at the end of his line。 Even