"When I went into exile, methought it unwise to leave this bauble where it would tempt weak mortals to sin. So I pried it from its setting and put it safely away, in case the gods should call me back to my spiritual duties. And now, Master Kerin, methinks we can enjoy our frugal repast."
They ate, washed out the pot in the surf, and returned to the hut. Kerin's eyelids sagged.
"And now," said Pwana, "I shall explain my theory of probability. It is that, for a sequence of events to occur, the chance of the whole series taking place is the product of the chances of the individual events in the series. Take your nationality for example. If the chance that you, with your complexion, were
not
a Novarian were one in four, and with your features were one in four, and with your accent . . ."
Looking around, Pwana found that Kerin had fallen asleep, curled up against the wall of the hut.
When Kerin awoke, the sun was near to setting. It took him an instant to orient himself. Then he found Pwana hoeing his garden. The hermit said:
"Aha there, Master Kerin! On the morrow, you can bear a hand with the weeding."
"Glad to, if my blisters permit."
"I shall speed their healing with a minor spell."
"But tell me," asked Kerin, "how can I get hence to Salimor?"
Pwana leaned on his hoe. "Kinungung is not an established stop for ships, albeit I often see them sailing past. That is one reason for my choice of this retreat."
"Could one build a signal fire?"
"One could, but then one might draw the attention of pirates, who are not too proud to snap up a single castaway to sell in the slave marts. Whereas I fear not death at their hands, it were wrong to expose you, with many years ahead, to that fate.
"There is another possibility. An old sea captain, a friend of long standing named Bakattan, stops by here on his way to the Inner Sea. He brings news and such articles as I have asked him to buy for me."
"How often comes this to pass?"
"Belike once a year. His last visit was but three months past, so expect him not for a long time hence. Look not so stricken, boy; I shall find plenty, of chores to keep you occupied."
"A good, healthy existence, I doubt not; but it is not my ambition to pass my life thus," mused Kerin. "Could I build mine own boat, think you?"
"I doubt that. With palm trunks and bamboo stalks you could assemble nought better than a raft, which one good blow would demolish. Nor could you, alone, conn such a craft out of sight of land, or in contrary winds, or whilst asleep.
"Nay, my son, give up that fancy. You will be safe and comfortable here, and free of worldly temptations. I shall make you my holy disciple, or chela as they say in Mulvan. And now let me explain my theory of the variations in sea level. . . ."
Kerin listened with the best grace he could muster. When the old man ran down, Kerin asked: "Sir, if you were a genuine wizard, why brought you not some of your powers and instruments with you, to defend yourself?"
Pwana shrugged. "One or two nicknacks, such as a tarncap. But I have forsworn the serious practice of magic during my penance. I have dismissed my familiars, albeit I perceive that you have one."
"That was—" Kerin began to explain Belinka's presence but thought he had better not. Instead, he asked: "Your pardon, but what's a tarncap?"
"A cap of invisibility. It loses its charge and after a number of usages must needs be recharged with an extensive spell.
"Now, young man, take this bag and this pole and go along the beach, knocking ripe coconuts off their palms and gathering them. Be sure to return ere dark."
He handed Kerin an eight-foot length of bamboo and a large string bag.
When Kerin was out of hearing of the hut, he murmured: "Belinka!"
"Aye, Master Kerin?" The dancing blue light flickered into view against the evening sky.
"What in the seven frigid hells shall we do now? We must not linger here for months, awaiting Captain Bakattan's arrival."
"Couldst not lay a signal fire away from Doctor Pwana's demesne and, when you see a ship upon the horizon, touch it off?"
"How about pirates?"
"Canst tell a pirate ship from that of an honest merchant?"
"I might, if I could see it close. Pirates, my brother tells me, are a disorderly lot. Their ships are filthy, and their garb mingles dirty rags and looted finery. But if I were near enough to discern the difference, they would also see me and add me to their plunder."
Belinka: "Methinks in Pwana's hut I witnessed one of those brazen tubes you Westerners use to peer at distant things."
"A spyglass, like those they make in Iraz? How is it that I saw it not?"
"You were looking for certain things and ignored the rest. If Pwana hath this instrument, you could climb one of these slanting trees and sight your ship through the glass."
"That's an idea," said Kerin dubiously. "All I need do is borrow the glass without the good Doctor's knowledge. Methinks it more expedient to use you as my eyes, to fly out over the water for a closer look."
For several days, Kerin was busy with chores for Pwana. Not that the old man was idle; he kept busy, with rests few and far between. To survive alone, even in this mild climate, Kerin found, required constant activity: gathering food and firewood, fetching fresh water from a distant spring, tending the fire, patching the house, mending equipment, and cultivating the garden. When Kerin's nose became painfully sunburned, Pwana lent him a large straw hat, which the exile had woven of grass stems. Kerin also began a calendar by cutting notches in a length of driftwood.
Evenings he had to listen to Pwana's monologues. The hermit had theories on everything, including the origin of the planets, the movement of continents, the evolution of life, the rise of civilization, and the growth of mankind's morals and ethics. Although Kerin's brother Jorian intermittently journeyed to the University of Othomae to work as an instructor, Kerin had not been exposed to higher education. Hence he could not judge whether Pwana's ideas were sound or insubstantial moonbeams like his tale of the wicked Emperor Ajunya.
Kerin was sure that some at least of Pwana's theories were mere wind, because they often seemed to contradict what Pwana had maintained a few nights previously. Kerin resolved, if he returned whole to Kortoli, to remedy this lack in his training, in hopes of being able to sort out the true from the false.Kerin found Pwana a mercurial character, one day gloomily speculating on the punishments for his sins awaiting him in his next life; the next, irascible and arrogantly dictatorial; or again, amiable and slyly charming. He told endless tales of his adventures; although, as with his theories, some stories flatly contradicted others. He even told alternative versions of how he came to go into exile. Kerin noticed that whatever tale Pwana told, no matter how flagrantly inconsistent with his other stories, the hermit spoke with such intense conviction and sincerity that it was all Kerin could do to keep from believing him.
Kerin thought long and hard about escaping from the island and from its dubious overlord. Recovered from his sunburn, he was more careful about exposing his skin to sunlight.
One hot, sticky day, when he was chopping firewood, he shed his everyday shirt, thinking himself now brown enough to withstand the tropical sun for a while. As he resumed his chopping, Pwana tottered up, saying:
"What is that, Master Kerin?"
"What's what?"
"That thing hung from your neck."
"Oh, that." Kerin pulled off the chain holding the package of oiled silk. "A paper of some sort, borne by a young fellow who started the voyage with me. He fell into misfortune and begged me to carry out his mission."
"Hm. And this mission?"
"To give it to the authorities of Kuromon, if I ever get there."
"What is in this paper?"
"I know not; it's sealed and in Mulvani, which I read not. My erstwhile shipmate opened it, showed it to me, and resealed it."
"I read all civilized tongues. May I see this package?"
Kerin handed Pwana the package. The hermit turned it over, saying: "It is some sort of paper, folded many times in a silken envelope and secured by a waxen seal. Pray, fetch my sewing kit and reading glass from the hut."
"What mean you to do?"
"I shall remove the seal and read the document."
"But—but that was given to me confidentially. . . ."
"Oh, trouble not your little head! I shall replace the seal so that none shall know.''
"Well—ah . . ."
"Come now, young man, art not curious? Suppose it hold the message to slay the messenger forthwith? Such things have happened. Therefore it behooves you to know what the paper contain."
"Oh, very well," said Kerin doubtfully. But he fetched the articles from the hut. Pwana got a needle from the kit, heated it in the smoldering fire, and adroitly pried off the seal. He unfolded the long strip of paper.
With the magnifier, Pwana frowned at the tiny writing. "It seems to be some sort of spell. 'Before thou enter the circle, perfume it with musk, amber, aloes-wood, and incense. Take care that thou have fire whenever thou make invocation, and fumigate only in the name of the spirit whom thou wouldst call. When placing perfume on the fire, thou sayest: I burn this—' I know not the name that follows; something like unto 'Silichar.' Then it goes on: '. . . and in the name and to the honor of—' That name again; doubtless some demon. 'When thou invoke, thou holdest the invocation in thy left hand, having the rod of elder in thy right, whilst the ladle and the knife should be at thy feet. . . .'
"It goes on interminably like that. Wouldst that I read all? I know not that my aged voice will hold out."
"Nay, Doctor; but could you give me some idea of what it's about?"
Grumbling, Pwana ran his glass down the lines. He said: "Meseems it be a formula for making a kind of magical fan."
"What were the use for a magical fan?"
Pwana shrugged. "I know not. I am told that in Kuromon, they make fans with outer ribs in the form of iron blades, for cutting an enemy's throat."
Kerin laughed. "I see. One is invited to a grand feast. One sees one's foe across the room, swilling wine or whatever they drink there. One approaches, fanning oneself against the heat. One hails one's victim with a pleasant greeting, and when he looks up,
khlt!
" Kerin drew a finger across his throat.
"I doubt the host were pleased," said Pwana. "More likely the fan be used as a parrying device for the left hand, whilst the right wields a sword. How comes the firewood?"
While patrolling the beach for edibles, Kerin came upon the
Dragonet
's
boat, sitting above the high-tide mark. It struck him that someone might make off with the boat, so he hauled it back among the palms. Knowing somewhat of the ways of boats, he took the bucket, which still reposed in the bottom, filled it with water, and emptied it into the hull.
"What dost, Master Kerin?" asked Belinka. "When we fled the
Dragonet
, you had much ado to scoop water out of this craft; but now you put water in. Wherefore?"
"If the boat dry out here in the sun, the boards will shrink. Then, when I launch it again, 'twill leak."
Kerin poured several more bucketfiuls into the hull and resumed his trek. He came to where he had been building a hearth on the edge of the beach and paused to add a few more lumps of coral to the hearth and pieces of dead palm frond to his fuel supply. Belinka said:
"Master Kerin, you have not yet obtained Doctor Pwana's spyglass. If you see a ship, how couldst run to the hut, procure the glass without the old man's knowledge, and get back here in time to accomplish aught?"
"I know not. Belike I can persuade him to let me carry the instrument, to have it ever ready."
"Meseems—oh, oh, Master Kerin! It looks as if the time for such stratagems were past!"
"Eh? What meanst?"
The tiny voice came from overhead. "Here comes a ship now!"
"What!" Kerin dashed to the water's edge. Around a bend in the shore came a vessel of a size and rig much like those of Captain Huvraka's
Dragonet
, two or three bowshots from shore.
"Belinka!" said Kerin. "Canst flit out yonder and see what manner of ship it be? I must warn Pwana!"
Kerin ran back towards the hut. He arrived out of breath, to find the hermit sitting with his back to the hut and his eyes closed.
"Master Kerin!" squeaked Belinka above him. "I have visited the ship; but I cannot say what sort of persons man it. You said that pirates were clad in rags and looted finery, but all these men are naked, with no garb to judge by."
" 'Tis this heat," muttered Kerin. "I must rouse the Doctor—"
"I am awake," drawled Pwana, opening his eyes and stretching. "I did but meditate. I infer from your aura that something has stirred you?"
Kerin told of the ship. With a groan, Pwana climbed to his feet. He ducked into the hut and emerged in a wrap-around skirt or sarong. Then he hobbled across the beach, shading his eyes with a hand as the ship dropped anchor and launched its ship's boat. Following him, Kerin said:
"Hadn't we better flee into the brush?"
"That were wise for you, since you are just the sort of hale young man they are fain to capture for sale. But I shall remain. I can convince them by logic that they have nought to gain by seizing me. Imprimus, I have no property worth stealing; secundus, no sane slave buyer would give a clipped copper for such a scrawny oldster. So get you hence! Run, ere they sight you!"
With a last glance at the approaching boat, Kerin dashed to the hut, retrieved his sword, and made off into the brush. But he did not go far. He hovered just beyond the line of scrub that formed a barrier between the beach and the more open palm forest beyond. Crouching behind this screen, he watched through chinks in the fronds as the boat rowed in and beached. This boat was much larger than the
Dragonet
's
.
It must, he thought, hold nearly a score.
These men debarked in the shallows and hauled the boat up from the surf. All now wore a sarong or a loincloth of some sort. All were armed, either with tulwars like Huvraka's or with straight blades of a curious wavyedged pattern, which Kerin had never seen.