Читать книгу The Complete Elenium Trilogy: The Diamond Throne, The Ruby Knight, The Sapphire Rose - David Eddings - Страница 30

A purple twilight was settling in the narrow streets of Madel, and the stars were coming out. Sparhawk, Kalten, and Talen moved through the narrow, crooked streets, frequently turning corners and occasionally even doubling back to throw off anyone who might possibly be following them.

‘Aren’t we being just a little overcautious?’ Kalten said after about a half-hour.

‘Let’s not take any chances with Martel,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘He’s entirely capable of throwing a few people away just for the chance to hunt us down. I’d rather not wake up in the middle of the night to find Lycien’s house surrounded by mercenaries.’

‘You’ve got a point there, I suppose.’

They slipped out through the west gate of Madel as the light faded even more. ‘In here,’ Sparhawk said as they passed a thicket some distance up the road. ‘Let’s wait for a while and make sure that no one’s trying to follow us.’

They crouched down among the rustling saplings and peered back along the road leading down to the city. A sleepy bird somewhere in the thicket muttered complainingly, and then an ox cart with creaking wheels passed, rumbling slowly down the road towards Madel.

‘It’s not too likely that anybody’s going to leave town this close to nightfall, is it?’ Kalten asked quietly.

‘That’s what I’m counting on,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘Anybody who comes out now probably has serious business.’

‘And the business could be us, right?’

‘It’s altogether possible.’

A creaking sound came from the city, followed by a dull boom and the rattling of a heavy chain.

‘They’ve just closed the gate,’ Talen whispered.

‘That was what I was waiting for,’ Sparhawk said, rising to his feet. ‘Let’s go.’

They emerged from the thicket and continued on along the road. Stands of trees loomed up out of the darkness on either side, and clumps of shadowy bushes lined the edges of the fields stretching off into the night. Talen nervously stayed close to the two knights, his eyes darting this way and that.

‘What’s the matter, boy?’ Kalten asked him.

‘I’ve never been out in the countryside after dark before,’ Talen explained. ‘Is it always this black?’

The blond man shrugged. ‘That’s why they call it night.’

‘Why doesn’t somebody put up some torches?’ Talen complained.

‘What for? So the rabbits can see where they’re going?’

Lycien’s house stood in the deep shadows of the surrounding evergreens with only a single torch at the gate. Talen was visibly relieved when they walked into the gravelled yard in front of the entrance.

‘Any luck?’ Tynian asked, emerging from the main entrance.

‘We ran into some trouble,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Let’s go inside.’

‘I told you that you should have let the rest of us come along,’ the bulky-shouldered Alcione said accusingly as they entered the building.

‘It wasn’t that much trouble,’ Kalten assured him.

The others were waiting in the large room to which Lycien had first led them. Sephrenia rose to her feet, looking closely at the blood spatters on the two Pandions’ cloaks. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, her voice mirroring her concern.

‘We ran into a group of sportive fellows,’ Kalten replied lightly. He looked down at his cloak. ‘The blood is all theirs.’

‘What happened?’ she asked Sparhawk.

‘Adus tried to ambush us when we got to the inn,’ he told her. ‘He had a group of waterfront toughs with him.’ He paused reflectively. ‘You know, we’ve been running across Krager just about every time we turn around. Once – or even twice – might have been sheer coincidence, but it’s starting to happen just a little too frequently, and every time we try to follow him, there’s some kind of ambush.’

‘You think it’s deliberate?’ Tynian asked.

‘It’s beginning to look that way, isn’t it?’

‘Would this Martel put a friend in such danger?’ Bevier sounded surprised.

‘Martel doesn’t have any friends,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘Adus and Krager are hirelings, nothing more. They’re useful, but he feels no particular attachment for them. I don’t think he’d shed many tears if something happened to Krager.’ He began to pace up and down, staring thoughtfully at the floor. ‘Maybe we can turn the tables on him.’ He looked at Kalten. ‘Why don’t you let yourself be seen in the streets of Madel?’ he suggested. ‘Don’t take too many chances, but let people know you’re in town.’

‘Why not?’ Kalten shrugged.

Tynian grinned. ‘Martel and his hirelings don’t know the rest of us, so we can sort of loiter along behind Kalten without attracting attention. Is that the idea?’

Sparhawk nodded. ‘If they think Kalten’s alone, it might bring them out into the open. I’m getting a little tired of Martel’s game, so maybe it’s time for us to play a few of our own.’ He looked at Bevier’s cousin. ‘How excited do the local authorities get about street brawls, my Lord?’ he asked.

Lycien laughed. ‘Madel is a seaport, Sir Sparhawk. Brawling is second nature to sailors. The authorities don’t pay much attention to their little scuffles – except to remove the bodies, of course. Public sanitation, you understand.’

‘Good.’ Sparhawk looked at his friends. ‘You may not get a chance at Krager or Adus, but you might be able to divide Martel’s attention. That could be what it takes to get Kurik and Sephrenia and me aboard a ship unnoticed. I’d rather not have to keep looking over my shoulder when we get to Cippria.’

‘About the only tricky part is going to be getting you to the harbour without being seen,’ Kalten said.

‘It won’t be necessary to go to the harbour,’ Lycien said. ‘I have some warehouses on the river about five miles from here. A fair number of independent sea captains deliver cargoes to me there, and I’m sure arrangements for your passage can be made without any need for going into the city.’

‘Thank you, my Lord,’ Sparhawk said. ‘That solves a problem.’

‘When do you plan to leave?’ Tynian asked.

‘I don’t see much point in delaying.’

‘Tomorrow, then?’

Sparhawk nodded.

‘I need to talk with you, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said. ‘Would you mind coming to my room?’

He followed her out of the door, slightly puzzled. ‘Is it something we can’t discuss in front of the others?’ he asked her.

‘It might be better if they don’t hear us arguing.’

‘Are we going to argue?’

‘Probably.’ She opened the door to her room and led him inside. Flute sat cross-legged on the bed, her dark eyebrows knit in concentration as she wove the intricate mesh of a cat’s cradle out of a strand of wool yarn. It was far more complex than the one Talen had made when he had demonstrated it to her. She looked up, smiled at them, and proudly extended her little hands to show them her handiwork.

‘She’ll be going with us,’ Sephrenia said.

‘Absolutely not!’ Sparhawk said sharply.

‘I told you we’d argue about this.’

‘It’s an absurd idea, Sephrenia.’

‘We all do many absurd things, dear one.’ She smiled affectionately at him.

‘Don’t do that,’ he said. ‘You’re not going to win me over that way.’

‘Don’t be tiresome, Sparhawk. You’ve been around her long enough to know that she always does what she decides to do, and she’s decided that she’s going with us to Rendor.’

‘She won’t if I have anything to say about it.’

‘That’s the whole point, Sparhawk. You don’t. You’re dealing with something you can’t understand. She’s going to come with us in the end anyway, so why not just give in gracefully?’

‘Gracefulness is not one of my strong points.’

‘I’ve noticed.’

‘All right, Sephrenia,’ he said flatly. ‘Just who is she, anyway? You recognized her the first moment we saw her, didn’t you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Why of course? She’s only about six years old, and you haven’t left us Pandions for generations. How could you possibly know her?’

She sighed. ‘Elene logic always clouds an issue with facts. The child and I are kindred in a rather peculiar sense of the word. We know each other in a way you couldn’t begin to comprehend.’

‘Thanks,’ he said dryly.

‘I’m not belittling your intelligence, dear one,’ she told him, ‘but there’s a part of Styric life you’re not prepared to accept – either intellectually or philosophically.’

He frowned slightly, his eyes narrowed in thought. ‘All right, Sephrenia,’ he said, ‘let me have a try at the Elene logic you’re so fond of dismissing. Flute is a child, hardly more than a baby.’

The little girl made a face at him.

He ignored that and went on. ‘She suddenly appeared in an uninhabited region near the Arcian border far from any kind of human habitation. We tried to leave her at that nunnery south of Darra, and she not only managed to escape but also got a goodly distance ahead of us even though we were travelling at a gallop. Then she somehow managed to persuade Faran to let her on his back, and Faran won’t let anybody near him except me unless I tell him to. When she met Dolmant, you could tell by his face that he sensed something very unusual about her. Not only that, you bully full-grown knights like a drill-sergeant, but any time Flute decides to do something or go someplace, you give in without a fight. Wouldn’t you say that all of that suggests that she’s not an ordinary child?’

‘You’re the one who’s exercising this logic. I wouldn’t dream of interfering.’

‘All right then. Let’s see where logic takes us. I’ve seen a fair number of Styrics. With the exception of you and the other magicians, they’re all fairly primitive and not very bright – no offence intended, of course.’

‘Of course.’ Her expression was amused.

‘Since we’ve already established the fact that Flute is not an ordinary child, what does that leave us?’

‘What would be your guess, Sparhawk?’

‘Since she’s not ordinary, she must be special. In Styricum, that can only mean one thing. She’s a magician. Nothing else could explain her.’

She applauded ironically. ‘Excellent, Sparhawk,’ she congratulated him.

‘But that’s impossible, Sephrenia. She’s only a child. She hasn’t had time to learn the secrets.’

‘Some few are born with that knowledge. Besides, she’s older than she looks.’

‘How old?’

‘You know that I won’t tell you that. The knowledge of the exact moment of one’s birth can be a powerful weapon in the hands of an enemy.’

A disturbing thought came to him. ‘You’re preparing for your own death, aren’t you, Sephrenia? If we fail, the twelve Pandions who were in the throne room with you will die one by one, and then you’ll die, too. You’re preparing Flute to be your successor.’

She laughed. ‘Now that, dear Sparhawk, is a very interesting idea. I’m surprised you came up with it, considering the fact that you’re an Elene.’

‘That’s a very irritating habit you’ve picked up lately, you know? Don’t try to be mysterious with me, Sephrenia, and don’t treat me like a child just because I’m an Elene.’

‘I’ll try to remember that. You’ll agree to let her come with us, then?’

‘Do I have any choice?’

‘No. As a matter of fact, you don’t.’

They rose early the next morning and gathered in the dew-drenched yard in front of Marquis Lycien’s house. The newly risen sun was very bright, and it slanted down through the trees, casting the peculiarly bluish-coloured shadows of early morning.

‘I’ll get word to you from time to time,’ Sparhawk told those who were remaining behind.

‘Be careful down there, Sparhawk,’ Kalten said.

‘I’m always careful.’ Sparhawk swung himself up onto Faran’s back.

‘Godspeed, Sir Sparhawk,’ Bevier said.

‘Thank you, Bevier.’ Sparhawk looked around at the other knights. ‘Don’t be so glum, gentlemen,’ he told them. ‘If we’re lucky, this won’t take very long.’ He looked at Kalten again. ‘If you run into Martel, give him my regards.’

Kalten nodded. ‘With an axe in the face, I think.’

Marquis Lycien mounted a fat bay horse and led the way out onto the road which passed his house. The morning was crisp, though not actually cold. Spring, Sparhawk decided, was not very far off. He shifted his shoulders slightly. The sober businessman’s doublet Lycien had lent him did not really fit very well. It bound in some places and was uncomfortably loose in others.

‘We’ll turn off just up ahead,’ Lycien told them. ‘There’s a track through the woods that leads down to my wharves and the little settlement that’s grown up around them. Will you want me to bring your horses back after you go on board ship?’

‘No, my Lord,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I think we’ll take them with us. We don’t know exactly what’s going to happen in Rendor. We might need dependable mounts, and I’ve seen what passes for a horse in Cippria.’

What Lycien had modestly called a ‘little settlement’ turned out to be a fair-sized village complete with shipyards, houses, inns and taverns. A dozen vessels were moored at the wharves with longshoremen swarming over them.

‘Quite an operation, my Lord,’ Sparhawk said as they rode down the muddy street towards the river.

‘One has had a certain success,’ Lycien said deprecatingly. He smiled. ‘Besides, I save enough in moorage fees to offset more than the cost of keeping the place up.’ He looked around. ‘Why don’t you and I step into that tavern over there, Sir Sparhawk?’ he suggested. ‘The independent sea captains favour that one.’

‘All right,’ Sparhawk agreed.

‘I’ll introduce you as Master Cluff,’ Lycien said as he swung down from his bay. ‘It’s not much of a name, I’ll admit, but it’s fairly nondescript, and I’ve discovered that seafaring men love to talk, but they’re not always very selective in their choice of listeners. I’ve gathered that you might prefer to keep this business of yours more or less confidential.’

‘You’re perceptive, my Lord,’ Sparhawk replied, also dismounting. ‘This shouldn’t take too long,’ he said to Kurik and Sephrenia.

‘Isn’t that what you said the last time you went to Rendor?’ Kurik asked him.

‘We can all hope that this time might be different.’

Lycien led the way into a rather sedate wharfside tavern. The ceiling was low, with dark, heavy beams decorated here and there with ships’ lanterns. There was a broad window near the front, and golden morning sunlight streamed in through it, setting the fresh straw on the floor to gleaming. Several substantial-looking men of middle years sat at a table by the window, talking over brimming tankards. They looked up as the marquis led Sparhawk to their table. ‘My Lord,’ one of them respectfully greeted Lycien.

‘Gentlemen,’ Lycien said, ‘this is Master Cluff, an acquaintance of mine. He’s asked me to introduce him.’

They all looked at Sparhawk inquiringly.

‘I have a bit of a problem, gentlemen,’ Sparhawk told them. ‘May I join you?’

‘Have a seat,’ one of the sea captains, a solid-looking man with silver-shot hair, invited.

‘I’ll leave you gentlemen then,’ Lycien said. ‘There’s something that needs my attention.’ He inclined his head slightly, turned, and went back out of the tavern.

‘He probably wants to see if there’s some way he can raise the mooring fees,’ one of the captains said wryly.

‘My name’s Sorgi,’ the captain with the curly hair introduced himself to Sparhawk. ‘What’s this problem you mentioned, Master Cluff?’

Sparhawk coughed slightly as if a little embarrassed. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it all started a few months ago. I happened to hear about a lady who lives not far from here,’ he began, embellishing as he went along. ‘Her father is old and very wealthy, so the lady stands to inherit a sizeable estate. One of my problems has always been the fact that I have some expensive tastes and very little in my purse to support them. It occurred to me that a rich wife might solve that problem.’

‘That makes sense,’ Captain Sorgi said. ‘That’s about the only reason I can think of for getting married at all.’

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Anyway, I wrote her a letter pretending that we had some mutual friends, and I was a little surprised when she answered my letter with a great deal of warmth. Our letters grew more and more friendly, and she finally invited me to call on her. I went even deeper in debt to my tailor and set out for her father’s house in high spirits and splendid new clothes.’

‘Sounds to me as if everything was going according to plan, Master Cluff,’ Sorgi said. ‘What’s this problem of yours?’

‘I’m just getting to that, Captain. The lady is of middle years and very wealthy. If she were even remotely presentable, someone would have snapped her up years ago, so I didn’t have my hopes too high on that score. I assumed that she was plain – perhaps even homely. I had not, however, expected a horror.’ He feigned a shudder. ‘Gentlemen, I cannot even describe her to you. No matter how rich she was, it wouldn’t have been worth waking up to that every morning. We spoke together briefly – about the weather, I think – and then I made my apologies and left. She has no brothers, so I wasn’t worried about the possibility of someone looking me up to object to my bad manners. What I didn’t count on, though, was all her cousins. She’s got a whole platoon of them, and they’ve been following me for weeks now.’

‘They don’t want to kill you, do they?’ Sorgi asked.

‘No,’ Sparhawk replied in an anguished tone. ‘They want to drag me back and force me to marry her.’

The captains all roared with laughter, pounding on the table in glee. ‘I think you’ve outsmarted yourself, Master Cluff,’ one of them said, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes.

Sparhawk nodded glumly. ‘You’re probably right,’ he admitted.

‘You should have found some way to get a look at her before you sent the first letter,’ Sorgi grinned.

‘I know that now,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘Anyhow, I think it’s time I left the country for a while until the cousins stop looking for me. I’ve got a nephew living in Cippria in Render who’s been doing fairly well of late. I’m sure I can impose on him until I can get my feet on the ground again. Is it possible that one of you gentlemen might be sailing there soon? I’d like to book passage for myself and a couple of family retainers. I’d go to the main docks in Madel, but I’ve got a strong feeling that the cousins are watching them.’

‘What say you, gentlemen?’ Captain Sorgi said expansively. ‘Shall we help this good fellow out of his predicament?’

‘I’m going to Rendor, right enough,’ one of the others replied, ‘but I’m committed to Jiroch.’

Sorgi thought about it. ‘I was going to Jiroch myself,’ he mused, ‘and then on to Cippria, but I might be able to rearrange my schedule just a bit.’

‘I won’t be able to help,’ a rough-voiced sea captain growled. ‘My ship’s having her bottom scraped. I can give you some advice, though. If these cousins are watching the main wharves in Madel, they’re probably watching these as well. Everybody in town knows about Lycien’s docks here.’ He tugged at one earlobe. ‘I’ve smuggled a few people out of a few places in my time – when the price was right.’ He looked at the captain who was bound for Jiroch. ‘When do you sail, Captain Mabin?’

‘With the noon tide.’

‘And you?’ the helpful captain asked Sorgi.

‘The same.’

‘Good. If the cousins are watching the docks here, they may try to hire a ship and follow our bachelor friend. Have him openly board Mabin’s ship. Then, when you’re downriver a ways and out of sight, transfer him to Sorgi’s ship. If the cousins decide to follow, Mabin can lead them off towards Jiroch, and Master Cluff will be safe on his way to Cippria. That’s the way I’d do it.’

‘You’ve got a very ingenious mind, my friend.’ Sorgi laughed. ‘Are you sure that people are the only things you’ve smuggled in the past?’

‘We’ve all avoided customs officers from time to time, haven’t we, Sorgi?’ the rough-voiced captain said. ‘We live at sea. Why should we pay taxes to support the kingdoms of the landsmen? I’d gladly pay taxes to the King of the Ocean, but I can’t seem to find his palace.’

‘Well said, my friend,’ Sorgi applauded.

‘Gentlemen,’ Sparhawk said. ‘I’m eternally in your debt.’

‘Not exactly eternally, Master Cluff,’ Sorgi said. ‘A man who admits to having financial difficulties pays for his passage before he boards. He does on my ship, at least.’

‘Would you accept half here and half when we reach Cippria?’ Sparhawk countered.

‘I’m afraid not, my friend. I like you well enough, but I’m sure you can see my position in the matter.’

Sparhawk sighed. ‘We have horses,’ he added. ‘I suppose you’ll charge extra to carry them as well?’

‘Naturally.’

‘I was afraid of that.’

The loading of Faran, Sephrenia’s palfrey, and Kurik’s stout gelding took place behind a screen of sailcloth Sorgi’s sailors were ostensibly mending. Shortly before noon, Sparhawk and Kurik boarded the ship bound for Jiroch. They moved openly up the gangway, followed by Sephrenia, who carried Flute in her arms.

Captain Mabin greeted them on the quarterdeck. ‘Ah,’ he grinned, ‘here’s our reluctant bridegroom. Why don’t you and your friends walk around the deck until we sail? Give all the cousins plenty of chances to see you.’

‘I’ve had a few second thoughts about this, Captain Mabin,’ Sparhawk said. ‘If the cousins hire a ship and follow – and if they catch up with you – it’s going to be fairly obvious that I’m not on board.’

‘Nobody’s going to catch up with me, Master Cluff.’ The captain laughed. ‘I’ve got the fastest ship on the Inner Sea. Besides, it’s obvious that you don’t know very much about seafaring etiquette. Nobody boards another man’s ship at sea unless he’s prepared for a fight. It’s just not done.’

‘Oh,’ Sparhawk said. ‘I didn’t know that. We’ll stroll around the deck, then.’

‘Bridegroom?’ Sephrenia murmured as they moved away from the captain.

‘It’s a long story,’ Sparhawk told her.

‘There seem to be a fair number of these long stories cropping up lately. Someday we’ll have to sit down so that you can tell them to me.’

‘Someday perhaps.’

‘Flute,’ Sephrenia said quite firmly, ‘come down from there.’

Sparhawk looked up. The little girl was halfway up a rope ladder stretching from the rail to the yardarm. She pouted just a bit, then did as she was told. ‘You always know exactly where she is, don’t you?’ he asked Sephrenia.

‘Always,’ she replied.

The transfer from one ship to the other took place in mid-river some distance downstream from Lycien’s wharves and was concealed by a great deal of activity on both ships. Captain Sorgi quickly bustled his passengers belowdecks to get them out of sight, and then the two ships proceeded sedately downriver, bobbing side by side like two matrons returning home from church.

‘We’re passing the wharves of Madel,’ Sorgi called down the companionway to them some short time later. ‘Keep your face out of sight, Master Cluff, or I may have a deck full of your betrothed’s cousins on my hands.’

‘This is really making me curious, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said. ‘Couldn’t you give me just the tiniest clue?’

‘I made up a story,’ he shrugged. ‘It was lurid enough to seize the attention of a group of sailors.’

‘Sparhawk’s always been very good at making up stories,’ Kurik observed. ‘He used to lie himself in and out of trouble regularly when he was a novice.’ The grizzled squire was seated on a bunk with the drowsing Flute nestled in his lap. ‘You know,’ he said quietly, ‘I never had a daughter. They smell better than little boys, don’t they?’

Sephrenia burst out laughing. ‘Don’t tell Aslade,’ she cautioned. ‘She may decide to try for one.’

Kurik rolled his eyes upward in dismay. ‘Not again,’ he said. ‘I don’t mind babies around the house, but I couldn’t bear the morning sickness again.’

About an hour later, Sorgi came down the companion-way. ‘We’re clearing the mouth of the estuary now,’ he reported, ‘and there’s not a single vessel to the rear. I’d say that you’ve made good your escape, Master Cluff.’

‘Thank God,’ Sparhawk replied fervently.

‘Tell me, my friend,’ Sorgi said thoughtfully, ‘is the lady really as ugly as you say?’

‘Captain Sorgi, you wouldn’t believe how ugly.’

‘Maybe you’re a bit too delicate, Master Cluff. The sea’s getting colder, my ship’s getting old and tired, and the winter storms are making my bones ache. I could stand a fair amount of ugliness if the lady’s estate happened to be as large as you say. I might even consider returning some of your passage money in exchange for a letter of introduction. Maybe you overlooked some of her good qualities.’

‘We could talk about that, I suppose,’ Sparhawk conceded.

‘I need to go topside,’ Sorgi said. ‘We’re far enough past the city that it’s safe for you and your friends to come on deck now.’ He turned and went back up the companionway.

‘I think I can save you all the trouble of telling me that long story you mentioned earlier,’ Sephrenia told Sparhawk. ‘You didn’t actually use that tired old fable about the ugly heiress, did you?’

He shrugged. ‘As Vanion says, the old ones are the best.’

‘Oh, Sparhawk, I’m disappointed in you. How are you going to avoid giving that poor captain the imaginary lady’s name?’

‘I’ll think of something. Why don’t we go up on deck before the sun sets?’

Kurik spoke in a whisper. ‘I think the child’s asleep,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to wake her. You two go on ahead.’

Sparhawk nodded and led Sephrenia out of the cramped cabin.

‘I always forget how gentle he is,’ Sephrenia said softly.

Sparhawk nodded. ‘He’s the best and kindest man I know,’ he said simply. ‘If it weren’t for class distinctions, he’d have made an almost perfect knight.’

‘Is class really all that important?’

‘Not to me it isn’t, but I didn’t make the rules.’

They emerged on deck in the slanting, late-afternoon sunlight. The breeze blowing offshore was brisk, catching the tops of the waves and turning them into sun-splashed froth. Captain Mabin’s vessel, bound for Jiroch, was heeling over in that breeze on a course almost due west through the broad channel of the Arcian Strait. Her sails bellied out, snowy white in the afternoon sun, and she ran before the wind like a skimming sea bird.

‘How far do you make it to Cippria, Captain Sorgi?’ Sparhawk asked as he and Sephrenia stepped up onto the quarterdeck.

‘A hundred and fifty leagues, Master Cluff,’ Sorgi replied. ‘Three days, if this wind holds.’

‘That’s good time, isn’t it?’

Sorgi grunted. ‘We could make better if this poor old tub didn’t leak so much.’

‘Sparhawk!’ Sephrenia gasped, taking him urgently by the arm.

‘What is it?’ He looked at her in concern. Her face had gone deathly pale.

‘Look!’ She pointed.

Some distance from where Captain Mabin’s graceful ship was running through the Arcian Strait, a single, densely black cloud had appeared in an otherwise unblemished sky. It seemed somehow to be moving against the wind, growing larger and more ominously black by the moment. Then it began to swirl, ponderously at first, but then faster and faster. As it spun, a long, dark finger twitched and jerked down from its centre, reaching down and down until its inky tip touched the roiling surface of the Strait. Tons of water were suddenly drawn up into the swirling maw as the vast funnel moved erratically across the heaving sea.

‘Waterspout!’ the lookout shouted down from the mast. The sailors rushed to the rail to gape in horror at the swirling spout.

Inexorably the vast thing bore down on Mabin’s helpless ship, and then the vessel, which suddenly appeared very tiny, vanished in the seething funnel. Chunks and pieces of her timbers spun out of the great waterspout hundreds of feet in the air to settle with agonizing slowness to the surface again. A single piece of sail fluttered down like a stricken white bird.

Then, as suddenly as they had come, the black cloud and its deadly waterspout were gone.

So was Mabin’s ship.

The surface of the sea was littered with debris, and a vast cloud of white gulls appeared, swooping and diving over the wreckage as if to mark the vessel’s passing.