children. On the afterdeck, broader and longer than the foredeck, the captain was at the tiller. He was the black-haired raider. The pious one, I thought, who was first to drop his sword.
When I came out of the shelter of the prow the wind hit me, lifting mantle and robes like wings, as though it wanted to hurl me into the sky. I made my way along the deck, to where the captain stood at his work.
“Are you well, Great Lady?” he asked.
I climbed the four rope steps to the afterdeck. The movement of the ship was wonderful, faster than a chariot. “I am well,” I said. “And you don’t need to always address me as Great Lady. I am Pythia. When it is only me.”
He nodded, but did not speak as he attended to a minute correction of course, changing the tiller just a bit as the wind shifted a little.
I looked out over the sea. Eight other ships bounded along, spray flying in the gathering night. Already Pylos was indistinct behind us. Nearest to us,
Hunter
leaped, barely a rope’s length away, her white sail painted with the archer, his bow drawn and his arrow ready, just as he hunts the skies. Beyond her I could see
Swift,
her sail painted with the sharp-winged bird she was named for. Behind us, last from the coast, was
Seven Sisters,
the bright Pleiades picked out on her sail. I could not see the people on her deck at this distance.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
He took one hand from the tiller and pointed ahead. “There,” he said. “That smudge on the horizon is a small island.”
“I thought those islands off the coast had no water,” I said. “That is why the men of Pylos do not stop there.”
“They don’t,” he said. “But that’s where we’ve left the rest of our people.”
“The fishing boats,” I said. “You did not bring the fishing boats into Pylos.”
“No. Nor the women and children that we had with us. We will beach the ships for the night there and continue in the morning. Also,
Dolphin, Hunter,
and
Pearl
have stores from Pylos, which must be shared out among the ships.”
I nodded. I wondered how much they had brought aboard. I had been busy with other things in Pylos.
I looked up at him, and realized I was not looking far. Like me, he was small and dark, light but well muscled. “What is your name?” I asked.
“Don’t you know?” he said with a wry smile.
“Death knows everyone’s name. But I am not Death now, only Pythia.”
“Xandros,” he said. “Xandros the son of Markai.”
I did not know the name of his father. “Are you a prince of Wilusa?”
He laughed, and adjusted the tiller again. “No, Lady. I’m a fisherman. Neas is a prince.”
“Neas?”
“Prince Aeneas. The captain of
Seven Sisters.
He’s our commander now. He’s the only one of the royal house left. Well, him and his son, but the boy’s not but four.”
“How did you survive?” I asked.
His eyes darkened. “We were away up the coast when the Achaians came. We came back as the city was burning.”
Xandros looked out to sea, to where the foremost ships were coming about, their sails lowering, as they turned the end of the island. “We landed and did what we could. There were a few fishing boats in the Lower City that had not burned, so we got everyone we could onto them and ran out, just as Neoptolemos got back from chasing some Tyrian merchants who had escaped. We got five boats away, but one foundered the next night, and one was so badly damaged we had to leave it on one of the islands. We’ve overloaded the warships, but they’re seaworthy.”
He looked ahead. We were not yet abreast of the island, but he saw something that I did not. “Stand by to drop oars!” he yelled. “Make ready with the sail!”
Men scrambled up from where they had been talking and resting. Two went to either side of the mast, to the bottom of the sail. The others went to the oars, removing the blocks from the ports and lifting out the oars.
Now we were nearly abreast of the island. Ahead of
When I came out of the shelter of the prow the wind hit me, lifting mantle and robes like wings, as though it wanted to hurl me into the sky. I made my way along the deck, to where the captain stood at his work.
“Are you well, Great Lady?” he asked.
I climbed the four rope steps to the afterdeck. The movement of the ship was wonderful, faster than a chariot. “I am well,” I said. “And you don’t need to always address me as Great Lady. I am Pythia. When it is only me.”
He nodded, but did not speak as he attended to a minute correction of course, changing the tiller just a bit as the wind shifted a little.
I looked out over the sea. Eight other ships bounded along, spray flying in the gathering night. Already Pylos was indistinct behind us. Nearest to us,
Hunter
leaped, barely a rope’s length away, her white sail painted with the archer, his bow drawn and his arrow ready, just as he hunts the skies. Beyond her I could see
Swift,
her sail painted with the sharp-winged bird she was named for. Behind us, last from the coast, was
Seven Sisters,
the bright Pleiades picked out on her sail. I could not see the people on her deck at this distance.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
He took one hand from the tiller and pointed ahead. “There,” he said. “That smudge on the horizon is a small island.”
“I thought those islands off the coast had no water,” I said. “That is why the men of Pylos do not stop there.”
“They don’t,” he said. “But that’s where we’ve left the rest of our people.”
“The fishing boats,” I said. “You did not bring the fishing boats into Pylos.”
“No. Nor the women and children that we had with us. We will beach the ships for the night there and continue in the morning. Also,
Dolphin, Hunter,
and
Pearl
have stores from Pylos, which must be shared out among the ships.”
I nodded. I wondered how much they had brought aboard. I had been busy with other things in Pylos.
I looked up at him, and realized I was not looking far. Like me, he was small and dark, light but well muscled. “What is your name?” I asked.
“Don’t you know?” he said with a wry smile.
“Death knows everyone’s name. But I am not Death now, only Pythia.”
“Xandros,” he said. “Xandros the son of Markai.”
I did not know the name of his father. “Are you a prince of Wilusa?”
He laughed, and adjusted the tiller again. “No, Lady. I’m a fisherman. Neas is a prince.”
“Neas?”
“Prince Aeneas. The captain of
Seven Sisters.
He’s our commander now. He’s the only one of the royal house left. Well, him and his son, but the boy’s not but four.”
“How did you survive?” I asked.
His eyes darkened. “We were away up the coast when the Achaians came. We came back as the city was burning.”
Xandros looked out to sea, to where the foremost ships were coming about, their sails lowering, as they turned the end of the island. “We landed and did what we could. There were a few fishing boats in the Lower City that had not burned, so we got everyone we could onto them and ran out, just as Neoptolemos got back from chasing some Tyrian merchants who had escaped. We got five boats away, but one foundered the next night, and one was so badly damaged we had to leave it on one of the islands. We’ve overloaded the warships, but they’re seaworthy.”
He looked ahead. We were not yet abreast of the island, but he saw something that I did not. “Stand by to drop oars!” he yelled. “Make ready with the sail!”
Men scrambled up from where they had been talking and resting. Two went to either side of the mast, to the bottom of the sail. The others went to the oars, removing the blocks from the ports and lifting out the oars.
Now we were nearly abreast of the island. Ahead of
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