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Authors: L. Sprague de Camp
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about its business."
"Be sensible, Master Kerin! You are fatigued from your row and your walk, and 'tis time to rest!"
"And who wouldn't let me rest when we got ashore from the boat?" said Kerin. "Besides, I fear it not. It's but a little longer than I; and I could outrun it, as my brother outran one in Moru. If we move quietly, we can skirt the creature."
"You shall not!" shrilled Belinka. "I cannot let you risk your precious person. . . ."
Kerin shouldered his bag and, sword in hand, set out cautiously. As he neared the lizard, he saw that the space between it and the water was wider than that between it and the vegetation—at least twenty feet.
On the other hand, the lizard proved larger than he had thought. It was as big as a mature crocodile, ten or twelve feet long.
He hesitated; but fear of seeming timid before a female—even a non-human female—drove him on. He angled into the wet sand, so that the final upwash of each wave curled around his ankles. The lizard slumbered.
As Kerin came abreast of the reptile, the lizard opened its eyes, looked around, and rose on stumpy legs. It swiveled about to face Kerin, scattering sand; it opened fangful jaws and hissed like a kettle.
"Master Kerin!" cried Belinka. "Flee! Drop your burdens and run!"
Kerin stood still watching the lizard. For a score of breaths, man and reptile confronted each other, neither moving. Then the lizard turned away and walked deliberately towards the shrubbery beyond the beach, each leg sweeping out in a semicircle with every step. Once it paused to stare back at Kerin, as if daring him to start something. With a crackle and rustle, it disappeared into the vegetation.
Kerin drew a long breath. Grinning, he said: "See, Belinka? It decided I was too large to swallow.''
"Bad boy!" squeaked Belinka. "Some day you will take one chance too many, and I shall be blamed by Madame Erwina for losing you, you great fool!"
"That, my dear, is your problem." Keep cool and don't argue, he told himself. "I did not invite you on this journey."
Kerin heard the ghost of a sniffle. "By Imbal's brazen balls, stop blubbering! If you wish to give advice, I will listen; but I shall make the final decisions."
Kerin felt weak from his reaction to the reptilian standoff but tried not to show it. Belinka's advice was often sound, but her dictatorial manner made him contrary. He might do something foolish just to spite her. Jorian, he reminded himself, had warned him to judge each incident on its merits without letting petty irritations cloud his judgment.
Making sure that the lizard had disappeared, Kerin resumed his march. Another quarter-hour brought him in sight of the source of the smoke. On the edge of the beach, a fire smoldered in a circular hearth of stones and lumps of coral. As Kerin approached, he espied a small clearing in the vegetation, laid out as a vegetable garden. On the edge of this clearing, a hut of bamboo and palm fronds arose. Before the hut, seated on the ground and leaning back against one of the corner poles with his eyes closed, sat a naked, brown-skinned oldster. The man was scrawny, wrinkled, and egg-bald, with a fringe of white hair and white whiskers.
"Belinka," murmured Kerin, "dost remember the name of the hermit who, Janji said, dwells on Kinungung?"
"Methinks 'twas 'Pwana' or the like."
"Thankee." As Kerin approached the old man, doubtful whether the hermit was alive, Belinka tinkled:
"Have a care, Master Kerin! Trust not this so-called hermit until you know him better!"
"I'll try," muttered Kerin, suppressing a flash of irritation. Aloud he said: "Master Pwana, I presume?"
The man's eyes snapped open. "Aye, I am the Balimpawang Pwana. And who might you be?"
"You speak Novarian?" said Kerin in surprise.
"Aye; and all other civilized tongues as well. And you, young sir?"
"A castaway hight Kerin of Ardamai. How knew you I hailed from Novaria?"
Pwana chuckled. "It is evident from your garb, your cast of feature, your
"Be sensible, Master Kerin! You are fatigued from your row and your walk, and 'tis time to rest!"
"And who wouldn't let me rest when we got ashore from the boat?" said Kerin. "Besides, I fear it not. It's but a little longer than I; and I could outrun it, as my brother outran one in Moru. If we move quietly, we can skirt the creature."
"You shall not!" shrilled Belinka. "I cannot let you risk your precious person. . . ."
Kerin shouldered his bag and, sword in hand, set out cautiously. As he neared the lizard, he saw that the space between it and the water was wider than that between it and the vegetation—at least twenty feet.
On the other hand, the lizard proved larger than he had thought. It was as big as a mature crocodile, ten or twelve feet long.
He hesitated; but fear of seeming timid before a female—even a non-human female—drove him on. He angled into the wet sand, so that the final upwash of each wave curled around his ankles. The lizard slumbered.
As Kerin came abreast of the reptile, the lizard opened its eyes, looked around, and rose on stumpy legs. It swiveled about to face Kerin, scattering sand; it opened fangful jaws and hissed like a kettle.
"Master Kerin!" cried Belinka. "Flee! Drop your burdens and run!"
Kerin stood still watching the lizard. For a score of breaths, man and reptile confronted each other, neither moving. Then the lizard turned away and walked deliberately towards the shrubbery beyond the beach, each leg sweeping out in a semicircle with every step. Once it paused to stare back at Kerin, as if daring him to start something. With a crackle and rustle, it disappeared into the vegetation.
Kerin drew a long breath. Grinning, he said: "See, Belinka? It decided I was too large to swallow.''
"Bad boy!" squeaked Belinka. "Some day you will take one chance too many, and I shall be blamed by Madame Erwina for losing you, you great fool!"
"That, my dear, is your problem." Keep cool and don't argue, he told himself. "I did not invite you on this journey."
Kerin heard the ghost of a sniffle. "By Imbal's brazen balls, stop blubbering! If you wish to give advice, I will listen; but I shall make the final decisions."
Kerin felt weak from his reaction to the reptilian standoff but tried not to show it. Belinka's advice was often sound, but her dictatorial manner made him contrary. He might do something foolish just to spite her. Jorian, he reminded himself, had warned him to judge each incident on its merits without letting petty irritations cloud his judgment.
Making sure that the lizard had disappeared, Kerin resumed his march. Another quarter-hour brought him in sight of the source of the smoke. On the edge of the beach, a fire smoldered in a circular hearth of stones and lumps of coral. As Kerin approached, he espied a small clearing in the vegetation, laid out as a vegetable garden. On the edge of this clearing, a hut of bamboo and palm fronds arose. Before the hut, seated on the ground and leaning back against one of the corner poles with his eyes closed, sat a naked, brown-skinned oldster. The man was scrawny, wrinkled, and egg-bald, with a fringe of white hair and white whiskers.
"Belinka," murmured Kerin, "dost remember the name of the hermit who, Janji said, dwells on Kinungung?"
"Methinks 'twas 'Pwana' or the like."
"Thankee." As Kerin approached the old man, doubtful whether the hermit was alive, Belinka tinkled:
"Have a care, Master Kerin! Trust not this so-called hermit until you know him better!"
"I'll try," muttered Kerin, suppressing a flash of irritation. Aloud he said: "Master Pwana, I presume?"
The man's eyes snapped open. "Aye, I am the Balimpawang Pwana. And who might you be?"
"You speak Novarian?" said Kerin in surprise.
"Aye; and all other civilized tongues as well. And you, young sir?"
"A castaway hight Kerin of Ardamai. How knew you I hailed from Novaria?"
Pwana chuckled. "It is evident from your garb, your cast of feature, your
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