“But you did confirm that merfolk are living there where we are bound?”
“Aye, and also that sometimes they come down to the coast by two or threes, and swim about. That would be needful for their health, of course, but it’s said they do useful tasks like charting shoals and finding out where fishing is best. Lately, as well, a number of males have departed on ships, in the service of the duke or whatever his title is here. A war is starting up; I’m not clear as to why or who the enemy is.” Tauno shrugged. “Our host to be can doubtless tell us more.”
Eyjan regarded him closely. “Under that sour mien, brother, she murmured, “you’re a-tremble to meet them again.”
“Are you not?” he asked, surprised. “It’s been a weary search”-voice and eyes dropped-“and this latest voyage the loneliest part of it all.”
Her own gaze grew troubled and she averted it. “Yes. On” Herning, and later in Denmark, we had two who loved us.”
“But our own people-“
“Wait and see.” She would say no more. Tauno felt downright relieved when the captain of the guards drew close and engaged him in respectfully fascinated colloquy.
Though the birdflight distance between Shibenik and Skradin was not great, the road twisted far to avoid the woods, and de-parture had been somewhat belated. Thus the sun was low when folk reached the village, its rays golden through cool air, shadows huge before it. Riding along a street toward the castle, the mer-man’s children glanced about with heart-quickened interest. Houses were wooden, roofed with turf or thatch, as in the North; but the style of them, and the gaudy paint on most, was foreign, as was the onion-domed church at one end. Humans who paused; to stare at the procession were often tall and blond, but mainly round of skull and high of cheekbones, their garb of a cut and ornamentation never seen at home. They appeared well fed, and they did not cringe from the soldiers but their men offered cheerful hails. As elsewhere in Dalmatia, women kept meek in the back-ground, several of them more heavily burdened than was common in Brynhild’s country.
Abruptly Tauno stiffened in the saddle. His stare went from; a shawl-wrapped face, across whose brow stole a greenish curl, to bare, webbed feet below the skirt. “Raxi!” he bawled, and jerked on the reins.
“Tauno, is it you, Tauno?” the person cried in their olden language. Then she shrank back, crossing herself over and over as the Hrvatskan words poured from her: “No, God have mercy, Jesus have mercy, I mustn’t, Mary help me—“ She whirled about and ran stumblingly around a comer, out of his view.
Tauno made as if to leap down after her. Eyjan seized him by the wrist. “Hold, you fool,” she snapped.
He shook himself, caught his breath, fell still, clucked his horse back into motion. “Aye, they are a startling sight,” the guards captain said. “But fear them not, my lord. They’re good Christians now, good neighbors, loyal subjects of the King. Why, I’m thinking I might marry a daughter of my own to some young fellow among them.”
Beside Ivan Subitj to welcome his guests was a priest, not the zhupan’s chaplain but a robust, rough-clad graybeard introduced as Father Tomislav. While a repast was being prepared, and Lady Sigrid resting in the chamber lent her, these two discoursed pri-vately with Herr Carolus.
That was high in the watchtower, where a room commanded a splendid overlook across the countryside. Westward the sun had dropped under the forest which hid the lake. Light still tinged wings of swallows and bats which darted around a violet sky. Thin mists were rising to sheen across the fields. Closer gleamed the conjoining rivers, farther to northward and eastward the Svilaja peaks. It had grown very quiet outside.
Dusk softened Ivan’s mutilated face, but there was iron in his voice as he stiffened on his bench and ended a time of amenities:
“I sent for Tomislav, Gospodar Carolus, because he of everyone knows most about the merfolk-maybe more than they do them-selves-and I understood from reports brought me that you were inquiring about them.”