The marshall of the dwarven army ran to the platform.
“Vater, you must see this!” he shouted.
“Stay here,” my father ordered us, and descending the platform, he hurried after the marshall.
The ceremony was obviously ruined. I was angry about that, angry about the fact that I couldn’t see a thing, angry at Father for dashing off. I stood clutching the hammer and the lock of hair and cursed the fate that made me a princess, left me standing on this stupid platform when every other person in Gargan had a clear view of what was going on.
I didn’t dare disobey my father — a dwarf maid who did that would have her side whiskers clipped in punishment, a humiliating experience — but surely it wouldn’t hurt if I moved to the end of the platform. Perhaps I could see from there. I had taken a step and could hear my mother draw in her breath to order me back when Hartmut jumped up onto the platform and ran to us.
“The Vater has commanded me to keep you and your daughter safe in his absence, Muter,” he said, with a respectful bow to my mother.
His eyes were on me, however.
Perhaps fate knew what it was about, after all. I decided to stay where I was.
“What’s happening?” my mother was asking anxiously.
“A disturbance in the sea, nothing more,” said Hartmut casually. “An oil slick of some sort is spreading and a few people thought they saw heads sticking up out of it, but I think they’re looking through the bottom of an ale mug. Most likely it’s a school of fish. The boats are setting out to investigate.”
My mother seemed reassured. I wasn’t. I saw Hartmut’s eyes stray to his marshall, watching for orders. And though he was making a gallant attempt to smile, his face was grim.
“I think, Muter,” he continued, “that until we establish just what’s causing this oil slick, it might be wise if you were to step down from this platform.”
“You’re right, young man. Grundle, give me that hammer. You look silly standing there, hanging onto it. I’m going to go join your father. No, Grundle, you stay with the young guard.” My mother bustled off the platform and sallied out into the crowd after my father. I sent my thanks and my blessing after her.
“I don’t think you look silly,” Hartmut said to me. “I think you look splendid.”
I edged closer to the young dwarf, and now that my hand was free of the hammer, it could accidentally find its way into his hand. The boats were putting off from the beach, their rowers pulling on the oars, shooting out to sea. We left the platform and, along with the rest of the population of Gargan, hurried down to the water’s edge.
“What do you think it is?” I asked in a low voice. “I don’t know,” said Hartmut, allowing his trouble to show now that we were alone. “We’ve heard odd tales all week. The dolphins report strange creatures swimming the Goodsea. Serpents whose skin is covered with oil that fouls the water and poisons any fish unlucky enough to wander into it.” “Where did they come from?” I drew nearer. “No one knows. According to the dolphins, when the seasun began altering its course, it thawed out several seamoons that have been frozen for the One knows how long. Perhaps these creatures came from one of those moons.”
“Look!” I gasped. “Something’s happening.” Most of the dwarves in their small boats had ceased to row. Some had shipped their oars and sat motionless in the water, staring out to sea. Others had nervously begun to pull back for shore. I could see nothing except the oil on the water—a greenish, brownish slime that smoothed out the waves and left a film on the sides of the boats it touched. I could smell it, too; a noxious odor that made me sick to my stomach.
Hartmut gripped my hand hard. The water was starting to recede! I’d never seen anything like it—as if some gigantic mouth were sucking the water out from under us!