The storm was a brutal thing, as savage as any tempest that lashed the seas of Hell; but Hale rode in the eye of it, where the sky shone green and grim and the leaping water was disorienting but not dangerous.
No vessel could have survived the wall of wind and lightning which encircled the boat. Even the greatest of the trading ships which anchored in Emath Harbor during Dennis’ present would have been torn to bits by the ravaging weather. Hale was alone except for his boat, his son’s wraith, and the gelatinous shape of the sea hag, rising from the deep as the sea stilled.
The human head broke the calm surface, smiling and making enticing gestures with the arms that lay in the circle of hair. Hale stared at the creature fiercely without speaking.
The sea hag’s real mouth gaped open. The arms deformed into barbels at either corner of the jaw. The smile smeared itself unrecognizably into scaly horror.
“Welcome, King Hale,” said the sea hag. Dennis could hear the amusement in the booming voice. “Have you brought me the price of our bargain two years past?”
When the creature spoke, the air stank of fish and death.
“Make me another bargain,” Hale blurted. His hands clenched together, releasing the oars. The blades slipped only an inch or two into the sea, where they rested on something beneath the surface. “I’ll give you anything you want. Anything!”
“You’re a rich man, King Hale,” chuckled the sea hag. “You have everything that trade and power can bring a man… and everything you have is a thing that I have given you—except one. Pay me the price of our bargain, King Hale.”
“Take my life, damn you!” shouted Dennis’ father as he lurched upright in the boat. “Take me!”
“The storm had your life two years past, fisherman,” said the creature. “As I saved you then, so I will have our bargain now. Bring me your firstborn.”
“Oh god,” said Hale as he sank back onto the thwart. It was prayer or curse or a despairing ejaculation, and perhaps all three at once in his voice. Though he sat down heavily, the boat barely shuddered.
“What would you have, King Hale?” said the sea hag in a voice that rumbled like the bellies of the dragons—but much louder.
“He’s so…” Hale tried to say between the net of fingers with which he covered his face. By an effort of will, he jerked his hands down and looked at the monster which taunted him. Tears were dripping down his weathered cheeks.
Dennis reached out to put his arm around his father’s shoulders. He touched nothing, because he had no body in this place.
“I can’t let you have Dennis,” Hale said simply. “When his mother holds him, she looks… looks like an angel, sea hag. Are you woman enough to understand that? Take me. I can’t give you my son.”
No one could doubt the quiet determination behind the words. Hale’s tears continued to stream down his face. He didn’t bother to brush them away.
Dennis tried again to clasp him. If he’d had eyes, Dennis would have been crying also.
The sea hag laughed. “You think you love your son because he is still an infant,” the creature said. “Shall I give you until his fourth birthday, King Hale? Would you find that merciful?”
Its laughter boomed and stank around the boat as Hale gaped at the creature’s shuddering maw.
“Do you mean that?” he pleaded.
“I will keep my bargain, Hale,” said the sea hag. Its mouth closed so that the woman-face smiled momentarily once again.
The sea hag seemed to be sinking. Hale relaxed, and Dennis looked out over the sea to note the storm breaking as the magical image of an earlier storm had broken minutes before.
But before the creature disappeared, it chuckled again and added, “I will keep my bargain, Hale. And you will keep your bargain too. In good time…”
And as the sea hag finally disappeared, the velvet drapes and the darkened palace closed Dennis in the embrace of reality.
Dennis flexed his arms, then offered a smile to his companion. “It’s hard to do that,” he said. “Hard to—to be there and not be able to, to really be there.”