The waves threw Torak against the claw, and he grabbed seaweed and hauled himself out--just as a loud, throaty
kwoosh!
erupted behind him, and a shower of spray shot high into the air.
As he collapsed on the rocks, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a great black back arching out of the water-- then a towering, notched fin. He was so close that he saw the wave curling back from its edge; and as the huge blunt head powered past him, he met the dark, unknowable eye of the Hunter. Then it was gone, sweeping past him, making straight for the skinboats.
They had heeded his warning too late. Bale was nearly at the rocks, where Asrif was reaching out to him and yelling encouragement--but Detlan was farther behind, and Notched Fin was gaining on him.
Torak scrambled to his feet and ran toward them, leaping over skinboats, slipping on seaweed. But the Hunter was many times faster than him, and he watched in horror as it closed in on Detlan--swerved, and slammed its enormous tail, catching the stern of the skinboat and sending it flying. Detlan landed with a scream on the rocks, then slid
270
back into the water. Asrif and Bale ran to his aid as the black fin raced toward him--then, at the last moment, twisted around and disappeared beneath the waves. Asrif and Bale pulled Detlan's limp body from the water and laid him on the rocks.
Breathless and shaken, Torak scanned the Sea--but saw nothing. Only white foam rocking on the waves where the Hunter had been, moments before.
Then, far in the distance, he saw a black fin heading out to Sea. Whatever--whoever--Notched Fin was seeking, it hadn't found them here. Torak turned and ran toward the others.
Asrif was on his knees, wrenching out the plug of a waterskin with his teeth. Bale was shaking the contents of a medicine pouch onto the rocks. Detlan lay with his eyes closed. His face was frighteningly pale, his lips blue with shock; but as Torak got nearer, he saw to his relief that the Seal boy was breathing. Bale shot Torak a glance. "You all right?" he said.
Torak nodded. Then to Asrif, "Do you still have the root?"
Asrif touched his jerkin, but didn't speak.
Detlan's skinboat was shattered, and so was his leg. Torak could see the white gleam of shinbone poking through bloody flesh.
"Why me?" gasped Detlan. "Why was it after me?"
Bale put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I don't
271
think it was," he said. "If it had been, you'd be dead by now."
"The Cormorants were right about one thing, though," muttered Asrif, putting the waterskin to Detlan's lips. "It's after someone."
"But who?" said Bale.
Then he turned to Torak, and asked the question that Torak was already asking himself. "And how in the name of the Sea Mother did you know it was coming?" 272
Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT
Renn thought Torak looked pale as
he knelt
by
the
l.
injured boy.
Hiding among the boulders thirty paces away, she trilled her signal: the song of a redstart. She'd chosen a redstart because they are Forest birds, so he'd be sure to notice. He didn't. That astonished her. For Torak not to notice something like that--he must be shaken indeed.
It was a hot, sticky night, with the breathless feel that comes before a storm, and she'd been sweating by the time she'd found her way through the rowans and 273
boulders at the foot of the cliffs. She'd arrived just after the Hunter had attacked.
Neither Torak nor the Seal boys seemed to know
why
it had attacked; but she did. She could still smell the carrion stink, still hear Wolf's famished champing. He'd been so intent on his food that when she'd left the beach, he'd hardly glanced up.
As the sun sank lower and the blue midsummer glow descended, she waited among the boulders, desperate to tell Torak about the slaughtered Hunter--but almost as desperate not to be seen by the Seals. Then another Seal arrived in a skinboat: a man in a gutskin parka with a terribly burned face, who took charge of everything. The short, slight Seal boy drew something from inside his jerkin, and the man put it carefully in a little pouch at his neck; Renn guessed it must be the selik root. Then, using pieces of the wrecked skinboat, the man splinted the wounded boy's leg, while giving orders to the others.
Renn was surprised at how Torak's face lit up when the burned man came; and she felt a small stab of jealousy when the man told him to fetch wood for a fire, and he instantly obeyed. "Is it all right if it's from ordinary trees instead of driftwood?" he asked, his voice carrying over the rocks.
The burned man nodded, and Torak started moving across the rocks.
274
Renn forgot her jealousy. Maybe he'd heard her signal after all.
She watched him stoop for a stick of driftwood, then wander down to the Sea; then turn and start toward the boulders.
"Where are you?" he said softly.
"The rowan trees," she whispered. "Up here--no, farther along."
When he got within reach, she grabbed his jerkin and pulled him behind a spur, which cut them off from the others. "At last!" she breathed. "I've been waiting and waiting--" "Where's Wolf?" he said abruptly.
"In the next bay, feeding. That's what I--"
"You'd better gather some wood too," he muttered. "I can't go back empty-handed."
"What? Oh. Yes, of course." Close up, she saw that he was still pale, and not meeting her eyes. "Torak, are you all right?" He shook his head. "What about you?"
She brushed that aside. "Listen. I know why the Hunter attacked." She told him about the murdered young one and the tracks of the fair-haired skinboater. "No wonder it's angry," she said. "That young one must have been its kin, and the skinboater trapped it and cut out its teeth, then left it to rot." "But--why would anyone do that?" said Torak.
"I don't know, but it's got to be some kind of spell. Although who would dare do anything that evil. To break clan law--to kill a
Hunter. .
."
"Revenge," murmured Torak to himself. "Yes, that would be it." He sounded sad as well as angry.
Renn was puzzled. "Who did?"
His face contracted as if in pain. "When I was in the water. It was so ... I don't--I can't--"
"Torak, don't you see what this means?" she broke in. "The skinboater who did this-
he was a Seal!"
"What? What are you saying?"
"Something is terribly, terribly wrong-
and the Seals are part of it!
Who knows, maybe they're even causing the sickness! Maybe that's why he needed the teeth!"
Torak took a step back from her. In disbelief he shook his head.
"Haven't you ever wondered," she went on, "why none of them has fallen sick, and yet you've been on the island for days, and so has the tokoroth?" "That doesn't mean anything," he whispered.
"Then why did they send only boys to fetch the root? If they really thought they were threatened, why not send men?"
"Because Asrif is the best at climbing, and--"
"And you believe that?"
276
Torak hesitated, then shook himself. "Ever since they knew about the sickness, the Seals have been trying to
help."
"Torak--"
He turned on her. "Tenris kept me off the Rock! Asrif defended me from the eagles! Detlan and Bale were coming to
rescue
me when the Hunter attacked! Bale lost his
brother to
the sickness three summers ago!"
"Why are you so keen to defend them?"
"Why are you so keen to condemn them?"
"Because the skinboater had fair hair! Because his tracks show that he was the one who murdered the Hunter!"
"But almost everyone in the Sea clans has fair hair! Besides, you said yourself that you heard his paddle click against his skinboat! If you knew anything about Seals, you'd know they never make
an
y noise! The man you saw could have been anyone. A Cormorant, or one of your friends the Sea Eagles--"
"But not one of your friends the Seals," Renn said bitterly.
"They're not my friends," he retorted. "They're my kin."
She flinched.
Stonily he took the firewood she'd gathered and added it to his own. "I've got to go back," he said without looking at her.
277
Renn was horrified. "Haven't you been listening?"
"Renn, it's nearly Midsummer. We've only got a day to reach the camp."
"By
Sea}
With a storm coming, and a vengeful Hunter--"
"Tenris has a masking charm, and he says--"
"And Tenris is never wrong."
Torak did not reply.
"If I'm right about this," said Renn, "you're going back into danger, and putting the clans at risk-- because you won't listen."
Torak turned on his heel and left.
It was much later, and on the cliffs, the seabirds were agitated. Many were leaving their roosts to fly inland. There was a storm on its way.
Torak had woken after a brief, unrefreshing sleep. Soon he would set off with Tenris and Bale. The plan was to leave Asrif and Detlan here, so that the three of them could return to camp at speed; with luck they would reach it before the bad weather hit, and in time for Midsummer night and the preparation of the cure. On the other side of the fire, Detlan slept deeply, thanks to Tenris's sleeping potion, Asrif and Bale through sheer exhaustion. Tenris sat by the fire, smoking his crabclaw pipe. Blearily, Torak rubbed his face. He was tired, but he
278
knew he wouldn't get any more sleep. The fight with Renn had left him churned up inside. They'd had quarrels before, but never one this bitter. He felt cut off from her--and not only because of what had been said between them, but because of what had happened in the water. He had been a seal.
He had heard things, felt things that only a seal could. But he had also been Torak. . . .
Tenris tapped his pipe on a stone, making him jump.
A corner of the Mage's mouth lifted in a slight smile; Torak tried to smile back. Tenris had arrived without warning, saying simply that he'd "felt he was needed." Torak hadn't been able to say just how glad he was. Now he watched the Mage frown as he refilled his pipe, holding it in his twisted hand, while with his good one he tamped in another wad of aromatic leaves.
i
"Bale told me what happened out there in the water," he said. Lighting the pipe with a glowing brand, he took a few puffs, narrowing his eyes against the smoke. "Why don't you tell me the rest? How did you know the Hunter was coming?" Torak hesitated. "I can't explain. I don't understand it.
Tenris raised an eyebrow. "But you know more than you told Bale. Maybe I can help."
Torak put his chin on his knees and stared into the
279
fiery valleys of the embers. "The seals," he murmured. "They feel it in their whiskers; the sounds coming through the water."
From the corner of his eye, he saw Tenris tense.
"I was with the guardian," Torak went on. "She heard--no, she
felt
--the voice of the Hunter--from very far away." He swallowed. "That's how I knew it was coming."
When Tenris still said nothing, Torak raised his head.
The Seal Mage sat with his pipe forgotten in his hand. His face was open and aghast.
"What does it mean?" whispered Torak.
The pipe slipped from the motionless fingers and rolled into the fire. Tenris made no move to retrieve it. Lurching to his feet, he staggered to the water's edge, and stood with his back to Torak. He stayed there for a long time. When he returned to the fire, he looked older, but also strangely excited. "Tell me everything," he said. Torak took a deep breath--and did.
It was a relief to tell someone. He hadn't realized what a burden it had been, keeping it to himself. But the intensity in the Mage's face was frightening. When he'd finished, there was silence between them.
Tenris ran his good hand shakily over his beard.
280
"Has this happened before?"
"I--think so."
"You
think
so?" Tenris spoke with unusual sharpness. "What do you mean?"
"I--I fell in a seal net. There were some capelin. . . . But only for a moment."
"For a moment? How long?"
"A few heartbeats, I don't know."
The gray eyes pierced his: as if trying to see into his souls.
"What--what is it?" faltered Torak. "What's wrong with me?"
Tenris did not reply at once. Then he said, "Nothing is--wrong with you." He glanced at the others to make sure they were still sleeping, then moved closer to Torak. "It is--" He broke off, shaking his head.
"It's what? Tell me!" '
Tenris sighed. "Ah, how to explain?" Picking up a stick, he probed the fire, sending sparks shooting skyward. "Everything in the world," he said at last, "has a spirit. Hunter, prey, river, tree. Not all of them can talk, but all can hear and think. You know this, of course."
Torak nodded, wondering what was coming next.
"The three souls of every creature--the souls that make the spirit--these are rooted in the body." Again he probed the embers. "Maybe the name-soul might slip out from time to time, if you're ill, or dreaming; but it rarely goes far, and it soon comes back." He cast aside the stick and put out his hands to the fire, as if to draw something out of the flames. "But once in every thousand winters, a creature is born who is--different."
Despite the heat, Torak began to feel cold. "This creature's souls," Tenris went on, "can leave its body--leave it for much longer than any Mage ever achieves when he is curing the sick. This creature's souls can travel farther." He paused. "They can enter the bodies of others. And when that happens, this creature sees, and hears, and feels, just as the body into which it has strayed--and yet remains himself." His fists came to rest on his knees, and he turned and met Torak's horrified gaze.
"This creature,"
he whispered,
"is a spirit walker.
"
Torak couldn't breathe. "No," he said.
The gray gaze never wavered.
"No!" said Torak. "It doesn't make sense! If the souls leave, then the body is dead! I would have been dead; that's what death is!"
Tenris gave him a look full of pity and understanding. "But Torak. In spirit walking, not all the souls
do
leave the body. The Nanuak--the world-soul--always remains. It never leaves, not till the moment of death. It is only the name-soul and the clan-soul that walk." Torak had begun to shake. He'd never even heard
282
of spirit walking. He didn't want to know anything about it.
Tenris put his good hand on his shoulder and gave him a little shake. "You're right to be frightened. Spirit walking is the deepest of mysteries. All we know about it has been passed down from Mage to Mage; garbled, half understood." Again he paused, as if wondering how much more Torak could take. "What we do know is that even for the spirit walker, it is very hard, and very dangerous."
And it hurts, thought Torak, remembering the sickness and the pain. It had felt as if something deep inside him were being torn loose. . . . Then a thought occurred to him that gave him hope. "But this can't be right!" he said eagerly. "I'm not a spirit walker; I've got proof! In the Forest, I was treed by a boar. He nearly got me, and I was terrified--and it didn't happen!
1 didn't get the sick feeling, or the pain and I never for one instant knew what he was feeling!"
The Seal Mage was shaking his head. "Torak, Torak, that is not how it is. Think! You know enough about Magecraft to be aware that even for ordinary Mages, when they wish to cure the sick, they need help to free their own souls. There are many ways of doing this. A trance. A soul-loosening potion. Sometimes simply going without food, or holding your breath. It is the same for the spirit wa
lker. Being merely afraid, as
283
you were of that boar, would not have been enough to loosen your souls."
Torak thought back to the other times when it had happened. At the healing rite, there had been Saeunn's soul-loosening smoke. In the seal net, he'd been close to drowning. With the guardian, too, he'd been drowning. It was beginning to make a terrible kind of sense. "Besides," said Tenris, and Torak was surprised to see that his half smile was back, "you were lucky you
didn't
spirit walk inside that boar. His souls would have been too strong for yours. You might have been trapped in there for good."
Torak got to his feet, stumbled to the edge of the rocks, and stood there shivering. He didn't want to be different. And yet--wasn't this why his father had kept him separate from the clans? Why he'd said as he lay dying, There's so much I haven't told you}
"This is a curse," he said, his teeth chattering. "I don't want to be different. It's a curse!"
"No!" Tenris came to stand beside him. "Not a curse, but a
gift!
You may not think so now, but in time, you will see this!"
"No," said Torak. "No."
"Listen
to me," said the Seal Mage, his beautiful voice shaking with emotion. "What you did so easily-- without even trying--is something the cleverest Mages 284
strive their whole lives to achieve! Why, once I knew a Mage--a good one--who tried for six winters on end. Six winters of trances and potions and fasting. Then finally, for a few heartbeats--he succeeded. And he counted himself the luckiest of men!" "I don't want it," said Torak. "I never--"
"But Torak, this is the
very purpose
of Magecraft!" The handsome, ruined face was alight with fervor. "We do not learn Magecraft merely to trick fools with colored fire! We do it to delve deeper! To know the hearts of others!" He caught his breath. "Think
what you could do if you learned to use this! You could discover such secrets! You could know the speech of hunters and prey. You could gain such power. . . ." "But I don't want it!" cried Torak--and on the other side of the fire, Bale stirred in his sleep.
"I don't want it," said Torak more quietly. He had never felt so frightened and confused. All his life, he had been Torak. Now Tenris was telling him he was someone else.
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