The captain ran down, looked, exclaimed in horror and bellowed for Hekate to come at once. She stared where she saw his eyes fixed, but didn't understand what was turning him gray under his weather-beaten brown.
"Stop them!" he cried. "Stop them!"
"Stop who? What?" Hekate asked. "I don't know what's wrong."
"The roots. The roots that are used to lash together the planking of the hull. They're growing. They're twice the thickness they should be. Look. Look. Another thumbnail's width and they will force apart the planking and let in the sea."
Hekate didn't understand, but she touched the dark brown ropelike thing the captain's trembling finger indicated and muttered the spell she used to draw moisture from swollen tissue. Water began to drain out of the lashing and trickle down the hull. The brown rope shrank to a thinner, darker rope, and Hekate could see that the two boards it encircled were pulled more tightly against each other.
"Is that what—" Hekate began.
The captain was not paying attention. He was looking wildly up and down along the hull. "They are all growing," he breathed, his eyes starting with terror. "The hull will be pulled apart before the end of the day."
He jumped to the central walkway and screamed for the lookout to find a beach on which they could land. From there he ran to the deck near the prow from where he shouted for his steersman to sail closer to the shore and for two sailors who were staring open-mouthed to shift the sail to hold the wind. He bellowed curses against sorcerers and magic in between ordering the rest of the sailors to take to the oars to move them more swiftly.
Kabeiros, who had remained on deck when Hekate went down, slunk aside into the shadow and began to make his way as inconspicuously as possible to join her. He found her working her way around the hull, touching each lashing that seemed to be swollen and uttering the spell that leached out moisture.
*Thank the Mother for allowing me to use the high magic as well as the low,* Hekate said to him, when he stood beside her, to defend her if the sailors turned on her. *But even with drawing power from the air, I will never be able to keep all the lashings drained. They are drinking water from the sea, which is limitless.*
*If you can keep anything from bursting for even a few candlemarks, we'll probably be safe. The captain is looking for a place to beach the ship.*
Hekate breathed a long sigh of relief. *If I don't have to keep working at draining these roots, I'll try to tease out the spell Medea used. Then I'll be able to stop it or change it.*
*You'd better explain that to the captain as soon as he comes down here again because he'll be able to see that you can't control the damage with what you're doing.*
Hekate made an exasperated sound. *How do I explain negating the whole spell when I want him to believe I am only a healer?*
*You don't have to explain removing the spell. Everyone knows that most spells wear off after a few days. As soon as you find a way to counterspell the hull, you can tell the captain that the spell just wore itself out. There's nothing sorcerous about that.*
Hekate was about to answer, when the captain's voice came down from above. "Witch! Damn you! Get up here!"
"No!" Hekate shouted back. "I've dried about a third of the lashings. I don't want to drown any more than you do. Let me finish my work."
Sputtering with rage, the captain leapt down from the deck to the median plank and then to the bottom. One hand was rising, possibly to strike at Hekate, but he was met by Kabeiros. The huge dog's snarling threat made him pause, and in that moment, Hekate drew his attention to what she had done.
"How?" he gasped. "How are you doing that?"
"It is a small spell that I use to ease dropsy," Hekate said, as she moved from one lashing to another. "It is no cure. I know no cure for the disease, but this spell draws out the water that gathers in a person with that sickness and for a few days relieves the pain."
"But that is a person," the captain muttered. "This is a dead part of a plant . . ."
Hekate shrugged. "It was the first thing that came to my mind, so I tried it. It it hadn't worked, I would have tried something else."
"You've saved us, then?"
"Not really." Hekate touched another lashing, muttered the spell. "Look at the first one I did. Already it's not as hard and dry as this that I've just bespelled. Likely it will take another three days to get as thick as this next lashing, but the curse is still working and I can't cast spells night and day."
"You mean even if we get to shore and save our lives, my ship is lost to me?" His voice trembled.
"Oh, no. A curse, even Medea's, seldom lasts more than a few days without being renewed. If you beach the boat so that only a few lashings are in the water, I can keep those dry until the curse wears off. Then the ship will be as good as new . . . at least, the lashings will be good as new. If some other damage has been done by their swelling, I wouldn't know that."
"Caulking," the captain muttered. He stared at Hekate's back, eyes narrowed, then said, "But this will delay me several days, mayhap even a ten-day. Not only will those waiting for cargo be dissatisfied and perhaps withhold payment, but all that time I will be feeding you and that monstrous dog. And he showed his teeth at me. A threat like that would be death for a man in my crew. I won't have a dangerous dog aboard my ship—"
"Captain," Hekate said, taking her hand from the lashing she was about to bespell and turning to face him; she looked older, more bent, her voice rough with fatigue, "my dog and I have a special bond. If he should be harmed, I would not wish to live and there would be no purpose to my expending my strength to dry your lashings. You will have us both, or I will go overboard with Kabeiros. Look!" She pointed behind the captain to a bare trickle of water coming between two planks. "Will you wager your life on finding a place to beach before the water comes in all over?"
He stared at the trickle of water, then at Kabeiros, who stood quietly beside Hekate. "What land?" he roared up at the lookout.
"Cliffs and forest," the lookout called back.
"It was probably you who brought this curse on us," he snarled resentfully.
"I doubt it, but it's possible." The crone leaned against the hull, cackled, and pointed; two more trickles crawled down the ship's side.
"The dog can stay," the captain gasped.
Hekate turned her back on him and touched another lashing. Water dribbled from it down the hull, through the open planking of the lowest deck and into the bilge. After a while, the captain called for two sailors to bail out the extra water that was accumulating. Hekate moved along the hull, touching and whispering. Kabeiros moved with her; soon she needed to brace a hand on his back for support.
Later the captain was called by the lookout and went up on deck to consider a cove where the ship might be pulled from the water. It was very rocky, however, and he bade his men sail on and keep looking. Had Hekate not been more than two thirds around the hull, it would have been a hard choice between the chance of striking a rock and the chance of the lashings swelling too far.
When he came down again, Hekate was sitting on a low keg, her head down on Kabeiros' shoulder. "What are you doing?" he yelled. "While you're cuddling that beast, the water is coming in."
She didn't answer at once. She had never been so depleted of power, blind and achingly empty. After a moment she whispered, "I have done what I can. I don't want to drown, but I can do no more. I must rest and eat."
"Eat? Eat? Passengers who pay fare eat."
Again Hekate had to gather strength before she could reply. "I understood Medea was to pay."
"I never saw Medea," the captain snarled.
"Very well," Hekate said. "When I have eaten and drunk and have strength enough, I will try to dry the rest of the lashings because I don't want to drown—unless you feel staying afloat is not worth the price of one meal. If so, I will just rest here until we sink. As to the dog, you need not worry about feeding him. He's hunted for himself every night and will continue to do so. If you make shore, and y
ou feel you don't need my services, I will leave—and you can deal with whatever other little toys Medea has left aboard on your own."
The sailors who had been bailing had stopped and were listening to the conversation. One of them took a half-full pail, raised it to the median plank, and climbed up after it. A few minutes later, a big man about the captain's age let himself down to the lower deck. He carried a leather mug in one hand and a cloth-wrapped package in the other.
"What are you doing here, steersman?" the captain asked.
"Making sure your greed don't sink this ship," the steersman answered without expression.
Ignoring the captain's order to get back to his steering oar, the steersman shoved another keg within Hekate's reach. On that he placed the mug and opened the cloth, in which was wrapped a wedge of cheese, a handful of olives, and a round of hard bread. She tried to take the mug, but her hands would not grip it, and the steersman lifted it, supported her head, and let her drink. When she had swallowed about half the sweet wine, she pulled away and he put down the mug. She reached for the cheese, bit, chewed, took an olive. At first she had to eat slowly and the steersman looked around at the hull.
It was apparent what Hekate had done, for where she had not drained out the lashings, they were swollen enough by now to interfere with the proper mating of the planks. The water coming in was already more than a trickle, but not yet so much that the men bailing could not hold their own. If the boards opened more, they might not be able to keep up; worse, the distortion the swollen lashings caused might damage the whole hull.
"Lady," the steersman said, "I can see you are exhausted and have done much already, but all your work will be for nothing if you cannot finish. The bad will destroy the good."
"I know," Hekate whispered, but continued to eat.
"I can hold you up," the steersman said. "Will that help?"
"In a moment," she said.
The captain had been silent, staring at the leaking hull. When Hekate had finished the olives and cheese and was dipping the bread into the remains of the wine to soften it, he said, "Send another man down to support the old witch, if you don't think she's shamming. You are needed at the steering oar. A beach may be found at any time."
Without even turning his head, the steersman watched Hekate. As soon as she had finished the bread and emptied the mug, he lifted her to her feet, and when she sagged against him, carried her to the ship's side. The captain watched with an expression that boded the steersman no good, but he said no more and climbed up to the median plank and then to the deck.
Hekate didn't notice. She was concentrating on drawing off just a touch of the steersman's strength, not enough to do more than make him feel a little tired. He had no Talent, it was life-force itself that she was taking, not to increase her power but to give her physical strength. That, together with the food and wine, made her able to begin again. Almost it was not enough to finish, and for the last few lashings she had to draw from Kabeiros, who sank to his belly on the wet floor.
She dried the last lashing with darkness closing in on her. Later she became dimly aware of shouts and the sound of feet pounding above her. She thought she should get up and go on deck if the ship were sinking, but hadn't the strength. And Kabeiros lay limp beside her. She couldn't go without him. Maybe some of the barrels would float, she thought. Surely the cold of the water coming in would wake her.
What woke her, however, was the captain's voice. "Well! Well! I'm glad to see you made yourself so comfortable. Even paying passengers are not allowed to use the cargo for their own comfort. You'll have to pay extra for that!"
Hekate sat up slowly and looked around. Kabeiros sat beside her warily eyeing the captain. She was very hungry again, but mostly restored. Someone had laid her down at the edge of the underdeck, and it was true that bales of cloth had been moved to make her a bed. She remembered her last thought, but clearly the excitement she had heard had not been the ship sinking. A glance at the hull showed it to be dry as far as she could see, and the sailors who had been bailing were gone. The ship was not rocking as it did while at sea. They had found a beach in time, it seemed.
"I can't pay at all," she said clearly, hoping her voice would carry. "I have very little metal, only a few copper pieces." That was a flat lie; Hekate had brought a great deal of gold and silver—all she had earned while at Colchis. However, she was sure if she admitted to being able to pay, the captain would try to have her throat slit to steal the money. "What I brought was my herbs and simples, some potions and powders. I will be able to treat most sicknesses and wounds, and I will gladly do that for you and the crew to pay for my passage."
"Nonsense. You must have some trade metal. How could you start on a long journey without the means to pay for food and lodging?"
"I had little choice," Hekate replied dryly. "Don't you remember that Medea summoned me from my work in the market and bid me go? She gave me no time to go to my lodging for what I had saved. I had barely time enough to gather up the supplies I had at my stall."
"Well, no one here will give you anything. Doubtless it's your fault our ship was cursed. You'll get nothing from me or my men. Take your filthy dog and go. Whatever you brought aboard is forfeit for the evil you've brought on us."
Slowly, Hekate rose. "I'll go, but I will take what is mine with me." She nodded at Kabeiros, who had come from the dark part of the underdeck dragging her three bundles by their ties. "I nearly died to save your ship. That's enough service to pay for three days aboard her."
"You'll starve on the road," the captain sneered.
"Oh, no," Hekate answered calmly, lifting one pack to her shoulder and taking the other two in hand. "Kabeiros will hunt and I will gather while we're in the wilderness. When we find a house or a village, I'll be welcome. There are few places in which a healer is not eagerly greeted."
"You'll starve, and I'll be glad of it, old witch, for you'll do no healing. I'll take what you have in those packs." The captain drew a knife.
Hekate dropped one pack to the ground and laughed aloud as the captain drew it to him and undid the bindings. Out of the pack crawled a serpent, which struck at the captain's reaching hand and then at his bare feet. He screamed and leapt up to the median plank, but somehow the serpent was there with him and he ran for the upper deck. Hekate redid the bindings on the bundle, listening to his screams diminish as he went down the ladder from the deck to the beach.
She had to stand on a cask to reach the median plank and lifted herself to the deck with some difficulty. The form of the crone did not lend itself to gymnastics. As she walked toward the ladder, she could hear the captain still screaming about the serpent and the shouts of the crew as they tried to keep him from running off into the forest that edged the beach.
Thanking the Mother for their preoccupation, Hekate climbed down the ladder. Kabeiros, unbalanced by the bundle fastened to his harness, slipped and slid behind her, feet scrabbling for a hold on the narrow treads. Unburdened and with a man's intelligence, he had learned how to climb the ladder without difficulty, but he had no way to grip the treads and the pack pulled him backward. Twice he would have fallen if Hekate had not been there to brace his body. She was bruised and gasping when they were at last on solid ground.
"There is no serpent!" the steersman was shouting, and then he saw Hekate and advanced on her threateningly. "What did you do to him, witch?" he bellowed.
"Nothing," Hekate said, shaking her head. "I did nothing. He came aboard and demanded trade metal. I told him the truth, that I had only the few copper pieces I had with me in the market because Medea had not given me time to go to my lodging and gather my possessions. I said there was only herbs and suchlike in my packs. Then he ordered me off the ship to make my own way and said he would keep my packs. He seized one and opened it, then screamed there was a serpent and ran away."
"You said you were a healer. Did you have a serpent in the pack?"
Hekate laughed. "Do you see a serpent?" She dropped the
bundles to the ground and said, "Open them and look."
"You open them."
Obligingly, Hekate opened the packs. One held bundles of herbs, folded stalks and stems—which a madman might see as a serpent—and a box full of black seeds, nut hulls, and dried somethings which gave off a noxious smell. The second had more herbs in which were nestled small stoppered and sealed flasks and pots. The third contained a worn gown, two shifts, thin and gray with washing, a much-mended shawl wrapped around a box of cheap trinkets.
"What are those?" the steersman asked suspiciously.
"Toys for the children. If they drink down the potion they need for healing, they can have a toy."
The crew, which had been casting uneasy looks at her in between restraining the captain, now advanced on him right through the empty space to which he pointed, screaming, "Snake. Snake." They took away his knife, wrestled him to the ground, and bound him.
Gesturing to Hekate to do up her bundles again, the steersman advanced on the captain. "Where is the snake?" he asked.
"There. There. There," the captain screeched. "Near my feet. It is striking at my feet."
"Has it bitten you yet?" the steersman asked.
"No, or I would be dead."
"Isn't it strange that it should strike but never bite when you cannot move away? There is no serpent, Captain. No one sees it except you."
"It came out of her bundle, I tell you. See. See. It still weaves back and forth. It will kill me."
"It hasn't so far and we have opened all her bundles. There are no snakes in them, nothing but what she said was there, herbs and suchlike. What were you looking for?"
"Gold," the captain gasped, twitching his feet from side to side. "I know she has gold. An old woman like that doesn't go on a long journey without metal to supply her needs. A young one could sell her body, but who would even buy a drink to have so ancient a crone? But she wouldn't pay, not even for her fare, not even when I told her she must go alone into the wilderness."
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