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that served as cabs in Ularra.
    “Would
you like us to walk you to your ship, Captain?” Aiyan asked.  “Just to be sure
you make it safely.”
    Lyzuga
shook his head.  “No need to worry about me.  I’m fast on my feet.”
    But
Kyric noticed that he sweated harder than he had in the closed gaming room.
    They
watched him walk away.  When he turned the corner Aiyan started after him,
signaling Kyric to follow quietly.
    Captain
Lyzuga was indeed fast on his feet.  They had to quick step to keep from losing
sight of him.  They followed him to the dockside road, and weaved through a
dozen heavy wagons sitting with sugar and rare woods meant for an outbound
merchantman.  When they came within sight of Calico , Aiyan stopped.
    “Look,”
he said, pointing to the top of the main mast.  A slender figure standing on
the watch platform there stepped onto a line running to the top of the mizzen
mast and quickly tiptoed across it, easy as a stroll despite the slight
downward cant.  The figure then hopped onto a rope running to the deck at a
terrible angle, and walked down that line in measured steps, reaching the deck
in time to greet Lyzuga as he came aboard.
    “That’s
impossible,” whispered Kyric.  “The angle is too sharp.  You wouldn’t have
enough traction if you had glue on your feet.”
    “Maybe
she has claws,” said Aiyan with a straight face.
    Kyric
couldn’t tell if he was joking.
     

CHAPTER 5:  A River of Blood
     
    He
awoke on a sandy shore made hard by a thousand seashells.  The ocean glowed
turquoise against a shimmering blue sky, yet it was so clear that he could see
the shipwrecks at the bottom of the inlet.  He watched a hermit crab pick its
way across the carpet of shells.
    Behind
him, sparse sandy grassland stretched to a dark horizon.  Rolirra must have
brought him up and hauled him ashore, but he didn’t see her anywhere.
    He
waited for what seemed like hours.  Thick grey clouds rolled in from the land,
and a light rain began to fall.  He walked along the shore until he spotted a
trail running though the tall grass.
    He
followed it inland, the clouds growing darker, the rain falling harder.  He
tried to call out for Rolirra, but again he had no voice.  He strained to
shout.  No sound would come.  The path became slippery, his footing uncertain,
and when one of his feet slid into the grass he felt a sharp sting, a great
blue snake slithering quickly away.
    The
bite didn’t hurt and he plodded on, now seeing what looked to be a line of
trees ahead.  Lightning shot among the clouds and the storm struck, the sky
breaking open and the rain falling in a fury.  It was getting hard to walk.  A
kind of paralysis was spreading from the snake bite, spreading up that leg and
down the other.  He was becoming numb.
    He broke out of the grassland and came
to the edge of a thick jungle.  A long hut made of sticks and mud stood there. 
He struggled towards it.  He could barely move.  He opened the crude door and
staggered in.  The door closed behind him and he was alone.
    Despite
the afternoon heat and the stuffy cabin, Lyzuga served them coffee before he
said anything.  There weren’t any big glass windows at the stern as on larger
ships — only a single porthole.  The sheath of miniature charts lay open on his
writing desk.
    “I
find it interesting that only six of the seven lost islands are shown here —
the big island, Mokkala, and the five little ones, known as the Quintet, to the
south.  On the fake charts I have seen they always include Gavdi, the seventh
lost island.
    “As
for navigational accuracy,” Lyzuga continued, “there is a little-known island
called The Turtle at eleven degrees north latitude.  In fact, its location is
almost a secret.  I can confirm that the celestial observations supposedly recorded
there are accurate.  There’s no doubt that the original map maker was there at
the indicated time of year.”
    He
looked pointedly at Aiyan.  “But I