“Right.” The captain turned to the team. “Take up your positions.”
The six found positions where they could get a good view of the beach, which was the only way to reach the ship, since the rocks where they had come aground were inaccessible from inland. They waited with bows at the ready, in silence. The sun was beginning to be a problem by now. It was really scorching, and had already burnt a part of Gerd’s arm which he had not covered properly. The Norghanians’ skins, so white and unaccustomed to the sun, were a great weakness in that tropical climate.
At mid-afternoon the natives came back, and the waiting was over.
“Here they are,” Ingrid warned them. “Stay alert.”
“Weapons at the ready,” Astrid said.
A dozen natives appeared on the white sand of the beach, making their way toward the ship.
“Well, there’s only a dozen of them,” Viggo commented. “That’s not too bad …”
Gerd snorted. “Thank goodness …”
The natives walked nonchalantly over to the ship. Eicewald and Olsen waited on the side which gave access to the rocks.
Nilsa pointed toward the sea. “It looks like more than a dozen to me.”
Following the beach in the direction of the ship, twenty or so canoes with several natives in each were approaching. They were long and narrow, unusual because they had something like a guide-arm joined to one side of the boat.
“Jinx!” Ingrid said to Viggo.
“There still aren’t so many,” he said defensively.
“In all, more than a hundred,” said Lasgol, who had counted them.
“What are a hundred savage warriors from a bunch of tropical islands beside the Snow Panthers? I won’t even break into a sweat if they attack.”
“What d’you mean, you dumbass, you’re already sweating!”
He smiled at her. “Well, that’s because of this scorching sun, not from the effort.”
“Pah! Shut up and pay attention!”
As the leading canoe approached their ship, a man stood up in it. There was no doubt that he was old. His hair was completely white, but it was a very strange greenish-white. His face was marked by wrinkles which ran from side to side, like long lines. His clothing too was unusual. He wore something like a tunic, but made of long, braided strands of seaweed of different colors, which fell from his shoulders to the ground. In one hand he carried a staff decorated with corals of different, intense, colors, which seemed to have been treated somehow in order to make them into adornments. He began to speak, with a powerful voice. Eicewald went to the point on the gunwale which was closest to his canoe.
“Arrain, Shaman of Life and Sea,” he greeted him. “My friend, my brother, it gladdens my heart to see you again.”
The native switched languages and went on in Norghanian. “Eicewald, Mage of the Ice, my heart rejoices to see an old friend.”
“I see you are as young and healthy as always.”
“As a Shaman of Life, if I were unable to keep myself young and healthy, little use would I be to my people.”
“Very true,” Eicewald said, and bowed respectfully to the old man.
“I had not expected to see you again in this life.”
“Neither had I, but life takes these unexpected turns and leads us into situations that are unforeseen. And nor was I expecting you to be the one sent to welcome us.”
“The warriors mentioned a man with power who spoke our language. I had to come in person to see who it was. Besides … if it is someone with power, it is my duty to help my warriors with my own.”
“It could not be otherwise.”
“Although as you well know, my power is more aligned with the magic of life than with that of destruction.”
“True, but despite that, if you had to use your power for death, I’m sure you’d be able to.”
“Let us hope this meeting doesn’t lead to that.”
“It would be a great pity. The last thing I want is a confrontation with the Turquoise People, and especially not with you, my old friend.”
Lasgol was not liking the tone of the conversation very much. At first it had seemed that they were old friends, but now it was clear that this was not entirely the case. They respected each other, true, but they did not seem to be altogether friends. This awoke many doubts in him. If Eicewald had been to the islands years before and knew the Shaman, why was the situation so tense? Why such a cool welcome? Beside him, Astrid looked at him questioningly. Lasgol gave a small shrug and gestured to her to stay alert. A little further to the right, Viggo glanced at both of them, and in his eyes Lasgol saw the same doubts.
“You should not have returned to the turquoise realm.”
“It wasn’t of my own free will, that I can assure you. I had no choice.”
“You are taking a great risk, one which will very probably cost you your life. You know this as well as I do.”
“I knew the risk, and even so, I’ve come. I’ll accept whatever must be.”
“The Turquoise Queen will dictate your fate: yours and that of your people. As it should be.” He pointed his coral-covered staff at the ship.
“I don’t like this,” Astrid whispered to Lasgol. “The Mage was supposed to lead us to the Queen and make things easier for us, not the opposite.”
“I don’t think Eicewald has told us all the truth about what happened to him in these islands.”
Viggo bent and whispered into Ingrid’s ear: “The Queen’s going to ask for the Mage’s head. There’s something strange going on here. It’d be better if we attacked first. We’d stand more chance that way.”
“I’m with you in that
