Suddenly he raised one hand, flung it away, and spat on the floor. Then he turned toward the steps to the door.
Then the noise hit them. They both turned toward Snake. The boy’s black eyes darted under twin spots of light from the lamp, to Urson, to Geo, then back.
The noise came again, quieter this time, and recognizable as the word Help
, only it was no sound, but like the fading hum of a tuning fork inside their skulls, immediate, yet fuzzy.
… You … help … me … together
… came the words once more, indistinct and blurring into one another.
“Hey,” Urson said, “is that you?”
… Do … not … angry
… came the words.
“We’re not angry,” Geo said. “What are you doing?”
I … thinking
… were the words that seemed to generate from the boy now.
“What sort of a way to think is that if everyone can hear it?” demanded Urson.
Snake tried to explain. Not … everyone … Just … you … You … think … I … hear …
came the sound again. I … think … You … hear.
“I know we hear,” Urson said. “It’s just like you were talking.”
“That’s not what he means,” Geo said. “He means he hears what we think just like we hear him. Is that right, Snake?”
When … you … think … loud … I … hear.
“I may just have been doing some pretty loud thinking,” Urson said. “And if I thought something I wasn’t supposed to, well, I apologize.”
Snake didn’t seem interested in the apology, but asked again, You … help … me … together
.
“What sort of help do you want?” Geo asked.
“And what sort of trouble are you in that you need help out of it?” added Urson.
You … don’t … have … good … minds
, Snake said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Urson asked. “Our minds are as good as any in Leptar. You heard the way the priestess talked to my friend the poet, here.”
“I think he means we don’t hear very well,” said Geo.
Snake nodded.
“Oh,” Urson said. “Well, then you’ll just have to go slow and be patient with us.”
Snake shook his head. Get … hoarse … when … shout … so … loud.
Suddenly he went over to the bunks. You … hear … better … see … too if … sleep.
“Sleep is sort of far from me,” Urson said, rubbing his beard with the back of his wrist.
“Me too,” Geo admitted. “Can’t you tell us something more?”
Sleep
, Snake said.
“What about talking like an ordinary human being?” suggested Urson, still somewhat perplexed.
Once … speak
, Snake told them.
“You say you could speak once?” asked Geo. “What happened?”
Here the boy opened his mouth and pointed.
Geo stepped forward, held the boy’s chin in his hand and examined the face and peered into the mouth. “By the Goddess!” he exclaimed.
“What is it?” Urson asked.
Geo came away now, his face lined in a sickly frown. “His tongue has been hacked out,” he told the giant. “And not too neatly, either.”
“Who on the seven seas and six continents did a thing like that to you, boy?” Urson demanded.
Snake shook his head.
“Now come on, Snake,” he urged. “You can’t keep secrets like that from friends and expect them to rescue you from I don’t know what. Now who was it hacked your voice away?”
What … man … you … kill …
came the sound.
Urson stopped, and then he laughed. “All right,” he said. “I see.” His voice rose once more. “But if you can hear thoughts, you know the man already. And you know the reason. And this is what we’d find out of you, and only for help and friendship’s sake.”
You … know … the … man
, Snake said.
Geo and Urson exchanged puzzled frowns.
Sleep
, said Snake. You … sleep … now.
“Maybe we ought to try,” said Geo, “and find out what’s going on.” He crossed to his bunk and slipped in. Urson followed and hoisted himself onto the upper berth, dangling his feet against the wooden support. “It’s going to be a long time before sleep gets to me tonight,” he said. “You know the rituals and about magic. Aren’t the Strange Ones some sort of magic?”
“The only mention of them in rituals says that they are ashes of the Great Fire. The Great Fire was back before the purges, the ones I spoke to the priestess about, so I don’t know anything more about them.”
“Sailors have stories of the Great Fire,” Urson said. “They say the sea boiled, great birds spat fire from the sky, and beasts rose up from the waves and destroyed the harbors. But what were the purges you mentioned?”
“About five hundred years ago,” Geo explained, “all the rituals of the Goddess Argo were destroyed. A completely new set were initiated into the temple practices. All references to them were destroyed also, and with them, much of Leptar’s history. Stories have it that the rituals and incantations were too powerful. But this is just a guess, and most priests are very uncomfortable about speculating.”
“That was after the Great Fire?” Urson asked.
“Nearly a thousand years after,” Geo said.
“It must have been a Great Fire indeed if ashes from it are still falling from the wombs of healthy women.” He looked down at Snake. “Is it true that a drop of your blood in vinegar will cure gout? If one of you kisses a female baby, will she have only girl children?” He laughed.
“You know those are only tales,” Geo said.
“There used to be a one with two heads that sat outside the Blue Tavern and spun a top all day. It was an idiot, though. But the dwarfs and the legless ones that wheel about the city and do tricks, they are clever. But strange, and quiet, usually.”
“You oaf,” chided Geo, “you could be one too. How many men do you know who reach your size and strength by normal means?”
“You’re a crazy liar,” said Urson. Then he scrunched his eyebrows together in thought, and at last shrugged. “Well anyway, I never heard of one who could hear what you thought. It would make me
