The Last Days Of The Edge Of The World (18 page)
Rufus Malagig IV felt that this was no way to speak to a king—especially not a seasick king—but he could not find sufficient strength to complain. He knew, though, that the situation was urgent, and that if he had any small reservoir of heroism left untapped, now was the time to tap it.
“Come on!” urged the enchanter, who was an enchanter no more.
The king forced his legs to move, and with great difficulty pulled himself up into a kneeling position. He put his hand up as if to shade his eyes (actually, he was holding his head, which felt as if it might drop off at any moment) and assumed an attitude of keen vigilance, looking out to starboard.
Satisfied, Sirion Hilversun directed his own gaze to port, although occasionally—not wishing to take too many chances—he sneaked a quick glance to starboard to make sure that Rufus Malagig wasn’t missing anything.
The king, though, really was trying his hardest, fighting down the seasickness and scanning the waves anxiously for the least sign of anything hopeful. And he it was, in fact, who first caught sight of the white head bobbing in the water. For a moment, he could not see what it was and almost rejected it as a folly of the foam— an illusion sent by the waves to distract him. Then he saw the pale arms clinging to the mane, and the smaller, darker heads. He yelled wordlessly to Sirion Hilversun, jabbing with his outstretched arm.
The enchanter spun the wheel to bring the little boat about.
“Get the rope!” he called.
The king of Caramorn, babbling incoherently, scrambled across the deck to the foot of the mast and began to uncoil the rope secured there. Sirion Hilversun almost came to help him, but the moment he released the wheel it spun back and the boat lurched horribly, so that he had to return to steady it.
Rufus Malagig crawled away from the mast, the rope in his arms, and tried to stand. He looked dazed.
“Give me one end to tie down,” said the enchanter desperately. “Throw the other end to them and haul them in.”
The king came to his feet at last, staggered drunkenly, and seemed about to fall overboard. Then he gained belated possession of himself and tossed several coils of the rope to the old man, who promptly began winding the slack around the stem of the wheel, tying a knot every three or four loops. The king threw the rest of the rope over the side. It fell far short of the target. Without a moment’s hesitation, Rufus Malagig IV dived over the side, grabbed the end of the rope, and began swimming hard towards the horse and the two clinging to its neck.
Ewan and Helen saw him coming and tried to reach out to help him. Ewan did not realize, at first, who it was, and was shocked when he heard the familiar voice gasping at him.
‘Take the rope!” said the king, thrusting forward the free end. “Hang on—both of you. I’ll swim back, pull you aboard.”
Ewan took the rope and wrapped it swiftly about his wrist. With his other hand he took Helen’s arm, and the two of them floated free of the mare. The king was already swimming back to the boat.
Sirion Hilversun looped the rest of the rope that was slack at his end through the spokes of the wheel, securing it firmly. Then he ran to the side in time to help Rufus Malagig back into the boat. As the king somehow contrived to ease his bulk up and over, sagging to the deck immediately, the enchanter heard him moan.
“Are you hurt?” asked Sirion Hilversun.
“No-o-o…” replied the king. “But I feel… terrible!”
Nevertheless, Rufus Malagig regained his feet, all his clothes clinging wetly to his body and his hair dripping salt water into his eyes. Both he and the enchanter grappled with the rope and began to haul upon it. Ewan and
Helen, quite exhausted, could do little enough to help them, but within minutes they were beside the boat, and arms were reaching down to help them over the side.
The moment they were in, and safe, everyone collapsed. All four of them lay in the scuppers, surprised and grateful that all they had to do, for a minute or two, was breathe.
The enchanter was the first to rouse himself, and he moved to take his daughter in his arms. He sat on the deck, cradling her head upon his lap for a long time. Rufus Malagig did nothing but pant and wonder why his nausea just wouldn’t go away. Ewan managed to kneel, and he looked over the side. For a moment he didn’t know what he was looking for, and when he remembered, he realized that it wasn’t there. There was no sign at all of the old grey mare. Her head had finally vanished beneath the waves, and she had lost the unequal struggle.
“She saved us,” murmured Ewan. “She saved us… and we couldn’t save her.”
Then he burst into tears and didn’t stop, even when he felt Helen’s hand upon his shoulder and heard a voice saying: “She was so old, there was no way… but we’re safe. Safe now.”
He just couldn’t stop at all.
Much later, the little boat reached the shores of Caramorn. The water lapped gently against the side of a shallow hill, and they stepped out on to springy green grass. They were all quite recovered by now. Even Rufus Malagig felt as if he could quite confidentiy step back aboard and face the waves again. His stomach was quite settled, although he did feel rather hungry.
Sirion Hilversun looked out over the expanse of blue water, which sparkled in the morning sun.
“Gone,” he murmured. “All gone. The lands where magic ruled. Moonmansion… everything. All under water. Finished. For ever.”
“You realize what this means?” said Rufus Malagig IV.
“Oh, yes,” said the enchanter. “I’ve lost everything.
Everything except….” He placed his arm protectively around Helen’s shoulder. She too was staring out to sea, thinking about all that was gone for ever.
“Caramorn has a coast!” said the king, who sounded far from unhappy. “We can build a fishing fleet! We can build ports. This is a new ocean—unfished, unexplored.
This will be the making of Caramorn–-The country’s future is safe. No more depending on getting good harvests out of bad farmland! Don’t you see… ?” He trailed off then, realizing that what had happened meant something very different to Sirion Hilversun and Helen. “Look,” he said, quietly. “Don’t take it so hard. Caramorn is your home, now. We still need you there.”
“What for?” said Sirion Hilversun, bitterly. “I’ve no magic now. I can’t remember tomorrow any more. Everything I had is drowned with Moonmansion. I’m just a useless old man.”
“No,” said the king, thinking quickly for once. “Not everything is gone. It’s not all lost. You may not remember tomorrow, but you remember yesterday… a great many yesterdays. You’ve lived a long time—you know more than any other living man. And you have more than knowledge… you have wisdom. We need you at Jessamy. I want you to be one of my ministers. And there’s something else, too. If you’ll agree, I want you to become Damian’s tutor. He’s growing up, now—I and someone has to help turn him into something resembling a king. There’s a great deal he has to learn—and it won’t be easy teaching him. I can’t do it, and neither can the other ministers—they’re just a bunch of petty politicians. Coronado will save the country all right, now that things are different, but someone has to save Damian. How about it?”
The ex-enchanter looked long and hard at the king. Finally, he said: “What about Helen?”
“I’ve already decided what I want to do,” said Helen, quickly, just in case the king, carried away by his magnanimity, suggested that she marry Damian.
“What’s that?” asked Sirion Hilversun.
“I’m going to Heliopolis,” she said. “To the university. With Ewan.”
Ewan looked up when he heard this declaration, and for the first time since Rufus Malagig had hauled him out of the sea, he smiled. It was a long, long smile.
The enchanter looked at the king again, dubiously.
“It’s a good idea,” said Rufus Malagig.
“Will the Treasury be able to stretch to two grants?” asked Ewan.
“We’ll manage,” said the king. “Somehow, we’ll manage.”
Sirion Hilversun shrugged his aged shoulders. “In that case,” he said, “I suppose we’ll all manage.”
Then, with the sun on their backs, they all began the long walk home.
THE END
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Back Cover text:
THE WIZARD’S DAUGHTER
Sirion Hilversun was growing old, and the winds were growing cold in the lands at World’s Edge. If had been many years since he and the other wizards had been expelled from the land of Caramorn.
Now the King of Caramorn wanted his magic back. To get it he was willing to marry his Prince to Sirion’s daughter, Helen. And so the deal was struck.
But Helen had plans of her own—which didn’t include marrying a Prince who looked like a toad.
So Helen did what any heroine in a fairytale would do. She gave the Prince three impossible tasks…
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