CHAPTER SIX
DISEMBARKATION
"Are you all right now, my dear?" said a voice.
Terra looked absently at the speaker for a moment. She found herself sitting against a tree outside, a short distance away from the island-king's hut. Edgar was kneeling beside her and Calogrent stood a few feet away (out of respect, apparently).
"We saw a strange light coming from the room. When we went in, you were sitting on the floor, looking a bit pale and bemused. Everyone else seemed to be...celebrating."
Terra's mind still felt a little numb and empty, and she had a mild headache, but her strength had returned to her. She stood up with Edgar's help. (She didn't need it, but he insisted.)
"I...I healed their king," said Terra at last, but only realized the fact once the words were out of her mouth. Edgar looked surprised and then delighted.
"That's wonderful, my dear. It seems your abilities have returned to you."
"Maybe," said Terra. Whether she had regained her powers completely, or whether this incident had only been a fluke, she didn't know. In any case, she would be in no condition to test them again that day. All she wanted now was to rest—which of course is exactly what she wouldn't get to do.
By now the island-king and -queen and their attendants and the whole village had assembled before the king's hut. The king, spry and full of health and hale, danced before them all. There were cheers and shouts of joy. Before she knew it, the king's attendants had found them. They begged Terra and her companions to come with them.
"I guess they want to thank you," said Calogrent good-humoredly and by way of understatement.
That night there was a feast of monumental proportions. It was such a festive and gay occasion, so full of life and merrymaking, that it would take a hundred pages to describe and a thousand to describe well. And even if Terra had not been mentally taxed she would not have been able to take it all in. Suffice it to say that there was singing and dancing, food and drink without limit, plays, and all manner of performance—and all in honor of Terra. The king and queen waited on her themselves. Calogrent and Edgar were offered wives; Terra was offered a throne...or perhaps a temple (the language barrier prevented her from perfectly understanding them). She tried to dissuade them from worshiping her—knowing that receiving worship, which was the sole prerogative of the gods, was both arrogant and dangerous—but to no avail. She only hoped that her unwillingness and their ignorance would be enough to placate Esperial wrath.
The next day Terra had a general feeling of malaise. She had recovered from her magical exertion only to fall victim to the islanders' wine, which they had insisted on her drinking in excess. Calogrent had the same problem, for he was pained by the daylight and even the suggestion of food. Edgar, on the other hand, seemed perfectly well and satisfied, appearing from the door of a hut where he had apparently slept. (Terra and Calogrent had each slept where they had been sitting the night before, due to the wine and the fact that the natives feared to touch them.) With a clearer head, Terra might have wondered about Edgar's sleeping arrangements.
"Shall we see how the ship is faring, my dear?" said Edgar with unusual smugness. He laughed in a way that was quite unpleasant to Terra (probably due to her hangover).
Most of the islanders were still asleep when Terra, Calogrent, and Edgar left the village.
"It will give them the impression that we just disappeared," said Calogrent, "which will confirm their conviction that you're a goddess, Terra."
"Oh, stop it," said Terra, smiling. Calogrent's sense of humor reminded her of Locke. She thought about Locke the whole way back to the beach; she wondered what he was doing and prayed for his safety.
When they reached the beach they found the ship's boat waiting for them, along with a few Returners.
"The Mercuria is seaworthy again, King Edgar. We're ready to set sail," said the first mate.
"Good, good," said Edgar, taking his place in the boat. Terra couldn't figure it out, but there was something repulsive about Edgar today.
As they got in and pulled away from the shore, a native girl wearing a bridal wreath emerged from the trees and ran down to the beach. She shouted at them and then stood at the water's edge.
"Shall we turn back, King Edgar?" said the first mate.
Edgar blushed with shame and averted his eyes. "No," he said in an undertone. "Just keep going."
Terra was outraged on behalf of her sex. But Edgar didn't dare meet her eyes. She looked back and watched the poor girl on the beach, who had crumpled in despair and was weeping into her hands. The broken wreath floated carelessly on the water. Terra considered turning Edgar into a pig.
"What could I have done, my dear?" said Edgar, once they were back on the ship.
"I'm not your 'dear'!" said Terra hotly. "Your 'dear' is back on the island where you left her! You could have brought her with you or—here's an idea!—not slept with her in the first place! Did it even occur to you that in her mind and according to their law, you are now her husband?"
The color had drained out of his face. He begged her to keep her voice down, saying that he was nobility, after all, and had a title to think about.
"The noble should act nobly," Terra retorted. "And when they don't, they can be called to account."
"But...I...I was drunk...and...I'll send money!" said Edgar desperately.
"You were drunk and you'll send money? Listen to yourself. You're talking like a fool."
"But...my dear—I mean, Terra...what do you expect from me?"
"More," said Terra with a note of finality that indicated the conversation had reached its end.
Just then Sabin appeared, and said, "Still up to your old tricks, brother?" He said it with just the right degree of condescension that Terra did not accuse him of making light of the situation, though underneath of course there still lay the bonds of brotherly affection.
At this point Edgar bowed out with a sheepish promise "to be better." Terra's wrath abated and she began to regain her composure.
This was the first time that she and Sabin had a chance to speak alone since they met. She wished it could have been under calmer circumstances. Nevertheless, when he made to leave, she said, "Wait! I want to talk with you."
He stopped, a little surprised, and turned back to her. She realized that that had come out more forcefully than she would have hoped.
"I mean," she said, in a softer tone, "I'd like to get to know you." That too sounded a bit forward.
"Okay," said Sabin, willingly but apparently taken off guard. They sat down together on deck and talked. It must have seemed a strange and lonely sight: the "witch" and the wandering martial artist.
"I can see that you don't yet trust me, though Banon and your brother have enlisted my help," she said. "I don't blame you for that, for I can only imagine the stories you've heard about me, and I can only guess how many of them are true." With that, Terra told Sabin her story, as far back as she could remember, beginning with Arvis' cave up to South Figaro, where she mistook Sabin for his brother, and how she, Locke, and Edgar journeyed north to the Sabil Mountains, where she joined Banon and the Returners. Sabin sat Indian-style and listened to the whole tale with interest.
"I now believe that you are truly no friend to the Empire, or else we are all bewitched. But there is wisdom in Banon and (though it may seem otherwise at times) in my brother too, and so I believe you are a trustworthy and a might ally." They shook hands. The formality of the speech and gesture was not cold; it intensified rather than diminished the feeling conveyed—namely, a pledge of friendship.
Sabin then related to her a brief history of his movements, beginning with his childhood in Figaro Castle, but passing over a certain subject that he seemed unready to speak about. "Many years ago, my brother and I had a sharp dispute and parted company. I renounced my title and went in search of vengeance against the Empire. I was half-dead when Master Duncan found me. He took me to his school on Mount Kolts and trained me in martial arts, and he taught me to master my anger.
"I studied there for many years and surpassed all other students, even kohai older than myself. Sadly, envy grew in the heart of Master Duncan's oldest student, his only son. One day, while sparring, he attacked me with all his might and used fatal strikes which are forbidden. Had it not been for Master Duncan's training, I would surely have died, but none of his blows landed on the fatal points.
"Master Duncan stepped in and overpowered his son, who was banished from the dojo and forbidden to use or teach the mountain-style of fighting. Dishonored, the son left and never returned. I too felt that it was time that I leave the school. I departed with Master Duncan's blessing.
"Some time later I heard of the Returners and sought them out. I met Banon and have been a Returner ever since."
Thus they talked well into the evening. Calogrent and Kaye joined them, but Edgar did not appear that day. Guided by the stars, the Mercuria sped through the waves eastward. Weeks later the lookout shouted, "Land ho!" and the coast of the Eastern Continent came into view. At last the Returners disembarked.
