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enough for the trip to shore. The knot on his head and the ache in his
shoulder were worse. He roped two lengths of spar together and decided they
weren t wide enough. Finding an axe in the ship s carpenter s locker, he
chopped loose a hunk of fallen fore topmast and found it too short when he
tried to fit it in.
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A scrap of cloth blew along the deck, and he heard tatters of sail fluttering.
A breeze had come up, from the east. The sea was roughening, Osprey s bow now
plunging beneath the swells. He went aft, and saw that the barque had drifted
farther westward. In the distance he could make out the two Mariners, who d
lowered their sail to wait. Clouds closed in, the winds heralding Acre-Fin.
He was astounded, not having thought even a monster like that could swim to
the Isle of Keys and back so quickly. No wonder the two Mariners had despaired
for their fleet; the ships had no chance of eluding Acre-Fin unaided.
Turbulence moved the water in the distant east. Gil knew he had no time to
finish up his raft. His life jacket, he remembered too late, was back among
the junk in the bos n s-stores locker, likely under water by now.
A fish broke the water, then another. In a moment the ocean teemed with
creatures fleeing the monster, some of them flopping onto the deck in rainbow
spasms. When they d passed, rain hit, pocking the swells. Shreds of canvas
flapped, and the barque wallowed from crest to trough. White froth showed
Acre-Fin making straight for the flagship.
He saw Skewerskean and Wavewatcher hoist their sail. The two weren t quite on
Acre-Fin s course. Knifing along, wind bellying their canvas, they cut for a
point of interception. The rhythm of the monster s strokes sent combers
rumbling from the alpine ridge of its gleaming back. Gil could make out the
tip of a gigantic dorsal fin and part of the ponderous tail, swaying through
beats of incredible power. This was no mammal, but a deep-water fish. Would it
stay close enough to the surface for the harpooner to strike?
The Mariners paralleled it riding just ahead to keep out of its crest, but it
closed the distance quickly. The boat heeled sharply. There was a twinkle of
light from whetted iron. The smooth pattern of the colossal tail fell off for
an instant.
Then Acre-Fin bolted straight for Osprey, swimming furiously, pricked by the
toggle-iron head of Wave-watcher s harpoon, burned by its poison. It bore down
on the derelict like an express train. With a surge, its head broke the
surface.
Gil looked on in horror. Acre-Fin s head reared. Its eyes, white-glowing
circles wider than cartwheels, were without lens or pupil. Cavernous jaws
gaped, and the sea broke in waves over and around spiky rows of monolithic
teeth. Its underside was encrusted with barnacles and other sessile growth
acquired in eons spent brooding in the sea, as if Acre-Fin itself were part
fossilized. The ocean, falling back from it, nearly capsized the tiny boat
pulled by the harpoon line.
Gil was up on the taffrail now, judging which way to dive. He could see water
blown in banners of foam from the tips of the monster s teeth, and the spasms,
deep beyond, of the twilight gullet. The wind, sucked down that abyss, made a
moaning. Great lateral fins broke the surface, and it seemed they were, in
truth, an acre in size.
The American decided to dive toward Veganá. But pausing for a last look, he
saw the beast turn in that direction. He checked himself; Acre-Fin was coming
around to see what had brought it pain. The Mariners boat bashed along
through the pinnacles of the waves behind it, the two men clinging to their
mast, as line-tubs, spare whalecraft and anything else not tied down was
bounced into the water.
Wavewatcher had his lance, awaiting the opportunity to use it, but the
creature wouldn t give him the chance. It came about, never noticing the tiny
boat, bearing eastward in search of whatever had hurt it. It returned to where
it had been pricked, found nothing, and went on. The harpooner s poison would
have slain anything else alive, but only burned Acre-Fin. The beast knew no
enemy had come against it, and so continued the way it had come, assuming it
was pursuing its assailant, unaware of the boat jouncing along behind. Gil let
himself down off the rail, trembling, waiting for the next crest of water, or
the next, to batter the Mariners boat to splinters.
Acre-Fin grew smaller in the distance. For a long time it bore onward through
the Strait of the Dancing Spar. The rain began to let up, the clouds to
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dissipate. Acre-Fin stopped, mystified that it had overhauled no antagonist.
Gil tensed, knowing this was Wavewatcher s moment. It was too far away to see
clearly but he thought he caught a black sparkle, as if Dirge had reflected
the scant light. The ocean grew still.
There was a fountain of exploding seawater and white froth. A stupendous shape
half-cleared the water, twisting monumentally, awesome in size and the
proportions of its fury. It came down; waves and concussion sped from it in
all directions. Then the monster thrashed in agonized circles, bent in upon
its own pain. It seemed doubtful that the harpooner and the chanteyman could
outlive their enemy s throes. Gil had no idea how much damage the vindictive
magic in Yardiff Bey s sword would do, but sensed that the Children of the
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