He had cut the
hulls as sharply as possible in lieu of a keel, and even leaned them
slightly outward at the girl's suggestion. But rudderless, keelless,
this was not enough. The best he could manage with the now deployed
steering oar was a straight line eastward, by precious yards slowly
gaining the center of the stream. How he would hold it at the meeting
of the two rivers and the open sea he could not imagine, though he
exhausted his mind in trying. His fear and sense of helplessness grew
with each passing moment.
Strange to say, Sylviana's impressions at this early stage of their
journey were nearly the opposite. To her the waters had a soothing,
almost hypnotic effect. Kalus had not told her the possible
complications of the voyage, being uncertain himself; and for reasons
all her own she felt a naive (and perhaps misguided) assurance that all
would be well. The river was broad and quiet and tranquil. The sun
shone bright in an open sky lightly touched with cirrus, and a great
adventure was at hand. Everything was so wide open and free: alive,
still young, and in the future. The world of her past seemed to slip
behind with the running coast, so easily, leaving hardly a trace of
memory. But for the presence of Kalus and the pup, she would almost
have believed all the tribulations of the War and the Valley to have
been nothing more than a bad dream, from which she was finally waking.
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