Maia

But no; the tree really was leaning; listing, slowly tilting, for now she could see another tree behind it remaining upright and still. Then suddenly, shockingly, the tree was keeling over, first quicker and then all in a moment very fast, its tilt become a toppling downfall, as though it had been felled with an axe. The whole ramous structure of branches and drenched leaves was rushing downward. Fifty yards ahead, the surface of the river foamed and whelmed as the trunk hit it and disappeared. Waves tossed the boat, knocking and jouncing under the timbers, then abating, diminishing. Only a tangle of earth-covered roots remained sticking up out of the shallower water along the submerged bank.

Maia, putting the helm hard over and feeling the sluggish response of the bilge-heavy boat, knew with fear that they were already too close. They were not going to be able to round the fallen tree. The boat was turning to port, certainly, but not fast enough: they were going to be caught and enmeshed in the tangle of sunken branches.

Then, before her eyes, the tree began to move again. Just as a minute ago it had begun to move through the vertical, now it was slowly moving through a horizontal plane. Slowly at first and then faster, the topmost branches pivoted downstream with the current, while at the same time the tangle of roots twisted to face her. The boat, itself seeming to drift faster as it approached, came all in an instant abeam of the tree, scraping against one or two of the topmost branches even as the current drew them away to starboard. Before she had time to think, they were past: the tree was gone. Collecting herself as though awakening,

she realized confusedly that they were now too close to the left bank, and brought the boat back into midstream.

Zenka had returned to her side. He was smiling-though largely for her benefit, she rather thought.

"I hope there aren't any more like that, don't you?"

Returning his smile, she took his hand for a moment in her own.

"Just as well you came along with us, isn't it?" he said. "Otherwise we certainly shouldn't have got as far as this. Anda-Nokomis thinks there may be no more than three or four miles to go now."

"He'd best be right," she answered. "Light's going, I reckon."

It was hard to be sure among the trees, under the press of low cloud and heavy rain, but certainly the recesses of the forest seemed dimmer, evanescent in a distant twilight. Some distance behind them another root-dislodged tree subsided into the river. It was not at once dragged clear of the bank, but was still hanging in the current as they floated on and lost sight of it.

"Oh, we mustn't, we mustn't go wrong now!" she cried suddenly. "Not now, not right at the end! Dear Lespa-"

She raised her arms and tried to stand up, but he, laying a finger on her lips, drew her down beside him.

"Steady, Serrelinda! Why don't you go and take over from Anda-Nokomis for a bit? He's been up there long enough now. I'll carry on here."

Anda-Nokomis was hanging intently over the bow, the oar gripped in his good hand, from time to time reaching out to push away logs or floating branches as they drifted alongside. When she touched his shoulder he looked round and gave her one of his rare smiles.

"You got us out of that all right, then? I confess I never thought you would. I should have known you better, Maia."

"If you don't know me by now, Anda-Nokomis-Put the wind up you, did it?"

Still smiling, he shrugged. "Possibly."

"Well, it did me," she said, "tell you that much. Here's your flask: better have some, 'fore I drink the lot."

He shook his head. "We may be glad of it later."

"We'll be in Katria tonight, Anda-Nokomis: think of that! Somebody'll take us in for sure: we've still got a bit of money left. Hot food, dry beds, a fire-oh, a fire, Anda-Nokomis!"

As she spoke they suddenly felt a heavy blow aft. There was a sound of splintering wood and a cry of alarm from Zen-Kurel. The boat turned sideways on to the stream and checked. During the few moments that it took Maia to hasten back astern, it turned yet further and then began drifting stern forward, wavering with every fluctuation of the current.

"Zenka, what's happened?"

Zen-Kurel was standing up, facing the stern and holding the tiller-bar in both hands.

"Rudder's smashed, Maia."

"Smashed? How?"

"I was looking out ahead-I never thought of looking astern as well. We'd just come through that last fast patch into this pool when a log overtook the boat and rammed us from behind. It's still out there, look-see it?"

"Oh, Shakkarn!" she said. "Here, get out of the way! Let's have a look, see how bad it is."

It was as bad as could well have been feared. The log had split the rudder along a jagged line from top to bottom. Almost the whole blade had carried away. The stern-post, though splintered, was still in position, as were the rudder-head and tiller, but naturally, with the rudder-blade gone, these were useless.