Book of the Gods 4 - God of the Golden Fleece by Saberhagen Fred

Author:Saberhagen, Fred [Saberhagen, Fred]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-08-31T17:28:58+00:00

agent, or one of them, that the great ones wanted dead.

It sounded like even the great gods must be monumentally confused. There had to

be an explanation, somewhere, but Proteus was not at all sure he wanted to know

what it was.

In the morning of the third day of their flight from Colchis, the fugitives tied

up their ship on an unfamiliar coast, at the mouth of a river that the navigator

said must be called Halys. Only he had any idea of where they were, and not even

he could say which way they ought to go next.

Zetes and Calais were prevailed upon to fly, and soon took wing above the

morning mist. Within the hour they were back with word that if the Argo held on

anything like her present course, she was about to leave the open sea behind.

They had now reached the fringe of what appeared to be a great continent, its

coastline fragmented into a maze of islands and estuaries. Within the space of a

hundred miles, the mouths of several sizable rivers emptied confusedly into the

sea.

"We should be staying in the open ocean altogether," someone complained to the

current steersman.

He snapped back at the questioner. "Don't talk nonsense!" And the flying scouts

confirmed as much: "That way we're hopelessly blocked, by a score of ships

almost as fast as we are. Maybe faster, if their crews aren't worn with rowing."

"Then how are we ever going to get home?"

"Look here." The steersman unrolled one of his several parchment charts, and

thumped a knuckle on a spot. "We must be here—approximately. Of course we must

eventually find our way back to the open sea. But to escape our pursuers, we

must enter one of the mouths of this great river, then make our way upstream to

a big freshwater lake . . . then out of that again by a different river, and so

eventually back to the sea."

"Can we do that?"

"Easily enough—if there were no Colchian ships upstream from us. Which I fear is

not the case. But we must do the best we can."

Making their way along the coast in a generally westerly direction, they were

now passing through an area more heavily populated, and small boats frequently

appeared at a distance, their occupants gawking at Argo, taking in the staring

painted eyes that decorated her prow, and her many oars. No doubt a majority of

these observers assumed that the Argonauts were pirates.

"Good thing we're not come here on that type of enterprise," Haraldur observed.

"I don't see a lot of easy game." The small boats all seemed possessed of

darting speed, as if the arms of their crews were energized by fear.

Above the Argo, as the steersman turned her into one of the great river's

multiple mouths, and began to feel their way into the watery maze, towered rocky

bluffs, crowned with an irregular line of trees.

The air was distinctly warmer now, and most of the cold weather had been left

behind in Colchis. Mosquitoes began to be something of a problem.

After another mission, the flying scouts brought back a more detailed

description of the pursuit. What they said left little room for optimism.

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