Chapter 6 Chapter 6 Lobanari

On the sunny sea, seen from ten miles away, Lobanari Island is green, like fresh moss on the edge of a fountain.As you approach, you can see leaves and tree trunks and shadows, roads and houses, faces and clothes and dust, all of which make up an inhabited island.But the whole island still looks green, for every acre of land on it that is not built on or walked by people is given to low dome-shaped calyx trees, whose leaves live on a kind of insect that The worms can spin silk, which can be spun into yarn for the men, women and children of Lovanari Island to weave.At sunset, the sky there is filled with a kind of small gray bat, which eats the small insects raised by the residents.They eat a lot, but suffer from it.However, the silk-spinners do not kill them, because everyone agrees that killing this gray-winged bat is an act of bad luck.They say that since human beings depend on gnats for a living, little bats can certainly have the same rights.

The houses on the island are built strangely, with small windows and random locations.A roof made of calyx branches, covered with green moss and lichen.Once upon a time, the island, like the rest of the southern border, was a land of plenty: well-painted and tastefully furnished houses, large looms in farmhouses and workshops, and a stone wharf in the small port of Coussalah--the wharves may have been These sights can be proved by the docking of several large commercial ships.But now in the port, there is not a single large cabin, the paint of the houses has faded, and the furnishings in the houses have not been replaced. Most of the looms have stopped moving, and they have been abandoned there to allow dust to accumulate. In the meantime, the cobwebs are knotted.

"A sorcerer?" replied the headman of Sosala, "There are no sorcerers in Lobanari, and never have been." russet. "Who would have thought of needing a warlock?" Sparrowhawk agreed.He sat down with eight or nine villagers and drank. The wine was locally produced Ebo fruit wine, with a light and bitter taste.He inevitably told the villagers that he had come to find Elmo ore.But this time neither he nor his companions were pretending at all, and Arren had left the dagger hidden in the ship as usual.As for his own witch staff, if he carried it with him, outsiders would not be able to see it.At first, the villagers sitting and chatting with each other seemed displeased and even hostile, and they frequently showed displeasure and hostility during the conversation.Sparrowhawk's kindness and strength combined to encourage everyone to reluctantly accept him. "There are so many trees growing on your island, the islanders must be valuable because of the trees." He said, "What if there is a late frost when harvesting in the tree garden?"

"Nothing." A skinny villager at the end of the seat replied.At this time, everyone sat in a row under the eaves, with their backs against the wall of the hotel.Close to the outer edge of the row of bare feet, the soft rain in April is pattering to the ground. "Rain is a disaster. Frost doesn't matter." The village chief said, "Rain will rot the cocoons. But no one intends to stop the rain. No one has ever done that." art people.Some of the rest of the villagers seem to really want to talk about that topic. "In the past, it never rained at this time of the year." A villager said, "It was when the old man was still alive."

"Who are you talking about? Old Moody? Well, he's gone, dead long ago," said the village headman. "Everyone used to call him the tree gardener." The skinny man said. "Yes, everyone calls him the tree gardener." Another person finished.There was a silence, like rain falling. In the one-room inn, Arren sat alone in the window.He found an old lute on the wall, a long-necked three-stringed lute, the same as the one played by the residents of "Silk Island".He sat by the window, trying to fiddle with the music.The volume is about the same as the sound of rainwater hitting the roof of tree branches.

"In several markets in Huot Town, I saw merchants selling silk, which is very similar to the silk cloth produced in Luobanari Island." Sparrowhawk said: "It's true that some of them are silk cloth, but none of them are silk cloth." Born of Lobanari." "The season has been bad," said the skinny man, "it's been four or five years." "It's been five years since the eve of fallow." An old man's voice was in his mouth, and he said narcissistically: "Yes, since old Moody passed away. Well, he really passed away, and he hasn't even passed away yet." At my age, he died. He really died on the eve of the fallow."

"Rare things are more valuable." The village chief said, "Today, if you buy a bundle of semi-fine silk cloth dyed blue, you could buy three bundles in the past." "But now, I can't buy it even if I want to. Where are the merchant ships? It's all caused by the blue dye." When the skinny man said this, it immediately sparked controversy for about half an hour. The quality of the dye used. "Who made the dye?" Sparrowhawk asked, sparking another debate.The result of the debate was just like what the skinny man said in a bad voice: the whole process of silk dyeing has always been supervised by a family. In the past, that family claimed to be a family of wizards, but if they were really wizards before, they lost their skills later. , and no one in the family ever recovered the lost skills.Except for the village head, this group of villagers agreed that the most famous "blue dye" of Luobanari and the unparalleled "crimson dye" - commonly known as "dragon fire" silk cloth, have been dyed for a long time. What the queens of Havnor used to wear—already changed.Something was missing, and people blamed it on the unseasonable rain, the soil, and the refiners. "Otherwise it's the eyes." The skinny man said, "Look who can't tell the real indigo from the blue soil." After speaking, he stared at the village chief.The village chief did not accept the provocation, and everyone fell silent again.

The light native wine seemed to do nothing but spoil the temper and make everyone look angry.At this time, the only sounds were the sound of rainwater hitting the leaves of the valley tree garden, the murmur of the sea water at the end of the street, and the babbling of the lute in the darkness behind the door. "Your handsome boy in Xiuli, can he sing?" the village head asked. "Ah, he can sing. Arren! Sing a song for us all." "This lute can't play anything but a minor key," said Arren, laughing from the window. "It only wants to sing sad songs. What do you want to hear, gentlemen?"

"I want to listen to a song I haven't heard before." The village head said angrily. The lute rang excitedly, and Arren had already mastered the technique of playing. "The song I played may not have been heard locally." After speaking, he opened his mouth and sang. The white side of the Soria Strait twisted red branches bend the flowers On the twisted head, hangs heavily. Standing beside the red and white branches grieving the loss of a loved one The grief is endless. I, Seliel, my mother and mored's son swear to never forget This perverse. Their bitter faces, their dexterous and hard-working hands and bodies, all calmed down and listened.We sat quietly in the warm rain in the southern twilight, and the songs we heard were like gray swans crying for their lost companions on the frozen sea of ​​Oia.After singing the song for a long time, everyone remained silent.

"This is really strange music." Someone expressed hesitantly. Another, who is confident that Lobanari Island is the "absolute center" of all time and space, said: "Outlander music is always strange and sad." "Come and hear the local music, too," said Sparrowhawk. "I want to hear the jolly lines myself. The boy always sings of dead heroes." "I'll sing." The villager who spoke last just now said, cleared his throat, and began to sing a loud and steady wine barrel song, hehehehe, trying to attract everyone to sing together.But no one joined the chorus, and he continued to hehe in a dull manner.

"Nothing is right now," he said angrily. "It's all the fault of the young people who keep changing what is current and don't learn old songs." "That's right," said the skinny man. "There's nothing right now. There's nothing right any more." "Ah, ah, ah," gasped the oldest villager, "it's all luck, that's all, it's all luck." Having said that, there is nothing more to say.The villagers dispersed in twos and twos, leaving Sparrowhawk outside the window and Arren inside.Finally Sparrowhawk laughed, but not a happy kind of laugh. The shy wife of the innkeeper came up, made beds for them on the floor, and went away.They lie down and sleep.The high rafters in the room are bat nests. The windows are not equipped with glass. The bats fly in and out all night, chirping loudly, and do not return to their nests until dawn, each hanging upside down, like neat little gray bags. . Perhaps it was the commotion of the bats that kept Arren from sleeping well.Before that, he slept on the boat for several consecutive nights, and his body was no longer used to the stability of the land. Even when he fell asleep, his body still insisted that he was rocking, rocking... As a result, the whole world fell under him, and then He woke up with a start and started all over again.When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed that he was chained in the hold of a slave ship, and that others were with him, only they were dead.He woke up more than once, desperately trying to get out of the dream, but returned to it as soon as he fell asleep.For the last time, he seemed to be alone in the boat, still chained and unable to move.Later, a strange and slow voice sounded in his ear. "Loosen your shackles," said the voice, "loosen your shackles." And he wriggled so hard that he did move, and stood up.Found in some vast dark wilderness, the sky was heavy.There was a terror in the ground and in the dense air—a horror of immense proportions.That place is fear, fear itself.And he stood in the middle, with no passages around.He had to find his way, but he couldn't.That boundless place is very vast, and he is very small, like a child, like a tiny ant.He tried to walk, but stumbled and woke up. Although he had woken up and was not in the wilderness, the fear remained in his heart, and he was there—the fear was no smaller than the boundless vast wilderness.The darkness of the room made him feel suffocated, and he wanted to look at the stars from the dark window frame, but although the rain stopped, the stars could not be seen.He lay awake, terrified, and bats flew in and out, flapping their wings soundlessly.Sometimes he could even hear their small guttural sounds within the limits of his hearing. It was dawn, and the two got up early. Sparrowhawk asked people about the sale of Elmo Ore, but none of the townspeople seemed to know about the ore.However, they each had their own opinions and quarreled with each other.Sparrowhawk listened—only he wanted to hear news other than Elmo Ore.Finally, they finally embarked on a road led by the village chief: leading to the quarry where the blue dyed soil was excavated.Halfway, Sparrowhawk turned. "This must be the house," he said. "They say the Dye family lives in this road, and that is the house of the wizards that everyone suspects." "Would it do any good to talk to them?" asked Arren, not forgetting Howl. "There must be a center of this misfortune," said the mage seriously. "There is always a place where the misfortune flows out. I need a guide to find that place!" Since Sparrowhawk went forward, Arren had to follow. This house is in its own tree garden and is not connected to other houses. It is a high-end stone building, but it can be seen that the house itself and the huge tree garden around it have been neglected for a long time.Discolored cocoons hung from tangled branches, uncollected, and a layer of dead maggots and moths accumulated on the ground.Around the house, under the rows of trees, there was a smell of decay, and as the two drew nearer, Arren suddenly remembered the terror he had felt at night. Before they reached the door, the door opened automatically, and a gray-haired woman rushed out, staring into red eyes and yelling: "Get lost! Thief who destroys people, a liar without a head, a man with a broken skull!" Go fool! Curse you, get out! Get out, get out, go! Let bad luck follow you forever!" Sparrowhawk stopped, somewhat surprised, but he quickly raised one hand, made a strange gesture, and said two words: "Transfer!" When the woman heard this, she immediately stopped clamoring and stared blankly at the sparrowhawk. "Why did you do that action just now?" "To remove your curse." She continued to stare for a while, and finally said hoarsely: "Are you from outside?" "From the north." She steps forward.At first Arren had been tempted to laugh at the woman who was yelling at his door, but now that he was near it, he just felt sad.She was disheveled and foul-smelling, and her breath was foul-smelling, and her eyes stared with terrible pain. "I don't have the power to curse at all," she said. "No power." She imitated the sparrowhawk gesture. "People over there still use this skill?" He nodded and looked at her intently, but she didn't avoid it.Soon, her face began to change, and she said, "Where's your stick?" "I don't want to show it in a place like this, sister." "Yeah, you shouldn't show it, it could kill you. Like my power, it took my life. That's how I lost it, everything I knew, including all spells and names. They're like cobwebs that hang around my eyes and mouth. There's a hole in the world, and the Light slips through that hole. And the spell slips with it. You know what? My son Sitting in the dark staring, trying to find the hole in the world. He said if he was blind, he could see better. He lost a hand when he was a dyer. We used to be silk dyers in Lobanari .Look—" As she spoke, she shook her two strong and thin arms in front of them, from hands to shoulders, the whole body was faintly mixed with streaks of dye that could not be removed. "The dye sticks to the skin and can never be removed," she said. "But the mind can wash it off, and the mind will not fix the color. Who are you?" Sparrowhawk said nothing, but his eyes caught the woman's again.Arren stood by and watched anxiously. She trembled suddenly, and said softly, "I know you—" "Hey, Big Sister, 'Know Your Kind'." It was odd to see her terrified to run away from the mage, to run away, but also to be near him—nearly kneel at his feet. He took her hand and hugged her. "Do you want to get back your original strength, skills, and name? I can give it to you." "You are the 'Master'," she whispered, "You are the 'King of Shadows', the Lord of the Dark Realm—" "I'm not. I'm not some king, I'm a human being, an ordinary human being, your brother, your kind." "But you're not going to die, are you?" "I will." "But you will come back, and live forever." "I can't, nobody can." "So you're not the 'Master' anymore—not the Lord of the Dark Realm," she said, frowning, eyeing Sparrowhawk suspiciously, but with less fear. "However, you are an 'adult'. Are there two in total? May I ask your name?" Sparrowhawk's stern face softened a bit. "I can't tell you," he said kindly. "Then I'll tell you a secret." She said, standing up straighter and facing Sparrowhawk.Her voice and demeanor reveal the dignity she once had. "I don't want to live forever and ever. I'd rather have the names of those things back, but they're all lost. Now, names don't matter, and secrets aren't secrets anymore. Do you want to know my name?" Her eyes Glowing brightly, with clenched fists, he leaned forward and whispered: "My name is Aklan." After speaking in a low voice, he screamed again: "Aklan! Aklan! My name is Aklan! Everyone knows my secret name, everyone knows my real name. The secret is gone, the truth is gone. Death is no more, death—death!" She sobbed and spit from the word "death." Fly out of the mouth. "Quiet, Aklan!" She was silent, tears rolling down her grimy cheeks, juxtaposed with the uncombed locks of hair. Sparrowhawk took the wrinkled, tear-stained face in his hands and kissed her eyes lightly and softly.She stood still, her eyes closed.He leaned close to her ear, said something in the ancient language, and kissed her again before letting her go. She opened her eyes and stared at him for a long time with thoughtful and amazed eyes.This is how a newborn looks at its mother, and so does a mother look at her child.Then she turned slowly towards the door, entered, closed the door, all in silence, with an expression of wonder on her face. The mage also quietly turned around and began to walk out to the street.Arren dared not ask any question afterward.Soon, the mage stopped, stood upright in the deserted tree garden, and said, "I took her name away and gave her a new one, which is like being reborn. Before this, she had neither external assistance nor hope. " His voice was tight and stiff. "She used to be a powerful woman," he continued, "not only is she not an ordinary witch or apothecary, but possesses skills and spells, and she is good at using her skills to create beauty. She is really a respectable woman to be proud of. She Such was life, and it was all wasted." He turned suddenly, and stepped into the aisle of trees, where he stood beside a tree trunk, with his back to Arren. Arren stood alone in the hot, dappled sun and waited.He knew that Sparrowhawk couldn't bother him with his emotions, and he didn't really know what to do or say.His heart, however, was entirely toward his companion.This is not just the passionate zeal and admiration when we first met, but it is painful as if a connection was pulled from the bottom of my heart, fabricating an inseparable connection.He could feel that there was a kind of compassion in this love right now—without that compassion, this love would not be pure, complete, or lasting. Presently the Sparrowhawk came back through the shade of the tree garden.The two of them continued walking side by side without saying a word.It was very hot by now, the rain from last night had dried up, and the dust was kicking up under their feet.Arren had been dull and despondent this morning, as if under the influence of a dream; now it seemed to him to enjoy the sun and the shade.Moreover, it is also very enjoyable to walk without thinking about the goal. And that's true, because they really didn't achieve much.The afternoon was spent talking first with people who cared about dye ore, and then negotiating the price of a few small pieces of what they called Elmo ore.As they dragged their feet, the evening sun fell on their heads and necks. When the two walked back to Old Salah together, Sparrowhawk expressed his opinion: "This is malachite at all. However, I doubt whether the people of Old Sarah just tell the difference." "The people here are strange," said Arren. "They can't tell the difference in anything. It's strange. As a villager said to the Elder yesterday: 'You won't know the difference between true indigo and blue earth.'" ... They all complain about the bad timing, but they don't know when it started. They say that the products are counterfeit, but they don't know how to improve. They don't even know that artisans are different from wizards, and that crafts and witchcraft are different. Same. There is almost no line of color in their minds. To them, everything is the same, it is gray." "Hey." The mage seems to be thinking deeply, but he still strides forward.His head hung low between his shoulders, like an eagle.Although he is short in stature, he has big strides. "What are they missing?" Arren answered without hesitation: "The joy of life." "Hey." Sparrowhawk replied again.He accepted Arren's statement, and fell into deep thought.It took me a long time to say: "I'm glad you're thinking for me, boy... I'm so tired and out of my wits. I've been feeling very tired ever since this morning, since I've talked to that woman named Aklan. Discomfort. I don't like wasting and destroying. I don't like having enemies. If I happen to have an enemy, I don't want to track it down, find it, meet him... Whoever it is, if you have to look around , the reward should be a pleasing treasure, not an abomination." "Do you mean the enemy, Master?" said Arren. Sparrowhawk nodded. "When the woman talked about that 'lord', that 'lord of shadows'—" Sparrowhawk nodded again. "I guessed right," he said. "I guess what we're looking for is not just a place but a person. It's evil, evil, that's spreading the island, and it's robbing the island of its craft and pride. It is a tragic waste. Only evil will can achieve this effect. However, it does not only yield here, nor does it only yield Aklan or Lovanari. The traces we are looking for are sporadic. The composite trajectory of the debris, it's like chasing a delivery truck down a hill only to watch it trigger an avalanche." "That—Aklan—can she provide more information about that enemy, such as who he is, where he is, or—is he a human, a ghost, or something else?" "Child, it's not enough yet." Although the mage replied softly, his voice was quite sad. "She could have provided it, there is no doubt about it. Although she is crazy, she still has witch power. Her madness is actually her witch power, but I can't force her to answer me. She is suffering enough." He walked on, head slumped, as if he, too, was in pain and wanted to escape. Arren heard the sound of hurried running behind him, and looked back.A man was chasing them, still far away but fast catching up.In the light of the sun in the west, dust was visible, and the man's long, stiff hair just formed a red halo, and the long and narrow figure jumped all the way between the tree garden path and tree trunks, which looked quite strange. "Hey!" he yelled, "Stop! I've found it! I've found it!" As he hurried to catch up, Arren's hand rose, where it should have been the hilt of his sword, then where the missing knife should have been, and finally into a fist, all within half a second. Finish.He straightened his face and took a step forward.The broad-shouldered man was a full head taller than a sparrowhawk, panting and screaming, with wild eyes, and a madman. "I found it!" he kept saying. Arren wanted to overtake him with stern menace and manner, and said, "What do you want?" The man tried to go around him, to the Sparrowhawk, but Arren took another step toward him. "You are Lobanari's silk dyer," said Sparrowhawk. In just a short sentence, the man stopped panting, let go of his clenched fists, his eyes became calmer, and he nodded.Arren felt foolish enough to try to protect his companion, and stepped back, out of the way. "I used to be a silk dyer," he said, "but now I can't dye it." After speaking, he first looked at Sparrowhawk suspiciously, and then grinned.He shook his red, dusty head and said, "You took my mother's name away. I don't know her anymore, and she doesn't know me. She still loves me, but She doesn't care about me, she's dead." Arren's heart tightened, but he only shook his head when he saw Sparrowhawk. "No, no," he said, "she's not dead." "But she's going to die, she's going to die." "Ah. This is the result of survival." said the mage.Master Si Dye seemed confused for a moment, and then approached Sparrowhawk, grabbed his shoulders, and looked down at him.He moved too fast for Arren to stop him, but he was close enough to hear the man whisper to the Sparrowhawk, "I have found the hole in the dark realm. There stands the great king, who looks into the darkness and rules the realm. He He had a small candle in his hand, and he blew on it to put it out, and then he blew on it again! It lit!" Sparrowhawk was grabbed by the shoulder and whispered, without any resistance, he simply asked, "Where was he when you saw that scene?" "Bed." "Are you dreaming?" "no." "Have you crossed that wall?" "No." Master Siran said, suddenly sober, and seemed to feel uncomfortable.He let go of the mage and took a step back. "No. I... I don't know where it is. I found it, but I don't know where it is." "All I want to know is: where is that," said Sparrowhawk. "I can help you." "How to help?" "You have a boat. You came by boat, and you want to continue sailing, are you going west? That's the direction. Go in that direction, and you can go to the place where he came out. There must be a place, a place in the world , for he was alive—he was not a spirit or a ghost that came over that wall, not like that. No one could carry anything over that wall but a soul, but he had substance, a mortal body. I saw The extinguished flame was lit by him in the darkness, and I saw it." The man's face twisted, and in the slanted golden-red glow, there was a kind of crazy beauty. "I know he has conquered death, I just know it. I gave up witchcraft to know. I used to be a wizard! You know witchcraft too, and you are going there too. Take me with you." The same glow reflected on Sparrowhawk's face, but it showed a firm and cold face. "I'm going there, yes," he said. "Let me go with you!" Sparrowhawk nodded slightly. "If you're at the pier when we sail, I'll let you go." He was as calm as ever. Master Siran took another step back, then stood and looked at him, the excited look on his face was slowly shrouded in haze, and finally replaced by a strange and heavy expression, it seemed that rational thoughts were trying hard to break through the troubled A clutter of words, sensations, visions, and so on.At last, without a word, he turned and ran down the street the way he had come, and plunged again into the unsettled cloud of dust from which he had come.Arren breathed a sigh of relief. Sparrowhawk also sighed, although he didn't seem to be a little relieved. "Well," said he, "strange paths need strange guides. Let us go on." Arren followed at his side. "You won't take him with us, will you?" he asked. "Then it's up to him." A flash of anger flashed in Arren's heart, and he thought to himself, "It depends on me." But he said nothing, and the two walked together in silence. They returned to the port of Cesala, and they didn't see any good looks.In a small island like Lobanari, who did what was immediately spread throughout the island, and everyone knew it.There is no doubt that the native islanders saw them turning halfway to the silk dyer's house, and saw them talking with the madman on the way.The innkeeper received them in a bad manner, and his wife seemed terrified of them.In the evening, the villagers sat around under the eaves of the hotel again, and everyone's attitude fully demonstrated that they didn't chat with outsiders, but they tried their best to be smart among themselves and make fun of each other.It's a pity that they really don't have much cleverness to compete with each other, so they quickly lost the joyful atmosphere.Everyone was silent for a long time, and finally the village head said to Sparrowhawk: "Have you found the blue ore yet?" "I found some blue ore," Sparrowhawk replied politely. "Sapley must have told you where to find it." When the other villagers heard this satirical masterpiece, they unanimously hahaha. "Sapley is that red-haired man?" "It's the madman. You visited his mother this morning." "I'm looking for a wizard," said the wizard. The skinny man was seated closest to Sparrowhawk. He spat in the dark and said, "What did you find?" "I thought I could discover what I was looking for." "Most people come to Lobanari for silk," said the village headman. "They don't come here to look for ores, and they don't come here to look for magic tricks, arm waving, jiggling, and so on. Well-off people Live here and do only modest jobs." "That's right, he's right." The others said in unison. "So we don't want people who are different from us to come to this island. When foreigners come here, they will only spy around and inquire about our business." "That's right, he's right." It was all in unison again. "If we can meet a warlock who is not crazy, we will arrange for him to go to the dyeing workshop to do serious business. But they don't know how to do serious business." "If there was something serious to do, they might do it," said Sparrowhawk. "Your dye workshops are empty, your tree gardens are untended, and the silk in your warehouses was spun many years ago. Your Rabana What the hell is Ray doing now?" "We take care of our own business." The village chief blurted out, but the skinny man interjected excitedly, "Tell us, why don't the merchant ships come? What are the people in Huot Town doing? Is it because our products are poor?" ?——" His words were angrily denied by everyone.There was a lot of yelling at the scene, and even stood up and jumped with excitement.The village chief punched Sparrowhawk in the face, and another villager drew a knife.Everyone's mood has become frantic and agitated.Arren stood up at once, and looked at Sparrowhawk, expecting him to rise suddenly and fire his spelllight, and use his power to silence them all.But he didn't, he still sat, looked at this person, looked at that person, and listened to everyone's threats.Slowly, the villagers calmed down. Just as they couldn't continue to be happy just now, they couldn't continue to be angry now.The knife was sheathed, threats turned to ridicule, and began to disperse one after another, like a pack of dogs leaving after a dog fight: some swaggered, and some sneaked away. When the two of them were left alone, Sparrowhawk got up, walked into the inn, picked up the water jug ​​by the door and drank a big mouthful of water. "Come on, boy," he said, "I've had enough." "Go to the boat?" "Hey." He put two pieces of silver used for business travel on the window lattice, paid for the accommodation, and picked up a simple travel bag for clothes.Arren was tired and sleepy, but he looked around at this room in the inn. It was suffocating and gloomy, and he blamed the restless bats in the rafters.He remembered the situation in this room last night, so he willingly left with Sparrowhawk. When the two of them walked down a dark street in Sosala together, he thought that if they left now, that lunatic would be caught in the air.Unexpectedly, when they arrived at the port, the lunatic was already waiting at the pier. "You are here." The mage said, "If you want to go together, you can get on the boat." Sapley stepped into the boat without a word, and crouched by the mast like a scruffy dog.Arren protested, "Master!" Sparrowhawk turned back, and the two faced each other on the pier next to the boat. "The people on their island are crazy. I thought you were not crazy. Why did you take him away?" "Let him be your guide." "Guide? Go for more lunatics? Do you want to drown and get stabbed in the back?" "It's right to seek death. As for which path to follow, I don't know." Arren spoke resentfully, but Sparrowhawk answered calmly, but with force in his voice.Arren was not used to being questioned, but ever since he tried to deal with this lunatic on the way in the afternoon in order to protect the archmage, he knew how futile and unnecessary his protection was.Not only did he feel bitterness, but he wasted and squandered the excitement of devotion that morning.He couldn't protect Sparrowhawk, he wouldn't allow any decisions to matter; he couldn't even, or wouldn't allow, to understand the nature of the quest.He was simply drawn into this quest as a child.But he is not a child. "Master, I'm not arguing with you," he said as calmly as possible, "but...it really doesn't make sense!" "It really doesn't make sense with all the reasons. Where we are going, the "reason" will not take us. So, do you want to come, or not?" Tears and anger burst into Arren's eyes. "I said I would walk with you and serve you. I won't break my word." "That's all right," said the wizard flatly, and seemed to turn away, but he turned to Arren again. "I need you, Arren, and you need me. Why you need me, let me tell you now. The way we are going, I believe, is the way you will go. The reason is not between obedience or loyalty. but because before you met me, before you set foot in Roke College, before you set sail from Enlad, it was the way you were going. Now you can't go back gone." His voice did not soften, and Arren answered with equal indifference: "Why should I turn back? There are no ships, and this edge of the world?" "Is this the edge of the world? No, the edge of the world is still far away. I'm afraid we won't get there in our lifetime." Arren nodded, and whirled into the ship. The Sparrowhawk unmoored and filled the sails with a light breeze. As soon as I left the secluded and empty docks of Lobanari, the crisp air wafted in from the dark north.The moon cast silver light across the clear sea ahead of them, but it galloped to their left as their ship turned south along the coast.