ith the murder of their Royal Family and the raid upon their Crown Treasury, the Ikeans began to bend like wilted flowers. Now the Troken Lords were knocking down Ikean city walls and pillaging farms. They would soon clear away the last band of Ikean warriors, then wipe out the women, children and elder folk that had fled to the forests and the mountains.

There was no seat for Peter at the back of the vessel so he sat in the damp, on the buckling wood bottom that smelt of dead fish, or worse. He felt the pulse of the water and he thought of his ridiculous boast to the women in the boat that he was a thief. The fact is he had not so much as stolen an apple. He was barely beyond the playground, a boy not-yet-man the Ikeans were sending on a foolhardy quest against the Trokens because he had asked and they were desperate. Or, perhaps this privilege was because of an inheritance, his tarnished medallion, inlaid with a jewel no bigger than the head of a fly.

Charlotte's smooth, even oar strokes and a good current were moving them rapidly down river. There was no moon this night so Peter saw only the shadow of her long hair, the flash of white from her strong arms. In the prow, the old crone Rula was ever watchful. These were River People, from a small village named Claybank, tolerated thus far by the Trokens because they knew the way of commerce on the river. Yet among the River People were those who mourned the downfall of the Ikeans.

Back at Claybank, on their way to "borrow" a boat, the hag Rula had whispered to Peter, "What do you think of my young friend here?"

"Charlotte? I think it's awfully good of her. . . and you. . . to help our people," Peter had said.

"But what do you think of Charlotte, particularly?"

"I believe she wants to do the right thing."

"What else?"

"I don't think she. . . likes me," Peter had admitted. In fact he had felt quite certain of this.

"Ahhh. . . but do you like her?"

"Yes."

"I see. This is complicated, isn't it?" Rula had mused.

"There's little for Charlotte in the village," Rula had continued, "unless she wants to scavenge the river like their father. He's a Riverman, one of the grubbers."

"Can't you teach her to sew like you?" Peter had asked.

"A seamstress for low folks who can't afford to pay? She has already learned my trade because she's a quick one, but there's nothing in it for her to live on," Rula had answered.

Charlotte was sculling the boat in the middle of the river. "Look sharp!" said Rula from her perch. "We're coming to the river bend."

Charlotte drew in the oars and the party sank low in the boat and let her drift. Their plan was to drift downriver near to Bright Deep, past the outer cordons of the guard and therefore out of reach of their hounds. In a sheltered and least guarded place they would pull in to shore. Then Peter was to go and do his thief thing.

To steal what? Why, the Jewel of Aurora of course or, rather, to steal it back for his people. Their downfall had begun before the Troken attack, when a counsellor had stolen the most valuable gem in their Treasury. In the pursuit, an archer had put an arrow in this traitor as he was swimming across this river but all those who tried to recover the Jewel had perished.

From then on, this place on the river had become known as Bright Deep because there was light like that of a star in the water. It was this phenomenon, and the promise of other rich plunder, that had attracted the attention of the Troken King, who issued orders for his army to sail across the sea in his great ships to investigate this wonder. They too had failed in retrieving the Jewel but they had constructed an ugly black tower there, in honour of their conquest over the Ikeans.

The party in the boat would wait for Peter, but for no more than an hour. If he were to return, the last stage was to be the most dangerous. They would attempt to row the boat back upstream without being heard by the guards.

The boat slowly wound around the bend and struck the more rapid water. They glanced over the edge of the boat. They passed a campfire and a place where tents were assembled in a square. They overheard a hunter shout angrily, "I did not say I would trade one morning shift for taking over for you last night when you went and caroused. You agreed to serve two of my shifts. . . "

Peter glanced upriver. There was a place where torches burned on both sides of the river, and there was the tower, also with torches along its supports and up on its platform where the Troken guards were posted.

"Quick," hissed Rula. "Take us over there, Charlotte." She pointed at a small, dark bay where there was no evidence of guards or torches. Ever so quietly, but with as much speed as she could, Charlotte unshipped the oars.

She drew a deep breath, set the oars down and began to row the boat to the inlet. The current was stronger than she had expected and she had to follow an arc to bring the boat to its destination.

They were not far from the tower and they were sure, each of them, their small craft could easily be spotted by a guard turning his eye in their direction. But it did not happen. Peter crept from the boat to a large rock in the tiny bay and drew the boat in so it would not be directly visible from the tower. He wasted little time in saying his farewells before attempting his mission, for time was short. Yet he had no hope that he would succeed, and he was sad to leave his friends.

"Luck be with you," said Charlotte quietly as Peter was leaving, but he did not hear her, for already he was edging his way along the shore and keeping low.

He was a good swimmer but his plan was a desperate one. He hoped to come as near to the tower as possible without being seen. Then he would shed his clothes and wade into the water. He would have to swim underwater for a long way. If he could find the prize, could he remove it without being captured?

As he approached the tower, he heard the sound of men laughing and shouting snatches of drunken song:

Drink! Drink!
For life is short.
Hunt! Hunt!
We live for sport.

Drown! Drown!
In wine so red.
No! No!
Don't go to bed.

There was a fence with a small platform that was within a hundred yards of the tower, but it was unguarded. Although he was afraid the tower guards would spot him, he decided to scale it rather than take to the river so distant from the source of light. He had seen the light for some time now, an eerie glow near the middle of the river. It may have been his imagination, but the light seemed to be getting brighter.

Before long he was close enough to see the tower guards. Only, they were sitting on a ledge, and their backs were turned to Peter. They were lifting goblets up to their mouths and tilting their heads back. Most of the noise was coming from a low hall built on the side of the tower and away from the river. Peter stepped forward. He dare not go much further without taking to the water and swimming the rest of the way. Then he realised his imagination was not playing tricks on him. The light in the water was brighter.

He was so immersed in thought and in watching the tower and the light that he nearly stumbled right into the two men. They were sitting near shore on a crude ferry, not much more than a raft. A heavy rope was strung across the river at this point, and it served to guide the ferry across the river.

Peter froze. Then he sank to the ground, crawled back. The men were looking out at the river.

"I tell you, Arga, Deep is more lit up than it was after sundown. We should warn them up on the tower," said one of the men.

"Balderdash! It's only the wine. You'd get a good laughing at from the tower watchers if you told them such a thing. And then a good hiding for spoiling their fun," said Arga.

"Even so, the Captain'll make us pay dearly for not keeping a proper watch over Deep."

"Have some more of that wine and pass me the bucket. I see no change in Deep." They paused to drink. Peter backed slowly away from them. There was a rock near the shore where he crouched and removed his clothes. He rolled them up and stuffed them in a cranny at the base of the rock.

The water was cold and the muck of the riverbed squished up between his toes as he waded in. Chills were running up his spine. Soon the water was up to his neck and he began to swim towards the middle of the river. It was difficult going, for the current was strong. Surely the hunters sitting by the ferry would see him. He would have to swim as far as he could under water and only go up to the surface to catch a breath of air.

At first it was very dim under the water but now, when he opened his eyes, he could see more clearly because of the light. He saw a tangled mess of broken timber, pieces of pottery and other rubbish strewn on the bottom of the river. His eyes were stinging from the poisonous water.

When he came to the surface, his lungs nearly bursting for air, he found the world had turned into chaos. The alarm was clanging at the tower and lanterns were being waved. Men were shouting at the top of their lungs. He was still more than a hundred feet off Bright Deep but the water was not merely glowing, it was a shining star.

There could be no regaining the Jewel of Aurora that night. All would be lost now, for him, for the Ikeans.

He dove downwards and turned in the direction of the shore, the way he had come. Now he was going against the current and he had to fight to make headway. Later he would wonder if it had really happened, but something brushed him in the water, some creature in a tremendous rush to get to Bright Deep. And then it had circled back, puzzled by this boy swimming in the river, as if it wanted another look, and that it couldn't decide what to do. In that moment when it turned, Peter saw that it had a tail like a fish, short arms with webbed fingers and a head of long, thick hair. Its eyes were like a cat's. Then it turned back towards Bright Deep, and Peter had to swim for the surface because he was nearly passing out.

When he gained the shore, he expected that Trokens would be waiting for him, but there were none. Guards were congregated around Bright Deep and pointing at the water, where the light was diminishing. Some of the guards were spreading out from the tower, torches in hand. Peter lay down among reeds for a few seconds and tried to recover from his exhaustion and fear.

There was no time to lose. He began back up river. He thought the party in the boat would have left by now or have been captured. He had no time to look for his clothes.

He did not get far because he had not seen the hunter hidden beside the platform. Peter had begun climbing the fence when a hand grabbed him by the leg and threw him down to the ground.

"What have we here?" said Arga, for it was he. "A little trespasser. Why are you here?" His breath was rank with wine, and he was staggering. "Speak or I'll twist your arm off. . . " It was then that he spotted the medallion around the lad's neck, made a swipe at it and Peter chose that second to escape. He kicked the hunter's shin and twisted free. He spun away and ran along the fence. Peter was without shoes and the ground was covered with sharp stones. Arga gave chase and was nearly upon him when Arga stumbled, rolled and banged his head on a rock.

Peter took one look back at him to make sure he was not getting up, and then went up and over the fence. He decided to take a risk and he ran as fast as he could towards the cove where the boat had been hidden.

Rula had climbed out of the cove and was watching for Peter. "Stand by," she called down to the girl in the boat. "I think he's on his way."

The tiny woman ran to him and helped guide him through the darkness to the boat. She took off her cloak and wrapped him in it. There was no time for talk and Peter was out of breath.

As soon as he was stowed in the bottom of the boat, Charlotte pushed off with the oars and made for the centre of the river. The alarm bell was still sounding over at the tower, and this helped to disguise the splash of the oars as the girls pulled fast and hard against the current.

Of course they all feared that the guards at the outer cordon would spot them now that the alarm had sounded. The campfire was still burning there but, as they approached, no guards were in sight, no challenges were shouted from shore, no boats were launched after them, and no arrows were sent their way. Peter felt there were eyes looking out of the darkness at them but the boat was not attacked as it came parallel with the cordon. Then the cordon was behind them, and they took heart and Charlotte rowed as fast as she could. They rounded the bend in the river and the hubbub going on at Deep Bright could be heard but faintly now. Charlotte lay slumped over the oars momentarily to catch her wind.

"Was there a diversion from your people?" Rula whispered.

"No, it must have been the light in the water that distracted them," Peter answered.

"Show us what you found, will you?" asked Charlotte.

"I. . . errr. . . " Peter started.

"No," interrupted Rula, "I am almost afraid to say the obvious but . .. . I don't think Peter has been successful."

"That's true," said Peter. He drew the hood of the cloak over his head. The grim fact was that he had failed in a quest that was impossible from the start.

"All this way, all this danger. . . for nothing?" said Charlotte.

"Now, now," answered Rula. "The lad feels badly enough."

"You shouldn't berate yourself," Rula said to Peter. "It was a good try and, though it failed, you may have learned something that will be useful the next time."

Peter did not know whatever that could be. Now that thievery had failed, the last band of Ikean fighters would attack the next day. That was the plan. Peter felt cold and empty and his feet ached from his run over the stones on the shore. He touched the bottom of his right foot and his hand came away warm and sticky. Rula had been watching and she slipped down beside him.

"Why, you poor fellow," she said. "You've injured your foot." She felt in a pocket of the cloak Peter was wearing and brought out a small object that glinted in the moonlight. It was a pair of scissors.

"What good would a seamstress be if she didn't have the tools of her trade with her at all times?" she said. Nearly as fast as Peter could blink she had cut a strip of cloth from the bottom of Charlotte's cloak and bound his foot with it.

Charlotte had turned briefly to watch Rula apply the bandage and her face softened for an instant. She opened her mouth as if to speak, and then turned back.

"I will have to pick up the beat," Charlotte said. "It will have to be fast time up the river all the way, if we're going to be back before Claybank wakes up."

They kept Peter hidden all day in a stuffy attic in Rula's hut. The little seamstress had laid out for him a mat and an ornate quilt but he was in little need of this covering as he slept fitfully. When night fell, there was a double knock on the door and Charlotte's voice saying, "The river runs deep." He heard the crone scurrying to the door and undoing a series of latches.

A moment later, the door of the loft opened and Charlotte came up. She handed him a narrow object, wrapped in cloth, that was less than a foot long.

"Take this," Charlotte said, "I should have given it to you when you went in the water last night. Do not open it here or ask questions about it."

"It is only something I found one time along the river that may prove handy to you . ."

"Another pleasant evening on the water," Rula joked later, after once again, they had stolen the boat.

"If we ever get out of this alive, there's one thing I will teach you," Charlotte said as she paused briefly from her exertions.

"What's that?"

"To row a boat."

They moved slowly downriver and Peter quietly explained the plan to them. They would wait at the bend of the river until midnight when the largest body of Ikeans were to attack from the opposite side of Bright Deep. At the same time, a smaller party would assault the remainder of the guards on the east side, cause other distractions so that the boat might come down close to Bright Deep and Peter would have a chance of slipping into the water unnoticed.

"I know a way to keep the light of Bright Deep from announcing my arrival," said Peter.

Rula nodded and said,"I hope you have more than one Joker up your sleeve. You're going to need them."

"It's started. It's really started!" said Peter. Now it was just past midnight and from the west they heard the clash of sword upon sword and the battle shouts of men.

"Move off now," said Rula. "Slow as we go."

Rula had taken her spot on the prow of the boat. As they rounded the bend in the river the battle sound became louder and more intense, even maddened.

"Here comes the cordon," whispered Rula. They passed through it quickly. It seemed the Ikeans had taken the guards by surprise, just as planned.

"There is fire passing through the air. Look!" said Rula. They all looked towards the guard tower and, indeed, balls of fire flew towards the tower and attached themselves.

"They have done it," said Peter. "They're through to the tower."

The flames from the tower spread and a loud alarm bell began ringing. But, this was confused with the sound of fighting in the west, and there were only a few guards trying to douse the flames.

"It's going up," said Charlotte. The blaze in the tower had gone out of control. The flames licked around and in and upward.

"Hang back for a while," said Peter. "We might be seen." The tower was an inferno now. The crackling of it was louder than the battle that was going on further to the west. From top to bottom the tower was a mass of flames burning straight up into the night sky, until a beam broke and part of the roof slid down. Then there was a large crack and a pillar collapsed, and the whole structure came crashing down to the shore next to Bright Deep.

As soon as the tower had fallen, Peter was urging Charlotte on, to take him closer to Bright Deep. The girl bent into the oars. Peter began removing his clothes. They were coming into the area where they might easily be seen, but the fallen tower, the assault upon the west, might serve to distract the guards.

"Let her drift now," said Peter softly.

"The boy begins to talk like a mariner," said Rula from the prow, not shifting her observance of the shore.

Charlotte turned around to look at Peter. "Open what I gave you," she said.

It was a dagger and a leather scabbard. The blade was exceptionally sharp on both sides and designs were inscribed on the metal. He thought about how poor the River People were, and how valuable this weapon would be if traded.

In truth, he did not see the need to encumber himself with the weapon during the swim and he had laid it with his clothes in the bottom of the boat.

"Hold the blade in your teeth," Charlotte said, and she picked it up and held it out to him. Then he remembered stories he had been told about heroes diving to do battle with fabulous monsters in deep locks, and the spirit of such an adventure rose in him briefly.

All there was left for Peter to do was to take off the medallion, for he knew from the previous night that the little jewel would cause the much larger one in the water to magnify its light and betray his approach. He unbuckled it and handed it to Charlotte who nonchalantly tucked it away. He slipped over the edge of the boat and began swimming towards Bright Deep. "Back away until you see my returning," were his parting words.

The creature of the water had heard the riot as she swam near the surface, and she had seen a pillar of the sun crash down near her home where she guarded the fallen star. Heavens above, was destruction to rain down on her? Would it engulf the star? She swam rapidly in a circle around the star until the coolness of reason came back to her. The star was stronger than men, more powerful than the sun gods. The star would outlast the men, and it would belong to Eee-san forever.

Eee-san: that was her name. She came from where the river joined the sea and she had always been a creature to stray. Her mother despaired over this offspring who explored the river going in from the Great Mother, the sea.

Then, one day, in a journey up the river farther than she had ever gone, she discovered the treasure and the meaning of her life.

What she found was not a large object but it was a fallen star all the same. She swam round and round it, then dived down to touch it with her hand. It scorched her rough skin and for a while she was driven mad with pain. When her burn healed she began to regard her scar as a sacred sign that bound her forever to the star. So, she had stayed on, guarded the treasure she had found, and took pleasure in its light.

She had been there, unnoticed, when the men arrived with their hammers and nails and boards. They had built the ugly monument along the riverbank. Their worship of the star was false and self-serving, unlike Eee-San's. It was they who disturbed the peace of the water; deep in her heart Eee-San knew they were the ones responsible for the fouling of the river, which her people remembered as once being, clean and fresh. So she hated them.

Some of them, late at night, when it seemed their fellows were not watching, would dive into the river to attempt to steal Eee-San's star. Her rage at such greed was unbounded at first. She attacked them fiercely when they least expected it. She was strong and she easily overpowered them. Then one man had actually placed his hand on the star and had drawn it away as if he had stuffed it in the midst of a burning sun. He, too, was easy for Eee-San to dispose of, and it became her entertainment to allow the swimmers to touch the star before she would attack. Sometimes, just for sport, she would play with her prey before finally putting it out of its misery.

Eee-San laughed deeply, richly. The column of sun was burning out. The world of men had exploded and she and the river would be undisturbed in worship of the star.

Peter swam most of the way underwater because he was afraid he might be spotted in the light cast by the embers of the tower. When he came to the surface he would switch the knife to his hand and tread water and attempt to breathe in as much air as he could; the air, however, was heavy with smoke and it was choking him. The fire crackled. The sound of battle was sporadic now, and Peter could see no guards along the river or ahead in the immediate vicinity of Bright Deep. He was reaching the place where the water glowed. He took a deep breath, clenched his teeth around the knife blade, and dived.

He slanted down, down, toward the centre of the light. He sensed the hard pressure of the water upon his body and his ears began to hum. He could see the bottom now, scattered with old tree branches and rusted metal objects. The water stung his eyes, but he kept them open.

There was something else, though; an intuition that he was not alone. The oddity was that he sensed laughter, harsh and not well-meaning. Then he thought he knew where it came from. Behind him. But there was no time to turn around. He frog-kicked deeper into the bright light and he could see the Jewel of Aurora lying on the riverbed.

Then he reached for it and grasped it with his hand and the light of the Jewel went out suddenly.

Now, as Peter was kicking up, up to the surface of the water where air, no matter how filled with smoke, would be delicious to his lungs, he sensed that there was a creature in his presence.

Peter was going up too fast. The change in pressure was sickening him, and his lungs felt as if they would burst.

Then, at last, he broke the surface. He grabbed the knife from his mouth and choked on air and could hardly believe where he was and that he had the Jewel. Still there were no guards on the shore that he could see, and he turned to begin the swim upriver, away from where Bright Deep had been and would never be again.

The current was strong as he began to swim back to the boat. He dare not stay too long on the surface and so he dived under. Immediately he felt the expansion of rage, unutterable and blind, from the being whose presence he had sensed. So now he turned and, as he did so, he gripped the handle of the knife and drew it from his teeth and clamped the jewel tightly under his tongue. The wreck of the tower still afforded some light that filtered down in the water and allowed him to see the creature he had so enraged.

When she saw him coming, Eee-San guessed he was the same one she had glimpsed that time when the star had gone crazy and when she thought it would burn away the world -- a thin young human with blonde hair. That other time she had been so drawn toward the blazing light that she permitted this thief to escape. Now here he was again, and there was no doubt he was trying to steal the star from her. Well, let him try. The star would burn his hand and he would be easy sport for her to finish off. She had not had such a diversion for many weeks now.

Then he had placed his hand on the star and it. . . died.

A terrible emptiness came over Eee-San that left her staring towards the nest where the star had lain. And then she began to seethe with hate and panic. If she killed him now, mercilessly, perhaps the star would come back and the void in Eee-San's existence would again be filled.

The creature was about twenty feet from him. Peter and the creature studied each other for a few seconds, like people passing on the street thinking they might know each other. The creature's eyes were round and luminous. Thoughts travelled between them. Still waters, peace, he sent her. She answered, hate, die!

Madness seized her again and she rushed, teeth bared. Peter was able to kick himself away from the main force of her charge and only a glancing blow from her back caught him. He spun and pushed up to the surface to gasp some air. He knew he must go down once again for, on the surface, he could not see his attacker.

She had not expected him to evade her initial charge and she rushed frantically back and forth searching for him. Who was he? If this young warrior could extinguish the star with a pinch of his fingers, could he not have the power to disappear from the water? But, there he was again, bobbing on the surface. She cut through the water directly at him.

It must have been by instinct because he had received no training in such skills. When she was almost upon him, he curved his body in the water and flicked upwards with the knife. Her body smacked him again and the knife and even his hand went into her and they twisted around in the water together. He nearly opened his mouth; he almost spat out the Jewel. Yet it was there under his tongue. The creature began to quiver, and Peter pulled himself free from her. He left the knife buried in her now-softening flesh.