We could have built a fire in the box or lit the lantern that night on the sloop, but we did not. The darkness and the overpowering presences of the forest and the swiftly sinister river created an atmosphere that I cannot possibly convey with ink on paper. The people of Shadelow believe that each of their rivers has a minor god of its own who lives in and under it and governs it, a god whose essence it is. Also that the forests hold minor gods and goddesses as numerous as their animals, gods and goddesses for the most part malign and unappeasable. When Seawrack spoke to Sinew and me that night in the dark, it almost seemed to me that we had one with us on the sloop. What it must have seemed to Sinew, who did not know her as I did, is far beyond my ability to express.
“You said it was good that I can’t drown,” she began. “Do you remember that?”
I did.
“I said I wished I could.” There was an odd, rough sound, loud in the silence; after a moment I realized that she was scratching Babbie’s ears. “You thought it was foolish of me, wanting to drown. But I don’t want to drown. I’ve seen a lot more drowned people than you have, probably. I’ve seen what die sea does to them, and watched Mother eat them, and eaten them myself.”
For the space of a score of breaths no voices were heard but die wind’s and the river’s.
“What I’d like is to be able to, because you can. You think I can wait for you in that town where the river comes to the sea. Do you think Babbie will wait, too? Do you think he can live in the forest until you come back, and then come back to you?”
“No, I don’t,” I said, “although Babbie has surprised me before.”
“You don’t think he’s a real person. To you he’s just like Krait, and Krait’s not a real person either.”
I tried to say that I did not think Babbie a person at all, that Babbie was not a human being like Krait and the three of us. I cannot be certain now precisely how I may have put it, although I am quite sure I put it badly. Whatever lies I may have told, and however I phrased diem, I made Seawrack angry.
“That’s not what I said! That’s not what I said at all! You’re twisting all the words around. You do it once or twice every day, and I’d do anything, if only I could make you stop it.”
“I apologize,” I told her. “I didn’t intend to. If that isn’t what you meant, what did you mean?”
Sinew began, “Did she really-?”
She cut him off. “What I’m trying to say is, there are two people on this boat you don’t think are people at all, Babbie and Krait. You don’t think they are, but you’re wrong. You’re wrong about both of them.”
Sinew muttered, “He doesn’t think I’m anybody either.”
“Yes, he does!” In the chill starlight, I could see her turn to face him. “You’ve got it exacdy backwards. No wonder you’re his son.”
While Sinew was wrestiing with that, she added, “It’s the other part he doesn’t like, the thingness. You try to be less of a person and more of a thing because you think that’s what he wants, but it’s really the other way.” Her voice softened. “Horn?”
“Yes. What is it?”
“Tell me. Tell us both. What does it take to make a person for you?”
I shrugged, although she may not have seen it. “I’m not sure; maybe I’ve never thought enough about it. Maytera Marble is a person, even if she’s a machine. An infant is a person, even if it can’t talk.”
I waited for Seawrack to reply, but she did not.
“A while ago you said that it was talking for you. The sea goddess spoke to you. So she was a person no matter how large she was or how she looked, and I have to agree. Then you said that Babbie is a person. But Babbie can’t talk. I don’t know what to tell you.”
Sinew asked, “Babbie’s the hus?”
“Yes. Mucor gave him to me. I don’t believe you’ve ever seen Mucor, but you must have heard your mother and me mention her many times.”
“She could just sort of be there. Look out of mirrors and things.”
“That’s correct.”
Seawrack said, “She sounds like me. Is she very much like me, Horn?”
“No.”
Sinew asked, “Can she do that stuff?”
I was not quite certain that he was addressing me, but I said, “Do you mean Seawrack? I’m no expert on what Seawrack can do. If she says she can, she can.”
“I can’t,” Seawrack told me, “but Mucor reminds me of me, just the same.”
“In one way, I agree. Both of you have been very good friends to me.”
Again almost whispering, Sinew said, “I’ve been hearing about Mucor ever since I was a sprat, only I thought she was just a story. You know? Way out here, she’s real. When I was in town,” (he meant New Viron) “somebody said you’d been to see the witch. That was her, wasn’t it? You went to see her like you’d go to see Tamarind.”
“Yes.”
“Babbie can talk,” Seawrack insisted. “He talks to me and to you all the time, it’s just that you hardly ever pay attention.”
Babbie stood and shook himself, then lay down again with his broad, bristle-covered back against my legs and his head in my lap. I said, “Can you really speak, Babbie?” and felt his head move in reply.
