lands. She had sometimes heard terrifying stories of the bloodthirsty tribes who lived on the northern shores of the Black Sea in a land that was barren and cold. Dare they attempt such a thing?
Kora saw the way her mind was working and raised her eyebrows. “You’d not be thinking of going north, would you? There’s naught up there but leagues and leagues of sea—like a wilderness of water; and then when you get there, there’s naught but another wilderness of grassland. We can’t turn about and set off in that direction—we’d soon run out of food and water.”
Myrina nodded, but she still stared northward. Now that she’d taken such a bitter leave of the Thermodon, to return there and live in constant fear of attack seemed a bleak and hopeless prospect.
Kora’s brow wrinkled as she racked her brains. “I know a place that would provide safety for a little while: a tiny island, just a little way past the mouth of the Thermodon. We call it Lunardia. There we could catch our breath and have time to think; the fisherfolk would feed us and help you to stock these boats for the longer journey, if you really want to venture north. I could stay for a few days to teach you how to handle the steering and the oars before I set off back to my home.”
“I know it.” Myrina smiled, warmly gripping Kora by the shoulders. “An island off the coast where the cherry trees grow. We Moon Riders call it the Nest of Maa. Yes—please show us how to get there.”
Kora soon had them unfurling the mainsail of the Artemis , for the wind was still blowing from the west.
“The wind has blown against us all the way.” Myrina laughed. “Maa and the Moon Lady must wish us to go back to Lunardia, I’m sure of it!”
After just one day of sailing they were back within sight of the coast. As they passed the smoking desolation of the Thermodon in the distance, they stood in silence and watched. Many of the women’s cheeks were wet with tears, but their spirits rose when the small island of Lunardia came into view. Dusk fell as they beached the two boats with just a little difficulty and much shouting of instructions from Kora and her friends. The fishing families who lived on the island set aside their nets to greet them with warmth and concern. When they understood who they were and heard what had happened to them, they offered generous hospitality. Neoptolemus had passed their little island by, thinking it not worth the trouble of attacking.
They lit a fire on the beach and organized a good but simple meal of freshly made bread and spit-roasted mackerel.
That night all the Moon Riders who were not injured danced in thanksgiving, both to their kind hosts and to Mother Maa.
They made a strange sight on the beach, a great group of young women, their long hair matted with salt, their skin covered with cuts and bruises, dancing unaccompanied, dressed in rags. Some of them wept as they danced, reliving the terrible slaughter of their boy children, praying to Maa to look after their little ones. Myrina watched with tight lips and dry eyes, remembering the rich jewelery that had once adorned the dancers, the layers of beads and the tinkling bells and cymbals that had been their pride.
“We have nothing left to us,” she whispered to Iphigenia.
But Iphigenia would not allow her to be miserable. “Look at them,” she insisted. “Look at their spirit and energy; see how their body pictures ripple as they move. They have youth, they have their dances, and, most of all, they have life.”
Coronilla lay resting beside them, not quite recovered enough to lead the dancing as she usually did. Now she laughed. “Your words sound strangely familiar, Princess,” she said. “It is usually the Snake Lady who speaks with such crazy cheerfulness.”
Iphigenia smiled. “It is from the Snake Lady that I have learned such determination,” she said.
Myrina was cheered by their praise. Two fisher girls came over to them, carrying the