The Incredible Tide Read Free Page B

each other was more like that of sisters.
    As she thought of Teacher, her grandfather, Lanna bit her lip and glanced out at the gray harbor, where the first trading vessel of the New Order had arrived only today. In its cargo, she knew, were many things the people here needed desperately, and other things they didn’t need at all, but would probably get if they had their way.
    â€œIt will soon be time to go to the tower,” she said. “When you get in touch with Teacher, why don’t you ask his advice about telling Shann?”
    â€œI—I hate to,” her aunt said unhappily. “He’s warned me several times not to tell him. I can see why. Shann’s so absentminded and honest, he could easily let something slip without realizing it.”
    â€œThen we’d better keep it to ourselves.”
    â€œMaybe so. Teacher’s where he is, and there’s nothing that can be done about it. We’ve got to keep on telling the story he told us to tell, and pray the truth never gets out. If it ever does …”
    If it ever gets out, Lanna thought, High Harbor will go to pieces in a hurry. Then the New Order will take over, and we’ll all be slaves. Shann could never save us.
    In the beginning, she remembered, life hadn’t really been too bad here. Hard, to be sure, but everyone expected it to be hard, and they’d all pitched in and sort of made a game of it. Shann and Mazal hadn’t been married long, and the young ones all looked up to them and thought Shann, their doctor, was great.
    But five years had brought a terrible change. There’d been too few adults to look after things. And the hundreds and hundreds of children who had been brought here for safety were growing up wild. Most of them were now in their teens—and some of them were no better than savages.
    She heard Mazal ask, “Is it time?” and glanced out at the early twilight and quickly estimated the hour. There were few clocks in High Harbor that were still in working order, but with practice she had learned to guess the time within minutes.
    â€œNo,” she said. “But I think you ought to go anyway and, well, sort of get composed.”
    â€œBut, honey, the supper—”
    â€œOh, fiddle, I’ll take care of it. The important thing is Teacher’s message. You’ve got to pick it up this time.”
    â€œYou’re right.” Frowning, Mazal tossed a cloak over her shoulders and went to the garden door. Then she turned. “Pray for me,” she said, then opened the door and slipped outside.
    With her hands clasped tightly, Lanna watched from the window while Mazal hurried along the stone wall fronting the garden and entered the ancient tower at the far corner. She could not see the place where Mazal emerged after climbing the curving steps to the tower’s upper story, but she could visualize her aunt standing there under the thatched roof, eyes closed, facing seaward. And somewhere across those hundreds of unknown miles, Mazal’s father, Teacher, would be standing the same way, concentrating on sending his daughter a message.
    Mazal wasn’t very good at it, and it was only by going through this same procedure every day, at the same place and hour, that she was able to pick up anything. Yesterday almost nothing had come through. Today—
    Lanna closed her eyes and whispered, “Please, God, let her get Teacher’s message. Please.” A message just had to come this evening. With the trade ship here, it just had to.
    As she went back to work, she suddenly began thinking of Conan again. Not that he was ever really out of her mind, but this was a nagging, worrisome feeling that had been with her for several days. Something was wrong. Had it not been for all the work to be done, she would have gone to her room and tried—as she had tried a thousand times before—to send her thoughts out to Conan and get his reply. In time, she was