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He sat up on his elbow； looking forward。 The moon that had risen before them as they left Sosara Bay was again before them； sinking。 Behind； in the east； day came wan and dull。 There were no clouds； but a faint； sickly overcast。 Later in the day the sun grew hot； but it shone veiled； without splendor。
All day long they coasted Lorbanery； low and green to their right hand。 A light wind blew off the land and filled their sail。 Toward evening they passed a long last cape； the breeze died down。 Sparrowhawk spoke the magewind into the sail； and like a falcon loosed from the wrist； Lookfar started and fled forward eagerly； putting the Isle of Silk behind。
Sopli the Dyer had cowered in the same place all day； evidently afraid of the boat and afraid of the sea； seasick and wretched。 He spoke now； hoarsely。 〃Are we going west？〃
The sunset was right in his face； but Sparrowhawk； patient with his stupidest questions； nodded。
〃To Obehol？〃
〃Obehol lies west of Lorbanery。〃
〃A long way west。 Maybe the place is there。〃
〃What is it like； the place？〃
〃How do I know？ How could I see it？ It's not on Lorbanery！ I hunted for it for years； four years； five years； in the dark； at night； shutting my eyes； always with him calling e； e； but I couldn't e。 I'm no lord of wizards who can tell the ways in the dark。 But there's a place to e to in the light； under the sun too。 That's what Mildi and my mother wouldn't understand。 They kept looking in the dark。 Then old Mildi died； and my mother lost her mind。 She forgot the spells we use in the dyeing； and it affected her mind。 She wanted to die； but I told her to wait。 Wait till I find the place。 There must be a place。 If the dead can e back to life in the world； there must be a place in the world where it happens。〃
〃Are the dead ing back to life？〃
〃I thought you knew such things；〃 Sopli said after a pause； looking askance at Sparrowhawk。
〃I seek to know them。〃
Sopli said nothing。 The mage suddenly looked at him； a direct； pelling gaze； though his tone was gentle： 〃Are you looking for a way to live forever； Sopli？〃
Sopli returned his gaze for a moment； then he hid his shaggy； brownish…red head in his arms； locking his hands across his ankles； and rocked himself a little back and forth。 It seemed that when he was frightened he took this position； and when he was in it； he would not speak or take any notice of what was said。 Arren turned away from him in despair and disgust。 How could they go on； with Sopli； for days or weeks； in an eighteen…foot boat？ It was like sharing a body with a diseased soul。。。
Sparrowhawk came up beside Arren in the prow and knelt with one knee on the thwart； looking into the sallow evening。 He said； 〃The man has a gentle spirit。〃
Arren did not answer this。 He asked coldly； 〃What is Obehol？ I never heard the name。〃
〃I know its name and place on the charts； no more。。。 Look there： the panions of Gobardon！〃
The great topaz…colored star was higher in the south now； and beneath it； just clearing the dim sea； shone a white star to the left and a bluish…white one to the right； forming a triangle。
〃Have they names？〃
〃The Master Namer did not know。 Maybe the men of Obehol and Wellogy have names for them。 I do not know。 We go now into strange seas； Arren； under the Sign of Ending。〃
The boy did not answer； looking with a kind of loathing at the bright； nameless stars above the endless water。
As they sailed westward day after day； the warmth of the southern spring lay on the waters； and the sky was clear。 Yet it seemed to Arren that there was a dullness in the light； as if it fell aslant through glass。 The sea was lukewarm when he swam； bringing little refreshment。 Their salt food had no savor。 There was no freshness or brightness in anything； unless it were at night； when the stars burned with a greater radiance than he had ever seen in them。 He would lie and watch them till he slept。 Sleeping； he would dream： always the dream of the moors or the pit or a valley hemmed round by cliffs or a long road going downward under a low sky； always the dim light； and the horror in him； and the hopeless effort to escape。
He never spoke of this to Sparrowhawk。 He did not speak of anything important to him； nothing but the small daily incidents of their sailing； and Sparrowhawk； who had always had to be drawn out； was now habitually silent。
Arren saw now what a fool he had been to entrust himself body and soul to this restless and secretive man； who let impulse move him and made no effort to control his life； nor even to save it。 For now the fey mood was on him； and that； Arren thought； was because he dared not face his own failure… the failure of wizardry as a great power among men。
It was clear now that to those who knew the secrets； there were not many secrets to that art magic from which Sparrowhawk and all the generations of sorcerers and wizards； had made much fame and power。 There was not much more to it than the use of wind and weather； the knowledge of healing herbs； and a skillful show of such illusions as mists and lights and shape…changes； which could awe the ignorant； but which were mere tricks。 Reality was not changed。 There was nothing in magery that gave a man true power over men； nor was it any use against death。 The mages lived no longer than ordinary men。 All their secret words could not put off for one hour the ing of their death。
Even in small matters magery was not worth counting on。 Sparrowhawk was always miserly about employing his arts； they went by the world's wind whenever they might； they fished for food； and they spared their water； like any sailors。 After four days of interminable tacking into a fitful headwind； Arren asked him if he would not speak a little following wind into the sail； and when he shook his head； said； 〃Why not？〃
〃I would not ask a sick man to run a race；〃 said Sparrowhawk； 〃nor lay a stone on an overburdened back。〃 It was not clear whether he spoke of himself or of the world at large。 Always his answers were grudging； hard to understand。 There； thought Arren； lay the very heart of wizardry： to hint at mighty meanings while saying nothing at all； and to make doing nothing at all seem the very crown of wisdom。
Arren had tried to ignore Sopli； but it was impossible； and in any case he soon found himself in a kind of alliance with the madman。 Sopli was not so mad； or not so simply mad； as his wild hair and fragmented talk made him appear。 Indeed the maddest thing about him was perhaps his terror of the water。 To e into a boat had taken desperate courage； and he never really got the edge worn off his fear； he kept his head down so much so that he would not have to see the water heaving and lapping about him。 To stand up in the boat made him giddy； he clung to the mast。 The first time Arren decided on a swim and dived off the prow； Sopli shouted out in horror； when Arren came climbing back into the boat； the poor man was green with shock。 〃I thought you were drowning yourself；〃 he said； and Arren had to laugh。
That afternoon； when Sparrowhawk sat meditating； unheeding and unhearing； Sopli came hitching cautiously over the thwarts to Arren。 He said in a l