“Echo Beach” (Martha and the Muffins, 1980)

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I have it in mind to start writing about music more, because I like it, even if I don’t know much about it from a technical point of view, and why wouldn’t I start here.

“Echo Beach” – Martha and the Muffins (1980) written by Mark Gane; #5 on the Canadian charts, #37 on the U.S. Disco charts. Juno Award for Single of the Year.

“Echo Beach” sounds simple. There’s a futuristic synth riff, and there’s a woman singing about how she wants to be at Echo Beach, and it’s all very catchy, and it adds up to a hit song. A very modern hit song (for 1980, that is).

But you know, there is a saxophone solo in the song too. And the sax, while it was a very ’80s instrument, wasn’t really a supermodern touch in the way that the synth line was. But that’s okay, because of what the song’s about.

According to the lyrics, the song is about a woman who has a boring, unfulfilling life, and the only good part of it is when she gets to go to Echo Beach. Not for partying and surfing and sunshine, but for solitary evening contemplation. It’s peaceful and beautiful, apparently.

What we have to remember is when the song came out. 1980. And one of the things that was in the air in 1980, and for a long time before and after 1980, was The Sixties. Do you think you hear about the nineteen-sixties too much now? Nothing like it was back then. “Looks like the sixties are finally over!” “When do you think the sixties ended?” “What did you do in the sixties?” “Things were better in the sixties.” The Beatles this and Vietnam that and Kennedy the other thing.

And the Boom was the only generation. (Not literally. There were people older than Boomers, and people younger than Boomers, but nobody talked about any of them as being part of a generation.) The Boom perspective was the only real one. Their storyline was, we came of age in the sixties and that was great but also terrible, then the seventies came and we all had to sell out and get jobs and now there’s disco and we miss the sixties.

Which brings us back to “Echo Beach”. It’s one of many songs* about how the sixties are over and the singer misses them. That job she finds so boring is the one she got after the Beatles broke up. Notice how the lyric specifies, not that she’ll be at Echo Beach, but that she’ll be back at Echo Beach? The place that is far away in time? The value of the place, beautiful as it may be, is in nostalgia. It’s where she can go to remember the past. Almost like it’s where she can hear the echo of the past.

And that’s why the saxophone is appropriate in the song. The singer is looking back to the sixties and the synthesizer is looking back to the sax. It reflects the sound of 1980, when the seedy and sleazy ’70s music was slowly evolving into the sleeker and cleaner ’80s music. “Echo Beach” was leading the march of time in both directions.

It’s a good tune. Check it out if you don’t know it.

*Some other sixties-lament songs of the era were “Hey Nineteen” (Steely Dan), “The Sad Cafe” (Eagles), “Video Killed the Radio Star” (Buggles), “The Boys of Summer” (Don Henley)…

Summer 35: potatoes

Matthew ELeave a comment

Dearest Zann,

Acea stared after us as his soldiers took me away. Of course that’s all he did. He didn’t want to talk to me nor I wanted to talk to him. I loved him. But clearly, clearly, the best thing would be if we never saw each other again.

I didn’t resist. I didn’t speak. What was to say? There was nothing I wanted to know or wanted anyone else to know. I made no mystery about what Acea was doing here; he had heard that the people of Crideon were being repressed by Lord Clear and the greenkind, and he came to help. Just like he and I used to do in other places. And here I was.

The rebel soldiers would put me in a cell. And eventually Acea would come and talk to me. And we would hurt each other. And nothing would be resolved. And he’d let me go, because why not. And then I’d slink off and scheme some more.

“In here,” one of the soldiers said, shoving me toward a door, not too rough.

“No,” I said, putting out an arm against the doorframe. “Wait.”

He thumped me with a spearbutt. “Acea said–“

“I know what he said. But I’d like to do something useful here. Can we do something useful?”

They both had their spears leveled now. “What are you talking about? You’re a Rosolla, and–“

“I came here to try to fix things. Not to fight you fellows. Or anybody. Well, maybe Lord Clear. But all I can do from in there is to make Acea feel bad. Can we do something else instead? Can you think of anything else you can do with me? Ay, keep me out of trouble. But don’t leave me in there like potatoes.”

“Just get in,” the first soldier said, but the second one interrupted.

“No, no; I get this. Well, partly. Let’s take him upstairs. That’ll be fine. We can keep an eye on him.”

“You believe him?” the first one said.

“A little. Come on. Let’s see what happens.”

Grateful as I was, I winced on behalf of Acea. If I was leading a rebellion and one of my men wanted to disobey my orders about a prisoner to ‘see what happens’, my head would pop off of my neck and go bouncing down the lane.

They led me upstairs and out into a little courtyard. There were soldiers training with spears and swords, but also some in a corner sitting around drinking water. They brought me to this corner and shoved me down on a bench. One of them called, “Ancient!” and an officer trotted over.

It was Fafafa. “Oh,” he said, “you’ve got Ybel here. I guess that was inevitable.”

“You know him, sir?”

“I’m his friend,” I interrupted.

Fafafa looked at me, fondly, I thought. “Are you? Still?”

“I don’t know if you’re my friend, but I’m yours.”

Fafafa grinned and sat down. He beckoned a soldier and said, “Could you get my friend some water, please?”

I drank it. Cold and clean.

Love,

Ybel

Songs Featured in the *A History of Rock Music in 500 Songs* Podcast

Matthew ELeave a comment

Here’s something I’ve been thinking of doing for a while.

One of my favourite things is Andrew Hickey’s podcast A History of Rock Music in 500 Songs, which is exactly what the name says it is. Each podcast episode focuses on one song, and over the course of the series, he assembles a history of rock music out of it all. Also there are bonus episodes for Patreon supporters. At this writing he’s at song 183. It’s a really good podcast; you should listen to it.

But if you want to know what all songs the podcast has talked about, it’s really hard to find that information. You have to look at all the episodes and scroll back through Patreon and all. So I thought I’d put together a list of all the featured songs, regular and bonus, and put it up on the internet so everyone else could see a list of good songs. Also, have no fear, I will keep it up to date; I’m usually fairly prompt about these things.

I am not affiliated with Andrew Hickey; he’s aware of this list but it’s very much an unofficial thing. I’m doing it because I like making lists, I’m interested in the podcast, I like the songs, and I like putting stuff up on the internet that people can use to look up stuff that’s of interest.

The link to the list is here. (It’s neither the first nor the last list of songs I’m gonna be putting on this site!) You can look but you can’t edit. Enjoy! Let me know of any issues with the list in the comments. I hope you listen to something you like today.

Summer 34: trusted

Matthew ELeave a comment

Precious Zann:

Seeing Wande there in the tower changed everything. As natural as it felt to stand around on guard duty again, the whole situation in Cas Crid was untenable. I had to figure out how to resolve it as soon as possible; there were just too many things going on. I had to find Srix or Candur or Ambe or somebody.

And leave Wande and Jhusdhe unguarded?

Well…

There was no worry about them coming out of their rooms. They didn’t want to. And if they changed their mind and did want to, I certainly wasn’t going to stand in their way.

But what about guarding them against someone coming to hurt them? To kill them, or take them away? In that case, there ought to be more than one man on the post. Back at the palace, we only put a single person on a post if nobody was ever going to notice it.

Anyway, the biggest threat to Wande and Jhus was Lord Clear himself, and if he came to harm them, just to be a pissard, there wasn’t much I could do about it.

Leaving Wande and Jhus unguarded, I took a quick swig from the jug and headed back down the tower. Once I was in the passage under the tower, I confidently headed north.

And almost immediately was confronted by a T-junction where my only choices were east and west.

My studies of the map of Cas Crid had led me to expect that I could go north from here, and that that was probably the best way to get to the rest of the Rosollas. I didn’t know what to do with east-or-west.

I tried east.

Obviously I was hoping that this passage would swing north again, but it didn’t; it went south and also downstairs. I went through a door at the bottom of the stairs and the passage went south again. Fine, I thought, let’s go back and try the other way, but when I tried, the door had locked behind me.

I swore cheerfully and continued south. Then there were more twists and turns and intersections and rooms I don’t remember. The part I do remember is that I walked into one room and got knocked down.

I hit the floor and gasped; someone landed on me.

“Don’t move, you piss splasher!” a voice said. The owner of the voice was kneeling on my back and holding a shaking knife to my throat. I didn’t move. He kept talking. “Drop–no, you’re not armed. Are you here to surrender?”

“Are you one of the rebels?” I said. “I didn’t know you fellows were this close.”

“I don’t have to answer your questions, guard!”

“Let’s just say I’m here peacefully; is it well?”

“I’ve got a surrendering guard here!” he shrieked out. “Come help me with him!” He bent his head down by my ear and said, in a low voice, “I promise if this is a trap I’m going to stab you in the pizzle.”

“It’s no trap,” I said. “I just don’t know my way around in this place.”

Footsteps. People arriving, probably more rebels.

“Let’s see what you’ve got!” said one voice.

“That’s a Rosolla uniform,” said another. I knew that voice! But– “They never surrender. It’s their oath. Let’s have a look at him.”

They picked me up and turned me around and for the first time in years Acea and I were face to face.

He still looked so good. But– “Ybel,” he said, astonished.

“You know him?” one of the others said.

“I know she’s not to be trusted,” Acea said. “Take her away. I mean, take him away.”

Love,

Ybel

Summer 33: bumbers

Matthew ELeave a comment

Most precious Zann,

I suppose there could have been some other prisoner who ate dried bumbers, but I assumed immediately that Wande and Jhusdhe were behind the door I was guarding. But why? They never did anything; what could the point possibly be of locking them up?

It must be about me, I decided, incorrectly. After all, Lord Clear hated me for ruining his plan with the Great Beast of Crideon. And… learned that I had escaped? And found out that Wande and I were partners, and captured them to… take some kind of revenge on me? It sounded weak, but what other reason could there be?

Usually, I hope, I’m not so self-centered that I can’t think past it, at least a little bit. But that time I was stuck on one idea.

One thing was explained, anyway; if Clear had them locked up in here, it made sense that the wizards wouldn’t be able to find them for me. Cas Crid may have been protected from magical searching even without Clear.

I knocked on the door, not too loud. I was nervous! Why was I nervous?

A moment passed, and I heard Wande say, “I’m here.”

I unlocked and opened the door. And there she was: she looked good. Not hurt. Clean. She stepped back, shocked. Then forward to hug me.

“Ybel! Where–No, never mind! I’m glad you’re all right.”

“I’m glad you’re all right. Have you been here all this time?”

“I–oh. I can’t talk to you about this now.” She let me go. “Ybel, it’s a curst situation, but I’m a prisoner and you’re a guard, and I’m not going to talk about it like that.”

“I don’t care about that,” I told her. “I’ve been looking for you all over the place. I can’t believe you’re here. Come on, let’s go, let’s get out of here. Wake Jhus and we’ll go.”

“Go where?”

“Away! Out of the castle, out of the city. I’m not leaving you two locked up in this musty old pisspot. Once you’re gone, Clear won’t have anything to hold over my head, and–“

“Over your head? Look, Ybel, how do you plan on getting out of the castle?”

She had a point. I didn’t really know where the castle was, exactly. Not really in the world, not in the laur. What other choices were there? “I don’t know. Maybe we can find Ambe and she can help. But we shouldn’t waste time!”

“Wait. My turn now. Well?”

“Well.”

She sighed. “I don’t know if escaping is the right thing to do. And there are complications. For one… I don’t think you and I are together anymore, are we?”

We could be. But… I remembered my time with Ellewen. “Maybe not. I suppose not. But we can still–“

Wande nodded. “And there’s something else. Jhus wants to stay.”

Spoiled brat kid. “Jhus wants a lot of things. If you tell her–“

“She wants to stay here because her father is here.” And she waited for me to understand that.

I understood it. “Her father? Wait. Is it Clear? Were you and Lord Clear…”

She nodded again, and said, “Can we close the door now? I don’t want to answer any more questions. From you or,” she signaled around with her eyes, “anybody else.” And stepped back.

I gave her a pat on the arm, closed the door, and locked it.

Now what do I do, I thought.

All my love,

Ybel

Summer 32: closed door

Matthew ELeave a comment

Most precious Zann,

“Day,” I said cautiously.

“Ybel,” Trall said, surprised. “How did you get here?” Carsaduam stepped over to help me up.

“Hard to explain. Are we all here? All the guards?”

“We are now,” Carsaduam said. “You were the only one missing.”

“Oh.” I started for the door, not wanting to be trapped anywhere. They let me, and we left the room. “And… why are we here? Is Lord Clear here?”

The corridors of Cas Crid were much smaller than those of the Palace. Shorter and narrower, and made of brick. “Mmm,” Carsaduam said. “He holds our oaths. He’s trying to conquer Crideon for himself, not for the rest of the laurans. He’s got us and some townspeople that he’s lured in here. But the castle’s not safe because some rebel townspeople were using Cas Crid as a lair before we got here, and they’re holding out in some places. And they don’t like us anyway.”

“Truly?”

“Ay. We need you. We need everyone. Are you ready to start now? I mean right now. Candur will be glad that you’ve turned up. We can get you a uniform at the guardpost just up here. No more blue pajazuse! Back to the old grey-and-whites.”

“Well,” I said, and followed them. “So there’s fighting in the castle? Now?”

“They’re dug in pretty well,” Trall said. “They have some kind of magic. Lord Clear could probably handle them all by himself, but the laurans in the palace are fighting him magically. He’s, uh. We try not to talk to him or attract his attention.”

“He’s a pisshearted murderer is what he is,” I told them.

Carsaduam turned a corner and we entered a guardpost at the base of a tower. He tossed me a bundle of equipment and I started changing clothes. “He could be ten times a murderer for all I care, if he’d only keep his murdering to our enemies. But he doesn’t care about us any more than he does the rebels. I think he wants the rebels and us to kill each other off until it’s just him.”

“Sounds like we’re talking about the same man.”

Trall handed me some bread wrapped around a bit of cheese and said, “Come on. You can start your first shift. We’ve had Old Aldo on this door for almost two shifts now and he needs a rest.”

“Well. I can guard a door. What’s behind it?” I ate as he showed me the way upstairs.

“Lord Clear has someone in an upper room here. Somebody important, I don’t know. Nobody goes in, nobody comes out. Just food twice a day. Simple as that.”

“Greenkind or human?”

“Piss in my pockets if I know. We guard the door, that’s all. Oh, but you always did ask too many questions.” He frowned at me. “Maybe that’s why Candur likes you. But that’s his business.”

We were in a different tower now. I couldn’t be sure which one, but it was a wide circle in shape. The guard platform was a half moon at the top of the stairs, and Aldo clapped me on the back as I took his place. Aldo leaned on Trall a bit going downstairs.

I was alone, and back on guard.

I had a closed door to protect. I had a lamp and a jug of water on an upturned barrel nearby. I had a cheap sword that I didn’t want. And there was a tray near the stairs with what was left of the previous meal for whoever was in the rooms, waiting to be taken back down. I glanced at it.

On one of the plates, there were some uneaten vegetables, sprinkled with dried bumblebees. Just like Wande makes for Jhusdhe.

All my love,

Ybel

Summer 31: mound

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Most treasured Zann,

One thing I had managed to do was spend a few minutes with a map of Cas Crid. I had never seen the place back when it was still standing; I had only come to Crideon after it had been thrown down. And even then I had never really looked at the ruins. So if I was going to figure out how to get in, I needed to know what the layout of the place was.

As castles went it didn’t make a lot of sense. Crideon hadn’t been in any danger of invasion for centuries. (Or so they thought.) So the castle, before it was destroyed, was just another city building in a lot of ways. Different kings had added to it, torn parts down, built things on top of other things, and even included some buildings that were by any reasonable standard down the street from the actual castle. There was only about a third of the original curtainwall left, and it wasn’t really trying to defend anything so much as it was trying to stay out of the way. But I thought I had a good understanding of its main parts as I strolled up to it that morning.

Unusually for Crideon before noon, there was a mist around Cas Crid. I thought it seemed like a very lauran, greenkind kind of mist. Dark gray, with vague blue and yellow lights inside it. Like a fool, I walked right into it.

And then everything was different.

Life was pleasant inside the mist, as long as you kept out of the way of Lord Clear. Much nicer than the harsh sunshine world with all the filthy men and women. How long had I been standing here looking at the cairns of earth that had been raised over the corpse of Castle Crideon? Many days, surely, and contented ones. But now perhaps I could continue on my way, and find the rest of the Rosolla Guard within.

I strolled past the first mound, trying to fit it to what I remembered of the map. The one I wanted, I thought, should be in the middle of the cluster of mounds. I didn’t have a shovel with me. What was the point of digging up ruins? If Clear and the Rosollas and everyone were in here, it was through magic, and therefore I would have to find some kind of magic.

One good place to look might be at the top of the central mound.

Climbing a hill of dirt was one of the least frightening things I had tried to do in the past few swings. It was messy but not really very difficult. The mist was still everywhere, but I could see about twenty feet in all directions, and that was enough. Finally I stood on top of the mound, greyness all about me. There was something up ahead to the left, so I went to investigate. It was a flagpole, only about ten feet tall, flying a blue banner with a blue diamond on it. Lord Clear’s, surely. Could it be magical? It could.

I reached up to touch it, maybe to pull it down, and was wrenched aside magically! Something pulled me, roughly, through some walls of reality, and flung me to the ground. My hand stung where it had brushed the cloth of the flag.

I was in a stone room, somewhere, sprawled on the floor. A small torch provided the only light. There was one door, and it opened. Two Rosolla Guards strode in.

Trall and Carsaduam.

Love,

Ybel

Summer 31: light heavy

Matthew ELeave a comment

Dearest Zann,

Coy and Lasl let me sleep in their boat that night. I don’t know where they slept. It wasn’t too uncomfortable, though it was a little cold.

The next days were… not uneventful, but frustrating. I had a lot of things I wanted to do, but I couldn’t do them until I did other things first. I needed money, for one thing, so I worked most of a day on the docks and accumulated a small handful of pennies. Spent a couple on passage upriver to the palace.

The laziest siege in history was happening outside the palace walls, and as far as I could tell nothing was happening inside them. The greenkind were in there, no doubt, but they weren’t letting themselves be seen. It wasn’t difficult to evade the besiegers and slip into the place, but once I did I was alone. Nothing but echoes in the great halls. Ambe wasn’t in her lair, none of the Rosollas were in our guardrooms. Ellewen wasn’t there; I left him a note just in case.

I figured this might be my chance and sought out the kitchen to see if there was any Sauce around. I couldn’t even find the kitchen. I knew where it had been, but it was hidden from my eyes now.

I found a bit of food in one of the guardrooms and slept there that night. Next morning, back to Crideon and look for Srix. I tried Birch Spit but the place was abandoned. Only one thing left to try, and I wasn’t looking forward to it: go to Cas Crid and see what was happening there.

The city was much emptier than usual too. Where had everyone gone? Fled to the countryside? The war, or whatever it was, certainly wasn’t over, but nobody troubled me as I skulked down the streets and alleys. Mostly I just heard cries and other noises in the distance.

One thing I should probably mention is that thing I found and put in my pocket, back in the laur, as I was turning to ash and crumbling away. It was still in my pocket. Somehow. It was a seedpod of some kind. Made of tough fibers, greeny-pink in colour. When I first took a good look at it, I turned it over and over to see its various details, and I could swear that it turned lighter and heavier as I did so. Heavy, light, heavy, light. In the end I put it away safely.

No more delays. Next time I’ll tell you about Cas Crid and what I found there.

All my love,

Ybel

Summer 30: head

Matthew ELeave a comment

Most beloved Zann,

Coy and Lasl were telling the truth when they said they knew of a tavern that was still open and operating normally. It was a place called Sosi’s, and I thought I might have been there once before. Just a little waterfront joint made of two joined cellars.

The first thing I saw coming down the stairs into the common room was a glass jar with a human head in it, in some kind of green liquid, hanging over our heads. The head glared at me for a moment, and then nodded, allowing me to pass.

“He gave you a good long look,” Lasl said. “Got some secrets? Usually he’ll let any normal customer in.”

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Always just call him ‘the head’. I think he was a wizard.”

The common room was about half full. We sat at the end of a long table. Coy looked over at Sosi, behind the bar, and held up three fingers. Sosi nodded.

“So, Ybel,” Coy said. “Do you think you’re going back to the Guard?”

“Maybe. Probably. Something like it, anyway. I’m still thinking. What about you two? How do you live?” They will glance at each other before answering me, I thought to myself.

Before answering me, they glanced at each other. “We get by,” Lasl said. “There’s always something you can do with a boat. Fishing, if nothing else.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“It’s a pretty good life. Lot of dangerous people in the streets that don’t come out onto the water. Lot of politics that can be avoided. And the air’s always fresh.”

Sosi brought us a large trencher of bread with some strips of fried fish, pickled radishes, and wedges of cheese. Also, three mugs of stout.

“Sounds nice,” I said, trying not to stuff my mouth too greedily. The bread wasn’t very good, but it was fresh.

“Sort of thing that appeals to you?”

I smiled. “I hate to say this, because I’m so hungry for this food, and you’ve already done so much for me. But… you’re only telling me the good parts.”

“What do you mean?” Coy asked.

“I mean that sailing up and down the river in the sunshine sounds much better than having to worry about palace intrigue… but I don’t think I’d like smuggling goods into the city very much, especially when I’d have to deal with the neighbourhood gangs.” I wasn’t sure whether to look Lasl dead in the eye when I said that, or to look Coy dead in the eye, so I switched back and forth between the two of them. I don’t think it made me seem as formidable as I wanted.

“There is that,” Lasl said calmly.

“If you don’t mind my asking, does your gang think of you as their soldiers or their mercenaries?”

“Oh, mercenaries, definitely. They’re too close-knit for us to be anything else. You have to have grown up in their same four-block area or they don’t trust you. Why?”

“I’m just wondering. I don’t have an offer to make, but I would like to start collecting useful people who are available to, well, help the city out from time to time.”

“Are we not helping the city already?” Coy said, pointing a radish at me. “That stuff we bring in, most of it’s food.”

“Food that some mean dastards get a nice profit on before anyone gets to eat it. I agree, it does help, some, but I’d like some other choices for us.”

Lasl shrugged. “If you’ve got something to say, I’ll listen.”

I took a swig of stout. “Sometimes I think we never really woke up from the Nap.” Coy looked at me questioningly, but I didn’t elaborate.

The Nap. We all fell asleep and drowsed while the greenfolk took everything from us. And then we woke, and saw what had happened, and… nothing. We didn’t fight, or leave, or band together. We reacted slowly. We accepted this new madness as a fact and went along with it. Me as much as anybody.

And that was unusual for me. Back before the Nap, up north, I wasn’t like that at all. I… well, never mind that right now. I did a lot of things. I made people react to me. And now? I gave up everything I ever cared about to loiter around a palace on the offchance that a drop of the Sauce would fall in my mouth. But then, I was a different person now, wasn’t I?

But I’d never be so different that I would let everything come to an end just because I was too busy counting the bubbles in my piss. Maybe the people of Crideon had lost the trick of making things happen. Fine. I would relearn it.

And I knew who I had to find first.

All my love,

Ybel

Summer 29: scattering

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Zann, my truest love,

I took my long branch and weaved as many colourful flowers as I could into the twigs at the end of it. It wasn’t easy, and I had been swearing continuously for about ten minutes before I found a technique that would work. At last I had a long colourful banner, about twelve feet, that I could wave in the air. I took it up to the downstream tip of the island, and waited for a boat heading up to Crideon.

It wasn’t a perfect plan. The river was wide, and the best currents to travel in were near the banks. Someone on a boat might see me and still not want to come out into the middle of the flow to help me. But it might work.

As it happened, the problem wasn’t that the riverboats were unwilling to come out from the bank, but that they weren’t there at all. When I was working on the docks, and later when I did guard duty out on The Tongue, I would see dozens of boats a day go past the city. The fighting must be keeping people away. I waited there for hours, seated on the sand with my flowery branch.

And a boat did finally approach! It was a trader, hugging the north bank. I jumped to my feet and flailed the branch around like a maniac, scattering flowers, trying to attract their attention. It was pretty far away, but they had a man on watch and I could tell that he saw me. He called to someone else, and another fellow joined him, and they both watched me bouncing about waving my branch. The boat stayed on its course, though. When it was drawing even with the island, the first man waved back, finally, and pointed at me with both hands, and then pointed downwards, pointing at my feet. He gave me a little salute-like wave and the boat passed behind a point on the island.

He meant something, but I didn’t know what. What about my feet?

Maybe he meant that I should stay here and wait. I could do that.

I waited, for hours. The island was far enough from the city that the afternoon mists were all a thin white that didn’t do anything but smell like trees. It didn’t help the sailing visibility, though, so I had almost given up on any boats coming by when I heard, “Hoy! The island!” from out on the water.

“Hoy!” I called back.

A large dinghy sailed into view. A bearded man was at the rudder. “Do you mind getting wet?” he said. “I don’t know how close I can come.”

“That’s fine,” I said, wading out. “Thank you!”

He grinned, and a woman near the mast threw me a wooden ring on a line. The boat was coming around the island, but I had my arm through the ring and it pulled me along. I swam out, trying to work my way up the rope. The boom swung past the two of them, and the woman helped me aboard.

“Thank you, again. I’m Ybel.”

“Ybel. Glad to help. I’m Coy and this is my husband Lasl. What were you doing on that island?”

“Oh. It’s a long story. I don’t mind telling you, but it’s a really long story. I’m a Rosolla Guard, at the Palace, and I’ve been out of the city for a while, doing all kinds of crazy things. Someone who dislikes me stranded me on the island. What’s happening in Crideon now, do you know?”

“Rosolla Guard, eh? Hm,” Lasl said. “That’s interesting. As far as I know your people are all sealed up in Cas Crid with Lord Clear and a brown glow around the whole area keeping everyone out. So you’re coming back to the city… to do what?”

“A brown glow? Oh. I’m coming back to, well, to try to put things right. I don’t know how. But I can’t just let everything fall apart the way it’s doing.”

“Because of your oath?” Coy asked.

I thought about it. “No. The oath is nice too. I just have to do this.”

I was lying on my back in the bottom of the dinghy. I could have sat up, but every now and then Lasl and Coy felt it necessary to do a sailing thing where the boat changes direction a little and it yanks the boom over top of the hull and everybody has to duck. I never know when to duck. So I just stayed down all the time.

“Brave of you,” Coy said. “I say ‘brave’. Do you prefer ‘foolish’? ‘Suicidal’? ‘Simple’? Or should I stick with ‘brave’?”

I laughed. “Any of those. I don’t know. I’ve been in a lot of unusual situations. I don’t know what can be done. But it doesn’t feel like I have much choice about it.” I paused. “And, there was a time when I let a couple of people down. I cared about them a lot. I still do. But I wasn’t there for them when they needed me, and now it’s too late. But it isn’t too late for the people I know here.”

They nodded. Still keeping their eyes on the water ahead.

“And I count you two in that. You’re really helping me here, and I owe you a debt. And I’ll make good on it.”

Lasl waved it off. “We just did a bit of sailing. We sail all the time. A little run downriver because a fellow on a trader told us that some other fellow was caught on an island? It’s no great thing.”

“In that case, I’ll forget your names.”

They laughed. “There’s still a place near the docks that the laurans and gangs haven’t discovered,” Lasl said. “Come have a drink with us, and we’ll talk about some items of interest, and we’ll say it’s even.”

“Glad to,” I said, and we came around a bend, and there was Crideon, with the sun setting behind her, and the afternoon mists blue and green in her streets.

All my love,

Ybel