“I met Throm again,” she explained, “on a hill near Atlas. He was just standing out there, waiting-waiting for the end. He told me the seven years were over and I remembered his prophecy. It is going to happen, Annubi, just as he has said.”

“So you know.”

“You have known all along too. Why have you never said anything?”

“What can be said?”

“There was an earthquake in Poseidonis; it happened when I was in the bullring. A small one-little damage, no one was hurt, but the temple crystal was shattered. The next one will be bigger, and the one after that…”

“What did the people of Poseidonis do?”

“Do? Why, nothing. There was no real damage. They went on about their business.”

“The signs are there for anyone to read,” Annubi told her, “but no one heeds them. Men go on with their business as if the world will last forever. It will not. It never does.”

“We could tell them… warn then.”

“Do you really Believe anyone would listen?” Annubi scoffed. “They will not listen. Throm has been telling them for years.”

“But… the earthquake. They would Believe”

“Oh, yes, the earthquake. They will Believe when their houses crumble upon them, when the lintels of the temple crack and the sacred edifice falls-then they will Believe. But it will be too late.”

“But surely” she began.

Annubi continued a few paces, stopped suddenly and whipped toward her. “Do you think this the first disaster to overtake Atlantis? There have been others.”

“I did not know.”

“Oh, yes. The last was a long time ago. A fireball from the sky plunged into the sea, penetrated the seabed, and disturbed the earth’s course. Cities toppled. Whole kingdoms in the south simply slid into the sea and disappeared. Disease, pestilence, and war followed. Survivors left the destruction and migrated to other lands. But it was no better elsewhere.”

“I had no idea.”

“The Magi do not speak of it, but they know. It is well recorded if one knows where to look. People forget what they do not wish to remember. They refuse to Believe disaster can ever invade their tight little lives. That is why they will not listen to you or Throm or anyone else who tries to warn them.”

“But we must try,” insisted Charis. “We must try to make them understand.”

“Why?”

“Because we have to save as many lives as we can, because we can survive.”

Annubi shook his head slowly. “No, Charis,” he said softly. “Our time is finished. It is the way of things. A new age is upon the world and we have no place in it. The center will shift once more as it always does and Atlantis will vanish beneath the waves.”

“We can get a ship. We can leave – leave it all behind. We can go somewhere else.”

“There is noplace else, Charis. Not for us.”

“I do not Believe that.”

Annubi sighed. “Believe what you like, Charis.”

“I will find my brothers; I will go to Belyn.”

“They will not heed you any more than the crowds in Poseidonis heeded the earthquake – no more than anyone ever heeded Throm. “

“Stop it!” Charis shouted angrily. “I will make them heed me! I will make them listen and I will make them Believe.”

To make them Believe, Charis had first to find them. She prevailed upon Annubi to locate them with the Lia Fail and to discern, if he could, where they were going. She would ride to that place in the hope of meeting up with one or more of them.

“I tell you that you are wasting your time,” he said after consulting the oracular stone.

“You have already told me that. Save your breath and just tell me where I can find them.”

“As you wish,” the seer relented. “Kian is the closest. He is making for the estuary of the Nerus. If he holds his present course and speed, he will be there in two days. Aval-lach has set up a watchtower on the tidewash where the headlands meet the river basin. You can easily reach it in a day. Wait for him there.”

“Thank you, Annubi. I am leaving now. I will be back as soon as I have spoken to him. It will not take long. Look after Father for me.”

Annubi snorted, “Lile will do that.”

“Just make certain she does not kill him.”

With that she went out. She had dressed herself in riding clothes: breeches and a short tunic gathered by a wide Belt. She wore long white calfskin boots and bound her hair with the white leather thong she had used in the bullring. She threw a light, red cloak over her shoulder and went to the stables for a horse. She chose one of Eoinn’s and ordered the stablemaster to have the animal saddled for her; she would leave the palace as soon as the horse was ready.

The morning was clear, the clouds high and light, the countryside peaceful. She followed the coast road north along easy hills, feeling the sun on her back, listening to the birds filling field and sky with pure hymns to the sun, to the day, to life itself. And she could almost persuade herself that none of what she had learned in the last few days was true at all. There was no war, no coming destruction; her father was not ill, her brother still alive… She had dreamed it all in a hideous dream that had no substance in the bold light of day.

The birds knew the truth and they sang it.

But she knew the truth as well, a dark and disturbing truth that would not vanish because the sun shone and birds sang. And it fell to her to convince as many as would listen, beginning with Kian, the king’s heir.

She had never been close to Kian. Of Avallach’s five children he was the first and well-grown by the time Charis was born. His world and hers were different from the beginning, which is why she felt she could talk to him now with some hope of persuasion. They had shared none of the small rivalries of nearer siblings, tending to regard one another from a generous distance.

Kian was much like Avallach in most respects but quite unlike him in certain important areas. He had the same head of thick, dark hair, the same quick eyes and strong hands, the staunch loyalty which could as easily be applied to an ideal as to a person-a steadfastness of purpose which many might regard as stony stubbornness. He could be influenced, however, with a well-considered appeal to reason. Unlike Avallach, his head was more likely than his heart to guide his course.

As Avallach’s firstborn, Kian had always possessed an indelible sense of security which the king’s other sons lacked. He would wear the circlet and robe of stars one day and that was that. There was no striving, no grasping, no need for proving strength or worthiness. All that spoke of doubt, and its attendant ambition, was absent in his makeup; there was not a false or wavering bone in his body.

Charis rode along, becoming reacquainted with her brother in memory as the miles passed easily beneath the horse’s hoofs. She followed the coast road north as far as Oera Linda, a small seaside town which boasted an immensely old library as its sole center of interest and activity. She had, as a child, accompanied her mother to Oera Linda many times and would have liked now to stay and see the place, but she did not want to risk missing Kian. So she hurried through the narrow central street and wondered that she did not see another human being as she passed. At the far side of the empty town, she turned her mount inland to cross the lip of land dividing the seacoast from the Nerus estuary.

The road was well marked and she had no difficulty in finding her way. Though the land seemed as peaceful as she remembered, she met few people abroad, either on the road or in the fields. Most of the roadside houses she passed were deserted as well.

By midafternoon she reached the divide and stopped to reconnoiter. On her right hand the slim peninsula carved away to end in a jumble of red rocks and surf; ahead the road slipped down to meet the Nerus, a broad silver band shimmering in the misty distance; behind lay the smooth, gold-rimmed line of the coast and beyond it the great arc of green-blue Oceanus, clean to the horizon.