Belladonna

seem fair, but now that she was regaining her emotional balance, the puzzle of why she had reacted that way to those Dark currents commanded her attention.
    She needed help getting to her feet, which embarrassed her enough to snap at Michael and Lee. Then she caught sight of Caitlin, clinging to the railing, with a sailor hovering nearby looking as though he dearly hoped he wouldn't need to be helpful.
    "What's wrong with Caitlin?"
    "Suddenly couldn't hold her breakfast," Michael said. "Have to confess, I was feeling a bit queasy myself for a bit, but I figured it was from you giving me such a scare."
    Lee looked from one to the other. "Three Landscapers, to one degree or another. Three reactions to a knot of Dark currents.
    You feel them all the time. Why was this different?"
    Formal training. Glorianna looked into Lee's eyes and felt relief that there was someone else here who understood the world as she did — and who knew enough to ask the question.
    "Can we approach that spot more slowly?" she asked.
    "Why would you want to be doing that?" Michael said.
    "Because that spot is not natural. I think that's why we all reacted to it. So if the Eater of the World didn't create it, I'd like to figure out what did."
    Michael sighed. "I'll talk to Kenneday. Although, with the excitement you've given him, I don't know if his offer of a ship is going to hold beyond this voyage.
    As soon as they were the only ones at the bow, Lee said, "What are you expecting to find, Glorianna?"
    "Maybe nothing," she replied. "Maybe more than one answer." She shivered. She'd felt warm enough before, but now, without the comfort of Michael's sheltering presence, she couldn't seem to hold off the cold as well.
    Caitlin made her way over to them, looking green arid shaky. Before she could say anything, Michael returned. Kenneday was clearly unhappy about returning to water that had produced such a reaction, but he turned the ship back toward that spot, running with fewer sails to cut their speed.
    "Tell the captain to stay to the right of those Dark currents," Glorianna said.
    "How is he supposed to tell?" Michael asked. "It's not like the water is a different color."
    Ephemera, hear me.
    "Lady of Light," Michael whispered a minute later at the same time some of the sailors began shouting and pointing.
    Some kind of seaweed now filled a large patch of the sea, defining the knot of Dark currents. Glorianna held on to the rail and opened herself to those currents. Prepared this time for the strength of it, she recognized it for what it was. It sickened her and saddened her. And excited her.
    There was something awful and seductive about that patch of water with its undulating seaweed, something compelling in its malevolence. And the lure to join that water, to feel the embrace of those seaweed limbs as desire became an anchor that would pull her under was almost overwhelming.
    She gripped the railing until her hands hurt, and forced herself to focus on the clear, clean sky until the ship was once again turning away from that spot.
    "It's an anchor," Glorianna said, still keeping her eyes fixed on the sky. "That's why the White Isle is visible as ships approach it. But who could have done this?" And why would anyone who cherished the Light create something so deadly?
    "Glorianna, darling, I'm hearing the words but they're not making sense," Michael said.
    His voice steadied her enough that she let go of the rail with one hand so that she could turn and face him,

    "There is Dark and Light in all things, Magician. In all people, in all places. Somehow the dark feelings have been cast out, but the connection can't be severed completely. By trying to create a place that stands only in the Light, the people on the White Isle have created a dark landscape."
    Hours later, Michael sat in the stern, his whistle held loosely in his hands while he stared at the water and wondered if he would ever trust the look of anything again.
    "This is sweet water," Kenneday said happily, his hands steady on the wheel. Gone was the man who had grimly followed Glorianna's request to head south again in order to find a current of Light that would help them approach the White Isle. "Not the direction I'd usually take to reach Atwater's harbor, hut I've made note of it in my log, and I'll be looking for this channel from now on." He glanced over his shoulder at Michael. "Why don't you play us a tune?"
    "Don't feel like it," Michael replied, not meeting Kenneday's