One Tree by Stephen R. Donaldson

briefly are in good sooth alive at all.” But then his eyes widened as if he were startled by his own intensity, and his expression cleared. “Nevertheless. I bow to the time.” He saluted Linden as if he were laughing at himself. “Shortly then. Sevinhand and his Giantship sailed a Sea which we name the Soulbiter, for it is ever fell and predictless, and no craft passes it without cost. There a calm such as we now suffer came upon them. Many and many a day the vessel lay stricken, and no life stirred the sails. Water and food became dire. Therefore the choice was taken to attempt a calling of
Nicor
.
    “As Storesmaster, the task fell chiefly to Seatheme, for such was her training and skill. She was a Giant to warm the heart, and—” Again he stopped. Ducking his head, he passed a hand over his eyes, muttered, “Ah, Pitchwife. Shortly.” When he looked up once more, he was smiling crookedly through his tears. “Chosen, she mistimed the catch. And rare is the Giant who returns from the jaws of the
Nicor
.”
    Linden met his gaze with an awkwardness in her throat. She wanted to say something, but did not know how to offer comfort to a Giant. She could not match his smile.
    Beyond the foremast, the crew had completed the construction of three large objects under Galewrath’s direction. They were coracles—boats made of leather stretched over wooden frames, each big enough to hold two Giants. But their sides rose and curved so that each vessel was three-quarters of a sphere. A complex of hawsers and iron rings connected the coracles to each other; they had to be lifted and moved together. At Galewrath’s orders, the boats were borne forward and pitched over the prow.
    Guiding Linden with a touch on her shoulder, Pitchwife took her to a vantage from which she had a clear view of the coracles. They floated lightly on the flat Sea.
    A moment later, the Storesmaster’s blunt voice carried over the foredeck. “The calling of
Nicor
is hazardous, and none may be commanded to share it. If I am answered by one alone, mayhap it will be a rogue, and we will be assailed. If I am answered by many, this Sea will become a discomfortable swimming-place. And if I am not answered—” She shrugged brusquely. “For good or ill, the attempt must be made. The First has spoken. I require the aid of three.”
    Without hesitation, several Giants stepped forward. Seadreamer moved to join them; but the First halted him, saying, “I will not risk the Earth-Sight.” Quickly Galewrath chose three crewmembers. The rest went to uncoil a rope as thick as Linden’s thigh from its cable-well near the foremast. This hawser they fed down toward the coracles.
    The Storesmaster looked to Honninscrave and the First for parting words. But the First said simply, “Have care, Heft Galewrath. I must not lose you.”
    Together Galewrath and her three companions dove overboard.
    Swimming with accustomed ease, they moved to the coracles, towing behind them the free hawser. When they reached the tackle connecting the boats, they threaded their line through a central iron ring. Then they pulled it toward the foremost coracle.
    This craft formed the apex of a triangle pointing eastward. With a prodigious heave of her legs, Galewrath rose up in the water and flipped herself over the edge into the coracle. It rocked under her weight, but continued to float. She braced it as another Giant joined her. Then they accepted the hawser from the remaining swimmers.
    The two separated, one to each of the outer coracles, as Galewrath and her partner tugged a length of cable from Starfare’s Gem through the ring into their craft. When she was satisfied with the amount of line she had available, she began to knot a large loop into the end of the hawser.
    As soon as the other Giants had boarded their coracles, they announced that they were ready. They sounded tense; but one was grinning fiercely, and the other could not resist her temptation to cast a mock bow toward