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One
moment
he
was
standing
on
the
bank
,
and
the
next
he
was
in
a
green
,
clanging
gloom
,
bubbling
his
breath
away
and
watching
his
life
flash
before
his
eyes
and
,
even
in
the
moment
of
drowning
,
dreading
the
thought
of
watching
the
bit
between
the
day
of
his
wedding
and
the
present
.
It
occurred
to
him
that
Gwladys
would
soon
be
a
widow
,
which
cheered
him
up
a
little
bit
.
In
fact
Terpsic
had
always
tried
to
look
on
the
bright
side
,
and
it
struck
him
,
as
he
sank
gratefully
into
the
silt
,
that
from
this
point
on
his
whole
life
could
only
improve
.
.
.
.
And
a
hand
grabbed
his
hair
and
dragged
him
to
the
surface
,
which
was
suddenly
full
of
pain
.
Ghastly
blue
and
black
blotches
swam
in
front
of
his
eyes
.
His
lungs
were
on
fire
.
His
throat
was
a
pipe
of
agony
.
Hands
–
cold
hands
,
freezing
hands
,
hands
that
felt
like
a
glove
full
of
dice
–
towed
him
through
the
water
and
threw
him
down
on
to
the
bank
where
,
after
some
game
attempts
to
get
on
with
drowning
,
he
was
eventually
bullied
back
into
what
passed
for
his
life
.
Terpsic
didn
’
t
often
get
angry
,
because
Gwladys
didn
’
t
hold
with
it
.
But
he
felt
cheated
.
He
’
d
been
born
without
being
consulted
,
he
’
d
been
married
because
Gwladys
and
her
father
had
seen
to
it
,
and
the
only
major
human
achievement
that
was
uniquely
his
had
been
rudely
snatched
away
from
him
.
A
few
seconds
ago
it
had
all
been
so
simple
.
Now
it
was
all
complicated
again
.
Not
that
he
wanted
to
die
,
of
course
.
The
gods
were
very
firm
on
the
subject
of
suicide
.
He
just
hadn
’
t
wanted
to
be
rescued
.
Through
red
eyes
in
a
mask
of
slime
and
duckweed
he
peered
at
the
blurred
form
above
him
,
and
shouted
,
’
Why
did
you
have
to
save
me
?
’
The
answer
worried
him
.
He
thought
about
it
as
he
squelched
all
the
way
home
.
It
sat
at
the
back
of
his
mind
while
Gwladys
complained
about
the
state
of
his
clothes
.
It
squirrelled
around
in
his
head
as
he
sat
and
sneezed
guiltily
by
the
fire
,
because
being
ill
was
another
thing
Gwladys
didn
’
t
hold
with
.
As
he
lay
shivering
in
bed
it
settled
in
his
dreams
like
an
iceberg
.
In
the
midst
of
his
fever
he
muttered
,
’
What
did
he
mean
,
"
FOR
LATER
"
?
’
Torches
flared
in
the
city
of
Sto
Lat
.
Whole
squads
of
men
were
charged
with
the
task
of
constantly
renewing
them
.
The
streets
glowed
.
The
sizzling
flames
pushed
back
shadows
that
had
been
blamelessly
minding
their
own
business
every
night
for
centuries
.
They
illuminated
ancient
corners
where
the
eyes
of
bewildered
rats
glittered
in
the
depths
of
their
holes
.
They
forced
burglars
to
stay
indoors
.
They
glowed
on
the
night
mists
,
forming
a
nimbus
of
yellow
light
that
blotted
out
the
cold
high
flames
streaming
from
the
Hub
.
But
mainly
they
shone
on
the
face
of
Princess
Keli
.
It
was
everywhere
.
It
plastered
every
flat
surface
.
Binky
cantered
along
the
glowing
streets
between
Princess
Keli
on
doors
,
walls
and
gable
ends
.
Mort
gaped
at
posters
of
his
beloved
on
every
surface
where
workmen
had
been
able
to
make
paste
stick
.
