A gallant sight was she,

With sails all of beaten gold,

And masts of ivory.

And Valentine, recalling the words now, joined in:

Lord Malibor stood at the helm

And faced the heaving wave,

And sailed in quest of the dragon free,

The dragon fierce and brave.

Lord Malibor a challenge called,

His voice did boom and ring,

"I wish to meet, I wish to fight,"

Quoth he, "the dragon king."

Tunigorn shifted about uncomfortably and swirled the wine in his bowl. "This song, I think, is unlucky, my lord," he muttered.

"Fear nothing," said Valentine. "Come, sing with us!"

" I hear, my lord," the dragon cried,

And came across the sea

Twelve miles long and three miles wide

And two miles deep was he.

Lord Malibor stood on the deck

And fought both hard and well.

Thick was the blood that flowed that day

And great the blows that fell.

The pilot Pandelume entered the mess-hall now, and approached the Coronal's table, halting with a look of some bewilderment on her thick-furred face as she heard the song. Valentine signaled her to join in, but her expression grew more gloomy, and she stood apart, scowling.

But dragon kings are old and sly,

And rarely are they beaten.

Lord Malibor, for all his strength

Eventually was eaten.

All sailors bold, who dragons hunt,

Of this grim tale take heed!

Despite all luck and skill, you may

End up as dragon feed.

"What is it, Pandelume?" Valentine asked, as the last raucous verse died away.

"Dragons, my lord, approaching out of the south."

"Many?"

"A great many, my lord."

"You see?" Tunigorn burst out. "We have summoned them, with this foolish song!"

"Then we will sing them on their way," said Valentine, "with another round of it." And he began again: Lord Malibor was fine and bold

And loved the heaving sea —

The new herd was several hundred strong—a vast assemblage of sea dragons, a swarm so huge it passed all belief, with nine great kings at the center of the herd. Valentine, remaining outwardly calm, nevertheless felt a powerful sense of menace and danger, so strong it was almost tangible, emanating from the creatures. But they went by, none coming within three miles of the fleet, and disappeared rapidly to the north, swimming with a weird intensity of purpose.

In the depths of the night, as Valentine lay sleeping with his mind as ever open to the guidance that only dreams can bring, a strange vision imposed itself upon his soul. In the midst of a broad plain studded with angular rocks and odd pockmarked stiff-armed leafless plants a great multitude of people moves with an easy floating gait toward a distant sea. He finds himself among them, clad as they are in flowing robes of some gauzy white fabric that billows of its own accord, there being no breeze whatsoever. None of the faces about him is a familiar one, and yet he does not think of himself as being among strangers: he knows he is closely bound to these people, that they have been his fellow pilgrims on some trek that had lasted for many months, possibly even for years. And now the trek is arriving at its destination.