The Deep Gods by David Mason

of their future that they had given up hope of remaining here in Alvanir. So they came to him. “How many days sailing, do you think?” one man asked, drawing a finger across the wood-carved map. He was a middle-aged man with a strong, leathery face, grey-bearded; his name was Gannat. He would have three women, two men and four children with him, he had told Daniel; his wife, his daughter and his son’s wife, his son and son-in-law, and their brood, the youngest a mere baby. And the boat, as Daniel knew, would be crowded with four aboard. He had seen it; to his eyes it looked frighteningly tiny and frail, a crudely planked boat with a single mast and a triangular sail. It was open to the weather, too. But Gannat and the others had gone out to the open sea for days at a time in just these boats, Daniel remembered. Then, he remembered that Egon too, whose body he inhabited, had gone out in such a boat, and died. He stared down at the map uncomfortably. “A long time, Gannat,” Daniel said, shaking his head. “Can you carry enough food and water for all your people?” Gannat grinned wryly. "I've no choice,” he said. “There’s none I could leave behind.” Daniel knew there would be no use in arguing the point. He had heard the same words from others, already; and the same calm, incredible conviction that “the sea folk will help.” “Damn it, man,” Daniel said, putting down the map. “Do you have to do this? Look, I told you and the others about the ice, of course. It’ll come, in time… but it