He remembered the urgent seriousness of the peddler's attitude, and he could recall some of his words. The man had spoken almost convincingly of powerful protectors, and Musa could foresee the need of such. He found himself speaking.
"Oh, power that rests in this amulet," he said, "if there is any truth in the peddler's words, I—" He paused, his usual, hard, common sense taking over.
"I'm being silly!" He drew his hand back to throw the ornament into the chest. Then, he felt himself stopped. An irresistible compulsion seized him, and he dazedly secured the amulet about his neck. Feeling sick and weak, he tucked it into his garments. Then, still moving in a daze, he left the cabin and returned to the deck. He did not so much as try to resist the sudden desire.
The breeze made him feel a little better, but he was still shaken, and his head ached violently. Little snatches of undefined memory tried to creep into his consciousness, but he couldn't quite bring them into focus. He turned toward the rail, and saw Min-ta still there.
"Well," commented the easterner, "your accounts didn't take long."
Musa smiled wanly. "It was stuffy down there. I felt I had to come up for some air."
Min-ta nodded. "It does get close in the quarters during the day." He pointed alongside.
"We are favored still," he said. "Another kontar has joined us."
Two of the great fish paced the ship, gliding and leaping effortlessly from wave to wave. Musa watched them.
"We must be favored indeed."