Lucy could not at the start grasp just what was happening all around him, for his senses were stunned, his eyes unused to the darkness; but as he became acclimated, now he deduced that he’d been collected from the water and was lying supine upon the incline of a sandy bank. Two men were attending to him, one young and one old, and both of whom, judging by their looks, had not seen civilization in some time—their clothing was tattered, their hair stringy and wild, and they wore unruly beards not in keeping with the fashion of the day. In spite of their appearance, they were in possession of their faculties and health and, it would seem, their good cheer, and so Lucy did not offer any opposition to their assistance.
The young man was holding Lucy’s head in his hands and tilting it this way and that. “I can’t tell where it’s coming from,” he said. “Can you tell?”
The old man’s face came into view. Squinting, he answered, “I can’t, no. Shall I fill up the boot to wash him?”
“Yes, please.”
The old man hurried off, while the younger continued his inspection of Lucy’s head. When their eyes met, Lucy said, “Hello.”
“Well, hello there. How are you feeling?”
Lucy shrugged. Licking his lips, he tasted blood, and scowled.
“You’ve been injured,” said the young man, nodding. “Though for the life of me I can’t locate the source of the bleeding. This is troubling, I won’t deny it; but it is also, we must admit, preferable to the wound being highly visible, would you agree?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask who you are?”
“Lucy is my name.”
“Well, Lucy, you’ve made a misstep, in case you hadn’t noticed. But not to worry; we’ll get you cleaned up in no time, and then afterward we’ll have a nice piece of fish. What would you say to that?” When Lucy didn’t answer at once, the young man asked, “You do like fish, I hope?” Judging by his tone, it was a question of some importance.
“I like it,” said Lucy.
The young man was soothed by the answer. “Fine,” he said. “That’s just fine.”
The old man returned holding a woman’s boot, this filled with river water. Kneeling, he emptied it over Lucy’s face, cleaning the blood away, and now the two men regarded his countenance with unabashed curiosity.
“He’s just a boy,” said the old man. The young man, meanwhile, had located a diamond-shaped wound just below Lucy’s hairline and asked Lucy to press his finger over top of this to staunch the bleeding. Lucy did as he was told, and made no complaint as they propped him upright. He took in his surroundings from a seated position.
It was a cavernous space, similar in scope and shape to the interior of a grand church. A moderately sized river emanated from a tall cave on the north-facing wall, then looped the patch of sand upon which the three men sat before disappearing into the wall facing the south. There was a pillar of sunlight shining down from above; this spotlit a circular section of river before the island. In staring absently at this, Lucy saw a fish rise at its center, and as the resulting reverberation rippled outward across the surface of the water, a thought came to him. To the old man, he said, “You’re Tomas, the gambler. And you’re not dead at all.” Next he addressed the young man: “You’re Mr. Broom. I hope you don’t mind it, but I’ve been using your telescope.”
The pair were for a time struck dumb by Lucy’s words, and their expressions read of perturbed amazement. At last the young man spoke, asking his aged partner, “Now what do you make of this, I wonder? A mystery come down from the skies?”
“I find myself curious,” the old man said.
“That’s only natural, and of course I feel just the same. But shall we bombard him with questions all at once, or shall we hold off, and first put him at ease?”
The old man gnawed awhile on his knuckle. “Lord knows I wish to bombard him,” he said. “But no, let us resist the impulse.”
“Yes.”
“He is our guest and so will be comforted.”
“Yes, bravo.” The young man rested a hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “He likes fish, is my understanding.”
At this, the two men laughed, a violent laughter which multiplied hugely in the gaping cavern, and was reminiscent of thunder in that it was at once vivid and vague. This laughter went on for what seemed to Lucy to be an inappropriate length of time, and he was not at all certain how he should feel. After consideration he decided he should feel afraid, and so he was.