Free The Dolphin Rider by Bernard Evslin Page B

the wall trying to pelt us with walnuts? He was very jealous, very bossy and jealous and still is. I pick their animal forms to match their dispositions, you see. Isn’t that thoughtful of me?”
    â€œTell me,” said Ulysses. “When you tire of me, will I be good enough to join the lions and wolves — or will I be something less? A toad, perhaps, or a snail?”
    â€œA fox, of course,” said Circe. “With your red hair and your swiftness and your cunning ways — oh, yes, a fox. You are the only man who has ever withstood my spells, Ulysses. I beg you, stay with me.”
    â€œI have told you I cannot.”
    â€œI can teach you to wipe out of your mind all thoughts of home, all dreams of battle and voyage. And I will do for you what I have done for no other mortal. I will teach you to live forever. Yes, I can do that, Ulysses. We can live together always, and never grow old.”
    â€œCan such a thing be?” whispered Ulysses whose one fear in the world was of growing too old for voyages and adventure. “Can you actually keep me from growing old?”
    â€œI can,” said Circe. “If you want me to. The decision is yours. You can stay here with me, and make this island your home. Or you can resume your voyage and meet dangers more dreadful than any you have yet seen. You will encounter sea monsters and land monsters, giant cannibals and rocks that will try to crush your ship between them. Neptune’s anger will grow each day. If you leave this island, Ulysses, you will see your friends die before your eyes. Your own life will be imperiled a thousand times. You wilt be battered, bruised, torn, wave-tossed — all this if you leave me. It is for you to decide.”
    Ulysses stood up and walked to the edge of the terrace. He could see the light dancing on the blue water. He could hear the wolves and lions beyond the wall. Near the empty sties, he saw his men, healthy and tanned. Some were wrestling, some were practicing with spears and bows. Circe had crossed to her loom and was weaving. He thought of his wife at home in Ithaca when she would sit and weave. Her hair was not the color of burning gold. It was black. And she was much smaller than Circe, and did not sing. Certainly she was no goddess. She was very human, and did not have the power to keep him young forever. He went to Circe.
    â€œI have decided,” he said. “I must go.”
    â€œMust you?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI have read the future for you, Ulysses. You know what lies in store for you if you leave this place. When disaster strikes, remember that the choice was yours.”
    â€œI am a voyager, Circe. And danger is my destiny. Toil. Battle. Uncertainty. That is my destiny, and the nature of voyages.”
    â€œGo quickly, then! If you stay here any longer I shall break my oath. I shall keep you here by force and never let you go.”
    Ulysses left the castle at once and called to his men. He led them back to the beach where they arrived just before sunset. They piled into the skiffs and pushed off for the anchored ship. They stepped the mast, rigged the sails, and scudded away. They caught a northwest wind. The sails filled, and the black ship ran out of the harbor. Ulysses’ face was wet with Circe’s tears, and his heart was heavy. But then the salt spray dashed into his face, and he laughed.
    The lions and wolves had followed the men down to the beach, and stood breast-deep in the surf. They gazed after the white sail. Their lonesome howling was the last sound the men heard as the ship ran for the open sea.

Keeper of the Winds
    For three sunny days the black ship sped southward from Circe’s island. Ulysses began to hope that Neptune’s anger had cooled enough to allow fair sailing the rest of the way home. He took the helm himself, and kept it night and day, although his sailors pleaded with him to take some rest. But he was wild with longing to get