He watched the others moving slowing about the site, picking the beach clean wordlessly, and a frightening thought occurred to him.

"Has this happened before," he asked suddenly, so that all three men turned quickly toward him, startled. "Is this what happened to Zakarbaal?"

"No, no," Hui-Shen answered, and Brendan was shocked to see all but the most ingrained of his jocularity absent from the round man's features. "This is new. I have not seen such . . ." He trailed off, at an unaccustomed loss for words. "This rapacious quality I have not seen before. And they left." It was not relief but amazement in his voice, and Brendan could see the bright gleam of intellect firing again behind his eyes. "No one has ever come and left in such a fashion. Since I landed on Fusang's gentle shores I have been content to stay here, drinking in her delights and waiting for something of which I was unaware. Has any of you felt the desire to simply move on, as these creatures did?"

Matsamaro shook his head slowly, unsure of where Hui-Shen was leading them. Isaac though for a long moment, looking uneasy, before answering with a quiet, "No."

"Then what happened to Zakarbaal of Sidon," said Brendan. Hui-Shen appeared not to hear him, sinking into the deep morass of his own thoughts. Brendan turned to Matsamaro. "You said he 'left'."

"True, but it was not in this way." Matsamaro's eyes avoided Brendan's as he spoke.

"Damn it, tell me what happened to him!" Brendan's anxiety burst out in a great yell, causing the three men to jump, and even Hui-Shen broke out of his intellectual trance long enough to look with curiousity and some pity on Brendan. It was Isaac who finally spoke, and his voice was solemn and quiet.

"I believe you are asking of Zakarbaal was killed in such a raid as this."

"Yes!" Brendan couldn't help shouting. He felt the world slipping out from beneath him, and only the sound of his own voice shuddered it back into stability. "I should have been warned!"

"As Hui-Shen said, this has not happened before. We simply woke up one morning, and Zakarbaal was no longer here. No footprints led away, and as you have undoubtedly noticed, whatever craft brought each of us here disappears during the night." Isaac shrugged. "We do not know what happened to him."

"It is my theory," Hui-Shen broke in, "as I have mentioned, that this land is not, in fact, real at all, but an illusion generated by our own overwhelming need for there to be such a place, a place of paradise and peace away from whatever troubles we are escaping, those troubles that are inherent in every civilization, even the great and glorious Middle Kingdom under the wise Wu Ti. Perhaps," Hui-Shen was gripping Brendan by the arm now, their faces close together in the jolly man's intellectual intensity. "Perhaps when the individual no longer needs such a place, when he achieves that peace that he was searching for, Fusang loses its function and ceases to exist for him. And since he could not exist in nothingness, and could not remain here among those of us still searching, from our perspective he ceases to exist." He leaned back away, smiling broadly and folding his arms across his stomach. "This is my theory."

Brendan felt the headache coming on again. "But then where does he go?"

"Perhaps he returns home, and awakens as if from a dream. Or perhaps he is admitted to the realm of Heaven, having achieved the peace that is the requisite. This is something one cannot know until it happens to one."

"Perhaps, perhaps," Matsamaro said with a disgusted grunt. "You waste your time in frivolous intellectual pursuits, search for the answer to a question you do not even know, and answer that you admit you cannot know."

"It is such a lack of introspection that has kept you here longest of us all, Matsamaro-san," Hui-Shen waggled a finger at him. "You will never achieve peace this way, and thus you will be here forever."

"But the men who did this," Isaac pointed to the pile of debris they had built, "were not searching for peace or paradise."

"Hmmm." Hui-Shen closed his eyes, apparently having failed to account for that wrinkle.

"I am sorry, Hui-Shen, but I must agree with Isaac," Matsamaro said. "I must believe that this land is real, and do not place it outside the abilities of the heavenly powers to create this perfect land for someone to discover. It may be, of all the lands of earth, that which is closest to heaven, but it is still of this earth. It is waiting for someone, that is all, someone in particular who is not one of us, and under that person's guidance will blossom as the land next door to heaven should." He gave a friendly smirk. "That is my theory."

Brendan's mind was simply not built for such intellectual pursuits, and felt as though it might burst under the strain. "So this is purgatory," he muttered, massaging his temples.

He was so intent on kneading his aching head that he failed to notice for a long moment that all conversation had stopped and been replaced by a heavy silence.

He looked up fearfully. The eyes of the other three men stared, wide and unblinking, out to sea.

He spun, and sucked in his breath. On the horizon, three sails moved slowly toward them, toward their own spot on the beach, running with the strong wind.

The keen eyes of Hui-Shen answered the first question that formed in the minds of all four. "It is a different ship design. These are deep and round, while the beast ship last night was of very shallow draft. It is not them returning."

"That is good," said Matsamaro.

"Nonetheless," Isaac intoned.

"I agree," said Brendan. "We should hide."

None of the four moved.

"We don't seem to be hiding," said Brendan.

"Most interesting," said Hui-Shen. "It is not that I am frozen, but simply that, by a very slim margin, more of my body wants to stay here than wants to hide. It's as if I simply have not gotten around to moving yet."

"Well put," said Isaac.

Brendan was beginning to panic, or at least that same part of him that wanted to hide was panicking as its desire was thwarted. The ships moved closer, clearly visible now, the sail snapping in the wind and obscuring the insignia thereon.

Brendan held a hand to his face to shade his eyes, and was shocked when it had no effect. He brought the hand down, staring at it, marvelling in a fear that was so overwhelming as to be peaceful at the hand's insubtantiality.

"Have others noted . . . " Matsamaro began.

"Yes, yes!" Hui-Shen's voice was again bubbling with excitement, and Brendan turned toward him, and gasped. He was little more than a shade, a wavering rotund form whose hands were clapping soudlessly together. His smile, though faint, was broad. Brendan turned toward the other two. Isaac was shaking his head ruefully, a movement that given his current diaphanous state almost appeared to be caused by the breeze. Matsamaro was even further gone, and simply gave a small bow as he faded from view entirely.

"I have a theory," said Hui-Shen. "I propose that this land, this fertile paradise that I have called Fusang, that it is in fact this land that is real, and not we, or at least not our presence in it. It was the land's need, not our own, that brought each of us here, its own desire to be discovered, and that we voyagers, no matter how admirably real and solid we may seem, are in fact phantoms, the elements of the dream that now are fading as the land awakes, and that there on the sea is the awakener. We are no longer necessary and now return to our own lands. This is my theory."

Hui-Shen gave a great soundless laugh, the shadow of his belly rippling before it faded apart and disappeared entirely, leaving him time only for one last broad smile at Brendan.

He was not sure if it was his current state of lightheadedness, or if a mere day among these blessed madmen had infected him, but Brendan felt no pinch between his eyes at Hui-Shen's proclamation. In fact, he was almost certain that he had understood the jovial philosopher's fantastic postulation, and he turned to Isaac for confirmation. But at some some time during Hui-Shen's speech Isaac, too, had vanished, leaving Brendan with only the fast-approaching moment to confirm the theory's veracity.

Alone now, he turned back toward the sea, waiting for the transition and watching the ships approach.

"At least they are good Christians who have discovered this paradise," he said to himself, for now he could see the prominent red cross emblazoned on each sail, and with that he diminished and broke apart, blown away by the wind that drove the ships toward the shore.

"De La Cosa, give me the glass."

"Aye, Captain-General." De La Cosa waited in silence for a long moment, respectfully, looking toward the distant shore, trying to discern what the other was seeing. "Is there anything wrong, Captain-General?"

Columbus lowered the glass, chewing his lip thoughtfully, then shrugged, handing the eyepiece pack to the first mate of the Santa Maria. "No, nothing. Just that, for a moment there, I thought I saw figures on the beach, but there is nothing now."

"Savages, perhaps?"

Columbus didn't answer, but turned, looking back at the cheering crew, nodding with satisfaction, then returned his gaze to the fertile land that stretched out before them.

"Issue weapons to all members of the landing party, and break out the Queen's standard. This land belongs to us, now, and I think we can put it to good use."

De La Cosa rushed to obey, shouting orders over the din, as Columbus looked out over his discovery, marvelling that such a place had remained hidden for so long.