Part 7 (2/2)
Turning and leaning back against the railing, Simna smiled virtuously. ”I said that I felt you entreating your crew.”
”Oh.” Eyes narrowing, she looked away from him and back toward the main deck. ”Certainly is thick.
I'd hate to wander into another group of islands like the Tilos. No way to navigate unknown straits in this. We'd have to drop anchor and wait for it to lift.”
No islands presented themselves, but neither did the fog slide away. Instead, it continued to thicken, to the point where sailors could only see but a little ways in front of them, and had to do a certain amount of work by feel. It was not the density but the darkness that began to concern Stanager.
Standing by the wheel, she surveyed the brooding layer that had engulfed her s.h.i.+p. ”Never seen fog this dark. This thick, ayesh, but never so black. And it seems to be growing worse. But that's not possible.
Fog, even the heaviest fog, is gray and not black.”
Simna's eyes widened as he remembered another boat crossing. ”Eromakadi!”
”What's that?” She blinked at him.
Ehomba interrupted before his companion had a chance to explain. The silent herdsman had been studying the fog for some time now. ”No, Simna. It is not what you fear. Bad enough, but not what you fear.” Reaching out, he swirled one long-fingered hand through the dank atmosphere. ”Not thick enough to cut, but not eromakadi, either. See how I stir it?” He waved his hand back and forth. ”Being a live thing, eromakadi would react. This is truly an ocean fog, and of a kind I have seen before, that rolls in off the ocean as easily as it clings to it.” He looked over at Stanager, partially obscured by the black fog even though she stood only a few feet away.
”But on land, it does not linger. And a man carrying a lamp through his village does not have to worry about running into floating logs or drifting mountains of ice.” He smiled encouragingly. ”Only into sleeping dogs and laughing children.”
”This is no game.” Her expression was grim. ”If it gets any thicker or darker, my people won't be able to see well enough to perform their duties.” Without being able to see him, she shouted to her first mate, knowing that he was somewhere below on the main deck. ”Mr. Kamarkh! Light and set all lamps! And be careful! A burning s.h.i.+p will cut through this fog, but that's not the kind of light I want to see!”
”Ayesh, Captain!” came the mate's stalwart reply.
Moments later, pinpoints of light began to appear throughout the s.h.i.+p: in the rigging, at the ends of spars, atop both masts and along her sides. But so dense and dark had the mist become that they barely shone bright enough to illuminate their immediate surroundings, much less the water through which the Gromsketter was cutting.
”This won't do,” Stanager muttered. ”Lookouts can't see a thing. Even if they did, it'd be too close to avoid. We're going to have to furl all sail and put out the sea anchor until this thins or lifts.”
”That will cost us time.” Ehomba did not phrase it as a question.
”Ayesh. But I've no choice.” She stared at him through the gloom. ”I won't risk my s.h.i.+p.”
”How long do you think before it clears enough to continue?” Simna asked.
Her response was not encouraging. ”Impossible to say. Something this intense, it might be days. Or weeks.”
”We do not have weeks,” Ehomba observed quietly.
”I know. I hope you gentlemen like fish, because if we're forced to remain here for very long, we're going to be eating a lot of it.” She turned away from them to give the necessary orders.
”Wait.”
Her gaze swung back to the tall pa.s.senger. ”Wait for what, herdsman? I respect you for what you've done, but don't try to tell me my business.”
”I would not think of it. It is only that I would like to try something.” He glanced in his friend's direction.
”Simna, would you bring me the sky-metal sword?”
”Would I like to be locked in the Pasha of Har-Houseen's harem for a week?” Elated, the swordsman dashed to the nearest hatch and vanished within as swiftly as a meerkat diving into its burrow.
Stanager eyed her enigmatic pa.s.senger warily. ”More wind? Should I alert the crew to be ready for some sorceral gale?”
Ehomba sighed heavily. ”As I have had to tell my friends repeatedly, there is no sorcery involved. I am only making use of what the wise people of my village have been kind enough to provide me.”
”I'm only interested in the consequences, Etjole. Not the source.”
”There will be no wind.” He smiled to himself. ”Simna is a good man and a fine fellow, but sometimes his enthusiasm gets the better of his thinking. The sword of sky metal is not for calling up a casual breeze when one is too hot, or a gust of wind to fill a sail. When loosed to do all that it can, it is an extremely difficult blade to control.” He nodded skyward. ”It might as easily sink this s.h.i.+p as blow it free. But there are all kinds of winds. Eminent sailor that you are, you know that there are winds within the sea as well as above.”
”Winds within the sea?” She frowned. ”Are you speaking of controlling the currents?”
”I am not mariner enough to chance such a thing, and the effects of the sword are not so precisely controlled. But I think there is one path I might explore.” His smile widened even as his tone grew increasingly speculative. ”It is a good thing that I have lived all my life close to the water. One does not have to spend time on a boat to know what wonders lie beneath the waves. Simply walking a beach can also be highly instructive.”
He was interrupted by Simna's return. The swordsman held the sky-metal sword carefully in a double-handed grip. Having seen what it could do, he had no wish to find out what might happen if it was accidentally dropped.
”Here you are, bruther!” He pa.s.sed the sword to its owner. ”Now, by Geulrashk, call us up some wind and disperse this muck! Clear the air, Etjole!” Eyes s.h.i.+ning, he stepped back.
”I cannot,” Ehomba told him. ”Too dangerous. A s.h.i.+p is a fragile thing. We already have enough wind.
What we need is a way to see clear to making use of it.”
”Gojom help me, I don't understand, bruther.” It was a sentence Simna ibn Sind had come to use frequently in the presence of his enigmatic friend.
Grasping the hilt of the sword firmly in both hands, Ehomba slowly raised it skyward in front of him, the blade held vertically and as straight as one of theGromsketter 's masts. An intense blue glow began to emerge from the metal, pale at first but intensifying rapidly to azure and then indigo. It pushed back the fog instantly-but only for a few yards on either side of the radiant sword.
Expecting something grander, Simna was openly disappointed. As for Stanager, she was quietly grateful for the modest improvement in the clarity of her immediate surroundings. At least the men and women on deck and up in the rigging would be able to see her without straining. Down by the mainmast, a seated Hunkapa Aub saw the blue luminescence and delightedly clapped two ma.s.sive hands together.
”Pretty light!” he exclaimed in the tone of a delighted child. ”Pretty, pretty blueness!”
”It's pleasing to look upon, all right.” Simna grunted. ”But it's no beacon sufficient to guide this s.h.i.+p.”
”No, it is not. Nor is it intended to be. But perhaps like will follow like.” Holding the resplendent sword as carefully as if it were a cauldron of boiling oil, Ehomba turned and slowly made his way to the side of the s.h.i.+p, trailing the gently pulsating blue aurora around him.
One of the several emergency boarding ladders that always hung over the side sc.r.a.ped wetly against the stern. Still holding the blade vertically, Ehomba transferred his grip to one hand. With the other, he grasped the uppermost rung of the rope-and-slat ladder and started over the side. It was a delicate balancing act that did not allow the herdsman to relax for a second.
”Hoy, Etjole, what do you think you're doing?” Seeing his friend disappear over the side, Simna rushed to the railing. Leaning over, he watched as Ehomba, carefully balancing the length of refulgent metal in a single-handed grip, made his way down the ladder toward the dark sea below. Only the circle of blue light from the blade made it possible for the swordsman to follow his friend's progress. Without it, the frightful thickness of the mist would have quickly swallowed him up.
”What's going on?” Though intensely curious as to what the tall pa.s.senger was about, Stanager would not abandon her position by the helm.
”I don't know.” Tensely, the swordsman watched his friend continue his descent. ”But I can tell you this much-he's not out for an afternoon's swim.”
The bottom of the ladder trailed backward in the dark water. Ehomba reached a rung where his feet were occasionally submerged and stopped there. Still firmly grasping the tough, sea-cured rope with one hand, he abruptly let gravity take hold of the ma.s.s of the weapon and swing the point downward.
Keeping the fine edge facing forward, he was able to maintain his grip as the blade cut through the water.
The deep blue radiance was clearly visible beneath the surface.
<script>