The sea-hag was a vigilant guardian except when she was sunk in one of her trances or stupefied by strong drink, as happened when changing weather made her bones ache.
The drumming happened only at irregular intervals, so they would probably have to rely on ardent spirits to disable
Dobnelu’s windsearching ability. Fortunately, Rusgann was an expert distiller of malted barley liquor, and there was plenty left from last year’s batch. However, tempting the old woman to overindulgence without arousing her suspicions would be tricky.
As the raven flew, Northkeep Castle and its surrounding villages lay only sixty leagues to the southeast, on Silver Salmon Bay; but to get there traveling overland was virtually impossible.
Away from the shore, this region of Tarn was a trackless plateau of rolling tundra and bogs.
Game would be the only food source unless they waited for the berries that ripened at summer’s end. Maudrayne was an experienced hunter, but without a bow and arrows, she could take birds and animals only by means of inefficient snares. Nor was the upland wildlife entirely innocuous: even if they managed to evade the bears, snow lions, and wolf packs, biting midges might well eat them alive.
Following the shoreline meant fewer insects and predators, and the tide pools were full of mussels and crabs and stranded small fish. But the irregularity of the coast route more than doubled the distance to the castle, and the going would be appallingly hard, especially for a small child. South of Dobnelu’s home fjord, the shore was jumbled rock and salt marsh, rather than easily traveled sand. Below Useless
Bay lay another broad inlet with a river delta and treacherous flats that could be crossed only by means of ski-like mud-shoes. The final obstacle before Silver Salmon Bay and the settled lands held by her elder brother, Sealord Liscanor, was a precipitous headland so sheer that it could only be climbed with the aid of ropes.
No, only an idiot would think of escaping on foot. The terrain was too difficult and the journey would take too long. Dobnelu—or Ansel himself— would be certain to find them with windsight long before they reached Northkeep Castle. Only one course of action had any real chance of success: escaping the same way they had arrived—by boat.
Fishermen came only rarely into Useless Bay, fearing its treacherous shoals as much as the Page 23
sorcery of the infamous sea-hag who dwelt there. But the sighting of Vik Waterfall’s lugger—and Dobnelu’s warning about the sailors having a spyglass—had given Maudrayne an idea. The next time a boat appeared offshore, she’d try to signal to it from a place out of the old woman’s sight. She’d proffer the valuable
file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/May,%20Julian%20-%20[Bor...0-%20Boreal%20Moon%202%20
-%20Ironcrown%20Moon.html (23 of 228)2-2-2007 18:46:18
May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon opal necklace, and use hand signs to tell the crew what she wanted and where and when to pick her up. If she was lucky, one of the men might recognize her, even though ten years had passed since she sailed her sloop-rigged yacht among the fishing fleet in Northkeep Port, before going south to become the bride of Conrig Wincantor…
She had almost reached the end of the rocky point that separated the long fjord beach from the next cove, into which Rusgann and Dyfrig had evidently vanished. She paused for a moment, setting down the basket and looking out to sea, past the numerous barren islands and shallows that gave the bay its discouraging name, to the distant open water where the great iceberg drifted. As a proficient sailor in northern waters, she knew that with cautious navigation and a fair wind, even a small craft might reach Northkeep in a little over a day.
Given a few hours’ head start, even if Dobnelu woke from her drunken slumber and bespoke Ansel of their escape, he would never catch them at sea unless he conjured up a storm that risked
The drumming happened only at irregular intervals, so they would probably have to rely on ardent spirits to disable
Dobnelu’s windsearching ability. Fortunately, Rusgann was an expert distiller of malted barley liquor, and there was plenty left from last year’s batch. However, tempting the old woman to overindulgence without arousing her suspicions would be tricky.
As the raven flew, Northkeep Castle and its surrounding villages lay only sixty leagues to the southeast, on Silver Salmon Bay; but to get there traveling overland was virtually impossible.
Away from the shore, this region of Tarn was a trackless plateau of rolling tundra and bogs.
Game would be the only food source unless they waited for the berries that ripened at summer’s end. Maudrayne was an experienced hunter, but without a bow and arrows, she could take birds and animals only by means of inefficient snares. Nor was the upland wildlife entirely innocuous: even if they managed to evade the bears, snow lions, and wolf packs, biting midges might well eat them alive.
Following the shoreline meant fewer insects and predators, and the tide pools were full of mussels and crabs and stranded small fish. But the irregularity of the coast route more than doubled the distance to the castle, and the going would be appallingly hard, especially for a small child. South of Dobnelu’s home fjord, the shore was jumbled rock and salt marsh, rather than easily traveled sand. Below Useless
Bay lay another broad inlet with a river delta and treacherous flats that could be crossed only by means of ski-like mud-shoes. The final obstacle before Silver Salmon Bay and the settled lands held by her elder brother, Sealord Liscanor, was a precipitous headland so sheer that it could only be climbed with the aid of ropes.
No, only an idiot would think of escaping on foot. The terrain was too difficult and the journey would take too long. Dobnelu—or Ansel himself— would be certain to find them with windsight long before they reached Northkeep Castle. Only one course of action had any real chance of success: escaping the same way they had arrived—by boat.
Fishermen came only rarely into Useless Bay, fearing its treacherous shoals as much as the Page 23
sorcery of the infamous sea-hag who dwelt there. But the sighting of Vik Waterfall’s lugger—and Dobnelu’s warning about the sailors having a spyglass—had given Maudrayne an idea. The next time a boat appeared offshore, she’d try to signal to it from a place out of the old woman’s sight. She’d proffer the valuable
file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/May,%20Julian%20-%20[Bor...0-%20Boreal%20Moon%202%20
-%20Ironcrown%20Moon.html (23 of 228)2-2-2007 18:46:18
May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon opal necklace, and use hand signs to tell the crew what she wanted and where and when to pick her up. If she was lucky, one of the men might recognize her, even though ten years had passed since she sailed her sloop-rigged yacht among the fishing fleet in Northkeep Port, before going south to become the bride of Conrig Wincantor…
She had almost reached the end of the rocky point that separated the long fjord beach from the next cove, into which Rusgann and Dyfrig had evidently vanished. She paused for a moment, setting down the basket and looking out to sea, past the numerous barren islands and shallows that gave the bay its discouraging name, to the distant open water where the great iceberg drifted. As a proficient sailor in northern waters, she knew that with cautious navigation and a fair wind, even a small craft might reach Northkeep in a little over a day.
Given a few hours’ head start, even if Dobnelu woke from her drunken slumber and bespoke Ansel of their escape, he would never catch them at sea unless he conjured up a storm that risked
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