a
discernable wake now. Parts of the ship creaked and groaned, and a
sailor walked up and down, leaning carefully against her motion,
and studying the level in the port side bilges as the water sloshed
back and forth under the duckboards.
“ She looks good,
sir.”
The captain gave him a quick wave of
acknowledgement. He put his hand on the helmsman’s
shoulder.
“ Ten degrees to port,
please.”
“ Aye, sir. Ten degrees to
port, thank you.”
“ All righty, man, good
fellow, steady her up.”
She wasn’t rolling quite so hard now,
thought Lowren.
“ Aye, sir. Steady her up,
and thank you very much, sir.”
The captain was aware of Lowren
watching them.
“ To Lemnia we go, sire.
Three days hence, if the winds and the waves hold fair.” By the
captain’s reckoning, they might make it early on the evening of the
second day, but it was wise not to make too many promises when the
weather could turn at any moment.
If they had to row into a strong wind,
using all available hands, it could take a week, perhaps even
longer if a big storm came along and they had to run her
ashore.
“ Thank you, Captain Rollo.
And how did you find the wait?”
“ Boring and tedious, sire.
More than anything.” Days of nothing but suspense, and keeping a
sharp eye and voices low. “And how about you?”
“ I think we did very well,
to bring our message and come away again unscathed—or un-scourged.
Only time will tell.” There was nothing else to report,
apparently.
“ We came away with our
skins intact. That is the main thing, sire.”
It’s not like they needed, or even
wanted to know. Most were content just to live, and to serve, and
to have a place. It was more than some men had, after
all.
A quiet rumble of humor went through
the boys on overhearing this interplay. Even now, they were keeping
their voices down. The land was barely a mile away. The mouth of
the Great River was right there, a few miles off the port bow. It
was only a matter of time before sails loomed on the
horizon.
Being with the men was a kind of reward
in itself. There were times when it was possible to forget his
position, to just be one of them, and Lowren treasured those
moments. He stood, hand on the gunwale, and then sank, surprisingly
tired all of a sudden, onto one of the rowing benches beside
him.
The land, still dark under those trees,
was silent and inscrutable behind them. The marsh was perfect
cover, although you couldn’t use it too often. Unsuitable for
farming or grazing, too wet for commercially-valuable trees to
grow, it was a refuge for felons, escaped slaves, and the
occasional poacher. Smugglers would know of such places, and they
were lucky that none had come along at an inopportune time. Since
neither party would want to draw attention to itself, the results
of such a meeting would be incalculable. It would mostly depend on
whether the other party felt itself stronger or weaker, thought
Lowren—and that had been all they had to go on. They would be
thieves, pirates and smugglers after all.
The captain and crew of the
good ship Cygnus hadn’t seen anyone in the three days they had been there. The
creek wasn’t navigable, and the mouth was obscured by bulrushes and
waterweeds.
Yet it was only three miles from the
mouth of the Great River and barely twelve or thirteen miles from
the capital city.
Lowren wondered if Eleanora had sent
troops after them—if so, there hadn’t been any signs of it. Leaving
the castle, the party had galloped off by the northwest road, then
after going through the town, they had circled through the hills
and farm fields, and then headed southeast to the coast.
He would hear more about that later
from certain resources in place at her court and in the town
itself.
Spying on even your most
friendly neighbors was nothing new, and he must assume she knew
something about his kingdom as well. Any number of magicians,
merchants, peddlers, musicians and dancers traveled back and forth.
Ships of
discernable wake now. Parts of the ship creaked and groaned, and a
sailor walked up and down, leaning carefully against her motion,
and studying the level in the port side bilges as the water sloshed
back and forth under the duckboards.
“ She looks good,
sir.”
The captain gave him a quick wave of
acknowledgement. He put his hand on the helmsman’s
shoulder.
“ Ten degrees to port,
please.”
“ Aye, sir. Ten degrees to
port, thank you.”
“ All righty, man, good
fellow, steady her up.”
She wasn’t rolling quite so hard now,
thought Lowren.
“ Aye, sir. Steady her up,
and thank you very much, sir.”
The captain was aware of Lowren
watching them.
“ To Lemnia we go, sire.
Three days hence, if the winds and the waves hold fair.” By the
captain’s reckoning, they might make it early on the evening of the
second day, but it was wise not to make too many promises when the
weather could turn at any moment.
If they had to row into a strong wind,
using all available hands, it could take a week, perhaps even
longer if a big storm came along and they had to run her
ashore.
“ Thank you, Captain Rollo.
And how did you find the wait?”
“ Boring and tedious, sire.
More than anything.” Days of nothing but suspense, and keeping a
sharp eye and voices low. “And how about you?”
“ I think we did very well,
to bring our message and come away again unscathed—or un-scourged.
Only time will tell.” There was nothing else to report,
apparently.
“ We came away with our
skins intact. That is the main thing, sire.”
It’s not like they needed, or even
wanted to know. Most were content just to live, and to serve, and
to have a place. It was more than some men had, after
all.
A quiet rumble of humor went through
the boys on overhearing this interplay. Even now, they were keeping
their voices down. The land was barely a mile away. The mouth of
the Great River was right there, a few miles off the port bow. It
was only a matter of time before sails loomed on the
horizon.
Being with the men was a kind of reward
in itself. There were times when it was possible to forget his
position, to just be one of them, and Lowren treasured those
moments. He stood, hand on the gunwale, and then sank, surprisingly
tired all of a sudden, onto one of the rowing benches beside
him.
The land, still dark under those trees,
was silent and inscrutable behind them. The marsh was perfect
cover, although you couldn’t use it too often. Unsuitable for
farming or grazing, too wet for commercially-valuable trees to
grow, it was a refuge for felons, escaped slaves, and the
occasional poacher. Smugglers would know of such places, and they
were lucky that none had come along at an inopportune time. Since
neither party would want to draw attention to itself, the results
of such a meeting would be incalculable. It would mostly depend on
whether the other party felt itself stronger or weaker, thought
Lowren—and that had been all they had to go on. They would be
thieves, pirates and smugglers after all.
The captain and crew of the
good ship Cygnus hadn’t seen anyone in the three days they had been there. The
creek wasn’t navigable, and the mouth was obscured by bulrushes and
waterweeds.
Yet it was only three miles from the
mouth of the Great River and barely twelve or thirteen miles from
the capital city.
Lowren wondered if Eleanora had sent
troops after them—if so, there hadn’t been any signs of it. Leaving
the castle, the party had galloped off by the northwest road, then
after going through the town, they had circled through the hills
and farm fields, and then headed southeast to the coast.
He would hear more about that later
from certain resources in place at her court and in the town
itself.
Spying on even your most
friendly neighbors was nothing new, and he must assume she knew
something about his kingdom as well. Any number of magicians,
merchants, peddlers, musicians and dancers traveled back and forth.
Ships of
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