all night long, but I have not the wives' side of the story. Anyway, he is sleeping late." She gave Kerin a level stare. "So, if you will tell me of your secret mission . . ."
Kerin thought frantically. "I—the fact is—'tis nought much; merely a commission from my brothers' general practitioner of iatric magic, Doctor Uller. He would fain discover the Kuromonians' spell for smiting one's foe with emerods."
"Forsooth?" said Janji in a skeptical tone. She leaned to one side as if listening, then said: "That is not true, Master Kerin. I can tell."
In Kerin's ear he heard a tiny voice: "Her bir hath told her the tale be a lie."
"I do assure you—" began Kerin.
"Oh, go futter yourself!" cried Janji, rising. "You think to deceive me, foolish boy? You are spending your next incarnation as earthworm!" She marched out.
Kerin sighed. "Belinka, if you Second Plane sprites are so skilled at detecting Prime Planers' lies, why do we Kortolians not employ you in our courts, to tell which defender or accuser is telling the truth?"
Belinka gave a silvery laugh. "That hath been proposed, Master Kerin. But all the lawyers opposed it so vehemently that the idea was abandoned. They feared it would reduce them to beggary."
Rao did not return to the Dragonet that night, nor did he appear next morning. Captain Huvraka snorted: "The young fool should have known better."
Kerin asked: "Is there no authority in this town to trace down the missing man and, if he's been murdered, bring his slayers to justice?"
"As well try to spit on the moon as bring any local to justice here," said Huvraka. "If by some remote chance they caught the miscreant, he'd divide his loot with the magistrate and be let off with a scolding."
Nonetheless, the captain sent two of his sailors ashore to look for the missing passenger. Hours later they returned, saying the man seemed to have utterly vanished. Huvraka said:
"Belike the turtles and crabs in the swamps are devouring his corpse. We should have sailed at midday, since Akkander gives us no very bulky cargo. I'll hold the ship for a couple of hours more; but if he appear not, off we go."
Still without Rao, the Dragonet sailed in midafternoon and plowed into the Eastern Ocean. For several days, Kerin resumed his shipboard routine. He smote the rats and cockroaches that invaded his cabin; he watched Huvraka and Mota flog a sailor for some nautical malfeasance. He and Janji exchanged a few amenities but otherwise ignored each other.
The third day out, a storm blew up. Kerin, who had been preening himself on being a much better sailor than Rao, learned the pains of seasickness. Gripping the weather rail, barefoot and breechclouted like the sailors, he miserably looked up at the crest of a wave bearing down upon the Dragonet and, as the ship climbed, down into the watery valley yawning precipitously below. From the lowering, leaden sky, lukewarm rainwater sluiced over his body. As Huvraka, for once without his turban, hurried past, Kerin shouted over the roar of wind and wave:
"Is this a bad storm?"
"Ha!" the captain shouted back. "This is good weather! This is no storm at all! We are sailing through some that make this look like a flat calm! And next time you are puking, you are please using lee rail!"
Kerin started for his cabin when an exceptionally violent lurch sent him spinning down the sloping deck to the lee rail and into the net that had been rigged along it. Without the net, he was sure he would have gone over the side. When he finally struggled back to his cabin, he took off his money belt and hid it in his bag. He feared that, if he slipped on the rain-lashed decks and fell overboard, the weight of the coins would speedily drown him.
By the next morning the rain had ceased, though the ship still leaped and lurched like a stallion with a burr beneath its saddle. Kerin's healthy young frame adapted quickly, so that by noon he was able to eat and keep it down.
Ten days after leaving Akkander,
Kerin thought frantically. "I—the fact is—'tis nought much; merely a commission from my brothers' general practitioner of iatric magic, Doctor Uller. He would fain discover the Kuromonians' spell for smiting one's foe with emerods."
"Forsooth?" said Janji in a skeptical tone. She leaned to one side as if listening, then said: "That is not true, Master Kerin. I can tell."
In Kerin's ear he heard a tiny voice: "Her bir hath told her the tale be a lie."
"I do assure you—" began Kerin.
"Oh, go futter yourself!" cried Janji, rising. "You think to deceive me, foolish boy? You are spending your next incarnation as earthworm!" She marched out.
Kerin sighed. "Belinka, if you Second Plane sprites are so skilled at detecting Prime Planers' lies, why do we Kortolians not employ you in our courts, to tell which defender or accuser is telling the truth?"
Belinka gave a silvery laugh. "That hath been proposed, Master Kerin. But all the lawyers opposed it so vehemently that the idea was abandoned. They feared it would reduce them to beggary."
Rao did not return to the Dragonet that night, nor did he appear next morning. Captain Huvraka snorted: "The young fool should have known better."
Kerin asked: "Is there no authority in this town to trace down the missing man and, if he's been murdered, bring his slayers to justice?"
"As well try to spit on the moon as bring any local to justice here," said Huvraka. "If by some remote chance they caught the miscreant, he'd divide his loot with the magistrate and be let off with a scolding."
Nonetheless, the captain sent two of his sailors ashore to look for the missing passenger. Hours later they returned, saying the man seemed to have utterly vanished. Huvraka said:
"Belike the turtles and crabs in the swamps are devouring his corpse. We should have sailed at midday, since Akkander gives us no very bulky cargo. I'll hold the ship for a couple of hours more; but if he appear not, off we go."
Still without Rao, the Dragonet sailed in midafternoon and plowed into the Eastern Ocean. For several days, Kerin resumed his shipboard routine. He smote the rats and cockroaches that invaded his cabin; he watched Huvraka and Mota flog a sailor for some nautical malfeasance. He and Janji exchanged a few amenities but otherwise ignored each other.
The third day out, a storm blew up. Kerin, who had been preening himself on being a much better sailor than Rao, learned the pains of seasickness. Gripping the weather rail, barefoot and breechclouted like the sailors, he miserably looked up at the crest of a wave bearing down upon the Dragonet and, as the ship climbed, down into the watery valley yawning precipitously below. From the lowering, leaden sky, lukewarm rainwater sluiced over his body. As Huvraka, for once without his turban, hurried past, Kerin shouted over the roar of wind and wave:
"Is this a bad storm?"
"Ha!" the captain shouted back. "This is good weather! This is no storm at all! We are sailing through some that make this look like a flat calm! And next time you are puking, you are please using lee rail!"
Kerin started for his cabin when an exceptionally violent lurch sent him spinning down the sloping deck to the lee rail and into the net that had been rigged along it. Without the net, he was sure he would have gone over the side. When he finally struggled back to his cabin, he took off his money belt and hid it in his bag. He feared that, if he slipped on the rain-lashed decks and fell overboard, the weight of the coins would speedily drown him.
By the next morning the rain had ceased, though the ship still leaped and lurched like a stallion with a burr beneath its saddle. Kerin's healthy young frame adapted quickly, so that by noon he was able to eat and keep it down.
Ten days after leaving Akkander,
Similar Books
