Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [147]
“Among those of us who sail the Eynharrowk, the Warebeth has passed beyond reverence into legend. It is rumored that she has made twelve complete crossings of the Semordria without losing more than the expected number of seamen. I have never heard of her taking passengers, but then it is not the sort of trip most landsmen would consider. Certainly she’s large enough to accommodate guests.” As he related this information the mate kept nodding to himself, eyes half closed.
“A three-master, solid of keel and sound of beam. If any ship would take landsmen on such an arduous voyage, ayesh, it would be the Warebeth.”
“Excellent,” declared Ehomba. “Where do we find this craft?”
Removing his pipe, a process that somewhat surprisingly did not require a minor surgical procedure, the mate tapped the bowl gently against the side of a nearby piling. “Sadly, friends, the Warebeth left yesterday morning for a two-month journey upriver to the Thalgostian villages. If you’re willing to wait for her return, you might have yourselves a ship.” He placed the stem of the pipe back between his yellow-brown teeth.
“Two months.” Ehomba’s expression fell. “Are there no other choices?”
Sea dragonets perched on a nearby piling sang to one another, punctuating their songs with intermittent puffs of smoke. “Ayesh, maybe one.” Turning, the mate pointed downriver, his finger tracing the line of the waterfront walk. “Try the out-end of quay thirty-six. If I’m not mistaken, the Grömsketter is still there. Captain Stanager Rose on deck, unless there’s been a change of command since last I heard of her. She’s done the Semordria transit more than once, though how many times I couldn’t tell you. Not the wave piercer the Warebeth is, but a sound ship nonetheless. Whether she’ll take wayfarers or not, much less landsmen, I don’t know. But if she’s still in port, she’s your only other hope.”
Ehomba bowed his head and dipped the point of his spear in the mate’s direction. “Many thanks to you, sir. We can but try.”
“Can but try indeed, bruther.” Simna stayed close to the herdsman as they left the pier and began once more to push their way through the dynamic, industrious crowds. Behind them, the broad beam of Hunkapa Aub kept potential pickpockets and busybodies away by sheer force of his hulking presence. Given a space of his own by the crowd, which despite its preoccupations nevertheless kept well clear of the big cat, the black litah amused itself by pausing every so often to inspect pilings and high water for potentially edible harbor dwellers.
It turned out that in his eulogistic description of the Warebeth and its accomplishments, the neighborly and helpful mate had underrated the Grömsketter. To Ehomba’s inexperienced eye it looked like a fine ship, with broad, curving sides and a high helm deck. There was only a single mainmast, but a second smaller foremast looked able to carry a respectable spread of sail between its crest and the bowsprit. Heavy-weather shutters protected the ports, and Simna pointed out that her lines were triple instead of double braided. Even to his eyes, she was rigged for serious weather. Her energetic crew looked competent and healthy.
As he contemplated the craft, the herdsman sought his companion’s opinion. “What do you think, Simna?”
“I’m no mariner, Etjole.” The swordsman scrutinized the vessel from stem to stern. “Give me something with legs to ride, any day. But I’ve spent some time on boats, and from what little I know she looks seaworthy enough. Surely no sailor would set out to traverse the Semordria on a craft he wasn’t convinced would carry him across and back again.”
Ehomba nodded once. Together they walked to the base of the boarding ramp. A few sailors were traveling in both directions along its length, but for the most part the majority of activity was taking place on board.
Putting his free hand alongside his mouth, the herdsman hailed the deck. “Hello! We are travelers seeking to cross the ocean, and were told you might be of service in such a matter!”
A tall, broad-chested