Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [148]
“You want passage across the Semordria?” A tense Ehomba nodded in the affirmative, waiting for the expected laugh of derision.
But the sailor neither laughed nor mocked him. “That’s quite a pair you have with you. Are they pets, or tamed for sale?”
The black litah snarled up at the deck. “Come down here, man, and I’ll show you who’s a pet.”
“Bismalath!” the man exclaimed. “A talking cat, and one of such a size and shape as I have never seen. And the other beast, it is also new to me.” He beckoned to the travelers. “I am Terious Kemarkh, first mate of the Grömsketter. Come aboard, and we will see about this request of yours.”
As they started up the ramp, a subdued but still obviously eager Ehomba in the lead, he called across to the mate. “Then you are preparing for a crossing of the Semordria?”
“Ayesh, but it’s not up to me to decide whether you can, or should, travel with us.” Completing the coil he had been working on when they had first arrived, he let it fall heavily to the deck. “That’s a decision for the Captain to make.”
Once aboard, the travelers saw that everything they had suspected about the Grömsketter continued to hold true. She was solid and well maintained, with no rigging lying loose to trip an unwary sailor and her teak worn smooth and clean. Lines were neatly stowed and all hatches not in use firmly secured.
The mate greeted them with hearty handshakes, electing to wave instead of accepting the affable Aub’s extended paw. “A seaman has constant need of the use of his fingers,” Terious explained in refusing the handshake. “Come with me.”
He led them toward the stern and the raised cabin there. Bidding them wait, he vanished through an open hatchway like a mouse into its hole. Several moments passed, during which the travelers were able to observe the crew. For their part, the mariners were equally curious about their unfamiliar visitors. Several tried to feel of the litah’s fur, only to be warned off by intimidating coughs.
Hoping that their host would return before the big cat’s patience wore thin and it decided to remove an arm or other available extremity from some member of the crew, Ehomba was relieved when Terious popped back out of the hatchway. His expression was encouraging.
“Though in a surly mood, the Captain has agreed to hear you out. I explained as best I could that you were not from the valley of the Eynharrowk and had obviously traveled a great distance to try and effect this transit. I pointed out that with the Warebeth having already sailed, and upriver at that, the Grömsketter was your last best hope of crossing the ocean.” Stepping out on the deck, he waited alongside them.
Both travelers studied the dark opening. “What sort of man is this Stanager Rose?” Simna asked anxiously.
The first mate’s expression did not change. “Wait just a moment and you will see for yourself.”
A muttered curse rose from below and a figure started to rise toward the light. An open-necked seaman’s blouse was pushed into bright red pants with yellow striping, the legs of which were in turn tucked into boots of durable black stingray leather. A tousled mop of shoulder-length red hair was held away from the face by a wide yellow bandanna. A sextant hung from one hand, and a long dagger was slung through a double loop at the waist. Its haft was impressively jeweled.
Ehomba bowed once again. “We thank you for allowing us on board your ship, Captain, and for deigning to consider our request for transportation.”
“Right. That’s all it is right now, traveler—a request. But I’ll give you a hearing.” Steel-blue eyes looked the herdsman up and down, speculating openly. “Terious was right: You are a spectacle all by yourself, tall man. Taken together with your companions, you’re unnatural enough to claim a marketplace stage and charge admission just to look at you.” A sea-weathered hand reached up and out to come down firmly on Ehomba