Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [151]
She chuckled softly. “The last man who tried to compliment his way into my berth found himself traveling in the bilges until we reached the town of Harynbrogue. By that time he was so ready to get off the Grömsketter he didn’t much care what I or anyone else look like. You could smell him making his way into town even after he was well off the ship.”
Simna adopted an expression so serious Ehomba had to turn away to smother a laugh. “Why Captain, you wrong me deeply! Such a notion would never cross my mind!” Solemnly, he placed one hand over his heart. “Know that I have taken a vow of celibacy until we have successfully concluded our journey, and that every member of this crew, be they male or female, need have no concerns along such lines when in my presence.”
Stanager was still smiling. “I think you are one of the more notable liars I have ever hosted on this ship, but since you will in all likelihood be off it in a few moments, your dubious protestations of innocence do not matter.” She turned as a figure darkened the doorway. “Broch, come in.”
Weatherbeaten as a spar at the end of its useful life, the supercargo entered on bowed legs. He was even shorter than Simna, and considerably thinner. But the wrinkled, leathery brown skin on his arms covered a lean musculature that resembled braided bullwhips. His fulsome beard was gray with a few remaining streaks of black, and his eyes were sharp and alert.
Stanager gestured at the collection of tumbled pebbles spread out on the mess table. “Tell me, what do you think of these?”
The old man looked, and though it seemed impossible, his eyes grew even wider than had the swordsman’s. “Memoch gharzanz!” he exclaimed in a language neither Ehomba nor Simna recognized. “Where—where did these come from, Captain?”
She gestured at Ehomba. “These gentlemen together with their two, um, nonhuman companions desire to make the Semordria crossing with us. This is what they offer in payment. Is it sufficient?”
Seating himself at the table, the old mariner removed a small magnifying lens from a pants pocket. It was secured to the interior of the pocket, Ehomba noted, by a strong string. Bending low, he examined several of the pebbles, taking them up one at a time and turning them over between his fingers, making sure the light struck them from different angles. After studying half a dozen of the pebbles, he sat back in his chair and repocketed the glass.
“These are the finest diamonds I have ever seen. Half are flawless, and the other half fine enough to grace the best work of a master jeweler.”
“That’s for the clear ones,” Simna agreed even though he was as surprised as anyone else at the table, “but what kind of stones are the others?”
“They are all diamonds,” Broch explained. “Clear, yellow, blue, red, green, and pink, diamonds all. Mostly three to four carats, some smaller, a couple as large as six.” Swallowing, he eyed the tranquil herdsman intently. “Where did you get these, foreigner?”
“There is a beach near my village.”
“Ah.” The supercargo nodded sagely. “You picked them out of the gravel on this beach.”
“No,” Ehomba explained quietly. “I just grabbed up a handful or two and dropped them in my little bag.” He indicated the scattering of sparklers that decorated the tabletop. “The whole beach is like this. The pebbles are all the same. Except for the different colors, of course.” His smile was almost regretful. “I wish I had known that they were so valuable. I would have brought more.”
“More.” The old man swallowed hard.
Ehomba shrugged. “Sometimes the waves wash away all the pebbles and leave behind only sand. After a big storm the pebbles may lie as deep on the shore as a man’s chest. At such times, when the sun comes out, the beach is very pretty.”
“Yes,” murmured the supercargo. He looked slightly shell-shocked. “Yes, I would imagine it is.” Shaking his head, he turned to the expectant Stanager. “They have enough to book passage, Captain—or to buy the ship many times over. Take them. Give them the finest