Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [159]
The Grömsketter kept to the main channel. With the widening of the river, the current had dissipated considerably over the past weeks and her speed had slowed accordingly. Crewmen and -women palavered boisterously as they worked the ship, but among her remaining passengers the mood was glum.
Simna was unable to think straight. His friend had charged him with completing the journey begun in the far south, but how was a common mercenary like himself to know how to proceed? Ehomba’s mystic weapons remained on board, but the swordsman was more leery than hopeful of figuring out how to make proper use of them. He had no money, the herdsman having carried off the remaining “beach pebbles” in his pocket. His one ally was the imposing but simpleminded Hunkapa Aub. As for the black litah, upon awakening and learning what had transpired, the big cat had promptly announced his intention to leave the ship at the first opportunity. As he explained inexorably to Simna, his allegiance had been to the herdsman personally, not to his cause. With Ehomba gone, the cat considered its obligation at an end.
“Don’t you care about what he began?” the swordsman had reproached the litah. “Do you wish all his efforts to go for naught?”
The big cat remained unperturbed. “His efforts are, and were, of no interest to me. It was the person I chose to associate with. I am sorry he is no longer here. For a human, he was a most interesting individual.” The moist black tongue emerged to lick and clean around the nostrils. “I always wondered what he would have tasted like.”
Simna sneered openly, not caring how the sleek predator might react, finding that he presently cared about so little that it shocked him. “It’s all primeval to you, isn’t it? Food, sex, sleep. You’ve acquired nothing in the way of culture from your association with us. Nothing!”
“On the contrary,” the litah objected. “I have learned a good deal these past many weeks about humankind. I have learned that its culture is obsessed with food, sex, and sleep. The only difference between us is that you don’t do any of it as well.”
“By Geenvar’s claws, I’ll tell you that—”
The discussion was interrupted by a loud cry from the lookout. Posted atop the mainmast, the seaman was pointing and shouting. Fully intending to resume his dialogue with the big cat, Simna glanced curiously in the direction indicated by the mariner. At first he saw nothing. Then the subject of much commotion came into view and he found himself surrounded and carried forward by excited members of the crew. Not that he needed any help.
Etjole Ehomba was standing on the end of a small, handmade pier, waving casually in the Grömsketter’s direction. Except for a rip or two in his kilt and shirt, he looked healthy and relaxed.
Unsuspected excitement in her voice, Stanager Rose roared commands. The mainsail was reefed and the sea anchor cast off astern to slow their speed. As she hurriedly explained to Simna, she did not want to risk anchoring and stopping in the event that the soldiers of the Gate Masters were giving chase. This despite the fact that no troops or pursuers of any kind were in evidence. The swordsman did not argue with her. He was of like mind when it came to not taking chances.
One of the ship’s lifeboats was quickly put over the side. Commanded by Terious himself, it plucked the waiting Ehomba from the end of the pier and, propelled by six strong oarsmen, returned to the Grömsketter. The sea anchor was hauled in, and this time all sails were set.
Ehomba’s friends were waiting impatiently to greet him as he climbed back aboard. Attempting to clasp the tall southerner by the arm, Simna was nearly bowled over as Hunkapa Aub rushed past him to envelop the herdsman in an embrace that threatened to suffocate him before he could explain what had happened.