The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [112]
“Very well, but what is it that you’re doing?”
“Finding somewhat that I love, like a home or my cousin or Jill. It’s this feeling. When I’m pointed the right way, I feel splendid, and when I’m pointed the wrong way, I feel rotten at heart.”
“Do you now? You know, this could come in very handy indeed. Tell you what, lad, you can sail with me after aU.”
“Sail?” Perryn’s voice rose to a squeak. “In a ship? All the way to Cerrmor?”
“Just that.”
“I can’t do that. I’ll be sick the whole beastly way. I’d rather face Cullyn than be seasick again, truly I would.”
“Too bad. You were the one who was just talking about restitution, weren’t you? And you’ll get used to the motion after a while.”
Out of simple mercy Nevyn omitted telling him their real destination. Bardek lay many more days of sailing away than Cerrmor did.
When the day of departure finally came, it dawned utterly windless. Since Nevyn had no desire to call the wind on shore where all of Aberwyn could watch him, Elaeno badgered the harbormaster into providing a crew of longshoremen and yelled at the gwerbret’s fleetmaster till he allowed the Bardekian to press a couple of galleys into service as tugs. From somewhere these harried officials found plenty of ropes as thick as a man’s arm and poles the same. Once they had the necessary equipment, the Bardekian’s first mate took over and showed everyone how to link the merchantman to the galleys. Elaeno and Nevyn got out of the way and stood on the stern deck of his ship, the Harban Datzolan, which translates out, more or less, to the Guaranteed Profit.
“I don’t know why they’re carrying on so,” Elaeno remarked to Nevyn. “Every harbor in Bardek has tugs and suchlike for days like this. You can often pick up a bit of breeze out on the open sea when it’s still as death in harbor.”
“Indeed? Well, I’m afraid I know very little about ships and sailing.”
“You don’t need to. You get me the wind, and I’ll get us to Surtinna. By the way, I’ve got Perryn tied up down in the hold. Once we’re well out of port, I’ll release him, but I didn’t want him jumping overboard at the last minute.”
Oars flashing, the improvised tugs headed out, the ropes groaning and creaking as they tightened, and the heavy merchantman began to move as the longshore crew shoved it away from the pier with their poles. Nevyn settled himself on a couple of crates in the bow and looked up at the top of the mast, where the blue-and-silver dragon pennant of the gwerbrets of Aberwyn hung flaccid in the windless cold. Elaeno stood casually in front of him, effectively shielding him with his vast bulk while he gave orders to his first mate. Nevyn shut out the sound of their voices and gathered himself, calling in his mind on the Kings of Air as he let himself sink into a state close to trance. Up on the mast the pennant stirred and fluttered as they came, announcing that they remembered their promise to the Master of the Aethyr. Elaeno glanced up, then yelled at the men on the towropes to get ready to throw them clear. Nevyn imaged the flaming pentagram and placed it far astern. Now, he thought, let the wind come!
With a roar and a whistle the squall rushed out, a channel of wind not more than thirty feet wide, streaming over the sea and striping the water dark as it ran. With a slap it hit the sails, and the ship bounded forward like a kicked dog.
“Throw those ropes!” Elaeno bellowed. “Get ‘em clear, or we’ll be dragging the cursed tugs to Bardek with us!”
The men heaved the ropes clear just as the ship raced between the two galleys and burst free of the harbor. Except for Elaeno, every man on board was utterly silent, staring at their arrow-straight wake or glancing furtively round as if they were afraid to look each other in the eye. In a storm of foul curses Elaeno bellowed orders and got them moving, some rushing aloft to trim the sails, others below to shift ballast and cargo. After making a few adjustments to the wind’s direction and speed, Nevyn got up and stretched. Far