Thornhold - Elaine Cunningham [104]
Bronwyn took the pipe from his hand and sipped a bit of the fragrant smoke, then handed it back. “Orwig has a good record as a captain, and a good reputation as a smuggler- odd though that may sound. Everyone I talked to said he delivers what he promises, no tricks, no excuses. He’ll take us where we need to go, but mark me, Ebenezer, you can only push any ogre so fat”
“Itching for a fight, isn’t he?” Ebenezer said with immense satisfaction. He dragged at his pipe, then blew out a trio of smoke rings in quick, expert puffs.
As the implication of this sank in, Bronwyn gaped, then shook her head in disbelief. “You’re doing this on purpose? To work him up for the fight ahead?”
“There’s that,” Ebenezer agreed. “And it’s a bit of sport, to keep my mind off…“ His voice trailed off, and he nodded at the sea.
“It’s almost over,” Bronwyn said, as much for her own assurance as the dwarf’s. “We should catch up with the slave ship today. Tomorrow at the latest.”
“Yeah? Big place, that sea. Easy to miss one small boat.” She shook her head. “Orwig bribed one of the Gatekeepers in Skullport to tell us where the slave ship was sent. We know where the Grunion emerged and have a good idea where it’s bound.”
Ebenezer shuddered at the reminder of the journey up through the magical locks linking the subterranean Skull-port with the open sea. Dwarves, it seemed, did not take kindly to magical travel. Ebenezer’s dense, compact body resisted the process. Unlike any of the other people aboard the ship, he had felt the magical passage as burning physical pain. “Like being ripped through a thick wall all at once, but in lots of little bits,” was how he had described it to Bronwyn after he’d recovered from the ordeal.
His hand shook a little as he lifted the pipe for another long drag. “Lotta water out there,” the dwarf repeated. He glared at Bronwyn, as if daring her to prove him wrong.
Bronwyn understood completely, and she chose her next words as much for her own reassurance as his. “We were set on the same place on the sea as the Grunion emerged. Now, the slavers are going to want to get where they’re going as fast as possible. This time of year, the warming air over the land causes a strong coastal wind. They’ll take full advantage of it. Much farther out to sea, the wind diminishes; much closer to shore, they’ll run the risk of shoals, rocks, and harbor patrols. The corridor is not that wide. As long as Captain Orwig follows the wind, we should pass within sight of them.”
The dwarf glanced up at the sails. There were three of them, mounted on a pair of tall oaken masts. All three were curved tight, so full of wind that not even a ripple disturbed the taut white sheets, but he still looked doubtful. “They got a jump on us.”
“True, but the Narwhal flies three sails to the Grunion’s one. This ship is built for pursuit and battle. The Grunion is a tub-an old ship, with a deep keel designed to hold a great deal of cargo, and according to the dock manifesto, it’s heavily loaded. It can’t possibly outrun us.”
He slid a sidelong glance up at her. “For a person that don’t like water, you know a lot about this sort of thing.”
“I’m a merchant,” Bronwyn said shortly. “I have to know how things are moved from place to place.”
“There’s that,” he agreed, but his shrewd, sympathetic gaze suggested that he understood far more than Bronwyn wanted to say. She had spent many years learning all she could about the slave trade, in hope of tracing her own path back to her forgotten home and family. And yet, this was the first time she had taken action on behalf of people who, like herself, bad been stolen away from all that they knew. She was relieved that the dwarf did not ask her why this was, or press her to explain why she suddenly felt compelled to help him and his clan. That she could not explain, not even to herself.
They fell silent, both of them gazing out over the sea. It had faded to silver, and on the eastern horizon a deep rose blush shimmered over the water to herald