Into the Thinking Kingdoms

by Alan Dean Foster

  Because, sea-weathered or not, the Captain of the Grömsketter was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

  XXIII

  After leading them down to the officers’ mess and directing them to their seats, she had drink brought by an attentive mess steward. It was some kind of spiced fruit juice neither Ehomba nor Simna recognized, flavorful but only slightly alcoholic.

  “What is this?” Ehomba asked politely.

  “Sicharouse. From Calex, across the ocean.” She smiled proudly. “Sealed in oak casks, it ferments during the return crossing and is almost ready to drink when it arrives here in Hamacassar. Turned a tidy profit on it more than once, we have.” Folding her hands on the heavy ship’s table, she stared piercingly at Ehomba. “We leave in two days and I’ve a ship to prepare for departure. You wish passage across the ocean?”

  “We do.” As Simna ibn Sind appeared to have been suddenly and uncharacteristically struck dumb, Ehomba found that he had to do all the talking. “We journey to a kingdom called Ehl-Larimar.”

  Eyes widening slightly, Stanager leaned into the embrace of her high-backed chair. The swordsman found himself envying the wood. “Heard of the place, but never been there. From what I recall, it lies far inland from any seaport. It’s certainly not close to Calex.” Simna suddenly found his voice: He groaned.

  “I understand.” Ehomba was unsurprised and unfazed by this information. “Ultimately reaching Ehl-Larimar is our business. But to get there we must first cross the ocean.”

  She nodded once, curtly. “We have space, and I am willing to take you.” Her eyes met Simna’s. “Even though it’s transparently clear there’s not a seaman among you. You and your creatures would have to stay out of the way of my crew. You wouldn’t be confined to quarters, mind. I just ask that you be careful where you go, when you go, and what you do when you get there.”

  “Not long ago we crossed the Aboqua,” he told her, “and gave the crew that attended to our needs no cause for complaint.”

  Turning her head to her left, she spat contemptuously. “The Aboqua! A pond, for children to splash in. I’ve beaten through storms that were bigger than the Aboqua. But at least you know what saltwater smells like.” To Simna’s chagrin, she returned her full attention to Ehomba. “What can you pay?”

  It was the herdsman’s turn to be rendered speechless. In the excitement of searching out and finally finding a ship to carry them, he had completely forgotten that payment for their passage would doubtless be demanded. The oversight was understandable. Among the Naumkib such matters arose but infrequently, when the village received one of its rare visits from a trader making the long trek north from Wallab or Askaskos.

  Unable to reply, he turned to his more worldly friend. Simna could only shrug helplessly. “If you’re thinking of the Chlengguu gold, it’s all gone, bruther. We’ve spent every last coin. I know what you’re thinking, but there’s none tucked away in my pack or my shirt. More’s the pity. I should have secreted some more away.”

  Stanager listened silently to the brief byplay. “Do you have anything to trade? Anything of significant value you would be willing to part with?”

  The swordsman started to respond, but Ehomba stopped him before the words could leave his mouth. “No! We’ve risked our lives to save Ahlitah from just such a fate. I will not see him sold to satisfy my own needs.”

  Simna eyed him sharply. “Not even to get yourself across the Semordria?”

  “Not even for that.” The herdsman looked back at the Captain. “We have very few possessions, and these we need.”

  She nodded tersely, her red hair rippling, and started to rise from the table. “Then I wish you good fortune in your difficult endeavors, gentlemen. Now if you will excuse me, I have a long and strenuous voyage ahead of me, and many last-minute preparations to supervise.” The audience was at an end.

  Ehomba did not panic. It was not an emotion he was heir to. But seeing their best and only hope of crossing the ocean about to walk out the door, he certainly became uncommonly anxious. A sudden thought made him rise halfway from his own chair as he raised his voice.

  “Wait! Please, one moment.”

  An impatient look on her deeply tanned face, Stanager Rose hesitantly resumed her seat. Simna was eyeing his tall friend curiously. The swordsman expected the herdsman to start digging through his pack, but this was not what happened. Instead, Ehomba reached down and fumbled briefly in one of the pockets of his kilt. What he brought out caused Simna’s gaze to narrow.

  The Captain nodded at the fist-sized cloth sack. “What’ve you got there, tall man? Gold, silver, trinkets?”

  “Pebbles.” Ehomba smiled apologetically. “From a beach near my village. I brought them along to remind me of home, and of the sea. Whenever the longing grew too great, I could always reach into my pocket and rub the pebbles against each other, listen to them scrape and clink.” He handed the sack to Stanager. “Once when I was much younger a trader came to the village from far to the south, farther away even than Askaskos. A friend of mine was playing jump-rock outside his house with some pebbles like these. Passing by, the trader happened to see and admire them. He offered my friend’s family some fine things in exchange. After receiving approval from Asab, the trade was made.” He gestured for the Captain to open the sack.

  “If they were valuable to a trader who had come all the way from south of Askaskos, maybe they will have some value to you as well.” He hesitated. “Though I would be sorry to have to give up my little memory bag.”

  Stanager was considerate if not hopeful. Taking pity on the lanky foreigner, she pulled the drawstring that closed the neck of the little cloth bag and turned it upside down. The double handful of pebbles promptly spilled out onto the tabletop. Struck by the light that poured in through the ports, the pebbles sparkled brightly. They were rough and sea-tossed, with most of the edges worn off them.

  Simna’s eyes opened so wide they threatened to pop right out of his head and roll egglike across the table. Like little else, his reaction did not escape the Captain’s notice.

  “So, Owl-eyes, you think these pebbles are valuable too?”

  Recovering quickly, the swordsman looked away and exhaled indifferently. “Hoy, what? Oh, perhaps a little. I know very little about such things. To me they’re nothing remarkable, but I believe my friend is right when he says that they might have some value.”

  “I see.” Her gaze flicked sharply from one man to the other. “Ayesh, I am no expert on ‘pebbles’ either, but my supercargo knows a good deal about stones and their value. We will soon learn if these are worth anything—or if you are trying to cozen me with stories.” Pushing back in her seat, she yelled toward the open doorway. “Terious! Find old Broch and send him down here!”

  They waited in silence, the Captain of the Grömsketter in all her stern-faced beauty, Ehomba smiling hopefully, and Simna gazing off into the distance with studied indifference.

  “What are you gaping at, little man?” an irritated Stanager finally asked the swordsman.

  “Hoy, me? Why nothing, Captain, nothing at all. I believe I was momentarily stunned, is all.”

  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 cabin. If they wish, they may have my own and I will sleep belowdecks with the rest of the crew. Give them anything they want.”

  “Really,” an embarrassed Ehomba demurred, “passage will be quite sufficient. Our two large friends can find room in your hold, among your cargo.”

  “Done.” Reaching across the table, Stanager shook the tall southerner’s hand. “You really didn’t know these stones were diamonds, or that they were valuable?”

  “Oh, they have always been valuable to me,” Ehomba conceded. “Feeling of them reminds me of home.” He glanced over at the supercargo. “Take your payment, please.”

  “A fair payment,” Simna interjected in no-nonsense tones. “We’ve hidden nothing from you, been completely up-front. As the old man says, we could always buy ourselves a ship.”

  “Ayesh,” agreed Stanager, “but it wouldn’t be the Grömsketter, and whatever crew you engaged wouldn’t be the Grömsketter’s crew. Have no fear, foreigner—this is an honorable vessel crewed by honest seamen.” She nodded at her supercargo. “Take the payment, Broch.”

  Licking his lips, the elderly mariner contemplated the riches strewn so casually before him. Finally, after much deliberation, he settled on the second-largest stone, a perfect deep pink diamond of some six carats.

  “This one, I think.” Hesitating to see if the owners objected, he then quickly plucked the rough gem from the table. “And a few of the smaller.” He smiled. “To give the selection a nice play of color.” Having made his choices, he handed them to Stanager.

  “Thank you, Broch.” She deposited them in her empty drinking mug. “Please wait outside for us.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” He turned to leave.

  “Just a second.” Simna was smiling knowingly. “What about the one that ‘accidentally’ got caught under your fingernail? Middle finger of the left hand, I believe?”

  “What? Oh, this.” Feigning confusion, the old man removed a half-carat stone from beneath the offending nail and placed it back on the table. “Sorry. These small stones, you know, are like sand. They can get caught up in anything.”

  “Sure they can.” Simna was still smiling. “Etjole, pack up the rest of your pebbles.”

  The herdsman scooped the remaining stones into the little cloth sack. Old Broch watched his every move to see if he might overlook any. When it was clear that the herdsman had not, the supercargo sighed regretfully and left.

  “Well then.” Planting both palms firmly on the table, Stanager pushed back from the table and stood. “Welcome aboard the Grömsketter, gentlemen. I’ll have Broch show you to your cabin, and we’ll see about getting your oversized companions properly settled below. You have two days to enjoy the sights and delights of Hamacassar. Then we set sail downriver for the Semordria, far Calex, and the unknown.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” Ehomba executed his half bow. “Is there anything else we should know before we depart?”

  “Yes.” Turning her head to look at an expressionless Simna, she declared sweetly, “If this foreign creature doesn’t take his hand off my ass I will have Cook mince and dice him and serve him tomorrow morning for breakfast hash.”

  “Hoy? Oh, sorry.” Simna removed the offending hand, eyeing it as if it possessed a mind and will of its own. “I thought that was the chair cushion.”

  “Think more carefully next time, foreigner, or I will prevent any further confusion by having the errant portion of your anatomy removed.”

  “I said I was sorry,” he protested.

  “Your eyes argue with your words.” She led the way out of the mess.

  Later, as they followed old Broch through a narrow passage, Ehomba leaned down to whisper to his companion. “Are you mad, Simna? Next time she will have you quartered!”

  A dreamy lilt tinted the swordsman’s voice. “Her beauty would drive a man mad. A little sunburnt, yes. A little hardened by the weather, to be sure. But to see her at ease on a broad bed, divested of mariner’s attire, would be worth a couple of those diamonds to me.”

  “Then I will give you the diamonds, but keep away from her! We have yet to enter the Semordria, much less cross it. I am a good swimmer, but I do not want to have to exercise that skill in the middle of the ocean.”

  The swordsman was quietly outraged. “You ask me to deny myself, bruther. To go against the very substance of my being, to refute that which comprises a most basic portion of myself, to abjure my very nature.” He deliberated briefly. “How many diamonds?”

  By the morning of the third day all was in readiness. Standing tall on the helm deck, the old woman who handled the ship’s wheel waiting for orders alongside her, Captain Stanager Rose gave the order to let go the fore and aft lines and cast off. With becoming grace, the Grömsketter waltzed clear of the quay and slipped out into the gentle current of the lower Eynharrowk. Adjusting sail and helm, she aimed her bow downstream.
With only the mainsail set, she began to make use of the current and pick up speed.

  Ehomba and Simna had joined the Captain on the stern while Hunkapa Aub lounged near the bow and the black litah slept curled atop a sun-swathed hatch, his long legs drooping lazily over the sides.

  “A fine day for a departure.” Stanager alternated her gaze between the busy crew, the set sail, and the shore. Only when she was satisfied with the appearance of all three did she devote whatever attention remained to her passengers. “We’ll be through the Narrows by midmorning. From there it’s easy sailing to the delta and the mouth of the Eynharrowk.” At last she turned to the two men standing next to her, once more focusing on Ehomba to the exclusion of his shorter companion.

  “Did you sleep well, herdsman?”

  “Very well. I love the water, and the cabin bunks are sturdy enough so that my spine does not feel like it is falling out of my back.”

  “Good. Later, Cook will begin to amaze you with her invention. We’re fortunate to have her. A ship may make do with a poor navigator, feeble sailors, even an indifferent captain, but so long as the food is good there will be few complaints.” Her tone darkened. “Enjoy the river while you can, Etjole Ehomba. Where it is smooth the Semordria is wave-tossed, and where it is inoffensive the sea is deadly. Throughout the crossing each one of us must be eternally vigilant. That includes any passengers.”

  Simna nodded somberly. “As long as one can see the danger, it can be dealt with. Sometimes even made into an ally.”

  She frowned at him for a moment, then looked away, returning her attention to the view over the bowsprit. “Your presence here is not required. You may relax in your cabin if you wish.”

  “Thank you,” Ehomba responded courteously, “but after so long afoot it is a pleasure to be able to simply look at and enjoy our surroundings.”