by Glen Cook
The Earthman observed without comment. Several vessels were already offloading ballast to be added to the fill. The Ship itself was completely surrounded. Curious sea people were looking it over, some lining up at an open hatchway for an interior tour.
"Rickli, it sounds defeatist, but why bother? You seem to have adapted."
"We did without for centuries. It was just a dream thing. Ships would come on pilgrimage and everyone would bring a stone as a symbolic gift. They piled up. Then the augurs built a little sawmill on the pile. It made cutting sandweg so much easier that people started thinking it might be handy to have an island just for that. So they started bringing bigger loads of stone. Didn't push it, though, because they were used to doing things the old way. Then the augurs built a bigger sawmill, that handled about half the sandweg used in the fleets, and a smelter where they turned out almost a tonne of metal a month."
He took out the knife that, with the captaincy, he had inherited from Dymon Tipsword. "This's a genuine Wintermantel. Better than anything they make here, but it took the man a month, sometimes, to make one blade."
Hakim laughed sourly. "The glories of industrialization." "It'ssobad? Look there. Places where they can take a ship out of the water for repairs. And ways where they can build a ship in a tenth the time it takes at sea, with a quarter of the men." "No. I'm a cynic. What’re those buildings down there? Beyond the drydocks and shipyard." "I don't know. They're new. Must be important, though. That's a lot of sandweg to hold out of ship construction. "Uhm. Curious." It wasn't till later that Rickli realized he had missed the specific that had caught the Earthman's eye. The buildings had glass windows. Hundreds of them, especially on top.
Partial starts on other buildings lay scattered over the manmade island. The augurs seemed to have a big program in mind. Rickli frowned. Providing the materials cost the fleets time and materials they could use themselves. He didn't understand. Unless there were rewards worth the cost, as with the sawmills and smelters.
Thomas didn't know what he wanted. Sometimes he would start for the pier, then would pace, then would return to wait till Rickli had fulfilled his duties. Then he would grow impatient again, only to repeat the cycle.
At last Rickli felt able to go. He left the ship to the duty section and, with Thomas's help, slowly advanced up the pier. He felt uncomfortable, naked, defenseless, so wide had the world expanded. And he felt dizzy. For the first time in a decade he was on footing that did not sway and roll with the restlessness of the sea.
"This isn't going to cut it," said Thomas. "I'm going to make those crutches."
They had argued about it before. Rickli didn't want them. But practicality began to alter his mindset.
"Where're you going?" he asked. Hakim was turning right, away from the rusty mountain of the Ship.
"I want to look at something."
But they never reached the windowed buildings. Rickli's leg bothered him too much. At his request they paused to rest in the shade of an oddly designed hull in the last stages of construction.
The Earthman studied it, finally asked, "How much glass do they make here, Rickli?"
He shrugged. "Things have changed. Used to be just a little, from bottom sand, for special bottles and trinkets."
"Handblown?" Thomas ran his fingers over the smooth seamless hull.
"Never saw it done any other way." He, too, studied the strange vessel. So much metal had gone into its construction. Surely the augurs wouldn't be so wasteful. "Is something wrong?"
"I don't know. This isn't my native sea. But there's something odd here, something that makes me feel the way I did just before the Grossfenaja surfaced." He caressed his talisman, which protruded from the waistband of his trousers.
Perhaps because he was in a suggestable mood, or because he was uncomfortable ashore, Rickli began to feel it too. "Let's go back to the ship. You make those crutches, and we'll poke around later."
"Crutches? Oh, yes," He helped Rickli up, saying, "Maybe you should think about a wooden leg."
"A what?"
By way of explanation, Thomas told him a decidedly fishy tale about an ancient seaman named Long John Silver. The idea intrigued Rickli. Though the notion wasn't unique, it hadn't occurred to him in relation to himself. He had encountered few men who'd had to cope with being an amputee. The state of medicine was such that few men ever survived such operations.
Returning, they encountered acquaintances from Replete, who, in good humor, offered to carry Rickli back to Rifkin's Dream, although the ship was out of their way. It seemed they hoped his luck would rub off. Though it hurt his pride, he accepted. His remaining leg hurt more.
As they moved down the pier, Hakim asked one of the women, "May I see your knife?" A shiny new fishknife protruded from her waistband.
Grinning, "Sure. The augurs are trading them for sandweg." Less cheerfully: "After Pimental, we're overstocked."
Rickli thought the Earthman would never stop turning the blade, examining its grip, thumbing its edge. Finally: "Rickli, can I see yours?"
The sailors, now puzzled, released him so he could hand Thomas the knife. It was one of only a dozen iron blades to be found aboard Rifkin's Dream. "Forged by Aullgur Wintermantel himself," he told the others. The smith, though a century dead, was still a legend.
The Earthman placed Rickli's knife back down on pier stone, suddenly swung the other so that their edges met sharply. "Thomas!" Iliyana's women growled angrily.
Hakim held the blades up for all to see. Rickli's had been deeply notched, the other nicked imperceptibly.
"A genuine Wintermantel?" the new blade's owner asked, her anger fading as she saw the quality of her knife. "Really?" "Yes." Rickli was dumfounded. His edge should have damaged the other.
As the sailors drifted away, talking excitedly of further trades, Hakim said, "You may get an answer to the question you asked the other night." He didn't apologize for damaging the Wintermantel. He seemed terribly upset.
Rickli let it ride till they were comfortably back aboard, observing ship and Ship from the captain's station. The Earthman stared into the distance and caressed his
"What is it, Thomas? What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure. The knife. The finish on that hull. The glass-topped buildings. But especially the knife."
"Why? It was a good one."
"Exactly. Too good, Rickli. I don't care what the augurs have been doing, they couldn't have made that knife. That was a machined blade, an Outside blade. The question is, did it come with the Ship?" After a glance toward the strange buildings, "I'm afraid of the answer."
Rickli made the intuitive leap. "You think the augurs are in touch with your people?"
"Not mine, Rickli. Not mine."
"Ah, so. The enemy. Your Fenaja."
Hakim took the talisman from his waistband, peered down its long axis.
"Grossfenaja." One word. But still he wouldn't elaborate,
"Your enemies are mine. Twice you've honored my life."
"So it goes," Hakim murmured to himself, the ancient acceptance of fate characteristic of the Children of the Sky. "No. They're merciless. They'd destroy you all if I dragged you in. If they're really here."
Now Rickli said, "So it goes. If they're that kind of people, then they should be enemies."
"Stay out of it, Rickli. Stay out. I'll try to avoid them. Yes. That's best. If they don't know I'm here, they won't bother anybody. I'll just stay aboard till you put to sea again. I'll decide what to do when you're ready to cast off."
But the wills of Fate and the Shipwrecked Earthman weren't in concert. Shortly, Rickli said, "What's this?" indicating a group coming down the pier. "Ship augurs."
A youth ran up, announced, "Augurs Blackcraft and Homewood request permission to board, sir."
"Granted." To Thomas, "The top people. Must've heard about the Grossfenaja."
"Uhm." Hakim was not convinced. .
The augurs were old, and some disabled. The lore mastery was reserved to t
hose no longer able to cope with the sea. Though the whole party boarded, only Blackcraft and Homewood, male and female, approached the captain's station. Both eyed the Earthman. . "Greetings," said Homewood, her voice surprisingly youthful. "It's been long since Landing was honored by Rifkins Dream.
"And longer since Dream was graced by the presence of an elder augur." Rickli decided he should try to put them on the defensive.
Their eyes kept drifting to Thomas.
"We hear some strange things have befallen in the interim." Blackcraft seemed strangely wary. "The years drift past, the ships come in, and sailors tell their tales. Some were hard to credit."
"No doubt. The young embellish with drama. A Saga grows from ordinary events." "So it goes."
"Yet these tales seemed no riging boy's daydream.,” said Homewood, looking directly at the Earthman.
"How can we judge the truth of sea stories?"
"Never mind the fencing, Rickli," said Hakim. To the augurs: "What do you want?" "You're the Shipwrecked Earthman?"
"What do you want?" "Are you the man called Thomas Hakim?"
"What do you want?" "You must come with us." "No," said Rickli. "Thomas is restricted to ship."
They were growing irritated. Blackcraft grumbled, "Captain, these are matters beyond you. And I remind you, you're no longer at sea."
"An oversight that can be corrected with a word."
"Tell your masters," said the Earthman, "that if they want me, they'll have to come see me themselves."
"Masters?"
"The: Outsiders. The Sangaree. The people who sent you here. The people who have been giving you
Outside goods in return for use of Landing. You probably think they've done well by you. But you've been cheated. Terribly. You don't know them, don't know what they are. Tell them that if they want Thomas Hakim, they'll have to meet him before the Children of the Sky. You'll learn." They could see Thomas was immoveable. Homewood bowed slightly. "So it goes." She and Blackwood rejoined their deputation. Soon one of the lesser augurs was hurrying up the pier. "'Ah." The Earthman chuckled nervously. "I was right. But I was only guessing."
"What's it all about, Thomas?" Rickli asked.
"My enemies are here. But they're not sure who I am." After a time: "You should have stayed out of it."
Rickli shrugged. "You're my friend. You were my right hand at Pimental." From the captain's equipment rack he took a shellhorn "You're one of our own now." He blew recall. Stunned silence settled over Landing. Then sea people were everywhere, running, Before the Earthman could protest, Rickli had had danger pennons run to the main and had instructed the armorer to fill the weapons racks. By ones, twos, and threes, crewmen came running aboard, battering the augurs in their haste to reach their stations.
"You're a fool, Rickli Manlove. This isn't your fight." But the Earthman wore a smile.
"Maybe. Stay out of the way till I get muster."
Other vessels, too, began readying weapons and sail. The chaos on Landing diminished as crews found their ways to their ships.
Through the confusion came a wedge of five tall men in outlandish clothing. Rickli stared. They were heavier than his people, more muscular. Even from a distance he could see that there was no humor in their faces.
"These are your enemies?" he asked.
"Some of them. Watch the little one. The one who seems the least. He's their leader, Gaab Telle. There're blood debts between us. I'll keep out of sight." He slipped down into the galley.
Rickli called his armorer.
The five came aboard as if they owned Rifkin's Dream. Their not having asked permission aggravated Rickli's predisposition to dislike them. The light one spoke with Homewood and Blackcraft, then came aft. All five had hard, dark eyes. Fenaja eyes.
"Where is he?" Telle asked. He glanced speculatively at Rickli's stump.
Quiet as death, with an expression as grim, Thomas slipped from the galley, his talisman in hand. He nodded.
"Right behind you," Rickli replied.
They turned. The leader went pale. "You!"
"Of course. I take some killing. How's the universe been treating you, Telle? Not well, I hope."
"But..."
"As a writer once said, the reports of my death were exaggerated. You didn't send enough shooters."
So, thought Rickli, this was the man who had tried to kill Thomas. He signaled his armorer. Crewmen began selecting weapons.
Men of Quiet Sea almost never used weapons against one another. Rickli doubted his men could now. But maybe the Outsiders wouldn't recognize the bluff.
"I'll make sure this time. This's one operation you're not going to wreck." He didn't seem impressed by the martial display.
Thomas pointed his talisman.
The leader laughed. "Bluffing with a dead lasepistol, von Rhor? Six years old? Gotta. Take him."
One man took one step.
There was a dazzling flash. The man fell, steam twisting from a small black hole in his back.
Pandemonium. Crewmen scattered. The augurs fled to the bows. The tableau of confrontation remained a tense pocket of false calm amidst the confusion.
Telle and his men seemed stricken. And Thomas, too, as though he could neither believe what he had done nor that his weapon had actually functioned.
Rickli took his ivory-gripped harpoon from the captain's equipment rack. A great calm, like that of the last moment before the cast from a racing chaser's sprit, descended upon him. The sight of one man killing another had not shaken him as much as he thought it should. Maybe he would react later, after the tension had passed.
"Six years, Telle. Six years I've sailed the quiet sea, without a hope, yet cherishing this thing. My only regret had been that you were still alive, that I'd failed and you were still peddling your death dust.
"I don't expect to live through this. I tried to avoid it because it'll cost these good people. The augurs think you're benefactors, yet you're raising the drug right in their front yard. When I die, you'll carry the candle to light my way into Hell."
"Spoken like a true hero," Telle sneered. But most of his arrogance had faded.
"Rickli," said the Earthman. "A favor."
"Anything, Thomas." "Have them stripped. Move the shooters forward." "Thomas?" Telle asked. "What happened to Nicholas von Rhor?" Don't mean anything here, Telle. And just between us, that's not it either." The bodyguards moved away. "Actually, it's Soren Deatherage."
"The Hell Stars'"
Rickli did not understand the exchange, but the winds of hatred blowing between the men made it clear they had hurt one another deeply and often. Maybe Thomas would explain later. But he doubted it. He had learned more about Hakim in the past ten minutes than in all the years before.
Thomas handed his talisman to the armorer, began shedding his own clothing.
Rickli had never seen Thomas unclothed. Now he frowned. The Earthman was older than he had suspected. His body hair was heavily salted with grey. "In the fleets we settle personal disputes by wrestling," said Hakim.
"Man to man, Telle. I'll be thinking about what you did to my wife."
A smile ghosted across Telle's thin lips. "Then I'll remember Karamar and the Hell Stars." With a swiftness that stunned Rickli, he picked.
Thomas was lighter, shorter. All the disadvantages seemed his. Yet he held his own.
He moved as suddenly as Telle, throwing an openhanded finger punch Rickli was unable to follow. Telle blocked with a forearm as he whipped past, flicked a kick at Hakim's groin. Thomas took it on his thigh, unleashed a kick of his own that connected with the back of Telle's pivotal knee as he turned. Telle went down. As he did, he caught Thomas's foot and dragged the smaller man with him. They rolled across the deck, kneeing, gouging, biting, then broke, bounced up, and squared off. They traded feints and counterfeints almost too subtle for Rickli to follow.
This, he thought, was another new facet of Hakim. The style of fighting was quick and deadly. He was glad Thomas hadn't lost his t
emper under the heavy, needling of his first few years aboard. He might not be able to work ship, but he could kill.
The fighters came together in a flurry of punches and kicks. Then Hakim was on the deck, bleeding from one cheek. Telle circled him warily while Thomas awaited a chance to regain his feet.
Thomas seemed less practiced and clearly had less stamina than his Opponent. Rickli worried.
Hakim suddenly seemed to do three things at once, reversing their positions. Now he circled cautiously while Telle awaited a chance to rise.
It went on and on, time weighing ever more heavily on the Earthman. He was getting slower. Telle began moving with more confidence.
The larger man suddenly moved in, forcing a contest of strength. For long minutes the two strained in one another's grasp; then there was a loud crack. Thomas gasped. His left arm went slack. Telle stepped back with a look of satisfaction — and Thomas loosed a kick that destroyed his knee as thoroughly as the Fenaja harpoon had destroyed Rickli's.
Telle went down with an expression of pained surprise.
Holding his broken arm with his good hand, Thomas circled, waiting to kick again.
Telle seized an ax from a nearby weapons rack, threw. Thomas dodged, but not fast enough. The blade opened a gash on the outside of his left thigh. He fell, his blood staining the deck. He tried to rise, groaned, fell back, dragged himself to the mizzenmast, placed his back to it.
Telle pulled a sword from the rack, crawled toward the Earthman.
"Thomas!" Thomas Hakim!"
The Shipwrecked Earthman looked Rickli's way. Manlove threw the ivory-gripped harpoon.
It slapped Thomas's hand. He held on.
Crossing the Finneran Bank by night again, Rickli Manlove peered at the Spiderfish. Unnatural stars had been blooming there since before sundown, Thomas's people had come searching for their enemies. Hakim's message, sent on Telle's Landing equipment, had gotten through.
Quiet Sea would never be the same.
Riekli thought of Hakim's talisman, of the battle, and of Outside as Thomas had described it before Rifkin's Dream had departed Landing. He wondered if, knowing of those things, the augurs would have pulled the Earthman from the sea six years ago.