Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

“Warmth and wind this morning to you, friend Ethan,” Hunnar called happily. “We debate on what to do next.”

“We still can’t return to Arsudun.” September spoke through the diaphragm of his own mask.

“Our first try at establishing a confederation certainly didn’t work out very well.” Ethan sounded depressed.

“What confederation speak you of, friend Ethan?” asked Teeliam. He explained their idea to her.

“That gives meaning to the lies of the false Landgrave Ro-Vijar,” said the former royal consort of Poyolavomaar. “The only Tran he seeks to protect is himself.”

“We could return to Wannome,” Hunnar suggested. Everyone looked to him with varying expressions of dismay or shock and he hastened to protest. “Not I, ’tis not I who wishes to do so. But I felt it but fair to certain of the crew to relay their desires.

“For myself, I admit I was skeptical at first, my friends. Now, the more we travel across my world and the more I see how such as Ro-Vijar and Rakossa conspire for their own benefit, pitting Tran against Tran, state against state, the more convinced am I of the Tightness of this plan. This union you have outlined is a worthy end to be fought for of itself, no matter what distribution of trade and benefits it also produces with your government, friend Ethan.”

September commented approvingly. “Nothin’ like some outright treachery and double-dealing by politicians to convince the citizenry they need a new form of government.”

“There are still many good men and women of the crew who feel differently.” Hunnar gestured at the ship around them, the populated rigging above. “They became homesick long since and talk more of mates and cubs and mistresses than confederations and politics. Adventure is growing wearisome to them, nor has our failure at Poyolavamaar inspired aught but despair. They wish for familiar faces and home hearths.”

“They’re not alone,” Ethan said, feeling a tug toward a hearth more distant than the knight could imagine. “Are you suggesting the possibility of mutiny?”

Hunnar executed a violent Tran gesture indicating absolute negativity. “Ta-hoding is too observant and too good a captain for that. Never would he permit dissension to advance that far. Where other captains might put disgruntled crew members in chains, he can disarm them with a laugh or a sailor’s jest.

“I wish merely to say that for this journey to show profit, we will have to have some success capable of raising the spirits of our less far-sighted shipmates.”

Ethan studied the parallel grooves the runners cut in the ice behind them. “We can outdistance any pursuit from Poyolavomaar. The question is, where do we go now?”

“Your pardon.” All eyes turned to Teeliam. “I care not whither you go so long as it is not back to Poyo. But I have listened well to your talk and believe you have the best interests of all in mind. As you have failed at Poyolavomaar through the wiles of its ruler and not its people, so should you try another state at least as wealthy and powerful, if not as aggressive.” She nodded forward.

“I am no sailor, but I know directions and locations.” She made a spitting sound as she spoke. “This is necessary when escape to elsewhere becomes one’s obsession. Less than two hundred satch to the (Tran equivalent for south-southwest) lies fabled Moulokin.”

“Two hundred satch—a fair journey to seek a myth.” Hunnar laughed and even Elfa looked dubiously at her savior. “There is no such state as Moulokin.”

“You’ve heard of this place?” Ethan eyed the knight in amazement. “You never heard of Arsudun, yet this place which sounds still farther from Sofold is familiar to you?”

“Moulokin is a mystic name on Tran-ky-ky, friend Ethan.” The knight was still grinning. “Many of the finest ice ships were supposedly built there, in its shipyards. Yet not I nor any I know of have conversed with has ever seen Moulokin, nor even a Moulokinese.”

“If they’re only a myth, what about the ships?”

“Friend Ethan,” Hunnar said as one to a cub, “all owners are proud of their vessels. The finer the vessel, the greater the pride. To claim Moulokinese origin for a raft is to claim a credit few dare to match. ‘Moulokin’ may be naught but an honorary title given the best ships built in many shipyards and bestowed at their launching.”

“Moulokin is real.” Teeliam refused to be dissuaded.

“You have been there?” asked Hunnar.

“No,” she said, suddenly subdued.

“Do you know anyone who has been there?”

“Not of myself. I do know of some who say they have traded with some who have been there.” Hunnar made a disgusted sound. “Its direction is known,” she said defiantly. “Moulokin must be more powerful even than Poyolavomaar, for it is said never to have been sacked by a horde.”

“Absurdities, friend Ethan,” Hunnar added gently. “The richer a city, the more attention it would draw from the ice nomads. They would band together temporarily until no city could stand against them. Not Poyolavomaar, not Arsudun before your people granted it protection, not Wannome my own. They could not withstand greater and greater attacks forever. The more attacks a state withstands, the wealthier it grows, and the wealthier it becomes, the larger and more frequent the attacks it invites.

“’Tis kind of you to try and help us, Teeliam, but Moulokin can not lend us the help it does not have.”

“What do you propose we do instead?” Elfa asked, challenging him.

Hunnar seemed a bit taken aback by the vehemence of her query. “There should be other states we can try, elsewhere.”

“In lieu of the most powerful?” She turned that uncomfortable feline stare on Ethan. He turned to Teeliam.

“How sure are you of this Moulokin?”

“Myths do not have directions.” She raised a furry arm, pointed just south of the bow. “There lies Moulokin, if it lies anywhere. Does it not behoove us to try for it?”

September watched a distant gutorrbyn glide by, eying them hungrily. “We can do both. If Moulokin exists, we’ll find her. If she doesn’t, we might as well search south for our next potential ally as any other direction.”

“I agree,” said Ethan. He looked back at Teeliam. “One more question, though. Two hundred satch is a long way from Poyolavomaar. Long, but not impossible. If Moulokin is so worth visiting, why hasn’t anyone from your city gone there?”

“It is a dangerous journey.” She paused, then added more quietly. “I would not hide that from you.”

“All journeys across the ice are dangerous,” Hunnar cut in emphatically. “How so is it known dangerous to Moulokin?”

“It is told that devils work between Poyolavomaar and Moulokin.”

“You’ve seen devils before.” Ethan patted the beamer clipped to his waist. “You’ve seen what our beamers can do. We can kill any devils.”

“Perhaps, but you cannot kill the sea.”

“What?” He frowned.

“These are sujoc devils who are invisible. They too live mostly in Hell. But between here and Moulokin they cavort close to the surface. Where they do, they bend the ocean.” She looked frightened now, for all her hard-shelled bravado.

“That’s not possible,” said Hunnar.

“That is what is rumored.”

Elfa looked accusingly at Hunnar. “If Moulokin be real and not a myth, why should not a bent ocean be equally real?”

Deductive logic was not Sir Hunnar’s strong point. “I do not know,” he replied angrily, “but the ocean cannot bend.”

“We’ll find out, because I guess that’s the way we’ll keep going,” said Ethan.

“As always, Sir Ethan, you choose boldness over caution.” She all but purred at him. Hunnar growled noticeably and stalked away sternward.