Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

“Seesfar is high-strung,” T’hosjer admitted, “but she is the only one to have traveled in the region you intend to visit.”

“That’s settled then,” Ethan said quickly before September could think of another objection. “I’m sure she’ll be a great help.”

T’hosjer T’hos rose. “I will see to it that you are provisioned with whatever you require.” Ta-hoding started to speak and Hunnar was quick to silence the greedy captain. “The additional crew you asked for will arrive at your dock no later than this evening so that you may have time to instruct them prior to your departure. Come, Stonetree. I would talk more on this matter.”

The aged retainer bowed again, holding on to his pointed staff for support. They left together.

Ethan caught September by the wrist. “You ignored your own advice. What was that you told me about accepting the offer of a guide or else we’d insult our host?”

The giant looked uneasy. “I expected someone interested in topography, not revenge. She could steer us wrong, looking for her relatives.”

“Use your head, Skua. All we have to do is listen politely to her suggestions, nod approvingly, then go where our charts and measurements tell us.”

September nodded slowly. “I hope you’re right, young feller-me-lad. What’s done is done. But I’ve seen that expression and heard that tone from humans and nonhumans alike, and I’m telling you now that if that smoky little Tran sees something she wants, she’ll use the Slanderscree and the rest of us to get it for her.”

“Ability and determination don’t necessarily go hand in hand, Skua. We’ll be able to handle her.”

“Could be.” His eyes still searched the crowd without finding the shaggy-maned head he was looking for. “Could be also that if she’s convinced demons have shanghaied her father and husband, she’ll find a way to steer us straight to hell.”

“You’ve seen the survey satellite readouts,” Ethan reminded him quietly. “What makes you think we’re not headed there already?”

AS THEY PREPARED TO depart the following morning it seemed as though half the city-state’s population had gathered to watch. Poyolavomaarians sat on the docks, stood along the harbor wall, and chivaned on the ice, the adolescents showing off to see who could execute the most intricate and dangerous maneuvers. A few of the icerigger’s sailors were doing a brisk trade in goods they’d brought with them from Arsudun, still little more than a name to most of the islands’ inhabitants. Ta-hoding complained that he was fast becoming captain of a crew of merchants instead of sailors and that the Slanderscree was so loaded down with trade goods it wouldn’t steer properly.

Nevertheless, despite his complaints Ta-hoding was justly renowned for his tolerance. The trading was allowed to continue until the ship’s cook attempted to bring aboard a disassembled, intricately carved Poyolavomaarian house, for which he’d traded several barrels of dried vegetables from the ship’s stores. Ta-hoding let loose with a barrage which had his people scrambling to sequester their purchases belowdecks before he could throw them overboard. The next sailor or soldier who attempted to swap so much as a button would find himself tied to the stern of the icerigger to be dragged like baggage all the way to the southern continent, Ta-hoding roared.

The crew griped about lost opportunities for profit but returned to their stations and jobs. Ta-hoding might be overweight and slightly comical-looking, but there was nothing amusing about his authority or his willingness to bring it to bear on those under him. For their part the Poyolavomaarians applauded each of the captain’s inventive imprecations and urged him to still more elaborate flights of verbal-anatomical fancy. Or as September put it: “Nothing like a little cultural exchange to cement friendships among new allies, feller-me-lad.”

While exchanges, verbal and commercial, were taking place, Grurwelk Seesfar clung to the foremast rigging and sneered at her jostling fellow sailors.

It was Suaxus-dal-Jagger, Hunnar’s senior squire, who apologized for intruding on September’s observation with a comment of his own. “Perhaps you could lend your wisdom to a small problem, sirs.”

“What kind of problem?” Ethan sighed. For some unknown reason the Tran believed he possessed great powers of reconciliation and understanding.

“Two of them, actually. They’re right behind you.”

Both men turned. Members of the ship’s crew were going about their business, storing last supplies, cleaning the deck, pouring water to form fresh icepaths, and defrosting frozen pika-pina rope with a lamp. A few were instructing recruits from Poyolavomaar’s navy in the fine points of the icerigger’s operation.

He was just turning back to dal-Jagger when a blur near one of the main loading ramps caught his attention. His first thought was that two of the new crew were midgets. As they slowed and he saw their pudgy faces, he knew they were preadolescent cubs.

That in itself was not a surprise. Wherever they docked cubs loved to play around the great ship, chivaning around its tall metal skates and climbing on the cables that secured the ice anchors. What was surprising was that they were on board. Their antics drew angry comments rather than smiles from the busy crewmembers.

“They’re in the way,” Ethan commented. Dal-Jagger nodded approvingly. “Why not shoo them off, then?”

“That is the problem, Sir Ethan. They are the offspring of this Seesfar person who has been forc—assigned to us by the Landgrave of Poyolavomaar. It is beyond normal protocol.” The squire was obviously upset. “I understand as do most of us that we must accept her because to refuse would be to insult our new allies, but it is beyond common sense to expect us to accept her entire family as well. The Slanderscree is not a nursery.”

“Why not just let it slide?” September suggested. “What harm can a couple of cubs do? The trip’s bound to further their education.”

“The Slanderscree is also not a school. Nor is it a passenger transport. The crew are already complaining.”

“Absurd. Next you’ll be telling me it’s bad luck to have a female on board.”

Dal-Jagger eyed him oddly. “Why would I say a thing like that, Sir Skua? All who sail know it is the contrary, that it is good fortune to have a mixed crew. Not to mention more enjoyable for all involved. But you are not Tran.”

“Nope. Every race to its own prejudices, I guess.”

“This has nothing to do with prejudice. It is a question of what is practical and sensible,” dal-Jagger said firmly. He gestured toward the loading ramp. “Several times they have almost caused others to fall.”

“No need for a cabin boy or two, is what you’re saying. Our traditions ain’t the same either. Ah.” His tone changed to one of satisfaction. “The captain has been informed.

“Come on, feller-me-lad. This ought to prove interesting.”

Grurwelk was hidden behind Ta-hoding’s mass, though they could hear her stating her case as they approached.

“They come with me because I am all they have left. They are my family.”

“While you are on my ship your crewmates are your family,” Ta-hoding shot back. “T’hos rules in Poyolavomaar. Out on the ice, I am lord. They must remain here.”

“I’m taking them with me,” she growled, “so that they may see their father again soonest, if he still lives.”

Something bumped into Ethan from behind, nearly knocking him off his feet. When he turned he found himself staring down into a wide furry face. Its owner took a step backward and stumbled into his brother. Both of them fell to the deck. Awed eyes flicked from Ethan to September and back again. The cub let out a peculiar whoosh of chilled air, the small cloud like a visual exclamation mark. Ethan knew it as the Tran equivalent of gosh-gee-whiz.