Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

“Their profession makes them thrice welcome, then,” said Fahdig.

“Yes. What I want to know is, would it be possible for them to have a look through your libraries? They’d both be forever grateful.”

“Tis not often done with outsiders, but then few express the desire to share of our knowledge. Peasants! Most who stop at the monastery are of lower lifes, merchants and dealers with goods to barter.”

“I understand perfectly,” replied Ethan with a straight face.

Fahdig continued more cheerfully. “But if these companions of yours are true scholars, I am sure the Brotherhood would be pleased to have them enjoy the results of many years’ labor. Yes, consider it agreed!”

“Thank you, Fahdig. I’m sure they’ll be demonstrably grateful.”

“If knowledge is spread,” intoned their guide a bit pompously, “then that is thanks enough, for it holds back the encroachment of the Dark One!”

“Oh, absolutely,” agreed Ethan.

Fahdig accompanied them to the bottom of the switchbacks and said he would meet them there an hour before the sun disappeared behind the mountains.

Hunnar formally accepted the Prior’s invitation and they started back to the raft.

Ta-hoding’s anxious face conveyed more questions than a thousand words.

“Everything is fine, captain,” said September. “This place is run by a crowd of desiccated old bookworms. Didn’t see a spear or bow in the whole mausoleum. We’ve got permission to use the harbor for as long as we need. They won’t give us any trouble… Oh, one other thing.” He paused. “We’ve been invited to supper.”

Ta-hoding raised his eyes meaningfully. “Up there ?”

“Did you think it was going to be catered?”

“Then,” the captain replied, “you will extend my regrets to our hosts for my absence. I must decline… until you return to us with another sky-boat. Your pardon.” He shuffled off and began bawling out a crewman who’d mistied a knot.

Their report drew a mixed reaction from the others. Balavere in particular found their isolated hosts too polite for his liking. But Hunnar reminded the General that the small farming and hunting villages they’d passed had seemed equally open and unmilitary. Clearly this area was not visited by such as the Horde.

“We’ve also been extended the services of the monastery for this night, at least,” he added. Ethan expressed his own pleasure at the chance to sleep in a real bed for a change. One that did not rock with the wind.

Hellespont du Kane professed indifference, but Colette was plainly as excited by the offer as Ethan. Even if it meant a five-hundred-meter ascent.

When they received the news about the libraries, of course, there was no holding the two wizards, just as Ethan had predicted. In fact, they insisted on leaving immediately and making their own way to the top.

Hunnar argued mildly that arriving early might be construed as a breach of local etiquette. But Ethan and September disagreed, citing the unfailing kindness and open helpfulness of the Prior and Fahdig. Without waiting for an official decision, both Eer-Meesach and Williams vanished up the nearest hatchway.

“That’s the last we’ll see of those two for a while,” said Budjir gruffly. Ethan was surprised. Rarely did either of the squires offer an unsolicited comment.

“Why do you say that, Budjir?”

“I do not understand those two,” he replied. “Their constant chatter hurts my head.”

“Don’t let it bother you, Budjir,” said September jovially, clapping the huge tran on the shoulder. “Sometimes I find myself in complete agreement with you. Now a tall tankard of reedle and a shapely female, eh?”

The squire grinned and the slitted pupils focused fondly on something in the far distance.

Ethan observed this comradely by-play and muttered, “Communication… it’s wonderful,” and turned to go to his own cabin to prepare himself for the overnight stay.

Work on the repairs proceeded steadily and at a relaxed pace. There was no need to rush the workmen. This time they could make a decent job of the foremast, too. And while the temporary repairs on the fore port runner had held up better than anyone had a right to expect, Ta-hoding was relieved at the chance to fix it properly.

Timbers and bracing had been set up beneath the bow and the metalworkers were already beginning to rebolt the recalcitrant skate to the raft hull.

That would be finished by the time it grew too dark to work. The broken spars, foremast, and bowsprit could be fixed tomorrow. On the open ice in an average wind the work would have taken at least a week. In the protective shadow of the towering crags they could finish the same task in two days.

The humans were not alone in their desire to experience a soft, stable bed. Most of the crew would have gone along too. But Hunnar and Ethan remembered the Prior’s comments about his “simple but nourishing fare.” Despite the old scholar’s obvious willingness to share all, there was no need to overdo their welcome.

So the overnight party consisted of the little band of humans, Hunnar and his two squires, and Elfa. The two wizards were already on their way up. Still suffering from his arrow wound, General Balavere elected to remain on board.

Fahdig awaited them at the cliff base. His clothing was the same white robe, but he carried a lamp in case, as he put it, “some among you should find the climb excessively strenuous and wish to turn back with some light.”

As it turned out, everyone finished the ascent. Colette’s fear of the black abyss to one side was openly evident. Ethan felt no shame in joining her in hugging the mountainside.

Much to everyone’s distraction, Elfa insisted on running and skipping alongside the inadequate stone railing, not to mention leaning over the edge and pointing out this or that unusual feature in the depths below.

Once, laughing, she even climbed onto the rail itself. She walked along the narrow stone coping, teetering on the lip of the drop. Ethan couldn’t watch her. It didn’t go on for long, because Hunnar threatened to tie her wrists to her ankles and drag her the rest of the way up.

She grumbled, but climbed down—to everyone’s immense relief.

Once they’d passed through the first dark hallway, Fahdig led them upwards via a different route than the one they’d first traversed. They passed a long, comfortable-looking room and he indicated the beds neatly lined against both walls inside.

“For tonight,” he informed them unnecessarily.

There was no wall fireplace. Instead, a central pit was sunk into the center of the floor and filled with logs and brash. Just above the pit a large wooden funnel lined with copper narrowed into a long black pipe that disappeared into the ceiling.

In one respect, then, these isolated scholars were ahead of the busy commercial port of Wannome. They’d developed a rudimentary form of real heating. It was more efficient than a fireplace—provided all the waste particles went up the funnel and not onto one’s bed. Several windows in the east wall would let in the morning light. Lamps and torches were mounted on the walls. With the single door shut it would be very comfortable.

“Very pleasant-looking dormitory,” complimented September. “Is this how you fellas live?”

“Oh no,” Fahdig replied. “Each of the Brothers has his own small vestibule. This is a study room.”

“With beds?”

“In a gesture of friendship, some among the Brotherhood have given up their beds for the night. They will sleep on pallets. Tis good for the body and the mind, now and then. Tables and chairs normally fill this room. They will return when you have departed.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” said Ethan. “We’re sorry to put you to so much trouble.”