by Warren Fahy
“We would,” Nil said. “Where do you hail from, Bruthru Zee?”
“Call me Zee, sir, for that is the custom in my native Sarkland, lost to anarchy, as you know. I was one of those who fought with Prince Tylur to restore order there, but Sarkland was too burdened by corruption when the earthquake struck. There was nothing saved in anyone’s coffers for that evil day. Order broke, and savages took over. I was one of a group of families who escaped and chanced upon Ameulis. We are forever thankful to be welcomed as citizens here, where we have found freedom and prospered. I will fight for that freedom. I do not wish to see it lost again in my lifetime.”
“I hope you will consider yourself the new ship’s surgeon,” Nil said.
“Aye, Zee, welcome aboard,” Lince said, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “I’ll add you to the manifest.”
Zee bowed. “I’ll get my things. Thank you, gentlemen.”
Lince smiled. “A royal crew we’ll have, Nilly.”
“Here comes a Monkey Sailor to prove your point,” Nil said, winking.
A diminutive man in a yellow suit striped blue strode up to them with a monkey on his back. “Cheers, Captain Ramesis!”
“Hello, good sir.”
“A Monkey Sailor?” Lince smiled.
“Indeed. He’s of the best pedigree. Trained him myself since I was a boy, and that’s 15 years. Finished first at the Logger’s Head heats last spring. He can carry a backstay 35 feet up, sir.”
“What’s your name?” Nil asked.
“Feferl, and the monkey’s Jootle.”
Jootle tipped his hat next to the man’s ear.
“Well, sign up at the desk on my say, Feferl,” Lince said. “Welcome aboard. A monkey will come in handy—so long as it doesn’t cross paths with my cat.”
“Oh, he’s smarter than a cat, sir,” Feferl said.
“We’ll see!” Lince growled.
That day more was done aloft than alow, for all below was completed by noon.
Lince, Bultin, Tintil, and Bat, another huge man who had a baby’s nose and ears and confused little eyes in his giant head, hung the Sea Mare’s great lateen yard on her mizzenmast. Then they fastened the stays and painted boiled sap on the lines.
At dusk that day, Nil announced the crew that he and Lince had selected out of the multitude of candidates. Among them were Rawley, who would be the ship’s carpenter; Lanning, who would lead the second watch; Bultin, Bat, Tintil, prince Rollum, and Senthellzia Tunn, who was the best archer to bend a bow in Ameulis. Of course, Lince was first mate, Nil was Captain, and Karlok Isopika would be second mate. Those chosen were ordered to rest, and they left to pack for the voyage.
Nil went to the yard house to inquire about the sails. Inside, he approached the ring of laborers, most of them women, whose young and old hands had joined together to double-stitch the great lateen sail that was 40 feet long at the yardarm. The mainsail, the spare mainsail, and both jibs and spare jibs had been finished and were furled beside them.
“How?” Nil sighed. “How could you have done so much?”
The lady nearest him, the round one who had spoken up before, laughed a gentle mother’s laugh. “My boy, we didn’t quit last night as many of the men did. We worked straight through.” She took a corner of the thick material. “Strong sails, these.”
Nil looked at her hands, raw from working the needle all night. “Good as gold, I am sure.” He glanced around the room. “Where is the Lady Martharr?”
“We finally had to put that one to bed. She led the circle. Never seen a fiercer taskmaster, though I don’t think she knew how to sew before tonight. There she is, wrapped in yonder sail.”
Nil walked over and looked upon her. Her hair sprayed in mahogany eddies over the canvas cascades of the lateen sail, where she slept like an effigy. He knelt in sudden fear and took her hand to feel its warmth. Her eyes fluttered and he withdrew his hand. “Your hands are pierced and chafed,” he stammered.
She smiled, reaching out. “So are yours,” she said. “Something else makes you pull away. What?”
He wished to speak, but a strange terror tied his tongue. He was no coward, Nil Ramesis, and his apprehension confounded him. He thought perhaps that she had been right to scorn him all these years. He could bear risking his own life, but breaking her heart was suddenly inconceivable. Making the kind of love to her that he had yearned and planned and needed all his life would be the cruelest of lies, should he fail to return. He rose. “I must supervise the rigging.” He brandished a troubled smile as he turned away.
He asked the round old seamstress to have the sails brought forth upon completion, and she laughed heartily, for at that moment they were done.
Lelinair watched him thank them all and then leave the boathouse, quickly, averting her eyes. It was crueler for her, she thought as she marked the irony and tried to read his mind, for she would live if he died. Yet she had no doubts now even as he did for the first time!
The mainsail, lateen, and two flying jibs were brought out and fastened in the moonlight as spares were stowed.
Teldon Martharr arrived and delivered a chart he had drafted of the southern waters. Though filled with question marks and speculation, it accumulated the most recent accounts and reports available concerning the strange hazards around the Dimrok. Some of the notations reflected observations made by mariners only in the last few days that were urgently delivered to him. Nil thanked Teldon warmly, asking him to meet him in the morning for final counsel. Teldon promised he would and told him that Senjessi and Poladoris were coming, as well, having attended to Artimeer, whom they had laid to rest in his tomb on the estate of Castle Martharr. Then Teldon rolled up his sleeves and went to work with the others on the last tasks remaining.
Nil fell asleep at his desk in the yard house, as he had so many nights before, and in a murky dream he fought off chimeras, each stroke of his sword multiplying them until he finally felled them all with one bursting swing and they all changed into Lelinair, slain by his own hand a hundred times over. He finally woke, wearier for his rest.
The captains and leaders of Ameulis gathered in Nil’s office at dawn. Lince wasn’t present as he was supervising the victualing of the ship with the cook.
Teldon described everything known of the terrors surrounding the Dimrok, and the many captains present shared their experiences and offered advice, though few knew anything about those waters, having taken heed of Trevin’s warning to avoid them. Each took Nil’s hand and gripped it tight. Then they left him to pack his final necessaries.
Poladoris stayed after the rest had gone and handed Nil a narrow leather case. “My son, here is a treasure that Artimeer told me to keep from Blox’s knowledge when he won the seat of Mayor. It has been secreted for centuries in a vault deep under the Congress Hall.” Poladoris opened the case and drew out a scepter whose diamond was the size of an orange, cut into many facets. “This ancient asterix is one of the Crown Jewels. If ever the King were to lose his scepter, this was to serve him in its stead. Stow it aboard the Sea Mare, for surely Trevin must have need of it now.”
Nil took the case and closed the lid. “Thank you, Father. In truth, I counted on it!”
Poladoris kissed his forehead. Tears glossed his faded purple eyes, but his mouth was firm under his hawk’s nose. “All blessings to you, Lord Ramesis, that I shall see you safely home, my son, and soon after a grandchild before I die.”
“Thank you, Father.” Nil embraced him.
A sky as blue as a mountain lake arched over the gulf as the Sea Mare’s sails were fixed, clewed, and furled. People still pored over the ship, which had not taken ten days or even five to complete, but only three.
Every last detail was attended to now throughout that day, and finally carpenters painted the crow’s nest green. The wooden statue of Trevin donated by Karlok had been fixed atop the mainmast—the very statue Trevin had charmed to warn of danger after catching Knot aboard the White Shark.
As a red layer of
cloud smoldered before the setting sun, Nil climbed the ladder on the wall of the two-story cabin to the roof. He took the helm wheel there as the sea doors were pulled wide by teams of Polwairns on each wall: the Gulf of Gwylor opened before the Sea Mare.
“Drop sail!” Nil ordered, and the men aloft released the canvas of the mainsail, which rippled broad as wind filled its belly. The men on the seawalls threw off the ship’s moorings as she surged over an oncoming swell like a leaping steed from a corral. Lince jumped up and down on the seawall as she hauled out. “She’s a fright, Nilly!” he cried as she passed.
The warship galloped, then, over the ocean as though on the verge of taking flight with all sails spread. But only a few hundred yards out, Nil ordered all sail furled, and she was moored to a heavy buoy by the stern.
The sun sank and stars appeared as a procession of longboats headed out to feed the newborn bird of prey with final provisions.
Nil moved about the ship in the Silver Coin’s light as supplies and men arrived. He inspected the catapults and double-crossbows on the aftercastle. Then he climbed the fo’c’sle and inspected the port and starboard crossbows there, each loaded with a single harpoon. Nil had designed them for the White Shark, but Karlok had donated them along with the charmed statue of Trevin. One of them had shot the legendary harpoon that slew the sea monster Knot. That crossbow had always shot true, according to Karlok, and always with excellent effect even when hitting unintended targets.
Nil descended the port ladder from the fo’c’sle and walked the main deck restlessly. He reached the row of millstones secured behind the mainmast and touched one, which was as tall as he was.
Just then, Nil noticed Pickle, the grim genius he had hired as ship’s cook. He was clamorously boarding with armloads of clattering pots and pans. Nil took a few kettles from his overloaded arms and helped him aboard. Following the sour-faced chef to the galley, he watched the inscrutable fellow fondle his new stoves with sudden joy. His assistant, Bombo, inexplicably backed into the irritable cook through the door and spilled a load of pans and ladles. Interrupting the burst of oddly indecipherable comments that followed, Nil took Pickle’s hand and shook it heartily—for he knew a good cook made for the best morale. “Welcome aboard, Master Pickle!”
“I annunciate my most grateful requital,” Pickle said with a flourish of his ladle.
“His varicose veins are feeling better today,” Bombo winked confidentially, ever quick to translate his master’s obscure verbiage.
“Never mind this lolloping rublet’s pulings!” the cook scowled. “I offer hieratic magirics to this argosy upon my verisimilitudinous pollicitations.” The skinny chef bowed solemnly before Nil.
Bombo winked. “His brains are swollen a bit, but it’s only due to spring fever, he says.” The cook’s assistant shielded the cook from his translations with a plump hand.
The harried cook hurried off to catch a boat back to the shore, and Bombo piled in behind him.
Nil scratched his head and decided to go below to oversee the loading in the hold. As he headed down the ladderway, Nil was gratified to hear the sound of the hull creaking and crackling, for the sea was penetrating the varnish and swelling the Sea Mare’s timbers. Nil knew that the ravishing sea would tighten her seams and only make the Sea Mare more impregnable. No leaks had sprung in the entire length of her hold.
Before retiring to his cabin, he mounted the aftercastle one last time and looked at the shore. She must choose, he thought. She must come to him. They would set sail at dawn.
Lelinair ran down one of the broad walls of the dock to see if she could catch a boat out to the Sea Mare, for she finally knew what Nil was doing. He was more afraid for her than for himself. She stood at the end of the dock surrounded by the huffing ocean, but there was no boat in sight.
She let herself look at Nil’s beautiful ship silhouetted on the shimmering sea—and for a moment, as grief overpowered her, she fell to her knees and breathed the salt around her in mortal terror that his splendid ship would take him away from her forever. The love-star, smooth and whole in her hand, had dimmed to a glimmer even as the Sea Mare carried Nil from the shore. Now it barely flickered on her palm.
Then, on the water between the Sea Mare and the dock, a cunning skiff appeared, showing a curious sail silhouetted against the moonstruck sea. “Hullo!” Lelinair cried, waving.
The craft turned lightly and glided in her direction. Its sail seemed to furl itself as it gently landed broadside along the stone dock.
“Good sir, could you take me out to yonder vessel?” Lelinair called.
The clear voice of the hooded pilot responded. “In return for telling me what yonder ship is, milady.”
“Thank you,” Lelinair agreed, and she jumped into the unusual little craft and sat on the forward thwart. “That ship is the Sea Mare,” she said as the boat effortlessly maneuvered away from the dock, its sail dropping. They cut over the waves, and the glow inside the love-star burned brighter in her hand.
“I’ve heard this is the ship that’s going to rescue King Trevin,” said the cloaked pilot. “Who’s the captain of this ship, milady?”
“Captain Nil Ramesis.”
“Ah. A worthy man, I take it.”
“The ship is as worthy as he. He built her.”
“Impressive.”
Lelinair looked at the pilot, whose face was darkened and whose voice was strange. “I am Lelinair Martharr. What is your name, if I may ask, stranger?” Lelinair palmed her crystal dagger as she asked.
“You may.” With one hand the boat’s pilot pulled back the cloak, and Lelinair gasped at the pale face of the Queen, floating like a cameo carved into the darkness. “I am Neuvia!”
“Your Majesty…”
She laughed gently in response.
“How did you come to be here?”
“Trevin made this craft, too, with his own hands. Only Stargazer may pass through his defenses. Alas, there is no way a simple boat of this size could rescue the King where he is now. Only a ship like the Sea Mare, with a very long anchor line, can reach him, trapped inside the Lightstone Tower under the sea.”
“Then it’s true! My lady,” said Lelinair, bowing her head. “Why have you not made your presence known in Ameulis?”
Neuvia looked away, her face shaded like a quarter moon.
“Our land has suffered in your absence!” Lelinair said. “Gwylor’s wicked mayor would have to stand aside if you took your rightful place as Queen!”
“If I were to show myself on Ameulis, Lady Martharr, that is exactly what would happen. Alas, I could not leave then to help Nil Ramesis now.”
“Help him?”
“Yes!”
“How would you help Nil Ramesis?” Lelinair asked.
“You care about him, I think?” Neuvia said.
“I love him like my life,” said Lelinair, for the first time aloud though she had said it to herself countless times.
“I am sorry!” A tear gleamed on Neuvia’s cheek. “I know what it is like to watch the one you love embark on a perilous journey.”
“How would you help him, milady? What would you do?”
“I am not certain. But I must try to do what I can. Trevin and I hid from the world and its dangers these last seven years. You can only hide so long before it all comes crashing down, no matter how strong or high the walls you build.”
A tragic laugh rocked Lelinair’s shoulders as she shed a tear of her own.
“Why do you laugh, milady?” Neuvia asked.
“I insisted that Nil Ramesis conquer the world first and make our home in it. The last ten years have been filled with misery and loneliness. Now I may never know the happiness you shared with Trevin.” The love-star burned brighter in her hand as Stargazer neared the giant Sea Mare.
Neuvia smiled. “If Nil succeeds and Trevin is saved, you will live the rest of your lives in peace. I promise.”
Lelinair fixed Neuvia’s eyes. “If Nil succeeds, you and Trevin wi
ll come out of exile?”
“Yes!” Neuvia clasped her hand. “It seems we have a mutual interest, Lady Martharr.”
“How can I help?” she answered.
“It’s time we both stopped waiting.”
Lelinair kissed Neuvia’s ring. “Yes!”
“Let us watch, from a distance, without their knowledge, and choose the moment and manner of our aid. Do you wish to see him now?” Neuvia asked.
The love-star blazed even in Lelinair’s closed hand. “No,” she said. “My eyes could not lie to him.”
“Then we should go. Stargazer will not let us be seen.”
The skiff turned sharply from the Sea Mare and raced over the bay. And as they sped into the darkness, the love-star dimmed on Lelinair’s hand.
Book Three
THE SEVEN ISLES
Chapter 20
Underway
Silhouetted before a sunrise of violet clouds, Lince stood on the main deck in a wool and leather tunic with a dagger stitched over his breastbone. Two more daggers were stitched to his leather trousers below his hips, with two more below his knees. He wore a thick belt with a big brass buckle and rubber-soled moccasins. He wetted his finger and raised it in the air.
The other men stood by, already assigned to three watches: watch one to the port sheets, watch two to the starboard, and watch three to the lateen sail. These would be their home stations, though they would be rotated.
Awaiting their first command, the crew was surprised to hear the yells and cheers of onlookers who lined the embarcadero and the three-mile jetty.
Boats of all descriptions raced from the docks along the waterfront to see the renegade warship off, including most of the fishing boats of Ameulis, whose captains had declared the day a holiday at least until the Sea Mare was underway.
Nil stood before the mainmast on the bridge atop the two-story cabin. And he looked back at the palisade where the Congress Hall still crouched under a wrathful cloud. A soft wind rifled the mariner’s long coat and he wondered whether Lelinair was among those cheering for his ship. But his heart was heavy as he realized that their gamble was too terrible for her, in the end, even as everything depended on them. “The people are with us, Cappy!” Lince shouted.
