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The strange new commands were issued in modified Tran-nish sailing terminology, relayed across the
deck and up into the rigging to the sailors stationed aloft.
Just watching the huge natives scramble up the rigging into the shrouds in the continual gale gave Ethan
the jitters. And it would be much worse once they left the sheltering bulk of the island. But those powerful
muscles and clawed hands and feet held them steady as, one by one, the rust-green sails be-gan to drop
and dig wind.
Slowly, smoothly, theSlanderscree began to slide away from the dock, while the shouts from on shore
grew louder and louder. Eyes on the sailors above, September walked over and gave Ethan a sly pat on
the back.
"By-the-by, young feller-me-lad, did you ever manage to get that business of the Landgrave's offspring
straightened out?"
"It was never out of line," Ethan riposted. "I thought I did, but she wasn't exactly in the forefront of the
crowd, waving tearfully as we departed. perhaps not."
"I didn't see her either. Though g notice you've warmed up to du Kane's daughter." The lady in question
had vanished belowdecks the moment she'd come on board in order to get out of the wind. Raft or boat
or castle, that was next to im-possible on this world.
"Glassfeathers," Ethan countered, leaning over the rail to watch the ice slide past. "She's human, too. She
just had to have someone to tail to, finally. I don't wonder that she doesn't chat much with her father.
Certainly you and Williams aren't exactly the most charming conversationalists around."
"Sorry, young feller, but when I see hex it's without that fur and survival suit, figuratively speaking. That
kind of crimps my inclination to easy banter." He patted Ethan again in fatherly fashion and sauntered off
forward, whistling.
TheSlanderscree was moving out of tip lee of the moun-tains. She picked up speed rapidly as the
quickly maturing crew put on more and more sail. Even the moonraker was out by the time they reached
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the main gate- completely repaired once again. y then they were moving at a respect-able 30 kph. But
they'd be lucky to hold that, moving to the westward. Moving east, with the wind, however, the
Slanderscree's seed was limited only by the strength of her eels and masts and her ability to keep from
becoming airborne.
The last cheers they heard carne from the guards at the gate and the operators of the great chain as they
shot between the towers. Once free of the harbor's confining walls, 'Ta-hoding, praying all the while,
swung her in a wide curve designed to bringher back to the southwest and on course.
Ethan held his breath as the raft came around. No one could predict how the radical new mast-and-sail
configuration would respond on a craft and world far different from long- dead Donald McKay's wildest
imaginings.
The sails cracked like Williams' crude gunpowder, the masts creaked, but tire raft carne about neatly.
Everything held together as they slammed across the wind. They'd fol-low a gig-gag course, plodding for
thousands of kilometers. Even so, theSlanderscree would make good time whenever she turned
southward, building up to a nice 60 kph or so before she'd have to turn west into the wind.
He turned and scanned the deck in search of September but failed to locate hire. The big man had
probably gone below to get out of the wined himself for a while. Ethan saw no reason why he shouldn't
do likewise.
He'd reached the hatch when the sounds of yelling and hooting reached hire. It was several seconds
before he thought to loot skyward.
There, perched outside of the wicker observation cage at the top of the main-mast, was Skua
September, gripping the top of the windswept pole with his legs, waving his arms and braying like a hairy
jackass.
Ethan remained rooted to the deck until the big man finally tired and climbed down. He held his breath
all the way, expecting at any minute to see the big man slip or lose his grip and be torn away by the
clawing hurricane like the last leaf of autumn.
But he reached the deck easily enough. He walked over to Ethan, tiny particles of ice coating his snow
goggles. A gloved hand brushed absently at them. He was panting heavily.
"Quite a view, lad, quite a view! A blood-racing experience, what? How about giving it a go?"
"As you should know by now, I'm not the reckless explorer type, Skua."
"All right, lad, all right," the other sighed. "You're the feckless metropolitan type. Shame. It's an exalting
experience."
"I don't doubt it, but I'm quite cold enough right here without having to add fatal exposure and bodily
danger to it. I prefer the deck. I'll prefer my cabin even more." He turned and opened the sliding hatch
door.
To find a familiar and totally unexpected figure blocking his way.
"Good morrow, Sir Ethan," said Elfa Kurdagh-Vlata co-quettishly. "It is less cold belowdecks."
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"Elfa," he said haltingly, "I don't find this a bit funny. How did you talk your father into letting you on
board ship?"
She walked out of the hatch, stood on deck. "I didn't ask him. I hid on board til I thought it was too late
for you to turn. It is too late for you to turn, isn't it?"
"You didn't ask him? How the hell did you sneak on?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]