For hours they pored over his designs until Ulin understood the basic principles of steam power and the potential of its tremendous energies. Now that he saw its practical application, he could not believe how simple it was. Water, heat, steam, expansion, condensation. He had seen it all in his alchemy experiments, yet he had never thought of harnessing the power of steam to drive a machine. Now that the idea was planted in his mind, he felt ideas popping like corn kernels on a hot skillet. Notwen’s engine was crude, Ulin saw, and the paddle wheel was inefficient for the task, but what if he tried…
He grabbed a scrap of parchment on the worktable in the cabin and began to scribble and sketch some of his notions. Notwen peered over his shoulder. When he saw what Ulin was doing, he grabbed his own pen and offered suggestions. They became so engrossed in their arguments and discussions that they paid no attention to the boat’s course or the fact that the wind had strengthened and was gradually pushing them steadily to the northwest.
They paid little heed to the passage of time, and the sunlight was slanting vertically through the tiny windows of the cabin when the crash came. One moment Ulin and Notwen were standing at the table, talking over the throb of the engine, and the next a rending, splintering impact sent them sprawling on the floor. Frantically, Notwen reached for the boiler and threw open a valve. Steam hissed into the air, and the paddle rumbled to a stop.
“What was that?” Ulin demanded. He could not see through the clouds of steam that filled the small cabin, but he could feel something wrong. The boat seemed high at the bow, and it rocked slightly as if caught on something. He rubbed the small of his back that had made hard contact with the wall and managed to scramble to his feet. The deck tilted at a definite angle.
Notwen clambered upright and opened the cabin door. Wind rushed in and swirled the steam away. Now they could see what they had hit.
“Great departed gods!” Ulin exclaimed. “Where did that come from?”
Notwen’s hands tore at his hair, and his face became a visage of woe. “Ohno, ohno, ohno! TheislandsthewindsIforgot!” he wailed.
“Slow down!” Ulin remonstrated. “Forgot what?”
“I forgot to adjust our course according to the wind speed and tides. We’re in that little string of islands almost in the mouth of the bay.” He hurried outside, Ulin close on his heels. Together they stared in dismay at the bow of the boat and the island that lay beneath it. It was not much of an island, being the tail end of a small string of islets that consisted mostly of rock, moss, seaweed, shrubs, and birds. Fortunately for Ulin and Notwen, the Second Thoughts had missed the large, sharp-edged ridge of rock on one side of the island and plowed bow-first into a tiny strip of pebbled beach at the foot of a tall outcropping.
Ulin hoped the damage was minor. When he glanced over the bow, he thought at first the boat had simply run aground and all they had to do was push it off the beach. “Can’t we just back it off?” he asked.
Notwen hopped over the railing to the beach and bent close to the bow for a more thorough investigation. “The boat can’t back up on her own. I haven’t figured out how to put the engine and gears in reverse,” he answered as he scraped away some gravel. Suddenly, he groaned and flopped to his back in the wet gravel. “The bow struck a half-buried rock. There’re at least two planks smashed and several others sprung loose. It will leak like a sieve if we can’t seal it. We’re doomed!” he wailed.
Ulin glanced around the barren little island and thought they were definitely inconvenienced, but hardly doomed. They had tools, supplies, and water to last for several days, and the two of them certainly had the skills to repair a small boat well enough to carry them to the mainland. He could even see the faint dark line of land on the distant horizon. When he tried to reassure Notwen, though, the gnome sat bolt upright and clutched the tools around his belt as if someone was about to steal them.
“You don’t understand.” His voice rose with fear. “Things live on these islands. Evil things! Creatures that don’t like invaders. Oh, they’re hideous! They’ll tear us limb from limb and feed us to the sharks.”
The mage felt a definite uneasiness creep into his thoughts. A chill ran down the back of his neck and spread over his entire body. Could the gnome be right? There were some truly fearsome things that lived in the warm waters of Krynn’s oceans. What if something vile resided on this scrap of an island? The two of them had only one sword, a handful of tools, and their wits to combat an enemy. Those assets might fix their boat, but they would hardly make an impression against something like a pack of koalinth, ghagglers, or even an irritated, territorial sea-lion.
Ulin clambered over the rail and helped Notwen to his feet. “What sort of creatures do you mean?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light.
“I think he’s talking about us,” a feminine voice said from the jumbled rock nearby.
Keeping his hands in plain sight, Ulin turned toward the speaker. When he saw what lounged on the rock about ten paces away, he felt his jaw drop open. A young woman rose gracefully to her feet and walked toward him. Perhaps undulate was a better description, he thought, for he had never seen any female move with such a supple, rippling stride as this one.
Long silver hair flowed down her shoulders and back like a waterfall caught in the moonlight. Beneath the hair she had a narrow face with a pointed chin, high cheekbones, and a small nose. Her lush body curved sensuously under an iridescent garment that clung like a second skin and barely covered the important parts. She raised her arms and began to sing a seductive tune in the rolling language of the sea.
Notwen gave a squeak of alarm and bolted for the boat’s cabin. Ulin could only stare, mesmerized, his arms limp at his sides, his mouth open.
She glided to him, her sea-green eyes locked on his. The late day sun glistened on her wet body and enhanced the aquamarine coloring of her fair skin. Rapturously, she lifted her hand and touched his wavy brown hair. Her fingers trailed like silken fire along his hairline, down his neck, and along his jaw. Both hands framed his face and pulled him close.
An inarticulate sound escaped him, but he could not move. His entire body ached to touch her. Desire rose like a wave within him and warred with caution in his head. He knew what this woman was, what she was doing to him. He remembered Lucy and how much he loved her. None of that mattered. His limbs trembled with his need, and his heart pounded in his chest. All he wanted was to-
The woman pressed her beautiful body against him from head to toe, and her full lips sought his. She gave him a long, probing arduous kiss until he was gasping for air.
Strangely, though, instead of feeding the fire that burned in his loins, the woman’s physical touch cooled him. His desire for her ebbed away on a tide of remorse, and he drew back as his cherished feelings for Lucy resurfaced.
The woman abruptly dropped her arms and stepped back from him, her face puckered in an annoyed pout. “Shells and spines,” she said peevishly. “It failed again!” She threw her arms up, a gesture of dismay, and sank down on a boulder.
Ulin blinked. He still felt very warm, but the strange surge of passion was gone, leaving a hollow place in his gut. Although he was relieved, a fragment of his male ego was as disappointed as the sea-maiden.
“I don’t understand,” she cried. “I am a sirine. My song is supposed to be irresistible. Why did it fail? Who are you?”
“My name is Ulin. Unfortunately, I am not the reason your magic failed.” He held out his hands and examined his long fingers that once wove spells with such skill. “Mine is gone, too.”