“I didn’t know you were quite so afraid of humans, lieutenant,” responded the captain. “I cannot have a frightened man at my side going into what might be a dangerous situation. Report to your quarters, Lieutenant Bothar’in, and remain there for the duration of the voyage. I’ll deal with the beasts.” Stunned silence settled over the bridge. No one knew where to look and so avoided looking at anything. A charge of cowardice leveled against an elven officer meant death once they returned to Aristagon. The lieutenant could speak in his own defense at the Tribunal, certainly. But his only defense would be to denounce his captain—a member of the royal family. Whom would the judges believe?
Lieutenant Bothar’in’s face was rigid, his almond eyes unblinking. A subdued midshipman said later that he’d seen dead men look more alive.
“As you command, sir.” The lieutenant turned on his heel and left the bridge.
“Cowardice—a thing I won’t tolerate!” intoned Captain Zankor’el. “You men remember that.”
“Yes, sir,” was the dazed and halfhearted response from men who had served under their lieutenant in several battles against both humans and rebel elves and who knew, better than anyone, Bothar’in’s courage.
“Pass the word for the ship’s wizard,” commanded the captain, staring through the spyglass at the small group gathered in the palm of the gigantic hand. The word went out for the ship’s wizard, who appeared immediately. Slightly flustered, he glanced around the group on the bridge as if endeavoring to ascertain if a rumor he’d heard on his way forward was true. No one looked at him, no one dared. No one needed to. Seeing the set faces and fixed eyes, the ship’s wizard had his answer.
“We’re facing an encounter with humans, Magicka.” The captain spoke in a bland voice, as if nothing was amiss. “I assume that all aboard have been issued whistles?”
“Yes, captain.”
“All are familiar with their use?”
“I believe so, sir,” replied the ship’s wizard. “The ship’s last engagement was with a group of rebel elves who boarded us—”
“I did not ask for a recitation of this vessel’s war record, did I, Magicka?” inquired Captain Zankor’el.
“No, captain.”
The ship’s wizard did not apologize. Unlike the crew, he was not bound to obey the orders of a ship’s officer. Since only a wizard could possibly understand the proper use of his arcane art, each wizard was made responsible for the magic aboard ship. A captain dissatisfied with the work of his ship’s wizard might bring the wizard up on charges, but the wizard would be tried by the Council of the Arcane, not by the Naval Tribunal. And, in such a trial, it would not matter if the captain was a member of the royal family. Everyone knew who were the true rulers of Aristagon.
“The magic is functional?” pursued the captain. “Fully operational?”
“The crew members have but to put the whistles to their lips.” The ship’s wizard drew himself up, stared down his nose at the captain. The magus did not even add the customary “sir.” His talent was being questioned. The geir, a wizard himself, could see that Zankor’el had overstepped his authority.
“And you have done quite well, ship’s wizard,” intervened the geir in soft, oily tones. “I will be certain to pass on my commendation when we return home.”
The ship’s wizard sneered. As if it mattered to him what a geir thought of his work! Spending their lives running after spoiled brats in hopes of catching a soul. One might as well be a servant running after a pug dog in hopes of catching its droppings!
“Will you join us on the bridge?” asked the captain politely, taking the hint from his geir.
The ship’s wizard had no intention of being anywhere else. This was his assigned station during battle, and though in this instance the captain was perfectly correct in making the invitation, the wizard chose to take it as an insult.
“Of course,” he stated in clipped and icy tones and, stalking over to the portals, glared out at the Palm and its contingent of Gegs and humans. “I believe we should make contact with the Gegs and find out what is going on” he added.
Did the ship’s wizard know that this had been the lieutenant’s suggestion? Did he know that this had precipitated the current crisis? The captain, thin cheeks flushing, glared at him. The ship’s wizard, his back turned, did not notice. The captain opened his mouth, but catching sight of his geir shaking his head warningly, snapped it shut again.
“Very well!” Zankor’el was making an obvious effort to contain his anger. Hearing a noise behind him, he whipped around and fixed a baleful eye on the crew, but everyone was apparently engrossed in his duties.
The ship’s wizard, bowing stiffly, took up a position in the prow, standing in front of the figurehead. Before him was a speaking cone carved out of the tooth of a grenko[18]. Across one end of this tooth was stretched a diaphragm made of the tier skin and magically enhanced to project a voice spoken into it. The sound boomed forth from the dragon’s open mouth and was quite impressive even to those who knew how it worked. The Gegs considered it a miracle.
Bending near the cone, the wizard shouted out something in the uncouth language of the dwarves that sounds to elves like rocks being rattled in the bottom of a barrel. The captain maintained a rigid, stony-faced posture during the entire proceeding, expressing by his attitude that it was all errant nonsense.
From down below came a great squawking bellow—the Gegs were answering. The elven wizard listened and replied. Turning, he faced the captain.
“It is all rather confusing. As near as I can make out, it seems that these humans have come to Drevlin and told the Gegs that we ‘Welves’ are not gods but slavers, who have been exploiting the dwarves. The Geg king asks that we accept the humans as his gift and that, in return, we do something to reestablish ourselves as divine. He suggests,” the wizard added, “doubling the usual amount of treasure.”
The elf captain had regained his good humor. “Human prisoners!” He rubbed his hands in satisfaction. “What’s more, prisoners who have obviously been attempting to sabotage our water supply. What a valuable find! I shall be decorated for this. Inform the Gegs that we will be happy to comply.”
“What about the treasure?”
“Bah! They’ll get the same as usual. What do they expect? We don’t carry more.”
“We could promise to send another ship,” stated the wizard, frowning. The captain’s face flushed. “If I made such an agreement, I’d be the laughingstock of the navy! Risk a ship to deliver more treasure to these maggots? Hah!”
“Sir, nothing like this has ever before occurred. It appears to me that the humans have discovered a way to descend safely through the Maelstrom and are endeavoring to disrupt Geg society to their own advantage. If the humans could manage to take control of our water supply . . .” The wizard shook his head, mere words apparently being unable to convey the seriousness of the situation.
“Disrupt Geg society!” Zankor’el laughed. “I’ll disrupt their society! I’ll go down and take control of their stupid society. It’s what we should have done long ago anyway. Tell the grubs we’ll take the prisoners off their hands. That should be enough for them.”
The ship’s wizard glowered, but there was nothing he could do—for the moment, at least. He could not authorize the sending of a treasure ship and he dared not make a promise that he could not keep. That would only make matters worse. He could, however, report this immediately to the Council and advise that action be taken—in regard to both the treasure and this imbecile captain. Speaking into the cone, the wizard couched the refusal in vague and obscure terms intended to make it sound like an agreement unless anyone actually thought about it. Like most elves, he considered the Geg mental process to be tantamount to the sound of their language-rocks rattling around in a barrel. The watership glided down on widespread wings, looking fearsome and majestic. Elven crew members, wielding spars, stood out on the deck and carefully pulled and pushed the descending waterpipe into place above the geyser. When alignment was achieved, the magic was activated. Encased in a conduit of blue light that beamed up from the ground, water shot forth and was sucked into the pipe and carried thousands of menka above to the elves waiting for it on Aristagon. Once this process was begun, the elven ship had completed its primary task. When the holding tanks were full to capacity, the magical flow of water would cease and the waterpipe would be drawn back up. The watership could now drop its treasure and return, or, as in this case, dock and spend a few moments impressing the Gegs.
18
Difficult to find, the grenko are large and savage beasts much prized for their teeth. Because of the animal’s rarity, they are protected from hunting by strict elven law. Grenko shed their teeth annually. The teeth can be found strewn about the floor of any grenko cave. The challenge in gathering the teeth lies in the fact that the grenko leaves its cave only once yearly to go in search of a mate, and generally returns within a day’s timespan Highly intelligent, with a keen sense of smell, grenko will instantly attack anything found in their caves.