“We’ll have it towed,” said Dromel, as if reading my mind. He was just behind me, his voice barely audible. “That’s what the bow ring is for, right there. We’ll cut loose from the tow ship after we cross Thunder Bay, then we’ll move on to the island. The ship will wait for our return off Southern Ergoth. It’ll be fast and safe, and best of all, nobody will spot us. Not even,” he whispered, “shadow wights.”
“Air,” I said. “We’ll need fresh air.”
“That round thing toward the stern, on top there, that’s a floating air vent. We’ve created a flexible tube to go from the deepswimmer to the surface, to that. We’ll release that floating intake, eject any water that gets into the tube, then pump pure air into the cabin anytime we want. We’ll be only twenty feet under the surface at most. Storms won’t be able to touch us.”
“Dromel, how did you think of all this?” I turned to face him in amazement. “You told me once that you didn’t even know which side of a ship was starboard, but now you’ve. . I don’t see how you could. .” My voice trailed off as I swept my hand in the direction of the strange vessel.
A muffled cough came from behind Dromel. He spun around. “Ah, Pate!” he cried, and he hurried over to a short, bearded figure standing nervously behind old Fenshal. “Red, I want you to meet the real designer of the deepswimmer, the genius who came up with every nut and bolt in it after I gave him the idea. This is Pate. He’ll be the chief engineer on our voyage!”
I stared down at Pate, and my worst fears came to life. I understood in a flash how Dromel, who did not know port from starboard, now owned such a monstrosity of a ship. My disbelief gave way to rage, and I glared hard at the bald, bearded, diminutive genius Dromel introduced.
A tinker gnome, the lost gods save me. Pate stared back at me with fear-stricken eyes magnified by his thick gold-rimmed spectacles. He clutched a trembling armload of ship plans, sweating like a fountain-as disconcerted to lay eyes on me, no doubt, as I was to see him. I could tell he was only moments from fainting.
“Say hello, Red!” called Dromel happily.
“No,” I said with a disgusted snort and left the building.
Day 2, evening
“Are you deaf?” I shouted. “No! Get out of here!”
“Red!” Dromel was literally on his knees on the filthy warehouse floor, blocking my doorway. “Red, you’ve got to go! I really need you for this! We’ve got to have someone who knows the sea, someone with real navigational skills, someone fearless, someone-
“Someone stupid enough to ride in a boat made by a genuine tinker gnome!”
“Berin Fenshal himself went over the plans!” Dromel cried. “He went over everything that Pate designed! Berin said it would work! You can go ask him, Red!”
I glared down at Dromel with narrow eyes, resisting an urge to strangle him. “This little runt-Pate, you call him-you said he’s going with us, right?”
Dromel was in agony. “He has to go! He designed the thing from my general specifications! He’s a real shipwright and engineer. He apprenticed under Fenshal himself, and at the Sea Kings’ shipyard under Wallers and Goss. Pate’s not like a real tinker gnome, Red, he’s a genuine troubleshooter, and he’s got-”
“Who else is on the crew? Or are we it? Get up, you look like a fool.”
Dromel swallowed and stiffly got up from his knees, dusting off his pants. “We. . we needed an outdoors sort. I found a Kagonesti, a good hunter and tracker. That’s even his name, Hunter, just plain Hunter, or so he tells me. You know the Kagonesti, don’t you, those tattooed half-naked guys, the wildlands elves? He’s really a fine fellow even if he’s not very sociable, but none of them are, I know. You’ll like him anyway.”
“Elves are dogs.” I started to close the door.
“He’s not like a real elf!” Dromel shouted in panic. “He’s good at what he does, he’s not stuck up, and he can get food for us on shore because we can’t store all that we need in the Mock Dragon Turtle! If we get lost, he can get us off the island! He’s good with all sorts of weapons! He’s a master of blades! You’ll like him!”
“Where did you get that?”
“Hunter? He was in the marketplace a week ago, and-”
“No, that name. The Mock Dragon Turtle, is that what you call the deepswimmer?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s the ship. You like the name? So, about Hunter-”
“Elves are dogs until there’s a war, and then they’re a pack of whining, floor-wetting mongrel pups.”
“Yes, I know, but no, not this one! Hunter’s head and shoulders above the rest! Everyone says so! He’s not like a real elf!”
“And what in blazes am I?” I roared. “Do you tell everyone I’m not like a real minotaur?”
It took a terrible effort to get control of myself. Finally, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This argument was giving me a headache. Getting rid of Dromel was worse than getting rid of a giant tick.
“Is anyone else going along?” I asked.
“No, no, that’s about it.” Dromel fidgeted. He looked very uncomfortable. “Almost, anyway. We need one more hand, someone to help with things in case of emergency, someone without fear. We can fit one more aboard without losing any comfort. We might need just that one more. Maybe. I’ll know by tomorrow.”
Silence stretched between us.
“Red,” Dromel pleaded, “I’m going to do it with or without you. If you don’t go, I’ll find someone else. This is the chance of a lifetime, the chance of ten lifetimes. I mortgaged my entire inheritance, all the lands my father left me, to build that deepswimmer and find those dragonlances. We can find out what happened over there on Enstar, find out where those islanders went during the Chaos War, and we can make ourselves richer than the ancient Kingpriest of Istar when we get to the lord’s manor I found on the maps I took from the naval library. It’s going to work, and I want you to be in on it.”
I mulled it over. There was always a chance he was right, and I’d hate myself if it really was the chance of a lifetime. I was defeated. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said. “We’ll talk then.”
Dromel nearly collapsed in relief. “By the old gods, Red, I knew I could count on you. You’re a-”
I shut the door.
Day 3, late morning
I awoke at dawn and once more went to Fenshal amp; Sons’ shipyard. I found Dromel inside the dry dock building. Beside him was someone I knew instantly and instinctively was our new and final crew member.
“Oh! R-Red!” cried Dromel. His voice shook with ill-concealed terror. “Red, th-this is our-”
“No!” I roared, and left the building.
“Hey, you big cow!” shrieked a feminine voice behind me. “You got something against kender?”
Day 11, night
My cracked phosphor-globe has gone out at last, so I write this using Pate’s globe. Our deepswimmer rests on the sea bottom now; I have no idea how close to shore we are, though Dromel guesses about a quarter-mile. All is blackness through the small portholes around us. We go ashore tomorrow.
It is very late, but Twig is awake as always, too excited to sleep. She looks endlessly through her myriad pockets. She hums to herself only two feet from my right elbow. Twig is a born talker. At least she no longer asks to read my journal. I refuse to let her see it, which infuriates her.
Dromel is awake, too. He plays with a phosphor-globe across from Twig, the pale green light leaking through his thin ringers. I cannot imagine what is whirling through his mind now that he’s so close to the land of his big plans and dreams. He has been very quiet today, his false bravado gone. Oil-stained Pate snores faintly under his filthy blankets at the rear of our cramped cabin. He sometimes mumbles in his sleep exactly as he mumbles when awake. I have no idea how he can sleep at all; after four days under the waves, we stink so offensively as to trouble the dead. I had heard that gnomes have a marvelous sense of smell, thanks to their large noses, but perhaps Pate is an exception. Hunter huddles in a ball at the bow window. I cannot tell if he sleeps or not. He calls his sleep “reverie,” like a half-conscious daydream. He cannot explain how it is different, but it does not matter. He is just an elf, as conceited as any other, but he doesn’t talk much, a blessing on a voyage where we have no privacy for anything at all, and every slight is magnified a thousand times.