“Southwesterly?” Rod looked up. “Does the current come past there?”
Captain Meridian nodded eagerly. “Aye, aye! ‘Tis that very place. Westerly of that, milord, I know naught of the current; indeed, I know naught at all, for never have I had any occasion to sail there. But north of that, there is no current; the whole westerly shore hath naught but tides and local stirrings.”
Rod nodded. “That’s where the current comes to Gramarye, then. This is the southern shore, Master Meridian.” He drew a long curve; then his pen wandered north. Meridian watched spellbound as the outline of the island took shape before him.
“ ‘Tis witchcraft,” he sighed when Rod was done, and pointed at the map. “Yonder is the Bay of Roland, and hither lies the coast of Romanov. This is the mouth of the River Fleuve, and yon peninsula is Tristesse Point.” He looked up at Rod. “Thou art indeed the Lord High Warlock! By what magic canst thou tell the shape of this coastline so well?”
“Oh, I know some people who do a lot of flying,” Rod shrugged. “Anything I’ve missed?”
“Not of the coast itself.” Meridian turned back to the map and pointed. “But you must draw the Grand Skerry here, midway down the west coast—and Geburn Rock here”—his finger jabbed at the map just off the coast of Romanov—“and… but, another time.” He waved the thought away. “There are a host of such things that are not on your map, but that any seafarer would need to know of.”
“Such as currents?” Rod dipped the pen in the ink and handed it to him, feather first. “Would you show me where they lie, Master Meridian?”
The captain’s eyes widened. Slowly, he took the pen and began to sketch. Rod watched flowing, sweeping lines grow from the pen-point, coming from Heaven knew where at Cape Souci, flowing along the southern coast, sweeping around the eastern coast and the Baronetcy of Ruddigore, around the Duchy of Bourbon and along the northern coast, past Romanov, past Hapsburg—and out into the unknown again.
Meridian set the pen back into the inkwell with a sigh. “Better I cannot do, Lord Warlock.” He looked up at Rod. “I know no more.”
“Well, I might happen to be able to add something there.” Rod took up the pen. “One of our young warlocks just made a quick, overnight trip into the west, you see.” He began to sketch a concave curve in the lower left-hand corner of the parchment. “He saw something like this…” The curve hooked into a right angle with an upstanding bump. Rod sketched a dotted line across the base of the bump, then reached up to begin sketching where Captain Meridian had left off with the current. “He was following that last party of raiders home, and from what he said, I’d guess they sailed along this route—which means the northern current flows down to the southwest, like this…” His pen strokes swept down to the mainland, then turned sharply to flow around the bump. “You know, of course, Master Meridian, that Gramarye is only an island, and that there’s a mainland over to the west, a continent.”
Captain Meridian nodded. “We had known o‘ that, Lord Warlock—yet only that, and naught more. Too, that much came only from tales that grandfathers told grandsons.”
“Well, our young warlock checked on it, and it’s there, right enough.” Rod’s penstrokes flowed around the bump. “We think this semipeninsula is what the beastmen call ‘home.’ It’s a safe bet that the current flows past there.” He didn’t feel any need to tell the captain just how safe the bet was. “Then it flows on southward, hugging the shoreline, till it’s warmed by this outward bulge of the continent, which also forces it back out to sea, toward the northeast—and, of course, it just keeps going in the same line…” His pen sketched strokes upward and to the right until they joined up with Captain Meridian’s line at Cape Souci. “… And there’s where it comes back into your ken.” He straightened up, dropping the quill back into the inkwell. “And there you have it, Master Meridian. Between the two of us, we’ve filled in a map of the current.”
A discreetly modest, electronic cough sounded in Rod’s ear.
“Of course, we had a bit of help gaining the basic information,” Rod added. “Does it all make sense?”
The shipmaster nodded, eyes glowing. “Indeed it doth, milord.” He turned to Tuan and Catharine. “Behold, Thy Majesties!” He traced the current with a forefinger. “The beastmen bring their dragon ships out into the eastward current, here. It carries them across, first to Loguire, so; then, out into the current, around the eastern coast, and away to the west again, o’er the roof of Gramarye, and so back to their home again.” His finger completed the circuit, arriving back at the bump on the mainland’s coastline.
Tuan drew in a long, hissing breath. “Aye, Master Meridian. So. We understand.”
The door opened, and the sentry stepped in. “Majesties—Gwendylon, Lady Gallowglass.”
Gwen stepped in, and dropped a quick curtsy.
“Well met, my dear.” Catharine rose from her chair and stepped toward Gwen, one hand outstretched. “Well met, in good time. These silly men are like to make mine head to spin with their nonsensical talk of currents and capes.”
Gwen rose, catching Catharine’s hand with a smile of shared amusement.
Rod did a double take. Then he straightened up, watching the ladies out of the corner of his eye. Catharine and Gwen had never exactly been on close terms, especially since Catharine had seemed quite interested in Rod before he brought Tuan back into her life. He didn’t think Gwen knew about that—but then, you never can tell with a telepath. All in all, this warm greeting worried him. “What have you two been planning?”
“Planning? Why, naught!” Catharine was all offended innocence. “E’en so, we have found some space to discuss the errors of thy ways, Lord Warlock—and thou, my noble husband.”
Tuan looked even more wary than Rod. “Indeed, sweet lady. And in what ways am I lacking?”
“Thou dost always speak of ways to go about beating other males with thy clubs, and cleaving them with thy swords. We, though, have seen ‘tis of greater import to ward thy soldiers from thy foemen’s clubs and axes!”
“A point well-taken,” Tuan admitted, “if thou couldst also thus ward their wives and babes, and the lands and stock that give them sustenance.”
“I hate to admit it,” Rod agreed, “but knocking a man out with your club is a very effective way of making sure he doesn’t knock you.”
“Ah, but in this instance, my lord, thou must needs make thy soldier able to strike such a blow,” Gwen reminded. “For that, thou must needs ward him from the beastmen’s Evil Eye.”
Rod exchanged a sheepish glance with Tuan. “They’ve got us, Your Majesty. We’ve been so busy thinking about launching the counterattack that we haven’t put much time into the psychic defenses.”
“Be easy of heart, lords,” Catharine assured them, “for we have.”
“Indeed,” Gwen chirped. “The means is ready to hand, as Toby and I did manifest when the beastmen fought our soldiers.”
Tuan frowned. “I fear that I mistook. Didst thou give warding?”
“Oh, they surely did!” Rod assured him. “We probably wouldn’t even have saved the handful of men who did survive that battle if Gwen and Toby hadn’t, ah, broken the spell of the Evil Eye.”
“I mind me that thou didst say thou hadst, for short spaces, dispelled the charm.” Tuan rubbed his chin. “Yet ‘twas only for brief minutes.”
“Indeed, their thoughts were too heavy for us,” Gwen admitted. “Yet be mindful, my liege, that there were but two of us, and that we acted each alone.”
“You’re trying to say they simply overpowered you,” Rod interpreted. “But what’s to stop them from doing it again?”