The ki-rin listened attentively. When Maquesta concluded the tale, he remained silent for a moment, then appeared to reach a decision. Belwar spread his wings, flapped them once, then spoke.
"I will remain nearby, keeping close watch on the Perechon, for the rest of your voyage. I have some responsibilities to attend to that may take me away from you on occasion, but never so far that Ilyatha can't summon me." Belwar paused, his expression serious.
"I will help you because you are deserving on your own merits. Your voyage may also present me with an opportunity to confront my enemy. But I fear there are other reasons to help. I have been troubled in recent years by signs of evil doings in the lands that lay to the west of the Blood Sea. I sense that the forces of good and evil are shifting out of balance, and we must all fight that in any way we can. And I think we can all agree which force Attat is aligned with."
Chapter 8
The next day's survey of the damage revealed the Perechon to be battered, but not ruinously so. Several of the sails were rent, and Vartan and Hvel were sitting on the deck, busy patching them with sheets and thin blankets. Vartan caught Maquesta's eye as she paced about, inspecting the damage in the bright sunlight.
"The sails won't hold, Captain," he told her. "Oh, they'll work for a day or two. Then I think Hvel and I will be back at this again. It's not that we can't mend the sails well. It's that these sails have been mended so many times that there will be more thread from our needles in them than cloth."
Hvel coughed to get her attention. "Maquesta, some of us have been talking, comparing how many coins we have between us. It isn't much. But…" He returned to sewing as he finished. "We've collected two dozen steel pieces. That, plus what you have left over from that evil Attat might get us at least one new sail."
She smiled and sat on the deck with them. "I appreciate that, Hvel, Vartan. We need new sails, that's for certain. I'll take you up on your offer, and the first time this ship makes some money, I'll pay everyone double who contributed for the sails."
She rose and resumed her inspection.
The imps had succeeded in battering a hole in the bottom of the longboat. Lendle assured Maq he could repair it, but she was skeptical when she saw him lay out a piece of parchment, grab his chalk, and start diagramming the repair-and a few enhancements.
The top of the mizzenmast, where the imps had been tugging to and fro, showed a hairline crack. Maq was seeing to this repair herself, reinforcing the wood and wrapping cord about it as added insurance. She scowled. If she had her way-and enough coins-she'd buy new masts and new sails.
Finished, she climbed up the mainmast and started scrutinizing it. She felt the wood and tested its strength. Her face clouded with concern. It was strong, but it was about as old as she was, and the ship had been through a lot lately. No cracks, but it was heavily weathered, and it would need to be reinforced. Looking down from her vantage point, she saw her crew working hard. No one was idle, and none of them seemed to be complaining. Even Tailonna was helping, though it was apparent the sea elf was not doing anything too strenuous.
A section of the deck railing had broken away and would have to be replaced with ropes temporarily. Fritzen saw to this, as his acrobatic talents let him dangle over the side of the ship and nimbly attach the ropes to the existing railing-while also inspecting the wood about the portholes, which some of the imps had chipped away.
Lendle's pot and pan holder in the galley was in tatters, a development that pleased Maq. The gnome indicated he would fix it, but first he had to finish his plans for the longboat and take care of replacing a connecting rod that had been destroyed by the explosion in his oar engine.
Koraf discovered that the most pressing need for repairs and replacements came not in the area of equipment, but supplies. The imps had methodically punctured all but one of the barrels of fresh water that the Perechon carried, and that crucial supply had drained away during the night. As much as she hated to take the time, Maq knew they would have to stop in the port city of Sea Reach on Saifhum to replace the water and purchase some more food with the dozen steel coins left from Attat. Perhaps they could buy a smaller sail with what the men collected. Koraf wanted the damaged crates, barrels, and bins to be junked. No use carrying around garbage, he said. However, he was quick to remove the iron rings about the barrels, thinking they might come in useful for something.
An hour later Maquesta found herself curiously eyeing the longboat, which was meticulously patched in the center. A lever-and-pulley mechanism had been installed near the front bench, and it connected to a rod that ran down the side of the boat. Following the rod, Maq saw that beneath the longboat was a bright green finlike projection on a swivel. She tested the lever, and miraculously it turned the fin this way and that. According to the diagram Lendle had left on the seat, the apparatus would make the boat easier to steer and would require less rowing. He saw her looking at his handiwork, grinned broadly, scratched his nose, and said he had other things to attend to.
With that, the gnome bounded away to his putterings, pleased that she had not criticized his invention. In the cargo hold and other indoor areas, he often had the company of Ilyatha, who had taken an interest in the mechanical workings of the ship, as well as a liking to Lendle. For the gnome's part, he confessed to Maquesta that in the shadow warrior, he had found the perfect companion-outside of another gnome that is. He, Lendle, could speak as fast as he wanted with Ilyatha. The shadowperson, with his telepathic abilities, always understood.
Maquesta, with her right hand firmly on the king's spoke, glanced to the horizon. The attack of the imps and the damage they had inflicted on the sails slowed the Perechon's progress. And it hurt the crew's morale. Still, it was obvious they were a determined bunch, and she could think of no other people she would rather associate with. Shortly after midday the sea's rusty red waters began heaving into great swells, indicating their nearness to the Maelstrom's Outer Reach. The Blood Sea took its name from this color, the result of red sands stirred up when the city of Istar collapsed and kept in constant suspension by the resulting Maelstrom at the center of the sea. The Perechon began a sickening up-and-down motion caused by first climbing then slipping into the trough of the huge swells.
Maq leaned hard into the wheel, steering the Perechon always to the north, trying to keep to the far edge of the Outer Reach. She was so preoccupied she didn't hear Fritzen pad up behind her.
"You've a good crew," he said, startling her. "They've done about everything they can with the limited supplies. I've some contacts in Sea Reach. Maybe I can borrow enough coins to get you a new sail for the mainmast."
She turned toward him, a smile growing on her face. "That would be wonderful, Fritzen."
"Fritz," he corrected her.
"All right, Fritz," she replied. "The men have collected two dozen steel. Perhaps with that-and with what your friends will loan you-we can purchase a few new sails. Better sails should improve our speed. And I wouldn't be worrying so much over them."
"Of course," he added, a touch of mischief to his deep voice, "if I get them to loan me the coins, I'll need some guarantee that I have a job here. My friends will insist that I pay them back. And I can't make any promises unless I know I've steady work."