“So now you are this legendary hero?” Urulani scoffed.
“Please!” he sneered. “Of course not-not that anyone will believe me. We’re going to go there-beyond the northern ocean into the lands of these myths. We’re going to see this place for ourselves, and I’m going to prove once and for all that I am not this legend that everyone wants to believe that I am.”
“What are you saying, boy,” Jugar asked.
“You’d like to prove that I’m a fraud,” Drakis continued talking to Urulani. “And I want you to prove it. . because until you do, people are going to keep dying for a dream that doesn’t exist.”
Urulani thought for a moment.
“Well?” Drakis asked.
Urulani smiled. “Prove you a fraud? That would be worth the trip.”
“For both of us,” Drakis replied.
“Then we go north.”
Book 4: THE SIRENS
CHAPTER 46
Urulani set two of the Cydron’s three sails after clearing the passage and set her course north from Sanctuary Bay toward Pilot Island, a nasty piece of rock that jutted up from the Thetis Sea. The island offered nothing beyond a place for the merfolk of the deep ocean to occasionally sun themselves and a point of navigation for the Sondau corsairs. By the light of the stars, Urulani caught sight of its southern shore sometime after the midpoint of the night, took her bearings, and after putting the ship on a more western course turned the tiller over to Ganja. Then she found a spot on the deck on which to sleep.
Watch by watch, the Cydron held its course across the Thetis Sea. The winds were not entirely in their favor, coming at them from three points off the port bow, so their progress was slower than the captain might have liked. It took another full day and night before the dark profile of Point Kontantine came into view off their port bow as the morning rays were spreading across the sea.
Beyond the point was the open Charos Ocean, a vastness that had yet to be tamed. Urulani chose not to make landfall at the Point-she would only say that they would not be welcomed there and that some things in the world were best left undisturbed-then turned their tack more north by northwest, laying on more sail. Now the quartering wind was to their advantage; the Cydron heeled over slightly and cut through the waves with vigorous speed. The sunlight was just failing by the time the ship eased toward the gentle slope of Cape Caldron and made anchor in a small protected harbor.
It had been a journey of just over one hundred and eighty leagues. . and to Urulani it seemed that the dwarf had talked the entire way.
“Where’s the manticore?” Drakis asked as he pulled himself up on the deck. “I thought he was down below.”
“Aye, my boy, and I can certainly understand why you would have thought to look there first,” the dwarf said, beaming his wide-toothed smile. He sat on the afterdeck, its planks sloping forward gently toward the galley benches just forward, a piece of driftwood in his hands. A small pile of shavings was growing next to his crossed legs as he carved the wood with a thick-bladed knife. “Indeed, our friend Belag does not seem to have taken to this travel by sea as so many of the rest of us have. Captain Urulani has expressed her concern for him on a number of occasions, and I have personally assured her that manticores are perfectly capable of sea travel. There are many stories-both ancient and in times nearer our own-in which seagoing manticores have figured prominently and acted most bravely. This does not seem to apply to friend Belag, however, who was most anxious to get off of ‘this barge’ as he put it and feel the ground under his feet for a while.”
Drakis was only half listening to what the dwarf was saying. He stood with a wide stance on the deck and looked about. “So where is Mala?”
“There you have the collision of both stories, for she went ashore as well,” Jugar continued. “I believe the captain called it ‘provisioning,’ and she seemed most anxious to do so regarding water stores. Apparently the next leg of our trip is a rather lengthy one, more than a week at sea or longer still even should the winds prove themselves favorable.”
“Belag won’t much care for that,” Drakis laughed. “So why didn’t you and the Lyric go ashore as well?”
“So I did earlier, but in truth I found it rather dull,” the dwarf shrugged, shaving another curling piece from the driftwood. “I attempted to enliven the conversation with the captain by regaling her with stories of famous shipwrecks-trying in the interest of better relations to build some sort of rapport with her-but she did not seem to appreciate the subject matter as much as I had hoped.”
“Is he still talking?” Urulani was pulling herself up over the side of the ship. The water shone on her dark skin, pooling at her feet on the deck. Drakis found himself staring at her muscular figure as she pushed the water out of her hair. “By the Ancients, how do you ever get him to stop?”
“I don’t. . but I’m open to suggestions.”
“Well. . do dwarves float?”
“We could find out,” Drakis agreed.
“Now, both of you just stop that kind of talk right now!” Jugar said, his face becoming red at once as he pointed the tip of his broad knife at them in turns. “That is a poor jest at my expense. . especially as I’m an important and critical member of this expedition whose knowledge will be invaluable in the days ahead! Threatening me with a watery grave. .”
“It would appear,” Drakis commented to Urulani, “that dwarves are not entirely fond of bathing.”
“Which is easily discerned if one remains upwind of a dwarf,” Urulani added.
“Why, I’ll have you both know that dwarves consider their hygiene to be of the highest personal priority in all levels of their society!” the dwarf sputtered.
“I never doubted it,” Drakis said bowing slightly.
“You’ll be granting me a far greater measure of respect once we reach the Desolation of the North!” Jugar said, wagging his wide fingers at the two humans. “There, at the end of the River of Tears, in the far reaches of the Sand Sea we’ll find the God’s Wall. . from which mountain peaks the dragons issue their mournful call! And who will interpret the ancient words for you then, eh? The power of the ancient magic of the Aesthesian dragon warriors rivaled that of Rhonas itself, and who will protect you from the ravages of its pent-up forces if it isn’t this humble fool of a dwarf, eh?”
“Humble fool of a dwarf?” Drakis said looking down his nose with suspicion. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that ever since Nothree. This ‘humble fool of a dwarf’ was spinning some rather impressive magics of his own that night.”
“Oh, well, not really as impressive as it seemed at the time,” Jugar said at once, his countenance shifting with remarkable swiftness from belligerent to shy. “It really was mostly the Heart of Aer that was impressive. I just used it to conjure a little trick or two.”
“ ‘A little trick or two?’” Drakis said, his words slower and with more consideration. “You bested not one but four or possibly five Iblisi with those ‘little tricks.’”
“It is most kind of you to say so, but, in all fairness it was only with your most able and impressive aid that such a feat was accomplished,” the dwarf said smiling once more.
Drakis was not convinced. “You’re a wizard, Jugar. When were you going to tell us. .?”
“It was a terrible battle, indeed, my boy, but at least we are rid of that chimerian Ethis,” Jugar continued as though he had not heard the man. “I dare say that each of us sleeps better at night knowing that he has gone on his way. I do not say that I wish the fellow harm-never let it be said that Jugar would be so cruel-but there was something about him that I did not trust. True, it is most likely that he is a fallen comrade lying scorched and broken among the ruins of Nothree, but, tragic as such an end may be, it has brought us to this fine ship and furthered us on our very honorable journey in search of your destiny.”