Gunderd rubbed his salt-sore eyes wearily. “Nor was there any need for you to kill them. The lifeboat is only half-full; I would have given you and your people places.”
“I appreciate that, Gunderd — but I didn’t know this would be your boat. The captain might have arrived first. I wasn’t sure I could count on his generosity.”
“I see your point,” said Gunderd. “Well, what will you do with us?”
“Nothing dire. When we reach land, we’ll go our separate ways.”
“Oh. When we reach land.” Gunderd looked sourly amused and said no more.
As the light grew, Ruiz examined the others. He didn’t know the boy, and didn’t remember Jeric; perhaps the seaman didn’t play cards. The fourth oilskin-clad shape was a woman with heavy shoulders and a coarse jowly face, who at the moment seemed to have sunk into a blank-eyed trance. He didn’t remember her name, but she had attended several of the kanterip games as a kibitzer. The last survivor was the ship’s cook, a tiny shriveled man with burnt-orange skin and a long white pigtail. His name was Einduix; he spoke a language no one in the crew understood. If Einduix knew a word of the pangalac trade language, he found it convenient not to admit to the fact.
Einduix had been a frequent focus of Gunderd’s complaints about the Loracca.
Ruiz sighed. The lifeboat held an unpromising company. On the other hand, their prospects were indisputably better than those of the other folk who had traveled on the Loracca and were now probably drifting down through lightless waters, transformed into fish food.
The wind was definitely moderating now; Ruiz no longer had to shout to be heard. It should soon be possible to steer a course back toward land. “Gunderd,” he said. “Come sit with me and tell me what you plan now.”
Gunderd shrugged and crawled forward to sit on the thwart beside Ruiz. “It would seem you’re in command, Ruiz.” He nodded at the splinter gun. “What is your wish?”
Ruiz slipped the gun into his belt. “No, no. I was merely taking precautions against rash impulses. You’re in charge. Now, where will we go?” Ruiz glanced out over the sea, which was still lumpy. A big swell was running, so that the boat rose and fell in great stomach-dropping swoops, but it no longer seemed dangerous. “Will we head directly back toward land?”
Gunderd laughed hoarsely. “Not a good idea, unless you truly are Immolators. We’re well east of the Namp frontier. Without Loracca and her ruptors, we’d be nothing but groceries to the Blades.”
“Where, then?”
“Well…” Gunderd rubbed his whiskery chin thoughtfully, “Difficulties beset us in all directions. For one thing, the Loracca’s owners were improvident beyond reason. The boat’s fuel cell is old and weak; shortly it will cease to supply power.”
“What about the radio?” asked the boy.
Gunderd gave him a pitying look. “This is Sook. Who could we call?… Where was I? Oh, yes. There’s an emergency sailing rig, but I fear the boat will prove unhandy. To return to SeaStack against the prevailing winds and currents… impossible.”
“And so?” Ruiz fought the return of a familiar pessimism.
“I see two possibilities. We could continue east, until we pass beyond the Namp domain. That course has perils in plenty. Margar hunters frequent these waters, and if they catch us they’ll sell us to the first Namp galley they meet — though they might keep the women. Onshore gales blow often, and might beach us in Namp. And once beyond Namp, the shore is desolate and uninhabited for almost a thousand kilometers, except for Castle Delt.” Gunderd made a curious gesture with his forefinger and thumb, which Ruiz took to be a charm against any bad luck that might be attracted by the mention of the notorious Castle, which trained mercenaries, assassins, and enforcers for SeedCorp.
Ruiz shook his head. “And if we survive all that?”
“Well, eventually you come to a market town at the mouth of the Soaam River, where transport south can be had.”
“What about the other possibility?”
“We could sail northeast. With a bit of luck, we’ll reach the Dayerak Archipelago in two days. You know anything about the islands?”
“Some,” said Ruiz in a somber tone.
Gunderd nodded. “I see you do. So, the islands have their perils, too. And even if we manage to reach a freehold before pirates or cannibals or cultists take us, we might have to wait for a long time before safe transport could be arranged. Where, by the way, were you hoping to end up?”
“Off Sook,” said Ruiz.
Gunderd raised his bushy eyebrows. “Oh? Well, good luck.”
“Thank you,” said Ruiz. “Which course do you recommend, then?”
“Neither beckons irresistibly. But I suppose the islands offer the best chance — though it’s a slim one, I’m afraid.”
“I agree,” said Ruiz.
Gunderd gave Jeric the order. The lifeboat swung off and began to quarter the swell.
As the wind dropped, the boat started to roll violently in the leftover slop. Dolmaero was seasick again, clinging to the gunwale.
Ruiz settled himself beside Nisa, where he could keep an eye on the crew members in the back of the boat. Once again he found that her nearness brought him a warm uncomplicated pleasure. “How are you?” he asked.
“A little better,” she answered. “And you?”
“I’m fine.” And in fact he found himself in remarkably good spirits, considering the situation.
She nodded, unsmiling. He realized that she still hadn’t forgiven him for his unwilling neglect in SeaStack. He resigned himself to patience; why did he expect her to instantly put aside all the unpleasant events of their time together? Corean’s catchboat, the Blacktear Pens, the dungeons of SeaStack — these were hardly romantic locales. He had long before promised her that they would escape from this terrible world — and here they were, further than ever from that goal.
A silence ensued, during which the sun began to glimmer through thin spots in the overcast. “At least the weather’s improving,” she said.
“Yes.”
She looked around the lifeboat and sniffed. “But I find the situation confusing. Sometimes we flit along in miraculous flying machines, with engines that make scarcely a sound. Now we wallow about in this crude and dangerous device. It seems inconsistent.”
“It is,” Ruiz said. “Inconsistency is the norm on most worlds. Pharaoh is different, because the habitable area is so small. But Sook is large and circumstances vary. Some people on Sook flake their knives from stone and wear animal skins. Others control technologies I’ve never heard of.”
“It still seems strange,” she said. “Can you tell me where we’re going?”
“To some offshore islands.” He might have preferred to leave it at that, but she pointedly looked away, as if she didn’t expect further explanation. “The Dayeraks.”
“And what is an ‘island’?”
“A small area of dry land, surrounded by water.”
“Does it toss about like a boat?” She spoke warily, as if she thought he found her ignorance amusing.
“Oh no. Most islands are firmly anchored to the seabed. Some are quite large, others no more than rocks that barely break the surface.”
“These Dayeraks… what are they like? Your friend didn’t seem too enthusiastic.”
“No,” he admitted. “Dangerous people live on some of the islands.”
She sniffed. “Is there anywhere on this terrible world where there are no dangerous people?”
“Probably not,” he said. “Probably not.”
Corean floated in Yubere’s silver and gold bathtub, enjoying the steaming fragrant water… and her successful occupation of his stronghold. Yubere’s troops had been almost pathetically eager to accept her leadership. She had simply presented herself at his security gate, as if she had every right to enter. They had quickly succumbed to her presence and her assurance.