Sulun started to turn, then caught himself. The sailors, or anyone, might be watching. "Why not?" he asked, just as quietly.
"Look at the whole length of the ship. Look at the length of the boom and the sweep of the tiller. How much space lies between them?"
Sulun looked, for the first time that day seeing the little ship as a complete unit. A good, low, wide design, he thought: sleek enough for speed, but stable in the water. A well-set long boom, and the tiller's sweep—"Oh." He saw it. "Maybe five cubits," he said, sighing. "No room for the engine. Very well, the sweep and boom will have to be shortened." But how many cubits? He measured it with his eyes, trying to guess at the right size for the engine.
"Another problem." Yanados pulled out a tablet of her own, showing the basic sketch of the ship mounted with its two side-set paddle wheels. "Were you planning to run the axle straight across the deck?"
Sulun was about to say, "Of course, and why not?" but stopped, reconsidering.
"Yes," Yanados caught the unspoken words. "How would the sailors get past it?"
"So be it!" Sulun flapped his hands in resignation. "The axle and engine should be mounted under the top deck, on that second level, the . . . uh . . ."
"Captains quarters, crew's quarters, and ship's stores?"
Sulun tugged at his hair, briefly wondering if he saw a few grey threads in it. "It shouldn't take that much room. Hmm, put the supply room behind it, under that last hatchway. A bit inconvenient, but workable."
"True. Now we come to a tougher nut to crack. Sulun, once the engine begins spinning, how can it be stopped quickly? Or made to run backward?"
"Why . . . It can't."
Yanados rolled her eyes skyward. "Then we must devise a way to disengage the engine from the paddle wheels, even turn it around and reengage, and that, speedily. Otherwise, once started, the ship can neither stop nor maneuver."
"Oh." Sulun gave her a sidewise glance. "Forgive me, but I don't believe I've ever so much as set foot on a ship before."
Yanados shrugged and looked away.
Arizun, who'd been impatiently holding the donkey's bridle, asked if they intended to stand there until dinnertime. The other two turned and climbed into the cart quickly, without speaking. Arizun scrambled up beside them, took the reins and fly whip, and chivvied the donkey into a slow but steady walk home.
The other two didn't speak for most of the ride, and Arizun, guessing that something was wrong, didn't prod them for conversation. Halfway past the market, though, Sulun drew out his last unmarked tablet and began sketching a new design.
"This isn't what you showed me before." Entori frowned across his table in the dim light. "What are all these complications?"
And how much will they cost? Sulun finished for him. "What I showed you earlier, Master, was a simple illustration of how the engine works. This is the full and complete version, designed to fit the needs of the ship. The finished version is always more complicated than the basic model, just as a painted portrait is more complex than the original sketch. Once we've completed a working model, we can demonstrate for you—"
"Designs! Models!" Entori shouted, his face turning purple. "Do you think I'm a fool to be misled by toys? Waste no more of my money on such playing! Make the engine for the ship, and that right quickly! Do you hear me, servant?"
Sulun only gaped at him.
"Do you hear me?" Entori bellowed.
"Er, of course, Master." It was the only safe thing Sulun could think to say.
"Then get out of my sight, and do it!" Entori lifted the bell's striker as if he might use it on Sulun's head.
Sulun bowed quickly, turned, and fled.
A faint sniff sounded behind the wall, but Entori, grumbling and shuffling parchment sheets, didn't hear it.
"Unbelievable." Omis put down his hammer and wiped his forehead. "You'll make the model anyway?"
"Of course." Sulun sat down on the nearest pile of iron billets and laced his shaky fingers together. "Yanados is carving the ship model right now, and Arizun's measuring out the drawings for the engine parts. We'll simply have to hide what we're doing, and make the usual excuses."
Ziya threw him an unfathomable look, but said nothing.
"Just how complex is the improved design?" Doshi asked.
"With the perpetual feeding assembly, it looks like a hoo-raw's nest," Sulun groaned. "I don't blame him for being perplexed by the drawing, but to think we can proceed without a model for testing . . . How can the man be such a fool? Is he mad?"
"He's probably never dealt with any sort of engine work before." Omis picked up another billet with the long tongs, and shoved it into the glowing heart of the forge. "He's used to haggling and debt collecting with tradesmen and creditors. It never entered his thoughts that metals are less pliable than men; they have no ears to hear threats or promises, no greed to entice, no minds to change. Therefore, smithing can't be hurried, nor engine crafting either."
"Metals have more honor than men," Ziya murmured, dumping more wood into the furnace.
Sulun hadn't the heart to even try answering.
"Enough wood, Ziya," Omis mercifully cut in. "Come here and tend the bellows awhile. That's a good lad. Doshi, put your gloves on and hold these tongs."
Sulun pulled himself to his feet and shambled off to his drawings. Best give Arizun some help finishing them. Time, time, not enough time: two projects to finish, one of them secret and one half secret, and all of Sabis was running out of time.
The bad news came to Sabis with a blare of trumpets in the early morning, a knot of troopers bringing back wagonloads of wounded at the north gate, and a horde of desperate refugees behind them. By noon the word was everywhere: the north had fallen. The riverhead lands were lost, including the last of Jarrya, and where would grain, wool, and mutton come from now? Prices jumped and bucked and jumped again like colts feeling the saddle for the first time.
At noon Arizun ran into the courtyard of Entori's house with a minimal bundle of purchases, a blanched face, and an earful of news. All the others clustered around him to hear it, repeat it, demand details. Yes, the north was gone. No, nobody knew when the Ancar would come down the river valley toward the city. Yes, there were refugees, many now and more coming, all of them desperately poor. Yes, there was talk of another draft in the city to raise troops for the fighting northward. No, nothing had been heard of the northern army except that it was in retreat. Yes, the docks were crowded with panicked Sabisans buying passage across the straits to Esha. No, he had no idea how this would affect Entori's business interests. . . .
It was Vari, looking back to keep track of the baby, who noticed that Sulun wasn't part of the goggling crowd. He was still sitting on the bench were they'd left him, ignoring his half-eaten bread and cheese, looking up at the sky as if hunting for omens. He looked not at all surprised. Vari watched, thought, then paced closer.
"You knew," she said quietly, "You knew it would happen. "That's why you've been so strange and furious these past few days. How did you know?"
"From Zeren." Sulun dropped his glance back to the food in his hands, but didn't eat. "He guessed. He told me. We must complete the bombard soon, very soon, or there'll be no city to defend with it. Do you understand?"
Vari nodded, staring at him, then bit her lip and went quietly away to talk to Omis.
Dinner was tense and strange. The master didn't appear, and Eloti put in only a brief appearance. The number at the servants' table seemed smaller too, though it took Sulun a while to realize who was missing.