Authors: Christopher Rowley
Lessis laughed, a light sound.
"I can tell you this much, my friend, it is much easier to see you and talk to you than it was at our last meeting!"
The others were staring at him agog.
"Well, Relkin, once again I find you caught up in great events. I am more than ever convinced that the Mother has selected you for some great and peculiar destiny."
"Destiny?" That word again! "Oh, no, not again. My last experience with destiny was enough."
Lessis laughed again. "Yet you survived. You always survive, young man. Perhaps old Caymo is rolling the dice for you after all."
Relkin's eyes widened to hear a Witch of the Great Mother so casually speak the name of one of the old gods.
She looked up. "And these are members of the 109th fighting Marneri dragons, too, I take it."
"Yes, Lady. May I present dragoneers Swane, Manuel, and Endi."
They stiffened to attention and saluted.
"I am honored to meet you," said Lessis, taking their hands one at a time. "But, alas, time is pressing, and I am afraid we shall have to depart."
Lessis turned to Lagdalen, and shortly afterward the two small figures in grey went down the ship's side to the cutter along with Captain Renard. Shortly afterward the
Lyre
clapped on more canvas and slipped ahead of the
Barley
and forged into the open sea.
The fleet made the passage of Cape Hazard in the space of two days on fortunate winds. Almost immediately they picked up the winter winds out of the Gulf of Ourdh and enjoyed three solid weeks of fine sailing, making one hundred and fifty miles a day and advancing across the Indramatic Ocean in a long gentle slant, west and south.
During this period, life aboard the white ships settled into a steady routine. Men and dragons exercised in shifts on the foredeck. Kit and drill was inspected at noon. Enormous meals were served out three times a day, and in the evenings there was a ration of whiskey for the men and ale for the dragons. This usually started everyone singing, which would go on until sleep claimed the hardiest.
While the men and dragons were thus occupied, the crews of the ships concentrated on their work, which was not onerous in these conditions. The crews were of mixed sex, in the Cunfshon way, women and men working together in absolute equality. Of course, such women as these were strong enough to pull their own weight, able to climb the rigging and swing out on the yards to set and reef sails as well as the men, not to mention hauling on lines and heaving on the capstans.
In the normal course of their lives at sea, even over long voyages, the crews of the white ships of Cunfshon adjusted to their situation. The rule was that romantic interludes between crew members were forbidden and that if they occurred then the parties would be set down at the end of the voyage and written out of the ship's company, in effect retired from service. For the most part, this had served the Cunfshoni navy well, and the tradition continued in the fleets of the Argonath. Indeed, the kind of woman who generally took to the seafaring life was not the marrying kind and often enough had little or no interest in men.
The great white ships primarily carried cargoes of grain, lumber, livestock, and the like. There were passengers, of course, but never more than a hundred or so, and these were berthed in the stern and were rarely seen anywhere except on the quarterdeck. Passengers were taken care of by a special team of servants, and there was almost no contact between passengers and crew. Thus the normal sailing life was one of calm attention to routine, with occasional periods of storm and trial and other, more pleasant interruptions in foreign ports and exotic locales.
Using the great ships as troop ships, packing them with thousands of young men in the prime of their youth, put the institutions of the Cunfshon naval service to their sternest test.
Even the most hard-bitten old sailor gal, with sunbleached hair, craggy face, and arms thick with muscles, became the focus of ardent intentions. Some were amused, at first, others outraged from the beginning. After weeks of it, they were all hot and bothered. One or two were even guilty of enjoying little flings with carefully chosen legionaries. Such cracks in the wall between crew and passengers inevitably sparked wild rumors and caused problems.
Aboard the
Barley
there was friction between a couple of young female sailors and some men from the Talion Light Horse. These particular women had no interest in men, and they very much resented the attentions of the horsemen. There was some verbal back and forth. One of the horsemen grew rancorous and attempted to clamber into the rigging to chastise one of the young women. This put him at a disadvantage, and in the ensuing clash he was cut on the arm and unceremoniously dumped off the yard to land ignominiously in the side netting where some older hands, men, had to help him out and pat him down before his fellows could take him to the sick bay to have his wound attended to.
This reverse put the men of the Light Horse on their mettle, and some were muttering about getting their swords out when Captain Septeen of the Talion brigade came on deck and quelled things for the time being.
But the mere presence of hundreds of young men starved for the affectionate company of women served to keep the temperature high. All of the female sailors felt the constant pressure of hungry male eyes directed at them.
The crew berthed in the forecastle, well away from the legionaries crammed in the holds and the orlop, but after one drunken corporal was found trying to break into a sailor's cabin, the crew demanded a guard be set. Commander Voolward issued a stern order forbidding any interference with the crew and threatening flogging if he was disobeyed.
For a week this kept the peace, then a fool from the Pennar Third Regiment attacked one of the youngest sailorwomen and tried to rape her. She beat him off and escaped, but he was seen and captured at once.
Captain Olinas summoned Commander Voolward to the quarterdeck and demanded punishments as laid down by the Great Weals of Cunfshon.
Voolward blanched, then refused. "You know well enough that we do not castrate in the Argonadi legions."
Their voices rose and on a ship, even one as large as the
Barley
, loud voices could be heard all over the ship. Captain Olinas took her case to Admiral Cranx.
In the end Voolward promised to mete out field punishment for the man if he was found guilty by a drumhead tribunal. He agreed that in this situation it was impossible to wait until they returned to safe harbor where a full court-martial could be held.
Commanders from four regiments gathered to hear the case. The evidence was overwhelming, in addition to the accuser, there were three eyewitnesses to the latter stages of the attack.
With the drum tolling, the man was seized up to a grating and given fifty lashes. This put a damper on things for quite a while. None of the crew, male or female, would speak to the soldiers and vice versa.
The only groups not included in the hostilities were the dragon squadrons. The crew tended to venerate the dragons and to accept that the dragonboys were different from the mass of soldiers belowdecks. They were only youths and boys, after all. When two dragons exercised on the foredeck, the crew would watch with awed expressions. The dragonboys found themselves in the role of unwilling intermediaries between crew and soldiers. It was surprising how much trade went on, in such commodities as batshooba, tobacco, betel, sugar candies, even religious tracts and books.
It was from his enthusiastic participation in such trading that Swane found himself with a terrible problem in the person of one Birjit Oolson. Birjit was a she-hulk of great size and strength. She served in the mainmast section and was a powerful hand with rope and line. Swane acted as go-between for a set of scrimshaw chessmen, exchanged for tobacco, which Birjit liked to chew and which had long ago stained her teeth a dark brown.
Swane discovered his predicament one evening when Birjit lured him to her cabin in the forecastle with the offer of some rum. Swane was at an age when he would often get himself into trouble quite thoughtlessly. Here he failed to notice the signals of approaching difficulties. The heavy breathing, the weird smiles that contorted Birjit's angular, leathery visage, the strange simpering expression that came over her when she watched him during the morning hosing down on the foredeck.
In the cabin Swane drank some of her rum and then had to fight off the burly Birjit when she put her arms around him and tried to kiss him. It was quite a struggle, for while Swane was the biggest and strongest dragonboy, he was still not yet full grown, and Birjit had strength to spare. Swane's only advantage was that he knew how to fight, even in confined spaces. This kept the match interesting. However, he found that hitting Birjit was not unlike hitting a big sack of grain. She didn't seem to feel it much, and things were getting desperate when by chance he bounced against the cabin door and it burst open and he escaped.
Swane told nobody about his not-so-secret admirer. He hoped the blows he'd struck would convince her to leave him alone.
He was wrong. Birjit Oolson had a head as hard as the good oak decking of the
Barley
. A few love taps from the boy of her dreams could hardly restrain her.
She hovered nearby whenever he was on deck, and when she was off duty and awake, she lurked around the 109th berths in the forward hold on the chance that she might see Swane.
The other boys found it all highly amusing. Poor Swane would be found hiding in someone else's stall or in the heads, or up on the deck in poor weather, while a tipsy Birjit would be wandering around the hold with a fierce brown-toothed smile. Swane and Birjit jokes proliferated.
One day the fleet found itself in the midst of a meeting of herds of whales. A great herd of sperm whales was heading east while smaller pods of fin whales were passing through the sperms to the west.
Everyone, man and dragon, was drawn to the foredeck during this passage to take a look. The sea was filled to the horizon with spouts and the sounds of whales.
That evening after dining on bread, fish pies, and a soup made with generous helpings of akh, some of the dragons of the 109th sat together on the foredeck to take the air before bedding down for the night. They passed a keg of ale around.
Below them they heard the usual discordant uproar of dozens of different singing groups, some restricted to the old favorites like "La Lillee La Loo" and the "Kenor Song" and others with far more sophisticated repertoires that they performed with wildly varying results. Whales were still passing, smaller herds of sperm whales, following in the wake of the great herd they had seen in the daylight. Every so often a whale would come to the surface so close to the ship that they would hear the spout clearly, even glimpse it in the moonlight.
The Purple Green gazed out over the softly heaving sea.
"I wonder what they taste like. Has any of you ever eaten one?"
This produced a strong response.
"You try to eat one of those, and they eat you!" said Vlok merrily. "Even wild dragon be nothing but a meal to those kind of whales, they got teeth!"
"No one eats whales," said Bazil Broketail. "It is like the horses, men do not eat them and dragons do not eat whale."
"I have heard that some men eat whale."
"Men will eat anything," said Vlok.
"Not horses," said Bazil.
They paused a moment, while the keg went around.
"I wonder what it is like to swim with whales," said Bazil.
"Ha! Listen to him," rumbled the Purple Green. "Vlok tells us that whales would eat dragons, and so Broketail wants to give them the chance."
"At least he can swim," said Alsebra.
"I, too, can swim. I have learned from you!"
"Ho ho, the wild one thinks he can swim!"
"You swim like a giant frog," said Vlok, chortling.
"So I do not swim as well as you, but then none of you have ever flown a flap."
"That is true, and you have learned how to wield a sword and take your place in the line of battle," said Bazil generously, knowing how touchy the great wild dragon could be. For all his strength and power, he was often defensive and prickly.
Another leviathan broached near the ship's side. They heard the stentorian whoosh of its spout.
'There is a beauty in them," said Alsebra. "I think they are the true rulers of the seas. Their life is not like ours, but I can sense that it is a grand life. They taste many oceans, live within great horizons, and are perfectly free."
"We could be free ourselves if we swam with them."
The others fell silent. Bazil had broached the forbidden subject. Even the Purple Green kept quiet, knowing how difficult this area was for any wyvern. Immediately, Bazil regretted saying it. Unfortunately Vlok, as always, had to have it all explained to him in detail.
"Broketail dragon forgets something, all dragon forbidden to swim in seawater."
Bazil took a swig from the keg and set it aside.
"Vlok is right. This dragon stays right here, but when I see the whales I wonder sometimes."
"If you swim in salt water you will experience the wild reaction, you will go wild yourself. That would mean you would starve to death since you are not adapted to deep-sea living like whales. Wyvern dragons are meant for the shoreline. We rule the surf." Alsebra, as usual, knew more than the rest of them.
"Why can we swim in streams and lakes?" said Vlok.
"That water is fresh, it does not have the smell of ocean. If once the smell of ocean entered your nostrils that way, you would be changed. Can you not feel it just floating over it in the ship? I can. We are all restless. It will be better once we reach the land again."
"So that is why it is one of the great rules of the men. Dragons must stay out of the sea," said Chektor, who rarely spoke. "I never understood it before."
"The men are wise in this," said Alsebra. "If wyverns swim in the ocean, they rediscover their true selves and cannot fight in the legions ever again."