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of the waiting crew.
The strongest cord on board was made fast around a fore capstan. When the mate
was convinced it could be knotted no better, the unsecured end was heaved over
the bow. It landed with a convincing splash just to the right of the line of
floating crabs.
Immediately, those forming the end of the line nearest the ship swarmed over
the rope. At any other time and in any other place they might well have tried
to eat it, but not this morning. Sharp claws dug deep into the thick hemp,
legs burying themselves into the folds of the triple weave.
 Line going out! one of the crew monitoring the capstan shouted.
Stanager glanced briefly at Ehomba. He did not react to the warning and
continued to lean over the bow watching the frenzied crustaceans.  Let it go,
she directed the crew tersely.
The capstan whirred as more and more of the valuable cordage was taken up by
the crabs, until at last only the terminal coils securing it to the capstan
itself remained. Stretched out beneath the bowsprit, the rest of the line was
completely obscured by swarming crabs. As those who managed to crowd into the
bow observed, the thick cable was being drawn taut, and tauter still, until
the visible portion that was suspended in the air between water and bowsprit
twanged from the tension that was being applied to it.
Very slowly but perceptibly, the
Grömsketter began to move.
 All hands to stations! Stanager bellowed. Behind her, men and women swarmed
into the rigging or to posts on deck. Priget stood like a barrel behind the
helm, her eyes aloft as she searched for the first hint
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A Triumph of Souls: Journeys of the Catechist, Book 3
of a good stiff breeze.
When the ship reached the base of the oceanic slope there was a collective
intake of breath among her crew. Exhaling in concert and producing a noise
like a billion tiny bubbles all bursting at once, the line of crabs continued
to pull the ship forward. That and the scrape of millions of carapaces rubbing
against one another were the only sounds they made.
The elegant sailing vessel s prow rose slowly, slowly. Sailors reached for
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something to keep themselves from falling backward as the ship began to slide
up the slope toward the smooth ridge above. At the halfway point someone
erupted in an involuntary cheer, only to be quickly hushed by his
superstitious fellow seamen. Who knew what might disturb the crabs at their
arduous work? If the line broke, if a few hundred thousand claws and legs lost
their grasp, then the ship would surely slide right back down into the
peaceful but terminal watery valley perhaps forever.
The rim drew near, nearer and then it was beneath the
Grömsketter
 s bowsprit. Very gradually the ship ceased ascending and she leveled out.
When the stern was once more on an even keel with the bow, several of the most
senior mariners could no longer restrain themselves. They began to dance and
twirl around one another out of sheer joy. Priget turned the great wheel,
adjusting the ship s heading slightly.
Wind began to billow her sails. Not strongly, but it was enough. And it was
behind them. Picking up speed, the ship began to move away from the valley
under her own power.
In front of it, the crabs were scattering, abandoning the line and sinking
back down into the depths from which they had been commanded. Seeing this,
Stanager ordered the heavy line winched in swiftly lest it back up and wrap
around the bow, fouling their advance. She would have thanked the hardworking
crustaceans who had joined together to drag them clear of the valley, but how
did one thank a crab? She put the question to the most unfathomable of her
unique quartet of passengers.
 Do not thank them yet. While, with the exception of the dozing cat, his
companions celebrated along with the crew, the herdsman did not. He remained
where he had been standing, hard by the bowsprit and staring at the water
forward of the ship.  The crabs helped us because their king commanded them to
do so. But I do not think they were alone. I do not see how they could have
done such a thing by themselves.
 Why not? Free of the valley and with a fair wind astern, Stanager was in too
good a mood to let the solemn-faced traveler mute her high spirits.
 Certainly they were by themselves in their millions strong enough to drag the
ship clear, but any line, however mighty, needs an anchor against which to
pull. He waved diffidently at the gentle swells through which they were
cutting.  What was theirs?
 Who knows? She shrugged, much too relieved to be really interested.  The top
of an undersea mountain, perhaps, or a shelf of corals.
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A Triumph of Souls: Journeys of the Catechist, Book 3
 Corals would not hold up under the strain. They would break off.
 Well, the submerged mountaintop, then. He really was a man to discourage
good cheer, she decided.
Not naturally grave, but given to an inherent reluctance to let himself go and
have a good time. Simna ibn Sind was incorrigible, but at least he knew how to
celebrate a success. Deciding to put the proposition to a small test, she
reached down and pinched the stoic herdsman on his stolid behind.
Startled, he finally took his eyes off the sea.
 So you are alive after all. She grinned cheerfully.  I was beginning to
wonder.
His expression was one of utter confusion, which pleased her perversely.  I I
did not mean to dampen anyone s spirits. I am as gladdened as everyone else
that we are safely out of the valley. You have to excuse me. It is simply that
as long as I am afflicted with an unanswered question, it is impossible for me
to completely relax. I can manage it a little, yes, but not completely.
 I m surprised that you are able to sleep, she retorted.
Now it was his turn to grin.  Sometimes, so am I.
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 Come and have a grog with me. She gestured over the bow.  Doroune lies that
way, to the southwest.
We ll have you and your friends there soon enough, and from then forward I ll
be denied the pleasure of your company. Prove to me that there is some truth
in that statement.
His uncertainty returned.  What, that we ll reach the coast soon? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]