The Mirrors of Elangir (The Schemes of Raltarn & Tomaz, volume I)

The Mirrors of Elangir chapter 10

Chapter 10

Captain Rymad's cabin looked rather different from when I'd last seen it. The most obvious change was the large piece of sailcloth that covered the window, fluttering in the breeze. A lot of the fittings and furniture had been removed, and the walls bore many dents, some as big as my fist.

Rymad and the officers sat around his table, paler and leaner than before the storm. He invited us to sit, and passed around some cups and a bottle of wine. I poured myself as little as I thought would be polite - my stomach was still turning cartwheels.

"To our strength and courage," said Rymad when everybody had a cup. He and the officers drained theirs in one. Uncle and I took a sip. The stuff was thin and bitter, probably not having been stored in anything like ideal conditions.

"Not, 'and the mercy of Mazor and Kashalbe?'" said Suln.

"They had nothing to do with it," said Rymad. "Though I'll thank you not to repeat that sentiment in front of the men." I tried not to show any surprise - I'd thought all sailors were religious, if not outright superstitious. "But that wasn't why I asked our passengers to join us," he continued. "We've come through the storm, with about as much damage as I would've expected. It was a bad one, but I've survived worse. Our most immediate concern is that we've lost eight men."

"Goddess have mercy," I whispered. I'd feared that people would end up dead because of these mirrors, but I'd never thought their blood would be on our hands - on my hands. If I hadn't calculated where the other mirror was, we'd never have set out to find it. No - if I hadn't been so inquisitive about how the mirror worked, I'd never have figured out the activation sequence, and we'd never have known the mirror as anything other than a pretty antique. Those sailors' deaths were my fault, as surely as if I'd pushed them into the waves myself.

"They knew the risks when they signed on," Rymad said with a sigh. "It's a rare voyage across the Tian Ocean where you don't lose at least one man. But we're going to be short-handed unless we can replace them at our next port."

"And where is our next port?" Uncle said.

Ingryn, our navigator and second mate, unrolled a chart and placed a metal ruler near one edge of it. "That's our next concern. We're about eight hundred miles south of where we should be. The storm blew us a good distance west, obviously, but I'm not sure how far west yet. My declination charts don't cover us for longitude at this latitude, so all I can say is we're somewhere on this line." He tapped the ruler. "So we could stick to our original plan and head for Ash-Kalog, or we might be nearer to Krothtror."

"Whichever is going to be quicker, surely," said Uncle.

I looked at the chart, wondering what my father would have recommended. "Krothtror would put us nearer to the Canal, wouldn't it? Since we have to go through that, it makes sense to set ourselves up for the next stage of the journey."

"There's not that much in it," said Ingryn, "but yes, that's sound reasoning."

I tried not to sag with relief that I wouldn't have to set foot on the land that had killed my father.

"So why do I get the impression," said Uncle, "that you'd much rather head for Ash-Kalog?"

"Krothtror doesn't have much in the way of civilisation," said Rymad.

"That's putting it mildly," said Gribekh, the first mate. "They're savages. Before the war, I was on an expedition the Mazoreans sent out to convert them. A dozen priests and acolytes went ashore. A week later, four of them came back, naked and bleeding. They wouldn't talk about what happened to the rest."

"Considering the attitude most Mazorean priests have to anyone who isn't a Mazorean," said Suln, "I can't say I'm surprised."

"So as long as we don't try to convince them of the benefits of surrendering to Mazor's mercy," said Uncle, "we should be safe. Did we bring any glass beads to trade?"