The Lost Colony

Chapter 42

The winds are favorable this time of year," Jance replied. "Five nights, six at most. Three hundred tokens, including your beast."

"Is that for a cabin?" Sparr had nowhere near three hundred tokens.

"Why yes! The topside cabin is... oh," he trailed off. "Perhaps you are looking to conserve your tokens?"

"I am."

"I can offer you a hammock on the lower deck for half that price. You may still join the others for meals."

"When do you sail?"

***

Sparr stood topside as the Shai was first pushed from the dock, then nudged by smaller boats into the harbor. Once the craft was clear, Jance had the sails deployed. The ship eased into the bay to begin its journey south.

The ship under sail was just as awkward as it had looked while docked. The square sails were minimally adjustable, forcing the captain and crew to rely heavily upon the tiller for direction. Whenever the wind changed, the vessel would turn ponderously until the crew could wrestle it back onto course with the tiller. Even under steady winds, frequent minor adjustments were required. The vessel seemed rarely at peace.

Sparr was the only solo traveler aboard. When he answered the bell for dinner, he was seated at a small table and served a dish of lightly fried fish with a vegetable obviously related to seaweed. However, Sparr had no sooner taken a bite when a man at another table waved him over.

"Come please, join us," the man said, gesturing toward an empty seat at his table. "Let us not lack for companionship on this journey."

After several days of traveling on his own, Sparr was more than ready for some company. The fact that the man was traveling with two young women made the decision even easier. Carrying his plate, Sparr joined them. "I'm Alain."

"I'm Ost," the man said, grinning broadly. He was garbed in close-fitting black trousers topped by an astoundingly colorful jacket. Though finely sewn, the garment seemed a random collection of stripes, squares, triangles, and scores more geometric shapes patched together. No two pieces of fabric were precisely the same color. "These are my daughters, Aine and Sylva."

Sparr smiled. "Pleased to meet you," he said. That the two young women were the man's daughters was obvious. Father and daughters shared the same warm skin tone, deep brown eyes, and dark hair. But whereas Sylva's brown locks were carefully bound with colorful rings, Aine's flowed free, cascading around her shoulders.

Ost gestured for wine. "What fate calls you to Santi?"

"I seek a trading partner." Sparr had prepared himself for the question, taking inspiration from the boorish Lord Varn, who every evening during the pilgrimage had carried on about his ceramic business. "Amphorae, mostly."

"Mmm," Ost said, sitting back. "So, you follow the way of the Stone? Amphorae are born of clay."

Sparr was still trying to figure out the significance of Stone and Wave. "Not exactly," he said. "In my lands, the distinction isn't important."

"What?" Sylva said, clearly baffled. "There is no distinction of greater importance! The Wave is everything, guiding each decision." Like her father, Sylva's attire was as colorful as a stained glass window. Sparr took her to be in her early twenties.

"You'll forgive me," Sparr said. He cast his eyes hopefully around the table. "Perhaps one of you can explain."

"Of course!" Ost said. He leaned forward again, pouring wine for the four. "There are two diverging paths. Those that follow Stone are unyielding, guided by principles that neither vary, nor allow for deviation. They will rarely set foot aboard any ship, and mostly trade along land."

"What my father is saying," Sylva explained, "is that Stones are borrrrrrring!" She rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Stones are strong," Aine interjected. "Not guided solely by frivolity and whim."

Ost chuckled. "As you can see, my daughters have chosen different paths. What's a man to do?" Answering his own question, he took a large swig of wine.

Sparr turned his attention to Aine. Unlike her younger sister, she had attired herself in more subdued clothes. However, where Sylva was slim, Aine was busty. Her bodice plunged deep, revealing scoops of inviting female flesh. And unless Sparr was mistaken, she was enjoying his attention.

Just as Sparr was about to speak, the wind shifted, sending the ship into a spin. Ost, Aine, and Sylva each nonchalantly held their wine glasses against the table while Sparr practically knocked his over trying to catch it. "I see you are all comfortable at sea," he observed, wryly.

"We've made the journey three times just this year," Aine said. "My sister's husband lives on the island."

"We're not married yet!" Sylva scolded.

"You might as well be," Aine said. "We never see you when we're there."

"Wyl appreciates my charms," she said, smiling smugly.

Sparr didn't have to wonder which of Sylva's charms her fiancé appreciated. The girl's lips were particularly full and soft.

"We all have business there," Ost explained. "Sylva visits Wyl, while Aine and I seek to expand the business."

"Which I take has nothing to do with amphorae?" In fact, it would have been difficult for Sparr to sustain the facade of an amphorae merchant, but he had to play the part.

"No, sadly," Ost said. "We have timber holdings near Santi. Have you heard of eepay wood?"

The word was familiar but Sparr couldn't place it. "I'm not sure."

Ost sighed. "Yes, and therein our difficulty in growing the business. The timber is beautiful! More importantly, it is stiff and strong."

"Stiff and strong," Aine repeated, her eyes sweeping brazenly over Sparr. "Nothing is more important."

"Yes," Ost agreed, either missing the innuendo, or uncaring. "It's incredibly well suited to construction, once you learn how to work with it. We were in Caibo looking for distributors..."

Sparr did his best to remain attentive to Ost, but it was impossible to ignore Aine. The older daughter looked to be in her late twenties, was attractive, and confident. There was nothing shy in the way she looked Sparr over with hungry eyes. She struck him as someone who had no difficulty luring men to her bed. How long had it been since he had last lured a woman to his own bed?

"Let us tell stories," Ost said, breaking Sparr's reverie. "You've said that in your home there is no distinction between Wave and Stone. Is that right?"

"That's right," Sparr said.

"So tell us something else of your home that would surprise us. Something which is of importance."

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a story teller," Sparr said.

"Please Alain," Ost said, spreading his arms imploringly. "Will you disappoint us? Nights are long at sea. Our stories help us endure them."

"Looooooong nights," echoed Aine. Sylva elbowed her.

Sparr thought on it. In fact, the differences between Earth and Kaybe were fewer than he ever would have guessed prior to arriving, at least with respect to the natural world. But one thing did stand out. "The seasons," he said.

"What about them?" Sylva asked. "Everywhere has seasons."

"Not like here, not at all." Unlike Earth, Kaybe's axis was tilted only a few degrees from its star. "We're heading into the cool season, right?"

"Yes," Ost said.

"Will you put into storage your warm weather clothes? Put on warmer ones?"

Ost chuckled. "No, of course not. It doesn't get that much colder."

"Well, where I grew up we had completely different clothing for each season." Sparr looked at each of the three in turn. "When winter arrived we'd put away the light clothing in favor of warmer ones. Even then we'd have to put on extra-heavy clothing just to go outside."

Sparr went on, describing frozen streams and ponds, the annual migration of birds, scorching hot summer days, and dramatic foliage changes. Ost, Aine, and Sylva challenged and questioned him.

"So," Aine said, "the same creek you'd swim in during the summer would freeze solid in winter?"

"Yep," Sparr said. "And the difference in the length of days was much more pronounced than here. Summer days seemed like they would never end. In the winter they passed in a flash."

Ost ordered more wine. He and Sylva tried to explain some of the more esoteric differences between Stone and Wave. Aine spoke of her role in the family's timber business. Sparr soaked up the easy bond the three shared, not that different than that of his family back on Earth. They were the last in the dining room, still laughing and telling stories long after the other guests had gone to their cabins. But finally Sparr, seeing the fatigue in his companions' eyes, excused himself.

Below deck, Sparr checked on Bogg. The animal had settled quite happily into his corner of the cargo hold. Bogg enjoyed having his muzzle scratched, which Sparr did as he spoke soothingly to the beast. Like Sparr, he seemed to be adapting well to the ship's unpredictable movements.

Stuffed into his own cramped berth, Sparr fell quickly into a dreamless sleep.

***

As Jance had promised, favorable winds blessed the Shai on her journey south. He and Sparr walked the deck at dawn, the captain to inspect his ship, while Sparr shook off the stiffness of sleep.

"She has to be loaded carefully," Jance explained. "Heavier cargo aft, or she'll drive too deep into the waves. And balanced port to starboard. She's already fickle enough to steer!"

"The tiller is massive," Sparr observed.

"Oh, yes." Jance motioned Sparr aft, where two of the crew were stationed. "It can be locked into place at any of these points," Jance said, indicating a rail cut every half meter or so with notches. "But like I said, she's fickle. Watch."

Almost on cue, the wind shifted. The two crewmen lifted the tiller handle, and with considerable effort, moved it one notch to port. The ship lurched, and only reluctantly resumed its previous course. Behind them, the tiller kicked up a heavy wake. Sparr was struck by how inefficient the ship's design was. To maintain a steady course the helmsmen had to constantly fight against the sea. Although it was impossible to estimate exactly, he guessed that at least twenty percent of the ship's power was wasted just keeping it on course.

"How long have you been at sea?" Sparr asked.

"Aboard the Shai, five years. Before her, I captained the Veen for seven. And before that," Jance smiled and shook his head, "more years as a mate than I care to recall."

"Was the Veen of the same design?"

"Mmmm? Oh, no. She was shorter, and deeper in the center to hold the mast. Had to fill her half with rocks just so she wouldn't tip." Jance smiled at the memory, before excusing himself to continue his inspection.

Sparr passed a restless day aboard the Shai. Although making good speed, he felt idle. The crew was kept busy, and the other passengers had come prepared to pass the hours. Ost carved figures with a tiny knife, while Sylva stitched. Aine practiced music on a double flute. Sparr himself had little to do but brood over his situation.

Exercising Bogg provided a welcome break. The animal quite happily accompanied Sparr on circuits of the deck, pausing periodically to sniff or rub against the bulkhead and fittings. No one seemed the least bit worried about his presence onboard the ship. In fact, the crew were taken by the animal, more than once discreetly slipping him bones or scraps of fish.

Later Sparr exercised, hoping to stay as limber and strong as possible. Sweating and shirtless, he lifted coils of rope, ran laps, and stretched. When Aine and Sylva moved their chairs for a better view he almost laughed. Women on Kaybe, he observed, rarely exhibited shyness.

For dinner he again joined Ost, Aine, and Sylva. Captain Jance joined them as well.

"You're in one of the lower berths?" Aine asked. "Must be cramped for a big boy like you." The brunette fixed her eyes on him, twirling a strand of hair with her fingers. She wasn't wrong. The tiny room was barely large enough to hold his hammock.

"I'm conserving my tokens," he said.

"A shame, still," she said. "You don't have any room for entertaining."

Sparr didn't need to ask what sort of entertaining the brunette was interested in. Her sultry expression and frequent innuendo were enough. Aine had once again opened her bodice, providing Sparr with an enticing view of her heavy cleavage and caramel skin. It was frustrating. He had no doubt that he could take the woman to bed, but had no proper bed to take her to.

"How are you finding the passage?" Jance asked the group.

All agreed that the journey so far had been pleasant, except Sylva. "The pitching of the ship makes my needlework difficult," she observed.

"Ahhhh," Jance said. "I'll tell my helmsmen to take particular care when you're sewing." He winked, then added, "But there'll be nothing to do for it once we round Cape Reedo."

"Cape Reedo?" Sparr asked.