out of the ground, and the cabbages are tiny and yellow,” said Smith. “Nothing for it then but to move on. The only place that doesn’t happen is in the grainlands around Troon, because the barley grows itself. We don’t do anything but harvest it.”
“You’ve never heard of crop rotation?”
“What’s crop rotation?”
Willowspear turned and stared at him, saying nothing for a moment. At last he said, “Merciful Mother of All Things, no wonder your people go through the world like locusts!”
“What the hell’s crop rotation? Does it have anything to do with irrigation? Because we know how to do that; our aqueducts will take water anywhere,” said Smith defensively. “We’ve made deserts bloom, you know. Just not for more than two years.”
“But you can’t—” began Willowspear.
He turned and staggered away from the helm, and Smith jumped into place at the wheel. “We know how to steer, too,” he snapped.
Willowspear collapsed on a barrel, holding his head in his hands. “All this time, I thought—”
“That you’re better than us,” said Smith. “I know.”
“No! I’ve been trying to teach your people the Way of the Unwearied Mother. I’ve been teaching them meditation and prayer. What I should have been teaching them all along was simply how to garden,” said Willowspear.
Smith shrugged. “I never thought it was as easy as just saying the Green Saint’s name over and over again, whatever you told me.”
“If you only took the filth you dump into the sea and put it on your fields instead—” Willowspear rose and paced to and fro on the deck in his agitation.
“So I guess interracial orgies aren’t the answer, either?”
“You don’t—there must he love. There must be tolerance, and faith. But—there must be much more, or none of it will do any good! It’s complicated.”
“Well, nothing is simple, son,” Smith told him. “Not one damned thing in this world is simple.”
Willowspear did not reply, staring ahead at the spire of Rethkast.
“It’s just as well you figured this out now, since you’re going to be a father soon,” Smith added. “By the way … was that sorcery the other night, that cold light in the jar?”
“No,” said Willowspear. “It was the powdered bodies of certain insects in a solution of certain salts. Mix them, and the mixture glows. When the powder precipitates out, the glow fades and dies. The Lady’s invention.” He looked oddly at Smith. “But She must purchase the jars from your people. The Yendri have never learned how to make glass.”
As they drew nearer, yet they were driven back; for now the river narrowed between high hills, and the current had greater force. Yet the Kingfisher’s Nest put on all her canvas, and with a fair wind and the steam oars going at full speed they made way at last, and moored in a backwater where a landing pier did indeed welcome them.
“So where’s this back door?” Smith inquired, staring upward at the sheer rock wall.
“We have to climb up and knock,” said Lord Ermenwyr, setting his hat at a rakish angle. “How’s this look? Suitably adventurous? An appropriate ensemble for sweeping a lady off her feet?”
“I guess so. How do we get up there?”
“There’s stairs, concealed with fiendish cleverness,” the lordling replied.
“Here,” said Willowspear, pointing, and after Smith had looked for a moment, he spotted them: rough steps cut out of the rock, angled in such a way as to be nearly invisible in the crazy-swirled colors in the strata. They moved up at a steep angle. There were no handholds, nor any rail that Smith could see.
“Boys, you’ll wait here,” Lord Ermenwyr told his bodyguard. They nodded gloomily and stood to attention on the deck.
“What about this threat we’re rescuing your sister from?” Smith inquired. “Wouldn’t they be useful if we have to fight somebody?”
Lord Ermenwyr checked his reflection in a pocket mirror. “I have to admit, Smith, I may have exaggerated just the tiniest bit about the amount of danger Svnae is in,” he said. “It’s actually more sort of an awfully embarrassing fix, to be honest.”
“I see,” said Willowspear, in tones of ice.
“No, you don’t, and don’t go all peevish on me like that!” said Lord Ermenwyr. “All will be revealed in good time. For now let’s just mind our own little businesses and obey our liege lord, shall we?”
He started up the stairs. After looking at each other a moment, Smith and Willowspear sighed and followed him.
They climbed steadily for several minutes, as the stairs zigzagged first left and then right, but Smith was