you now: They’re not interested in learning anything useful. All they want is a new religion.”
“They want it because they know there must be something better than violence and stupidity,” she told him sternly. “Their hearts are in the right places. We will make certain their minds follow. And one is coming who will lead them here, in the morning of the new world.”
Without warning she turned and looked directly at Lady Svnae, who had been edging gradually back in the direction of the landing.
“Are you so eager to go, daughter?”
Lady Svnae flushed and strode forward, muttering. She towered over her mother, but somehow looked like a gauche adolescent standing before her.
“Well, you didn’t have anything to say to me,” she said.
“I have a great deal to say to you,” the lady replied. “But you must take poor Smith home to his family first. You owe him that; if you hadn’t pried into matters that didn’t concern you, he might still have both his hands.”
“No, that was fated to happen, whatever I did,” said Lady Svnae stubbornly. “And the death of a whole people did concern me. And I’ve said I was sorry. What more can I do to atone?”
The lady smiled at her. “You can use the strength of your great heart, child. You can help your brother build the city. The library, especially.”
Lady Svnae brightened at that. Her mother surveyed her scarlet-and-purple silks, her serpent jewelry, her bare arms, and she sighed.
“But please buy yourself some sensible clothing in Salesh, before you return.”
Lord Ermenwyr sidled over to his sister.
“Cheer up!” he said. “Think of the fun we’ll have shopping.” He looked sidelong at his mother. “I’m going to spend an awful lot of your money on this. I ought to have some compensation for being a good boy.”
“You have always been a good boy,” his mother said serenely, “whatever you pretend to yourself.”
Lord Ermenwyr gnashed his teeth.
One day’s journey out upon the sea, they spied bright-striped sails on the horizon, traveling steadily though they hung slack in the motionless air.
“That’s another slaveless galley,” said Smith, waving away the butterflies that danced before him. “Maybe we should hail them for news.”
Within an hour they were close enough to distinguish the clanking oars of the other vessel, louder even than their own, and in yet another hour they saw the revelers dancing and waving to them from the other vessel’s deck.
“Ai—aiiiii!” shouted a fat man, pushing back the wreath of roses that had slipped over one eye. “What ship is that? Where d’you hail from?”
“The Kingfisher’s Nest out of Salesh, from the Rethestlin!” bawled Smith. “What ship’s that?”
“The Lazy Days out of Port Blackrock! Have you heard the news, my friend?”
“What news? Is the war over?”
“Duke Skalkin choked on a fish bone!” the man cried gleefully. “His son signed the peace treaty the next day!”
“A little death can be useful now and then,” muttered Lord Ermenwyr.
“The blockade’s gone?”
“All sailed home!” the man assured them, accepting a cup of wine from a nubile girl. He tilted his head back to drink, then pointed at the Kingfisher’s Nest, shouting with laughter. “You’ve got butterflies too!”
“They flew down the river with us,” Smith said, turning his head to look up at the ranks of white wings perched all along the yards. He looked back at the Lazy Days. “You’ve got a couple, yourself. Where’d they come from?”
“Nobody knows! They’ve been floating along in swarms!” The man peered closer. “Say, what the hell kind of crew have you got?”
“We’ve just come from a costume party,” Lord Ermenwyr told him.
“So, we can go straight home along the coast, then?” Smith asked hurriedly.
“It’s clear sailing all the way!” The man made an expansive gesture, slopping his wine.
And so it proved to be, over a sea smooth as a mirror, under a sky of pearly cloud. If not for the unbroken line of the coast that paced them, they might have been sailing in the heart of an infinite opal. Warm rain fell now and then, big scattered drops, and the sea steamed. They passed through clouds of white butterflies making their way along over open water, seemingly bound on the same journey.
Many settled on the spars and rigging, despite Lord Ermenwyr’s best efforts to bid them begone.
“Oh, what’ve you got against the poor little things?” said Lady Svnae crossly, as she spooned poppy-petal jam on a cracker for Smith.
“They stink of the miraculous,” growled her brother, pacing up the deck with his fists locked together under