we can’t be in danger. The sky is blue, it’s broad daylight, and, anyway, the beach is right over there. See the surf?”
This remark, together with the realization that it had been spoken over a steady background din of clinking blocks and flapping canvas, sent Smith out of the cabin and up the nearest companionway as though propelled from a cannon’s mouth.
“Master, the Child of the Sun has awakened,” said Cutt in a solicitous voice, addressing Lord Ermenwyr’s backside. Lord Ermenwyr was too busy vomiting to reply, and Smith was too busy hauling on the helm and praying to all his gods to comment either, so there was a moment of comparative silence. The ship heeled about, throwing Lord Ermenwyr backward onto the deck, and her sails fluttered free.
“You! Whichever one you are! C’mere and hold this just like this!” Smith shouted, seizing Strangel and fixing his immense hands on the wheel. The demon obeyed, watching in bemusement as Smith ran frantically about on deck, making sheets fast, dodging a swinging boom, and crying hoarsely all the while, “Lord-Brimo-of-the-Blue-Water save us from a lee shore, Rakkha-of-the-Big-Fish save us from a lee shore, Yaska-of-the-White-Combers save us from a lee shore, two points into the wind, you idiot! No! The other way! Oh, Holy Brimo, to Thee and all Thine I swear a barrel of the best and a silver mirror if You’ll only get us out of this—”
“Rakkha-of-the-Big Fish?” Lord Ermenwyr mused from the scuppers.
Smith raced past him and grabbed the helm again.
“Wasn’t I holding it right?” Strangel inquired reproachfully.
“—Holy Brimo, hear my prayer, You’ll get a whole bale of pinkweed and, and an offering of incense, and, er, some of those little cakes the priests seem to think You like, anything, just get me off this lee shore please!”
“I think it’s working, whatever it is you’re doing,” Lord Ermenwyr said. “We’re not going wibble-wobble-whoops anymore. You see, lads? I told you Smith knew how to operate one of these things.”
The next hour took a lot out of Smith, though the ghastly roar of the surf grew ever fainter astern. He had no time to ask the fairly reasonable questions he wanted to ask with his hands around Lord Ermenwyr’s throat, but he was able to take in more of his surroundings.
The ship was clearly somebody’s pleasure craft, built not for sailing but for partying, and she was a galley-built composite: broad in the beam and shallow of draft, operating at the moment under sail, but with a pair of strange pannierlike boxes below the stern chains and a complication of domes, tanks, and pipes amidships that meant she had the new steam-power option too. The boilers seemed to be stone-cold, however, so it was up to Smith to get her out of her present predicament.
Once the ship’s movement had evened out, Lord Ermenwyr crawled from the scuppers and strolled up and down on deck, hands clasped under his coattails, looking on in mild interest as they narrowly avoided reefs, rocks, and Cape Gore before winning sea room. His four great bodyguards lurched after him. There was no one else on deck.
“Where’s the crew?” Smith demanded at last, panting.
“I thought you’d be the crew,” said Lord Ermenwyr, holding up his smoking tube for Crish to fill with weed. “I knew you used to be a sailor. Aren’t these new slaveless galleys keen? I can’t wait until we fire this baby up and see what she can do!”
Out of all possible things he might have said in reply, Smith said only, “What’s going on, my lord?”
Lord Ermenwyr smiled fondly and lit his smoke. “Good old sensible Smith! You’re the man to count on in a crisis, I said to Nursie.”
“Is she here?”
“Er—no. I left her in Salesh to look after the ladies. They’ll be absolutely safe, Smith, believe me, whatever happens. Do you know any other experienced midwife who can also tear apart armored warriors with her bare, er, hands? Lovely and versatile.”
Smith counted to ten and said, “You know, I’m sure you gave me a thorough explanation of this whole thing and got my consent, too, but I seem to have lost my memory. Why am I here?”
“Ah.” Lord Ermenwyr puffed smoke. “Well. Partly because you clearly needed a holiday, but mostly because you’re such a damned useful fellow in a fight. We’re on a rescue mission, Smith. Hope you don’t mind, but I had a feeling you might have objected if I’d asked you first. And I knew I could