never get Willowspear to listen to reason, so I had to knock him out too—”
There was a drawn-out appalled cry from below. Willowspear rushed up the companionway, staring around him.
“Oh, bugger; now I’ll have to start the explanation all over again,” said Lord Ermenwyr.
Willowspear was much less calm than Smith had been. The few inhabitants of Cape Gore looked up from mending their nets as his shriek of “What?” echoed off the sky.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you about my sister, Smith,” said Lord Ermenwyr, pouring out a stiff drink. He offered it to Willowspear, who had collapsed into a sitting position against the steam tanks and was clasping his head in his hands. Willowspear ignored him.
“No, I don’t think you have,” said Smith.
Lord Ermenwyr tossed back his cocktail and sighed with longing. “The Ruby Incomparable, Lady Svnae. Drop-dead gorgeous, and a gloriously powerful sorceress in her own right to boot. I proposed to her when I was three. She just laughed. I kept asking. By the time I was thirteen, she said it wasn’t funny anymore, and she’d break my arm if I didn’t leave off. I respected that; yet I still adore her, in my own unique way.
“And I would do anything for her, Smith. Any little gallant act of chivalry or minor heroism she required of me. How I’ve dreamed of spreading out my second-best cloak for her to foot it dryly over the mire! Or even, perchance, riding to her rescue. Suitably armed. With a personal physician standing by in case of accidents. Which is why I need the two of you along on this junket, you see?”
“So… the Sending was from your sister?” guessed Smith. “She’s in trouble and she needs you to save her?”
“I believe the word she used was Assist, but… it amounts to the fact that she needs me,” said Lord Ermenwyr.
“My wife needs me, my lord,” said Willowspear hoarsely.
“She doesn’t need to see you stoned to death or torn apart by an angry mob,” Lord Ermenwyr replied. “And it was clear you were getting heroic ideas, so I just stepped in and did what was best for you. And look at this lovely boat I was able to get on an hour’s notice, remarkably cheaply! I thought I’d call her the Kingfisher’s Nest. Aren’t those striped sails sporty? The kitchen’s even stocked with delicacies. Cheer up; you’ll be happily reunited once this is all over.”
“Where is your sister, then?” Smith asked, keeping a wary eye in the coastline.
“Ah, this is the clever part,” said Lord Ermenwyr, laying a finger alongside his nose. “She’s at the Monastery of Rethkast. Which is on the Rethestlin, you see? So if we’d set out on foot to rescue her, we’d have had to have hired porters and spent weeks trudging across plains and mountains and other dreary things.
“This way, we just sail along the coast to the place where the Rethestlin flows into the sea, and float up the river until we’re at the monks’ back door. The Ruby Incomparable descends to her little brother’s loving arms, he bears her off in triumph, and we all sail back to Salesh to pick up the supporting cast before going off on a pleasure cruise of indeterminate length.”
Smith groaned.
“You don’t have a problem with my beautiful plan, do you, Smith?” Lord Ermenwyr glared at him.
“No,” said Smith, wishing Balnshik were there to give the lordling the back of her hand. “I have a lot of problems with your plan. See those sails on the horizon? The purple ones? Those are warships, my lord. They belong to Deliantiba. It’s got a blockade on Port Blackrock just now. We can’t sail through, or they’ll board us and confiscate our vessel, if we’re lucky.”
“Oh. And if we’re not lucky?”
“We’ll hit a mine, or take a bucketful of clingfire or a broadside of stone shot,” Smith told him.
Lord Ermenwyr stared at the purple sails a long moment.
“There’s a ship merchant in Salesh who’s going to find that seven hundred of his gold pieces have suddenly turned into asps,” he said. “The smirking bastard. No wonder he had so many of these recreational vessels up for sale.”
“And even if the blockade wasn’t there,” Smith continued, “what makes you think that the Rethestlin is navigable?”
Lord Ermenwyr turned, staring at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“He doesn’t know about the falls. He can’t read maps,” said Willowspear with venom. “His lord father had a geographer captured especially to teach him, but he wouldn’t