her. When Egwene struggled to her feet, the shoreline no longer slid by. The vessel had halted, with the bow raised and the deck canted to one side. The sails flapped noisily in the wind.
Chin Ellisor pushed himself to his feet and ran for the bow, leaving the tillerman to rise on his own. “You blind worm of a farmer!” he roared toward the man in the bow, who was clinging to the rail to keep from falling the rest of the way over. “You dirt-grubbing get of a goat! Haven’t you been on the river long enough yet to recognize how the water ruffles over a mudflat?” He seized the man on the rail by the shoulders and pulled him back onto the deck, but only to shove him out of the way so he could peer down over the bow himself. “If you’ve put a hole in my hull, I will use your guts for caulking!”
The other crewmen were clambering to their feet, now, and more came scrambling up from below. They all ran to cluster around the captain.
Nynaeve appeared at the head of the ladder that led down to the passenger cabins, still straightening her skirts. With a sharp tug at her braid, she frowned at the knot of men in the bow, then strode to Egwene and Elayne. “He ran us onto something, did he? After all his talk of knowing the river as well as he knows his wife. The woman probably never receives as much as a smile from him.” She jerked the thick braid again and went forward, pushing her way through the sailors to reach the captain. They were all intent on the water below.
There was no point in joining her. He will have us off faster if he’s left to it. Nynaeve was probably telling him how to do the work. Elayne seemed to feel the same way, from the rueful shake of the head she gave as she watched the captain and crewmen all turn their attention respectfully from whatever was under the bow to Nynaeve.
A ripple of agitation ran through the men, and grew stronger. For a moment the captain’s hands could be seen, waving in protest over the other men’s heads, and then Nynaeve was striding away from them—they made way, bowing now—with Ellisor hurrying beside her and mopping his round face with a large red handkerchief. His anxious voice became audible as they drew near.
“. . . a good fifteen miles to the next village on the Andor side, Aes Sedai, and at least five or six miles downriver on the Cairhien side! Andoran soldiers hold it, it is true, but they do not hold the miles from here to there!” He wiped at his face as if he were dripping sweat.
“A sunken ship,” Nynaeve told the the other two women. “The work of river brigands, the captain thinks. He means to try backing off it with the sweeps, but he does not seem to think that will work.”
“We were running fast when we hit, Aes Sedai. I wanted to make good speed for you.” Ellisor rubbed even harder at his face. He was afraid the Aes Sedai would blame him, Egwene realized. “We are stuck hard. But I do not think we are taking water, Aes Sedai. There is no need to worry. Another ship will be along. Two sets of sweeps will surely get us free. There is no need for you to be put ashore, Aes Sedai. I do swear it, by the Light.”
“You were thinking of leaving the ship?” Egwene asked. “Do you think that is wise?”
“Of course, it’s—!” Nynaeve stopped and frowned at her. Egwene returned the frown with a level stare. Nynaeve went on in a calmer tone, if still a tight one. “The captain says it may be an hour before another ship comes along. One with enough sweeps to make a difference. Or a day. Or two, maybe. I do not think we can afford to waste a day or two waiting. We can be in this village—what did you call it, Captain? Jurene?—we can walk to Jurene in two hours or less. If Captain Ellisor frees his vessel as quickly as he hopes, we can reboard then. He says he will stop to see if we are there. If he does not get free, though, we can take ship from Jurene. We may even find a vessel waiting. The captain says traders do stop there, because of the