the ship twice in his life yet had never seen a Kaurian. That wasn’t what he meant: “Here” meant somewhere on our continent’s western shores. And I gasped.
“Oh! For Seven-Year Ship you looking?”
He nodded, and I forgot myself and spoke to him using Kaurian syntax but Eculan words. He still followed me, though.
“Who is on the Seven-Year Ship? People with skin like yours?”
“Yes.”
“And how many faithful go on the ship to the island of seven kennings?”
“Seventy-seven and seven. If ship come, I go. Faithful I am. But no ship. Go anyway.”
Eighty-four, then. “Did all the faithful go anyway to find the Island of the Seventh Kenning?”
“Yes.”
Eighty-four religious zealots climbed into tiny boats and sailed west in search of another boat. Might as well ask him again. “What is the Seventh Kenning?”
“I not know. To island faithful go, there discover.”
The text could be interpreted to mean that the Seventh Kenning wasn’t a separate talent at all but rather knowledge of the other six—the fullness of the kennings. Or perhaps it was something else entirely.
The only islands to the west of Ecula were the archipelago between Kauria and Forn, the island next to the Tempest of Reinei, and the Mistmaiden Isles in the north. But the only pale people on this side of the continent were the Fornish, so the evidence pointed to this mythical island being very close to Kauria. The mistral needed to know right away. I had learned so much, and it was only midafternoon. I excused myself hastily, promising Saviič that I would return soon. Rushing out of the dungeon with the scribbled map and Zanata Sedam, my finger jammed in the pages to mark the passage, I had a cyclone take me to Teela Parr, and on the way I wondered if the Eculans might not be some mutation of the Fornish as the Hathrim were supposed to be, caused by the Rift ages ago. It would at least account for their root language if they had at one point come from Forn’s eastern shores.
Speaking perhaps a bit too quickly, I told her that there were three nations beyond Ecula, the site of the Seventh Kenning might be located somewhere in the archipelago, and if Saviič wasn’t lying, someone from Forn was crossing the ocean and going back every seven years.
“Someone Fornish? How does he know that?”
“It’s my deduction. He said the people on this ship had pale skin. And he asked me why my skin is dark.”
Teela snorted. “Guess he doesn’t get out much.”
“A fair assessment. But the mistral’s suggestion was excellent. This conversation blew fair because I asked him about his religion and began to read his scripture. But you know the oddest thing?”
“It all sounds odd to me.”
“Agreed, but now that I’m thinking about it, I can’t remember him ever mentioning the actual deity he follows, nor did any deity get mentioned in the portion I read.”
Teela’s eyes dropped to the book. “It has to be in there somewhere.”
“I hope so. I have a lot of reading to do.”
She asked me to walk with her and bring the map because the mistral would want to hear everything straight from me.
“We’re going to see the mistral?”
“Of course. Didn’t you want her to know all this?”
“Well, yes, but—” I looked down to see if I had any mustard stains on my tunic this time. I was blessedly stain-free but still a decrepit old scholar unfit for court.
“Don’t worry about your clothes. She is well aware that you have other priorities, unlike her courtiers.”
We entered the Calm from behind the throne while the mistral was receiving the Fornish ambassador. Apparently, a volcano had erupted in Hathrir and the entire surviving population of Harthrad had sailed north to land in Ghurana Nent. A serious situation, no doubt, that could trigger the Sovereignty Accords for the first time. But as those giants were on the other side of the continent, I could not muster very much worry about them. The giant we had in the dungeon was far more interesting. The mistral asked the ambassador to acquire more information about the Hathrim before committing to anything; a precipitous action against Gorin Mogen in a time of obvious crisis could damage relationships with the other Hathrim hearthfires.
Teela Parr executed some sort of hand signal to the mistral after the ambassador bowed, and Kauria’s elected ruler requested that the Calm be cleared for a private briefing. I caught many curious and perhaps calculating glances thrown my way as a result. I