Paragaea (28 page)

At last, their course turned again towards the east, and they approached the southern inlet of the Parousian peninsula. They sailed along with the Parousian coast at their port side for some days, until they reached the point where the shore curved before them before continuing back to the south and west.

“This is the nearest landfall to Keir-Leystall,” Tyrel explained to Leena and Hieronymus, who had joined him in the wheelhouse, maps and charts spread before them.

“And if what our companion Benu says is correct,” Hieronymus said, pointing to a crosshatched patch of darkness a few finger widths from their current position on the map, “the oracular forest itself can be found there, many days' journey overland to the east.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Leena said, straightening. “I'm ready to be off this tub and on our way.”

“You've no time to waste on pleasantries, lassie, which I respect.” Tyrel flashed an easy smile, but a scowl lurked at the corners of his
mouth. “You're on my ship still, though, and I'll thank you kindly not to impugn the good name of the good ship
Acoetes Zephyrus.”

“She meant no offense, Captain,” Hieronymus said, stepping between them and clapping an arm around Tyrel's shoulder. “Your dhow is one of the worthiest vessels upon which I've sailed, and I count it a privilege to have served, if only briefly and by half measures, as one of her crew.” Hieronymus skillfully steered Tyrel away from the maps, towards the cabin door, and out onto the deck.

“You're a rank flatterer, lad,” Tyrel said with a grin, “but I'll do you the favor of believing every lie. If I was to be forced to smuggle unfortunates from the clutches of the Masjid Emporean constabulary, I consider it my good fortune that one of you, at least, had sea legs beneath you, and did not shrink from a bit of honest work.”

Balam and Spatha were resting on the deck, having passed another morning sparring, while Kakere sat looking on in the shadow of the wheelhouse, and Benu calmly studied the horizon.

“Drop anchor,” Tyrel called to his crewmen. “And ready my gig, to take our passengers ashore.” He turned to the company, and shrugged apologetically. “The draw in these waters is much too shallow for even the
Acoetes Zephyrus
, I'm afraid, so you'll need to go ashore in my gig”—he pointed to a small, clinker-built boat being lowered over the side—“but my crewmen will be at the oars to do the pulling, so you'll need only enjoy the ride until you're on solid ground again.”

“Gather up your things, friends,” Hieronymus said to the company, motioning them to hurry. “We need waste no more of the good captain's time than we already have.”

Balam climbed to his feet, and made for the hatchway, following Benu and Hieronymus, who'd already gone below. He stopped halfway across the deck, and glanced back at Spatha, who still lounged on the deck.

“Sekundus?” Balam called back, waving her to follow. “Are you planning on leaving your armor and arms behind?”

“Hardly,” Spatha said. “The answer is simpler. I'm not coming with thee.”

“But why?” Leena asked, halfway through the hatch.

“I've no desire to go traipsing through the underbrush, looking for some mythical forest of metal with you lot.” Spatha turned her gaze from Leena to Balam. “If thou was to come with me, Sinaa, I'm sure thou would find work as a sword for hire. There are many as would pay handsomely for thy skills.”

“I'll not abandon my friends, Sekundus,” Balam said darkly, and turned to the hatchway.

“I think I'll just stay onboard, too, if it's all the same to you,” Kakere said from the shadows of the wheelhouse.

“I'm afraid, friend Ichthyandaro,” Tyrel said, raising his hand, “that whether it is the same to them or not is irrelevant, as what matters in this instance are my desires alone. And my desire is that you all, every one of you, leave my ship at this landfall. And further, I desire that I never see a one of you again, meaning no offense.”

“What?” Spatha climbed to her feet and advanced menacingly on the captain. “What is thy meaning, Tyrel?”

“After we stop at Masjid Logos and Masjid Kirkis in the south, our course will carry us eventually northward again, back to Masjid Empor.” Tyrel gave a shrug, an unapologetic expression on his face. “I won't have you onboard when I arrive again in a port. I've stuck my neck out far enough as it is, and I won't take on any more trouble on your account, or on account of any of your company.” He crossed his arms over his chest, resting them on his ample belly. “You and yours have been the perfect passengers, Spatha Sekundus, and I know there are those in my crew who will be sorry to see you go, friend Kakere, and the bounty of the sea with you, but I've got to do what is in the ship's and the crew's best interests, and sailing any farther with escaped felons on board is in no one's interest.”

Leena turned, and climbed belowdecks. The gig was nearly lowered all the way to the water, and it would soon be time for them to leave.

The company rode to the shore in silence, the crewmen pulling at their oars, bearing them ever farther away from the dhow that had been the only refuge they'd known for long weeks. Hieronymus and Leena were in the prow, Balam and Benu in the middle, and Spatha sat in the stern next to Kakere, who was once more wrapped head to toe in his dampened robes. The Nonae muttered excoriations back at Tyrel, while Kakere peered over the gig's side at the blue waters beneath, his expression hidden in folds of damp cloth.

The gig reached a sandy spar, and two of the crewmen jumped out, to haul the gig ashore. Then, they unceremoniously tossed the company's baggage out onto the sands, and stepped aside to stand in the shade and smoke illicit weeds in clay pipes, safely out of the sight of their Meliorist captain. The company climbed gracelessly over the side, and gathered up their packs and bags, tightening their sword belts and holsters, readying themselves for their trek.

“The land seems to swell and rise,” Balam said, swaying uneasily.

“You're used to the pitch and yaw of the waves, friend,” Hieronymus said with a smile, reaching out a hand to steady the jaguar man. “Your balance has become accustomed to the sea, and it'll take a short while for you to get your land legs back beneath you.”

“If you think
this
is bad,” Leena said, grimacing, “you should try walking after being in orbit for a few hours, and see how bad your balance is
then.”

When they'd finished smoking through their bowls, the crewmen returned to the gig, pushed off into the waves, and rowed back to the waiting dhow.

“Let's push ahead,” Hieronymus said, making for the tree line.

The green of the canopy, after the unbroken blue of the ocean and the sky above, was shocking to Leena's eyes. These trees, with their twisting, branching trunks, were shorter than those of the jungles and forests to the west, rising no more than ten meters from the sandy ground. The ground beneath the trees was damp, and Leena's boots squelched in the thin layer of sandy mud.

“These are mangroves,” Hieronymus said as he climbed through a gnarled twist of branches and trunks. “I saw similar in the equatorial regions of Earth, in my days in His Majesty's Navy. There'll be tidal channels and waterways throughout, making the going that much slower.”

“The sooner we get through this mess and onto solid ground,” Balam said, “the better.”

They came through a copse of trees and stood at the shores of a wide waterway that ran inland from the sea.

“I'm tired already,” moaned Kakere, his voice muffled by his damp robes.

“Thou could leave at any moment,” Spatha spat, “and save us all the burden of thy company.”

“Would that I could,” the Ichthyandaro answered, and pointed at a shadow beneath the sapphire-blue waters of the tidal channel.

“What is that?” Leena asked, coming to stand beside him.

“I'm not sure,” Kakere answered, “but it's big, and I'm willing to lay odds it would like nothing more than to eat a tasty Ichthyandaro like me. I saw a school of them coursing along beside the boat that rowed us from the ship. These waters must be teeming with them. I couldn't return to the seas here if I wanted to.” His shoulders seemed to move beneath the robes, which Leena read as a shrug. “So I've no choice but to come along, it appears.”

“Oh, blessed joy,” Spatha said, rolling her eyes. She turned to the east, and began to walk along the edge of the waterway. “Well, come along,” she called back to the company over her shoulder, her hand
resting on her baldric. “The sooner we get through this mess the better, right?”

Leena glanced over at Balam and Hieronymus, who only shrugged, and then turned to follow the Nonae deeper into the mangrove swamp.

By nightfall, they'd still not reached the edge of the mangrove swamp, though they'd forded a number of narrower streams and waterways since that morning. With the light dimming to the east, they sought out the highest land they could find to make camp for the night.

“We'll just have to hope that the tide doesn't reach this high,” Hieronymus said when they'd found a likely spot, a high plateau at the end of a narrow isthmus, separated from the mainland by waterways only a meter or so across, “or at least that it comes in late enough in the day that we'll already be up and on our way when it arrives.”

“Don't the tides come in regularly with the morning light?” Leena asked. “I thought Tyrel had mentioned that.”

“Perhaps,” Benu said thoughtfully. “Though the Paragaean tides have become somewhat erratic in recent millennia. I've often thought it a result of the slow recess of the moon from the planet, and the attendant irregularity in the lunar tidal forces.” He glanced around them, where driftwood and creeping vines dotted the sandy ground beneath the twisted mangrove trees. “It might be a mistake to count on the regularity of duration or extent of the tides in this region.”

“As for me,” Balam said, yawning, “I just want to get some food in my belly, and a few hours' sleep behind my eyes. Anything else is of secondary concern.”