engaged elsewhere.
We had three pumps, in the forward port hold, and four men were at the handles of each, two men to a side.
One fellow, Tyrtaios, lean and hard, a snake I thought in a warrior’s body, left his pump and waded to where I worked. “Take my place,” said he to Durbar, who worked beside me. Durbar did as he was told. I had observed this fellow Tyrtaios in the hold, under the single swinging lamp, on its chains, which supplied the feeble light within which we worked, which cast wild shadows about, which seemed like the flutterings of frightened jards. Tyrtaios had worked at the other two pumps, as well. Several days ago, an altercation had taken place between this Tyrtaios and a man named Decius, with respect to a bench-place in the mess. A day later Decius was gone. We supposed he had been washed overboard whilst making his way to the helm deck. Durbar, not speaking, took the place at the second pump, that place vacated by Tyrtaios.
For several Ehn we continued to man the pump, in silence, and then Tyrtaios spoke to us, the other three at the pump.
“We are moving north,” he said.
“West,” said Andronicus, once of Tabor, once of the Scribes. Andronicus was no stranger to the Second Knowledge. He could read.
“No longer, for days, even before the storm,” said Tyrtaios.
“Our course is west,” said Andronicus.
“We are not on course,” said Tyrtaios. “I was to the helm deck. Half blinded by water I saw briefly, clouds apart in the wind, the star of Hesius. It was at the bow. Four times later, too, on different days, the star of Hesius lay before us. Two helmsmen confirmed this.”
“We have been blown off course,” I said, levering the pump.
“Tersites is taking us north,” he said. “The wind is his ally.”
“Why so?” I asked.
“If we are going north,” said Andronicus, “and by intent, Tersites plans to shorten the voyage, by the northern circle.”
“I do not understand,” said Thoas, across from Tyrtaios.
“Gor,” said Andronicus, “is like a ball, and one may shorten distances by curving to the north and then curving back to the south.
“He has gone too far north,” said Tyrtaios.
“Perhaps,” said Andronicus.
“The wind,” I said. “We fly before it.”
“Ice has been seen in the water,” said Tyrtaios, “ice the size of galleys.”
“Then we are too far north,” said Andronicus.
“The wind,” I said.
“Tersites,” said Tyrtaios, “is mad. That is well-known. He will kill us all.”
“What is to be done?” asked Thoas.
“We must turn back,” said Tyrtaios.
“It is true,” said Andronicus, “that the ship may break apart.”
“There may be little time,” said Tyrtaios.
“There is, too, the brink, the falling away place, where the world ends,” said Thoas.
“And before the next watch,” whispered Tyrtaios, “we may fall from the world, to fall forever.”
I did not think Tyrtaios believed what he said, but many amongst the crew might.
“No,” said Andronicus. “Gor is like a ball. There is no edge.”
“You do not know that, wise one,” said Thoas. “You have not been there. Perhaps your scrolls, what you read, are false.”
“There is much evidence,” said Andronicus.
“Use your eyes,” said Thoas. “The world is flat, as may be easily seen, and, if so, it must end somewhere.”
Andronicus was silent, which silence Thoas apparently took as having had his point conceded.
“But Thassa must have an edge,” said Tyrtaios.
“Of course,” said Andronicus.
“None have returned from beyond the farther islands,” said a fellow at the nearest pump.
“And we are beyond the farthest islands,” said the fellow beside him.
“Lower your voices,” whispered Tyrtaios, looking about.
The two returned to their work.
“We must be the first,” said Tyrtaios to us, in a whisper.
“And how may that be done?” asked Thoas, apprehensively.
“We must urge Tersites to turn back,” said Tyrtaios.
“He will never do so,” said Andronicus. “He is at war with Thassa.”
“We must force him to turn back,” said Tyrtaios. “He cannot man the ship without us.”
“There are the Pani,” I said, “the soldiers of Lords Nishida and Okimoto.”
“They must join us,” said Tyrtaios.
“I think that is unlikely,” said Andronicus.
“We outnumber them,” said Tyrtaios.
“Tersites will never turn back,” said Andronicus.
“Then,” said Tyrtaios, “it may be necessary to seize the ship.”
“I signed articles, long ago,” said Andronicus.
“Not to go to our deaths,” said Tyrtaios.
We continued to work the pump.
“Many are of my mind,” whispered Tyrtaios.
“Some are not,” said Andronicus.
“What if I told you, if we return to the continent,” whispered Tyrtaios, “that riches would await us all?”
“We have nothing but our fee,” said Thoas. “Of what do you speak?”
“I speak no further,” smiled Tyrtaios. “But there would be wealth enough for all, great wealth.”
I did not understand his words.
I knew there was a pretty price on the pretty head of the slave, Alcinoe, once the Lady Flavia of Ar, once confidante of the former Ubara, Talena, but it was scarcely enough to enrich several hundred men, mariners and soldiers, Pani, and others.
“Division at sea,” said Andronicus, “as fire at sea, is a hazard no rational man will countenance.”
“Surely,” said Tyrtaios, “the rational man weighs risk against gain, and recognizes that even considerable risk is more than outweighed by the prospect of prodigious gain.”
“I signed articles,” said Andronicus.
“I hear steps on the companionway,” I said.
We fell silent.
It was the fellow, Torgus, come again, with his pole.
He stood on the first step of the companionway, and carefully lowered the butt of the stick to the deck, under the water. “Good fellows!” he called. “Good fellows! The water is down. A hort! Your relief is at hand. Go to the mess, and get paga.”
As we ascended the companionway others passed us, on the way down, to tend to the pumps. I saw again, amongst them, as I had on former days, Tarl Cabot, himself, commander of the tarn cavalry, and his friend, Pertinax. “Well done, fellows,” said Tarl Cabot to us, as we passed. How odd, I thought, that officers, these two, would take their turn at the pumps. Did they not understand their station? Had they so little dignity? How could they expect to keep the respect of their men, if they so lowered themselves, if they so demeaned themselves, if they so compromised their position? But, too, I thought, would men not die for such officers?
I saw Tyrtaios wait on the steps, for Andronicus to pass him, and he would then be behind him.
This clearly made Andronicus uneasy, but he continued on.
At the next level, when we reached it, Tyrtaios, then waiting, spoke to me. “Do not forget what I have said,” he said.
