“But on land, it does not linger. And a man carrying a lamp through his village does not have to worry about running into floating logs or drifting mountains of ice.” He smiled encouragingly. “Only into sleeping dogs and laughing children.”
“This is no game.” Her expression was grim. “If it gets any thicker or darker, my people won’t be able to see well enough to perform their duties.” Without being able to see him, she shouted to her first mate, knowing that he was somewhere below on the main deck. “Mr. Kamarkh! Light and set all lamps! And be careful! A burning ship will cut through this fog, but that’s not the kind of light I want to see!”
“Ayesh, Captain!” came the mate’s stalwart reply.
Moments later, pinpoints of light began to appear throughout the ship: in the rigging, at the ends of spars, atop both masts and along her sides. But so dense and dark had the mist become that they barely shone bright enough to illuminate their immediate surroundings, much less the water through which the Grömsketter was cutting.
“This won’t do,” Stanager muttered. “Lookouts can’t see a thing. Even if they did, it’d be too close to avoid. We’re going to have to furl all sail and put out the sea anchor until this thins or lifts.”
“That will cost us time.” Ehomba did not phrase it as a question.
“Ayesh. But I’ve no choice.” She stared at him through the gloom. “I won’t risk my ship.”
“How long do you think before it clears enough to continue?” Simna asked.
Her response was not encouraging. “Impossible to say. Something this intense, it might be days. Or weeks.”