“We do not have weeks,” Ehomba observed quietly.
“I know. I hope you gentlemen like fish, because if we’re forced to remain here for very long, we’re going to be eating a lot of it.” She turned away from them to give the necessary orders.
“Wait.”
Her gaze swung back to the tall passenger. “Wait for what, herdsman? I respect you for what you’ve done, but don’t try to tell me my business.”
“I would not think of it. It is only that I would like to try something.” He glanced in his friend’s direction. “Simna, would you bring me the sky-metal sword?”
“Would I like to be locked in the Pasha of Har-Houseen’s harem for a week?” Elated, the swordsman dashed to the nearest hatch and vanished within as swiftly as a meerkat diving into its burrow.
Stanager eyed her enigmatic passenger warily. “More wind? Should I alert the crew to be ready for some sorceral gale?”
Ehomba sighed heavily. “As I have had to tell my friends repeatedly, there is no sorcery involved. I am only making use of what the wise people of my village have been kind enough to provide me.”
“I’m only interested in the consequences, Etjole. Not the source.”
“There will be no wind.” He smiled to himself. “Simna is a good man and a fine fellow, but sometimes his enthusiasm gets the better of his thinking. The sword of sky metal is not for calling up a casual breeze when one is too hot, or a gust of wind to fill a sail. When loosed to do all that it can, it is an extremely difficult blade to control.” He nodded skyward. “It might as easily sink this ship as blow it free. But there are all kinds of winds. Eminent sailor that you are, you know that there are winds within the sea as well as above.”