“Certainly they were by themselves in their millions strong enough to drag the ship clear, but any line, however mighty, needs an anchor against which to pull.” He waved diffidently at the gentle swells through which they were cutting. “What was theirs?”
“Who knows?” She shrugged, much too relieved to be really interested. “The top of an undersea mountain, perhaps, or a shelf of corals.”
“Corals would not hold up under the strain. They would break off.”
“Well, the submerged mountaintop, then.” He really was a man to discourage good cheer, she decided. Not naturally grave, but given to an inherent reluctance to let himself go and have a good time. Simna ibn Sind was incorrigible, but at least he knew how to celebrate a success. Deciding to put the proposition to a small test, she reached down and pinched the stoic herdsman on his stolid behind. Startled, he finally took his eyes off the sea.
“So you are alive after all.” She grinned cheerfully. “I was beginning to wonder.”
His expression was one of utter confusion, which pleased her perversely. “I—I did not mean to dampen anyone’s spirits. I am as gladdened as everyone else that we are safely out of the valley. You have to excuse me. It is simply that as long as I am afflicted with an unanswered question, it is impossible for me to completely relax. I can manage it a little, yes, but not completely.”
“I’m surprised that you are able to sleep,” she retorted.
Now it was his turn to grin. “Sometimes, so am I.”
“Come and have a grog with me.” She gestured over the bow. “Doroune lies that way, to the southwest. We’ll have you and your friends there soon enough, and from then forward I’ll be denied the pleasure of your company. Prove to me that there is some truth in that statement.”