“The Kraken was angry with the ship that ran into it.” Ehomba did his best to reassure her. “It is not angry at us.” Long, supple fingers moved rapidly. “On the contrary, it is delighted to have received the best coffee it has ever tasted.”
As if to underscore the herdsman’s observations, a massive tentacle reached back over the railing to place the empty kettle conscientiously on the deck. Sending a surge against the side of the ship, the Kraken slowly moved away as its tentacles wove a complex pattern in the air. A pattern only one man aboard the Grömsketter could unravel.
“We are free to go, with thanks and in friendship.”
Nodding tersely, Stanager turned and shouted orders. Shorn of their many-armed source of wonder and entertainment, sailors snapped out of their phantasmagoric reverie and back to work. Sails were made ready, lines drawn taut.
“Several days we lost because of the winds you freed from the old fisherman’s bottle, and several more from making repairs and waiting down in the valley in the sea.” Achieving only partial success, she tried to keep the irritation and impatience out of her voice as she spoke to her tall passenger. “If the winds are favorable we might make some of it up. If not, the lost time will see certain of our stores sorely thinned.”
“Maybe there is a way to regain a little of the time we have lost.” Turning back to the rail, Ehomba wagged his fingers energetically at the drifting Kraken. Simna paid little heed, certain that his friend was bidding their exotic erstwhile drinking companion good-bye. In point of fact, the herdsman had something different in mind.