She chuckled, thinking he was in a better humor. “When will we round the corner into the Morning Sea?”
“A couple of days, I expect.”
“And how long after that to Ollion?”
“A week at least. Longer with stops on the way.” She paused, then said, “Is that an estimate, or can you see?”
“It’s an estimate, ma’am. Foresight is tricky.”
“Yes?”
He didn’t want to be interrogated like a child, but he must not forget that he owed her his life, even if he didn’t really want it much now. She had certainly risked her own for him.
“Premonition and foresight aren’t quite the same,” he explained, floundering at finding terms for the ineffable concepts of magic. “I got a little premonition with my second word, although that’s unusual, and I seem to have some foresight now. I used premonition when I said I wouldn’t follow Inos west to Qoble. What would have happened, I don’t know, but it would have been very bad. It’ll never happen now, so I’ll never know. Foresight … Even sorcerers have trouble with that, and it’s especially hard to foresee yourself, because you start to get nervous, and make plans . . . I wish I could say this better.”
“Oh, do take your time, this is fascinating!”
The ship rolled forward over a crest, showing waves marching on over the endless ocean to meet the boundless sky. Why could he not dwell out here forever on the clear clean sea? Who needed land?
“A witch, a sorcerer, and at least one warlock all tried to foresee me and failed,” Rap said suddenly. He hadn’t meant to. He decided it wasn’t her he didn’t want to tell, but nosy old Sagorn. To ask her not to repeat his words would not be fair, though. “You remember what the magic casement showed when I went near it? A white glare?” He noticed that his voice was rising and his fists had clenched on the rail. He tried a small calming magic on himself.
“Of course.”
“It hurts!” Rap said. Ishist had told him that. “I foresaw me arriving in Ollion, I think, and we will travel in a coach, a big green one. And then I think I caught a glimpse of Hub—I don’t remember exactly. And then . . .” He shivered despite himself. “White! Like the sun . . . please, I don’t want to talk about it.”
He was shaking, and his fists had clenched again. She covered one with a wet, chilled hand. “Of course! I’m sorry I pried . . . I won’t tell the others what you said.”
She was absurdly concerned and apologetic. Evil take it, but he didn’t want to be mothered, either! “That’s all right, ma’am. I should have explained sooner. Something awful happens in Hub . . . I’m afraid you’ll have to manage without a seer. A foreseer, at least. Anytime I try to look forward now, even a couple of hours, all I can see is—that.”
And his premonition was growing worse every day. “Then you must stay away from Hub, Master Rap!” Her sympathy was quite genuine. He forced himself to fake a smile. “I don’t think I can escape. It’s destiny. I think I’m as helpless as . . . as a pebble in a chicken’s crop.”
And everyone knew where they went.
Meanwhile, in the glory hole, the rat made a dash for escape. Rap reached down and turned it, and Pooh grabbed as it went by. Rap laughed aloud, and the princess gave him a strange look.
6
Dearest Aunt, Greetings!
Please excuse the lack of a date and address, which would be proper. I have quite lost track of the days, but I can give you a rough idea of my location. I am writing this on board a nasty little ship—from which I hope to escape very shortly!—close to Elmas, which is in Ilrane! We have crossed the bar and are riding the tide up a very still river. (You may not think so from my handwriting) This was the best pen I could find. I had to ask a sailor for one, and he must have thought I said marlinespike.) The Big Man is writing to his brother, and so I shall ask to have this note enclosed. It may be the last chance I get to write to you for some time, and of course I must be circumspect with names, etc.
Now, my news! I am well, and quite a confident sailor now. We made very poor time at first. The notorious Kerith Passage was a lamb, a sleepy kitten, a featherbed, crystal calms alternated with drowsy zephyrs . . . thick cream, one long lullaby! You get the gist. And HOT! The Big Man was ready to snap the mainmast with his TEETH! Our ship was a week late and almost out of fresh water when we got to Ullacarn. None of us went ashore there. Our merchant friend is probably still lurking around, even if his superior is not—yellow hat. You know who I mean. But even he might still be around sometimes, because his friends are thicker than ever. The Big Man will be telling his brother all about that, though. We silly women mustn’t worry about men’s affairs, must we?
Then we set sail for Angot. The usual route follows the coast, and I was quite looking forward to seeing Thume again from a safe distance! It was not to be.
Despite its name—which the captain assured me is historical, not geographical—the Sea of Sorrows is renowned for the gentlest sailing anywhere in the Summer Seas. Don’t believe anything a sailor tells you, Aunt.
If that was CALM, I cannot imagine what STORMY looks like!
In my honor, I suppose, it mounted one of the worst typhoons the old-timers can remember. My literary skills are quite inadequate to describe it, but it did do wonders for my abilities at praying. Star of Delight was more fortunate than many fine vessels, I fear.
But the Gods were merciful and the return of fair weather found us with half our rigging and a bad list, somewhere southwest of Qoble. Except that we had bypassed three planned stops, we were slightly ahead of our original schedule when we limped into the world-famous harbor at Gaaze, which I had never heard of. It’s on the other side of Qoble from Angot.
So I was back in the Impire proper! How long it seems since you and I crossed the pass at Pondague with Andor (and that horrible proconsul) Yet it isn’t much more than half a year.
Gaaze (which has, as you know, a world-famous harbor) looks to be quite a pleasant city, but I barely set foot there. The Big Man and a couple of his friends went ashore first and came back very soon with fists clenched and brows knotted! Djinns are no longer welcome in Qoble, they were told. In fact, a general roundup of djinns was expected at any moment!
So, even if the passes were still open, we could not get into the Impire through Qoble.
Fortunately, the Big Man was able to buy early passage to Ilrane, and here we are, two days later, safe and sound in elf land. None too soon, either! This is a dirty old tub, which stinks of bilge like sewage, and whose principal cargo seems to be fleas. Believe it or not, Aunt, its official name is Lady of Many Virtues and Much Beauty. Even the captain has better names for it.
So now we hope to find horses and head north. That is, if we can get permission! Elves, I am told, are very suspicious of strangers. I shall not be sorry to see the last of the sea, but this may be my last chance to send a letter—I’m afraid the Imperial post will not be calling in Zark from now on. What fools men are!
I do hope you are well, My Dear Kade. I miss you and long to see you again. I expect you are keeping busy, knitting overcoats for camels or something.
And what about Rap? I have tried to speak to the Big Man about him, but he refuses to talk on that subject at all. I shall make one more effort before he sends off his letter to his brother, and hope I can persuade him to relent. Rap is no threat to anyone, and he was only trying to help. I am sure that if he were to be banished from the kingdom, nothing would ever drag him back. If I do manage to arrange this, will you try to see that Rap has some money when he leaves, and give him my best wishes? I should love to have heard all his adventures. He was duped by a warlock, I fear, and what happened really wasn’t his fault. I am sure he meant well—please tell him so, if you can. And if I can’t win a release for him, do see if you can do anything to ease his captivity. But I’m sure you’ll have done your best already.