“To see Captain Efflio,” Gath explained.
“Give me one good reason . . . The one who brought the horses last year?”
Gath nodded. “No. Mostly rope this time. He thinks you can trade it to the goblins.”
Rap took a deep breath. “Even the prospect of a shipload of rope will not—”
“Something to do with . . . Shandie?” Gath said, screwing up his eyes. “It’s not clear yet, but . . . Shandie? Who’s Shandie?”
“What are you talking about?”
“News from Captain Efflio. Yes, he is.”
“Is he going to. . .”
Rap abandoned the question. Inos was watching the exchange with barely suppressed laughter. Efflio had been much better informed about the current news in the Impire than most sailors who called at Krasnegar, so a talk with him was an attractive prospect. It almost justified taking the morning off work. And Gath’s shoulders were damp! That meant . . .
A flicker of uneasiness crossed the boy’s face. “There’s something about the castle gate, Dad . . . I have to go outside before I know what’s going to happen outside.”
So he’d discovered the shielding? Never mind Captain Efflio! The time had come for another father—and-son . . .
“I knew you would!” Gath said happily, and now there was no denying the gleam in his eyes, or the smile of triumph he was trying to hide.
Rap pulled a ferocious mock scowl at his son’s glee, hiding his own relief. Obviously Gath had adjusted to his new talent to the point where he enjoyed showing off with it, as Inos had said. That man-to-man talk was overdue. But if Rap was going down to the harbor with Gath, then he needn’t trouble Master Gracker. “Rim and—”
“I already told him,” Gath said smugly.
As king and prince left the barbican and hurried across the courtyard outside, Rap noticed with amusement that his lanky companion was taking strides as long as his own, although he had to strain to do so. The rain was definitely relenting, blue sky showing to the west, but man and boy headed for Royal Wynd, which was one of the town’s many covered ways. The first stretch was very steep and at present deserted, so they let their feet run away with them, leaning back for balance, footsteps drumming eerily in the shadows.
They slowed down for the first stairs, grinning at each other. Gath was glowing with wordless bliss at being with his father, which raised a question Rap had been considering for some time. The citizens of Krasnegar all started work as children. Princes and princesses had schoolwork to occupy their childhood, but those were suspended during the summer. There was no reason why he should not take Gath with him when he returned to the mainland, at least for a week or two. It would be dull for him, and wearying, but perhaps also a glimpse of his own future. When Royal Wynd entered Pirates’ Walk, Rap turned to the boy to ask if he would like to come—and saw the answer already on his face.
“What am I going to ask you?”
Gath’s happiness flickered briefly. “Don’t know the words. We’re going to talk about me coming with you to the mainland.” Rap nodded, while his mind worked that out. He could not shake the feeling that there was an impossible paradox lurking somewhere in Gath’s odd talent and yet he could not corner it. In this case, Gath had known what Rap was going to say and then Rap had not said it. But the paradox escaped again, because Gath had brought up the subject . . . or did it?
Gath was soon insisting that he would not mind sleeping in tents, missing meals, riding all day, being drenched, burned, frozen, or any of the other horrors Rap described. He seemed to welcome such prospects. He insisted he had no plans for the next few weeks, nor would he mind leaving his friends.
His father felt a twinge of uneasiness at that, but he agreed he would take an apprentice along on his next trip to the mainland. He was fairly certain that his son had known all about that decision when he entered the great hall an hour ago.
Less than a year had gone by since Rap had worried that Gath never seemed to do anything on his own. Now he was concerned that the boy had become a loner. Truly parenthood was a course in gratuitous anxiety!
Two women locked in a corner gossip broke off long enough to bob their respects to the king. The king greeted them both by name, wishing them good morrow. Man and boy crossed the wagon road then and the rain was barely noticeable. They continued by way of One Weaver’s Steps.
“Gath?”
“Yes, sir?” There was a guarded expression on the boyish face now.
“You mind talking about your . . . talent, premonition, whatever it is?”
“No. ‘Cept it’s hard to explain.”
“Well, don’t worry if you can’t put it in words. I’m just curious to know how you see the future. When I’m being a sorcerer, I can do some of it, of course.”
“Oh! You can? You really can?”
Rap should have told him so sooner. The poor kid was showing large quantities of relief, just because he’d been told he wasn’t any more of a freak than his father.
“For me it’s a real effort. You seem to do it all the time.” Gath nodded. “Can’t help it.”
“I know of two ways. I can use premonition, where I just think about doing something, then about doing something else, and then decide which one feels better. That only works on me myself, though . . .”
Gath was already shaking his head.
“The other way is foresight,” Rap said. “But that takes a huge effort and usually you see so many possibilities that you can’t make any of them out clearly. That works best on other people. Once in a while you run into a destiny, where the Gods have decreed that . . .”
He choked into silence, remembering the terrible prophecy he had been given. Fortunately Gath had not noticed his confusion.
“Not like that, either, sir,” he said. “I don’t think I can see destinies.”
That was one blessing, anyway.
“The only way I can tell you,” Gath went on, scowling at his feet as he walked, “is it’s like having a candle in the dark. Other people seem to be walking with their eyes closed, falling into puddles and tripping over rocks. I can see the road ahead, for a little way.”
“Hey, that’s a good description! So you can go around the puddles? ”
“Sometimes. Sometimes they’re unavoidable, like algebra. Sometimes I run into things I didn’t expect, or didn’t see in time. It’s nothing much, really, Dad.”
“I think what you have is called prescience. I never tried that, but I suppose I could have if I’d wanted to. The name’s not important. What matters is that it’s a great gift! Be proud of it and use it well. Don’t use it to aid the Evil.”
Being thirteen, Gath of course wanted to know how his prescience could be used to aid the Evil. A few moments later Rap was able to change the subject and talk about the castle shielding.
He stopped where the way divided. “Let’s run a test here,” he said. ”We can go on down Peddlar Alley, or we can walk on the wagon road, since it’s stopped raining. Can you say who we’ll meet in either case?”
Gath was staring down the rain-wet street. “If you go that way, Dad, you’re going to run into the bishop.”
“God of Horrors!” Rap said. “You’re right. Quick!” He dived into Peddlar Alley with his son at his heels, and they did no further experimentation in the occult before they reached the harbor.
2
During the previous winter, Captain Efflio had taken Sea Beauty south and revisited Impport, his childhood home. He had even located his long-lost daughter. But Impport had failed to live up to his memories of it, and his daughter’s household had been a madhouse of rampaging children whose antics had done terrible things to his asthma. His son-in-law was a hair-raising religious fanatic. Efffio had abandoned dreams of a quiet retirement there.
Then a profitable cargo had brought him north again to Pamdo Gulf in the spring and another idea had germinated. He had encountered an ambitious jotunn sailor named Bithbal, who had some money to invest jotnar and money were an unusual combination. The final straw had come aboard when Efflio had mentioned to Krushbark that he was considering a voyage to Krasnegar. The big man had just said, “Where?” with a totally blank expression. Krushbark’s devastated face quite frequently wore a blank expression, but the discovery that the bosun had already forgotten that peculiar little town settled the matter for Efflio. One thing an imp could not resist was a mystery.