“Fair enough.”
The two, swaying slightly, threw their arms around each Other-Gregor’s arm nearly engulfing the slender elf-and tottered off toward the Land’s End.
“Say, Gregor, you get around a lot,” said Paithan. “Ever hear of a human wizard name of Zifnab?”
CHAPTER 10
VARSPORT, THILLIA
PAITHAN AND HIS CARAVAN WERE ABLE TO CROSS OVER ON THE FERRY THE following cycle. The crossing took an entire cycle, and the elf did not enjoy the trip, due to the fact that he was suffering from the after-effects of vingin.
Elves are notoriously bad drinkers, having no head at all for alcohol, and Paithan knew at the time he shouldn’t be attempting to keep pace with Gregor. But he reminded himself that he was celebrating-no Calandra to glare at him sternly for taking a second glass of wine with dinner. The vingin also conveniently fogged up Paithan’s remembrance of the daft old wizard, his stupid prophecy, and Gregor’s gloomy stories about giants.
The constant clatter of the turning capstan, the snorting and squeals of the five harnessed wild boar who drove it, and the constant urgings of their human driver blasted through the elf’s head. The guck-covered, slimy vine cable that drew the ferry over the water slid past him and disappeared, winding around the capstan. Leaning up against a bundle of blankets in the shade of an awning, a wet compress over his aching head, Paithan watched the water slip away beneath the boat and felt extremely sorry for himself.
The ferry had been operating across the Kithni Gulf for about sixty years. Paithan could remember seeing it as a small child, traveling in company with his grandfather-the last journey the two’d made before the old elf vanished into the wilderness. Then Paithan had thought the ferryboat the most wonderful invention in the world and had been extremely upset to find out that humans had been responsible for inventing it.
His grandfather had patiently explained the human thirst for money and power known as ambition-a result of their pitifully short life spans-that led them to all sorts of energetic undertakings. The elves had been quick to take advantage of the ferry service, since it markedly increased trade between the two realms, but they viewed it with suspicion. The elves had no doubt that the ferry-like most other human endeavors-would somehow lead to a bad end. In the meantime, however, the elves magnanimously allowed the humans to serve them.
Soothed by the lapping of the water and the fumes of the vingin lingering in his brain, Paithan grew drowsy in the heat. He had the vague memory of Gregor having becomed embroiled in a brawl and nearly getting him-Paithan-killed. The elf drifted off to sleep. He woke to Quintin, his overseer, shaking him by the shoulder.
“Auanal Auanal [17] Quindiniar! Wake up. The boat is docking.”
Paithan groaned and sat up. He felt somewhat better. Though his head still throbbed, at least he didn’t feel like he was about to tumble over in a dead faint when he moved. Staggering to his feet, he lurched across the crowded deck to where his slaves crouched on the wood planking, out in the open, with no shelter from the blazing sun. The slaves didn’t appear to mind the heat. They wore nothing but loin cloths. Paithan, who kept every inch of his fair skin covered, looked at the deep brown or black skin of the humans and was reminded of the vast gulf that lay between the two races.
“Callie’s right,” he muttered to himself. “They’re nothing but animals and all the civilizing in the world won’t change that. I should have known better than to go off with Gregor last night. Stick to my own kind.”
This firm resolve lasted all of, say, an hour, by which time Paithan, feeling much better, was visiting with a bruised, swollen, and grinning Gregor while both stood in line, waiting their turns to present their papers to the port authority. Paithan remained cheerful during the long wait. When Gregor left for his turn at customs, the elf amused himself by listening to the chatter of his human slaves, who appeared ridiculously excited at seeing their homeland again.