“Had you a difficult voyage?”
“Less difficult than it might have been,” said the sea captain. “That smoldering sea mountain, the Cannon of Nirriti, discharges its bolts against heaven once again.”
“Ah, you sailed from the southwest!”
“Yes. Chatisthan, from Ispar-by-the-Sea. The winds are good in this season of the year, but for this reason they also carried the ash of the Cannon much farther than any would think. For six days this black snow fell upon us, and the odors of the underworld pursued us, fouling food and water, making the eyes to weep and the throat to burn. We offered much thanksgiving when we finally outran it. See how the hull is smeared? You should have seen the sails — black as the hair of Ratri!”
The prince leaned forward to better regard the vessel. “But the waters were not especially troubled?” he asked.
The sailor shook his head. “We hailed a cruiser near the Isle of Salt, and we learned of it that we had missed by six days the worst dischargings of the Cannon. At that time, it burnt the clouds and raised great waves, sinking two ships the cruiser did know of, and possibly a third.” The sailor leaned back, stoking his pipe. “So, as I say, a seaman can always use blessings.”
“I seek a man of the sea,” said the prince. “A captain. His name is Jan Olvegg, or perhaps he is now known as Olvagga. Do you know him?”
“I knew him,” said the other, “but it has been long since he sailed.”
“Oh? What has become of him?”
The sailor turned his head to better study him. “Who are you to ask?” he finally inquired.
“My name is Sam. Jan is a very old friend of mine.”
“How old is ‘very old’?”
“Many, many years ago, in another place, I knew him when he was captain of a ship which did not sail these oceans.”
The sea captain leaned forward suddenly and picked up a piece of wood, which he hurled at the dog who had rounded a piling at the other side of the pier. It yelped once and dashed off toward the shelter of a warehouse. It was the same dog who had followed the prince from the hostel of Hawkana.
“Beware the hounds of hell,” said the captain. “There are dogs and there are dogs—and there are dogs. Three different kinds, and in this port drive them all from your presence.” Then he appraised the other once again. “Your hands,” he said, gesturing with his pipe, “have recently worn many rings. Their impressions yet remain.”
Sam glanced at his hands and smiled. “Your eyes miss nothing, sailor,” he replied. “So I admit to the obvious. I have recently worn rings.”
“So, like the dogs, you are not what you appear to be—and you come asking after Olvagga, by his most ancient name. Your name, you say, is Sam. Are you, perchance, one of the First?”
Sam did not reply immediately, but studied the other as though waiting for him to say more.
Perhaps realizing this, the captain continued: “Olvagga, I know, was numbered among the First, though he never spoke of it. Whether you are yourself among the First, or are one of the Masters, you are aware of this. So I do not betray him by so speaking. I do wish to know whether I speak to a friend or an enemy, however.”
Sam frowned. “Jan was never known for the making of enemies,” he said. “You speak as if he has them now, among those whom you call the Masters.”
The seaman continued to stare at him. “You are not a Master,” he finally said, “and you come from afar.”
“You are correct,” said Sam, “but tell me how you know these things.”
“First,” said the other, “you are an old man. A Master, too, could have upon him an old body, but he would not—any more than he would remain a dog for very long. His fear of dying the real death, suddenly, in the manner of the old, would be too great. So he would not remain so long as to leave the marks of rings deeply imprinted upon the fingers. The wealthy are never despoiled of their bodies. If they are refused rebirth, they live out the full span of their days. The Masters would fear a rising up in arms among the followers of such a one, were he to meet with other than a natural passing. So a body such as yours could not be obtained in this manner. A body from the life tanks would not have marked fingers either.