Elgion wheedled a large package of fish rolls and spicecakes from a kitchen auntie, and the two men set off. Alemi was agile enough now with his crutch and splint-bound leg on land, but he was glad of any excuse to be on the sea.
Once beyond the protecting arms of the Half-Circle cliffs, the sea was choppy with crosscurrent and wind; Elgion’s skill would be well tested. Alemi, disregarding an occasional wetting as the skiff plunged hi and out of the wave troughs, played silent passenger while the Harper fought tiller and sheet to keep them on the course Alemi had set down the coast. The Sea Man became aware of the windshift some moments before Elgion, but it was the mark of his abilities as a teacher that Elgion was quick enough to notice the change.
“Wind’s slacking off.”
Alemi nodded, adjusting his cap slightly for the
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wind’s new direction. They sailed on, the wind slackening to a gentle pressure against the sail, the skiffs speed aided more by the deep current than the wind.
*Tm hungry,” Alemi announced as he and Elgion saw the stumpy violet crags of the Dragon Stones to leeward.
Elgion released the sheet line, and Alemi pulled the sail down, furling it with absent skill against the boom. At his direction, Elgion lashed the tiller so that the current carried them idly downcoast
“Don’t know why,” Alemi said through a mouthful of fishroll, “food always tastes better on the sea.”
Elgion contented himself to a nod since his mouth was full. He also had a good appetite; not, he qualified to himself, that he had been working overhard, just hanging on to the tiller and adjusting the sail sheet now and then.
“Come to think, don’t often have time to eat on the sea,” Alemi added. He gestured to include their leisurely bobbing, the skiff itself and the informal meal. “Haven’t been this lazy on a sail since I was old enough to haul a net” He stretched and then adjusted his splinted leg slightly, grimacing against the awkwardness and discomfort. Suddenly he leaned away from the bulwark, to reach into the small locker fitted against the curve of the hull. “TTiought so.” Grinning, he held up fishline, hook and dry worm.
“Can’t you leave off?”
“What? And have Yanus give out about unproductive hands?” Alemi deftly threaded line to hook and baited it “Here. You might as well try hook line and bait. Or does the Masterharper object to cross-crafting?”
‘The more crafts the better, says Master Robinton.”
Alemi nodded, his eyes on the current “Aye, sending lads away to other Sea Holds for fostering doesn’t quite answer, does it?” Deftly he threw the line from him, watched the cast carry it well away from the drifting skiff and sink.
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Elgion gave a fair imitation of that cast and settled himself, as Alemi had, to wait for results,
“What would we be catching out here?”
Alemi drew his mouth up in a grimace of indifference. “Probably nothing. Tide’s full, current’s strong, midday. Fish feed at dawn, unless there’s Thread.”
“Is that why you use the dry worm? Because it resembles Thread?” Elgion couldn’t suppress the shudder that went down his spine at the thought of loose Thread.
“You’re right.”
The silence that often grips fishermen settled comfortably in the boat
“Yellow-stripe, if anything,” Alemi finally said in answer to the question that Elgion had almost forgotten he’d asked. “Yellow-stripe or a very hungry packtaiL They’ll eat anything.”
“Packtafl? Thaf s good eating.”
“LineH break. Packtail’s too heavy for this.”
“Oh.”
The current was inexorably drawing them closer to fee Dragon Stones. But, although he wanted to get Alemi talking about them, Elgion couldn’t find the proper opening. At about the point where Elgion felt he’d better speak or they’d be pulled by the current into the Stones, Alemi casually glanced around. They were only several dragon lengths from the most seaward of the great crags. TTie water now lapped peacefully against the base, exposing occasionally the jagged points of submerged rock, eddying around others. Alemi unfurled the sail and hauled on the sheet line.
“We need more sea room near those. Dangerous