“Who are these coming toward us from Salthaven?” Rill interrupted in an arresting voice. “If I don’t mistake their identities, they may bring news bearing on that question.”
The fog blanket to the east was finally breaking up and shredding under the silent bombardment of the sun’s bright beams, although the latter were losing a little of their golden strength as the orb mounted and the sky became heavy. Through the white rags and tatters two slight and white-clad figures trudged: who waved their hands and broke into a run upon seeing that they were observed. As they drew closer it was to be seen that the redhead’s eyes were large in her small face but the silver-blonde’s larger still.
“Aunt Afreyt!” Gale called as soon as they got near. “We’ve had a great adventure and we’ve got the most amazing news to tell!”
“Never mind that now,” Afreyt answered somewhat shortly. “Tell us, where’s Fafhrd?”
“How did you know?” Gale’s eyes grew larger still. “Well, I was going to build up to it, but since you ask right off: Uncle Fafhrd has swum up into the sky to board a cloud ship of Arilia or flag a flier from Stardock. I think he’s looking for help in finding Uncle Mouser.”
“Stop talking nonsense,” Cif burst out.
“Fafhrd can’t swim through air,” Afreyt pointed out.
“Sea tunnels of Simorgya! Cloud ships of Arilia!” Groniger protested. “That’s too much nonsense for a cold summer morning.”
“But it’s what happened,” the girl insisted. “Why, Aunt Afreyt, you yourself saw Fafhrd and Mara flying high through air when the invisible princess Hirriwi of Stardock rescued them from Hellfire on her invisible fish of air. Fingers saw more than I did. She’ll tell you.”
The Ilthmar cabin-girl said, “Aboard Weasel the sailors all assured me that the strangest sorts of vessels dock at Rime Isle, including the cloud galleons of the Queendom of the Air. And I did see Captain Fafhrd swimming strongly atop the fog toward a cloud that could have been such a vessel.”
“Arilia is a fable, child,” Groniger assured her gently. “Sailors tell all sorts of lies. Actually Rime Isle’s the least fantastic place in all of Nehwon.”
“But Uncle Fafhrd did mount up the sky,” Gale reaffirmed stubbornly. “I don’t know how. Maybe Princess Hirriwi taught him to fly and he never told us about it. He’s awfully modest. But he did it. We both saw him.”
“All right, all right,” Cif told her. “I think you’d best just tell us the whole story from the beginning.”
Afreyt said, “But first you need a cup of wine to calm you down and also warm you. You’ve been long out on a chilly morning that may go down in legend.” She opened her hamper, took out a jug of fortified sweet wine and two small silver mugs, filled them halfway, and made both children drink them down. This led to serving wine to all the others.
Gale said, “Fingers should start it. At the beginning I was asleep.”
Fingers told them, “Captain Fafhrd came back from the diggings just after the rest of you all went off. He drank some gahvey and brandy and began to pace up and down, frowning and rubbing his wrist against his forehead as if he were trying to think out some problem. He got very nervous and fey. Finally he took up a jug, hung a lamp on his hook, and went off after you. I waked Gale and told her I thought he needed watching.”
“That’s right,” Gale took over. “So we jumped out of bed and ran to the fire and got dressed.”
“That explains it,” Afreyt interjected.
“What?” Pshawri asked.
“Why Udall kept watching Fafhrd so long. Go on, dear.”
Gale continued, “It was easy to follow Uncle Fafhrd because of his lamp. The darkness was fading anyway, the stars going out. At first we didn’t try to catch up with him or let him know we were behind him.”
“You were afraid he’d send you back,” Cif guessed.
“That’s right. At first he seemed to be following you, but where you turned south he kept straight on east. It was getting quite light now, but the sun was still in hiding. Every so often he’d stop and look ahead at the fog and the rooftops and the wind-chime arch sticking up out of it and lift his head to scan the sky above it—that’s when I saw the little fleet of clouds—and raise his hand before his face to invoke the gods and ask their help.”
“That was the hand that had the jug in it?” Afreyt asked.
“It must have been,” the girl replied, “for I don’t recall the lamp going up and down.
“And then Uncle Fafhrd began to run in the strangest slow way, he seemed to float and almost stop between each step. Of course, we started to run too. We were all into the fog by now, which seemed to slow him and support him at the same time, so his steps were longer.
“The fog got over our heads and hid him from us. We got to the Moon Arch and Fingers started to climb it before I could tell her that was frowned on. She got above the fog and called down…”
Gale stretched a hand toward Fingers, who continued, “Truly, gentles, I saw Captain Fafhrd swimming strongly through the top of the fog, up its long white slope, while a good distance beyond him, the goal of his mighty self-sailing, there was—I know the eyes can be fooled and my mind was full of the sailors’ tales, nevertheless, my word as a novice witch—there was a dense cloud that looked very much like a white ship with a high stern-castle. Sunlight flashed from its silver brightwork.
“Then that same sun got into my eyes and I stopped seeing anything clearly. I’d called some of it down to Gale and I climbed down and told her the rest.”
Gale took up again. “We ran through Salthaven to the eastern headland. The fog was breaking up and burning off, but we couldn’t see anything clearly. When we got there, the Maelstrom was seething and mists rising from it. But overhead it was clear and I could see Uncle Fafhrd, very high now, beside the white cloud-ship, showing only its keel. There were five gulls around him. Then the mists from below came between us. I thought you should know, Aunt Afreyt. But since it was on the way to the diggings, we decided to tell Aunt Cif first.”
Fingers added, “I saw what she saw, gentles. But Captain Fafhrd was very far off then. It could have been a very large marine bird—a sea mandragon escorted by five sea hawks.”
The listeners looked at each other.
“This rings true,” Afreyt said quite softly. “I feared that Fafhrd was fey when he was last down the shaft.”
“You believe what these girls tell us?” Groniger asked only somewhat incredulously.
“To be sure she does,” Mother Grum answered.
“But why would he go to air folk,” Skullick wanted to know, “to get advice on someone lost underground?”
“You can’t guess the designs of a fey one,” Rill told him.
“But what of the Gray Mouser now?” Cif addressed Afreyt. “As Fafhrd’s spokeswoman, what say you to sending Pshawri to Darkfire?”
“Let him go, of course, and luck with him. Luck and quietus to Loki,” that lady responded without hesitation. “Here’s provisions for you, Lieutenant.” From her hamper she gave him a small loaf and a hard sausage and the near empty sweet-wine jug, which would do to carry cool water he’d get at Last Spring on the way.
After a quick glance to assure himself the others were otherwise occupied, Pshawri said to Afreyt in a low voice, “Lady, would you add to your kindnesses one further favor?” and when she nodded, handed her a folded paper indited in violet ink with broken green seals. “Keep this for me. Should I not return (such things happen), give it to Captain Fafhrd, if he’s back. Otherwise read it yourself—and show it to Lady Cif at your discretion.”
“I’ll do that,” she said softly, and then resuming her normal voice, called, “Cif dear, you’ll take over for Fafhrd and me at the digging. I’ll give you Fafhrd’s ring.”
“Can you doubt it?” Cif replied, turning back from Mother Grum, with whom she’d been conferring.
Afreyt went on, “For it’s now my turn to do some thinking about a lost one—and to see that these two outwearied girls do some sound sleeping. I’ll take them to your place, Cif, and see to all there. Skama, shield me from feyness, except it be your inspiration.”
So without more ceremony the three parties separated: Pshawri north toward distant, smoke-trailing Darkfire; Cif, Skullick, and Rill back to the diggings; Afreyt, Groniger, and the weary old and young pairs to Salthaven.
Trudging with the last party, and suddenly looking every bit as tired as Afreyt had described her, Fingers recited as by someone already asleep and dreaming,