he could tell would be a fairly long conversation.
“Are these ordinary streams, or something different?” he asked politely.
“Well, that’s just the thing,” the captain said slowly. He looked at Rùnach. “Apart from the fact that they’re running places they shouldn’t, there’s what they seem to be made of that’s alarming.”
Rùnach felt time slow. He supposed that sensation might havebeen exacerbated by the slowing of the ship as it rolled into port, but then again, perhaps not. He couldn’t say that he had retained many of the gifts he’d taken for granted in his former life, but he’d seemingly been blessed with a pair of them. He could see perfectly well in the dark, something not even his father could manage, and he had a nose for…well, it was almost as if he could sense the trails left by magic before that magic had carved its way into whatever surface it would choose.
He managed to suppress the urge to flee simply because there was nowhere to flee to. He gave Captain Burke a look he hoped wasn’t too pained. “And what do you think these rivers are made of?”
The good captain looked as uncomfortable as Rùnach felt. He had to take a deep breath, seemingly bolster his courage with a selection of hearty curses, and scowl fiercely at a ship’s mate or two before he spat out the word with as much haste as possible.
“Magic.”
Of course. Rùnach decided that the most sensible course for him would be to get as far away from his companion and his speculations as quickly as possible. “How interesting,” he managed, though he found it anything but.
“Or it might have been dreams.” He looked at Rùnach. “Rivers of dreams found within a dream.”
Rùnach shivered. He shouldn’t have found any of it unsettling. He wasn’t troubled by dreams from his past or his future, a fact for which he was enormously grateful at the moment. The truth was, his life was nothing but easy movement from one blissful night’s sleep to the next. And soon his days were going to be filled with the hard, honest work of a man doing things in a perfectly normal way, which would lead to more restful nights’ sleeps thanks to an abundance of honest toil. Dreams about rivers and magic and rivers of magic—
“They seemed to be pulling at my ship,” Captain Burke continued thoughtfully. “Pulling it apart at the seams, if you like, one board at a time—nay, but a splinter at a time, eating away at the foundations of it all.” He looked at Rùnach. “A mystery, isn’t it?”
Rùnach didn’t like the picture that painted for him. He’d had enough experience in a former lifetime with magic lurking beneath foundations of all sorts of things to be happy he would never need encounter it again.
“It is indeed a mystery,” he agreed, and it was one he had no interest in investigating further. “I’m sure it will all clear itself up soon enough.” He fished about in his pocket and pulled out a gold coin. “Give that to the little lad with no boots, won’t you? He’ll need gear, I imagine.”
The captain looked faintly disappointed—perhaps he had hoped for a solution to his restless nights—but he took the coin just the same. “He’s been sewing for what silver pennies I’m willing to give him, but I’ll give him this as well. Very generous, my lord.”
“I told you,” Rùnach said, “I am no lord.”
The captain shrugged. “Quality displays itself.”
“You might be surprised,” Rùnach said under his breath, but he supposed the captain hadn’t heard him for his sudden bellowing at one of his men. Rùnach was happy to see him go off to attend to his own affairs and leave tales of his nightly perturbations behind.
Rivers of magic, rivers of dreams. What rot. The sooner he was away from a man who dreamed either, the happier he would be.
The ship docked, and none too soon to Rùnach’s mind. He suppressed the urge to look for that scrawny lad and make certain he reached his
“Are these ordinary streams, or something different?” he asked politely.
“Well, that’s just the thing,” the captain said slowly. He looked at Rùnach. “Apart from the fact that they’re running places they shouldn’t, there’s what they seem to be made of that’s alarming.”
Rùnach felt time slow. He supposed that sensation might havebeen exacerbated by the slowing of the ship as it rolled into port, but then again, perhaps not. He couldn’t say that he had retained many of the gifts he’d taken for granted in his former life, but he’d seemingly been blessed with a pair of them. He could see perfectly well in the dark, something not even his father could manage, and he had a nose for…well, it was almost as if he could sense the trails left by magic before that magic had carved its way into whatever surface it would choose.
He managed to suppress the urge to flee simply because there was nowhere to flee to. He gave Captain Burke a look he hoped wasn’t too pained. “And what do you think these rivers are made of?”
The good captain looked as uncomfortable as Rùnach felt. He had to take a deep breath, seemingly bolster his courage with a selection of hearty curses, and scowl fiercely at a ship’s mate or two before he spat out the word with as much haste as possible.
“Magic.”
Of course. Rùnach decided that the most sensible course for him would be to get as far away from his companion and his speculations as quickly as possible. “How interesting,” he managed, though he found it anything but.
“Or it might have been dreams.” He looked at Rùnach. “Rivers of dreams found within a dream.”
Rùnach shivered. He shouldn’t have found any of it unsettling. He wasn’t troubled by dreams from his past or his future, a fact for which he was enormously grateful at the moment. The truth was, his life was nothing but easy movement from one blissful night’s sleep to the next. And soon his days were going to be filled with the hard, honest work of a man doing things in a perfectly normal way, which would lead to more restful nights’ sleeps thanks to an abundance of honest toil. Dreams about rivers and magic and rivers of magic—
“They seemed to be pulling at my ship,” Captain Burke continued thoughtfully. “Pulling it apart at the seams, if you like, one board at a time—nay, but a splinter at a time, eating away at the foundations of it all.” He looked at Rùnach. “A mystery, isn’t it?”
Rùnach didn’t like the picture that painted for him. He’d had enough experience in a former lifetime with magic lurking beneath foundations of all sorts of things to be happy he would never need encounter it again.
“It is indeed a mystery,” he agreed, and it was one he had no interest in investigating further. “I’m sure it will all clear itself up soon enough.” He fished about in his pocket and pulled out a gold coin. “Give that to the little lad with no boots, won’t you? He’ll need gear, I imagine.”
The captain looked faintly disappointed—perhaps he had hoped for a solution to his restless nights—but he took the coin just the same. “He’s been sewing for what silver pennies I’m willing to give him, but I’ll give him this as well. Very generous, my lord.”
“I told you,” Rùnach said, “I am no lord.”
The captain shrugged. “Quality displays itself.”
“You might be surprised,” Rùnach said under his breath, but he supposed the captain hadn’t heard him for his sudden bellowing at one of his men. Rùnach was happy to see him go off to attend to his own affairs and leave tales of his nightly perturbations behind.
Rivers of magic, rivers of dreams. What rot. The sooner he was away from a man who dreamed either, the happier he would be.
The ship docked, and none too soon to Rùnach’s mind. He suppressed the urge to look for that scrawny lad and make certain he reached his
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