.
And saw the answer, the moment that defined the point when he became who he was. He looked up at the fading demon and smiled with the corners of his mouth. “Poplock,” he said proudly. “Poplock Duckweed. Remember it.”
“Oh, I shall.” The voice was a whisper, a promise of impotent doom. “And so shall others. For this was not my plan, nor theirs, and you have inserted your tongue into something far more perilous than you can even begin to imagine . . . Toad.” And the gateway was gone.
He blinked and glanced around in the fast-fading light. Got to get out of here. But . . .
Some minutes later, he eased his way from a narrow crack into the lowering light of the setting sun, near the Evermist of the Burning Waters. With him he dragged a small pouch from the wizard’s waist, stuffed with the few objects the little Toad could find before the light went out. Without light, the fresh breeze had been his real guide.
“Not a bad first try . . . for a small adventurer.”
Cheerfully, Poplock Duckweed headed back to the village. He had quite a story to tell . . . and then a much bigger world to go find.
7
Tobimar squinted across the water. There was nothing to see, just more water, as the Lucramalalla continued through the five-foot seas. Of course, that was part of what bothered him; until now, the huge Sauran-built ship had sailed always just in sight of land, able to see ports and cities as they passed, ready in case they were hailed or if there was some need to stop. But sometime during the night, it seemed, they had swung far out to sea.
Still, even that didn’t seem enough to cause his unease. He felt something was wrong, almost could see it, like heat-ripples from the sand, but he couldn’t put a name to it. He looked around the ship.
To his mild surprise, he saw T’Oltha standing alone on the second deck, high above the first, immobile as a statue, looking out to sea as he had been. Well, there’s my best source of information.
It only took a few moments to make his way up; the eight-foot creature was still standing where he had seen her.
“A good dawning, T’Oltha.”
The draconic head turned slightly. “A good dawning to you as well, questing prince.”
Of course the ship’s captain knew exactly who he was and something of the errand he was on. He just hoped it wouldn’t be general crew knowledge; better to avoid too many questions that he didn’t invite. “If it is no secret, why do we sail so far from land this day?”
The Sauran gestured with her taloned hand. “For this day, and for many more days, indeed, we must sail by guidance of stars and the gods, for there lies Elyvias.”
That made sense. He hadn’t realized they’d come so far already; yes, they had left Tor Port, a major city of the Empire of the Mountain, quite some days ago, but the great inacessible peninsula of Elyvias jutted from the southernmost reaches of the continent. “So we cannot even sail in sight of the land?”
The headshake was like the weaving of a snake. “The Maelwyrd extends full forty miles from the land, with but three miles nearest the land safe to sail for those who live there.”
Tobimar glanced up. He had heard something of the latter, but never spoken of with the matter-of-fact certainty that T’Oltha used. “How do you know there is such a safe zone?”
T’Oltha gave a rumbling laugh like distant thunder. “Twice, under the guidance of the Lady of Aegeia, I sailed the shifting maze of the Maelwyrd and found my way safe to Elyvias. I have sailed those waters, young prince, seen what was left when the Archmage and Dragon King duelled at the end and sank part of the continent beneath them.”
“If you have sailed them before—”
“Only under the Lady of Wisdom’s guidance,” she said, emphatically. “And only following the partly known paths through. Here we are on the northern frontier of Elyvias, a narrow shore backed by the Northern Cataclysm Ridge, and where the mazakh
And saw the answer, the moment that defined the point when he became who he was. He looked up at the fading demon and smiled with the corners of his mouth. “Poplock,” he said proudly. “Poplock Duckweed. Remember it.”
“Oh, I shall.” The voice was a whisper, a promise of impotent doom. “And so shall others. For this was not my plan, nor theirs, and you have inserted your tongue into something far more perilous than you can even begin to imagine . . . Toad.” And the gateway was gone.
He blinked and glanced around in the fast-fading light. Got to get out of here. But . . .
Some minutes later, he eased his way from a narrow crack into the lowering light of the setting sun, near the Evermist of the Burning Waters. With him he dragged a small pouch from the wizard’s waist, stuffed with the few objects the little Toad could find before the light went out. Without light, the fresh breeze had been his real guide.
“Not a bad first try . . . for a small adventurer.”
Cheerfully, Poplock Duckweed headed back to the village. He had quite a story to tell . . . and then a much bigger world to go find.
7
Tobimar squinted across the water. There was nothing to see, just more water, as the Lucramalalla continued through the five-foot seas. Of course, that was part of what bothered him; until now, the huge Sauran-built ship had sailed always just in sight of land, able to see ports and cities as they passed, ready in case they were hailed or if there was some need to stop. But sometime during the night, it seemed, they had swung far out to sea.
Still, even that didn’t seem enough to cause his unease. He felt something was wrong, almost could see it, like heat-ripples from the sand, but he couldn’t put a name to it. He looked around the ship.
To his mild surprise, he saw T’Oltha standing alone on the second deck, high above the first, immobile as a statue, looking out to sea as he had been. Well, there’s my best source of information.
It only took a few moments to make his way up; the eight-foot creature was still standing where he had seen her.
“A good dawning, T’Oltha.”
The draconic head turned slightly. “A good dawning to you as well, questing prince.”
Of course the ship’s captain knew exactly who he was and something of the errand he was on. He just hoped it wouldn’t be general crew knowledge; better to avoid too many questions that he didn’t invite. “If it is no secret, why do we sail so far from land this day?”
The Sauran gestured with her taloned hand. “For this day, and for many more days, indeed, we must sail by guidance of stars and the gods, for there lies Elyvias.”
That made sense. He hadn’t realized they’d come so far already; yes, they had left Tor Port, a major city of the Empire of the Mountain, quite some days ago, but the great inacessible peninsula of Elyvias jutted from the southernmost reaches of the continent. “So we cannot even sail in sight of the land?”
The headshake was like the weaving of a snake. “The Maelwyrd extends full forty miles from the land, with but three miles nearest the land safe to sail for those who live there.”
Tobimar glanced up. He had heard something of the latter, but never spoken of with the matter-of-fact certainty that T’Oltha used. “How do you know there is such a safe zone?”
T’Oltha gave a rumbling laugh like distant thunder. “Twice, under the guidance of the Lady of Aegeia, I sailed the shifting maze of the Maelwyrd and found my way safe to Elyvias. I have sailed those waters, young prince, seen what was left when the Archmage and Dragon King duelled at the end and sank part of the continent beneath them.”
“If you have sailed them before—”
“Only under the Lady of Wisdom’s guidance,” she said, emphatically. “And only following the partly known paths through. Here we are on the northern frontier of Elyvias, a narrow shore backed by the Northern Cataclysm Ridge, and where the mazakh
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