“Just trying to help you get used to it, friend Red-Beard,” Longbow replied with feigned innocence.
Sorgan Hook-Beak of the Land of Maag was in a foul temper when Red-Beard and Longbow entered his cluttered cabin at the stern of the Seagull. “Where is she?” he demanded in a harsh voice. “If I don’t start handing out the gold I promised all these people back in Maag, things are going to start getting ugly around here. We did what she wanted us to do, and now it’s time to settle up.”
“We really can’t be certain just where she went, Sorgan,” Longbow replied. “Her Domain’s very large, and there might just be an emergency somewhere off to the north of here. When a fire breaks out somewhere, you don’t really have time to be polite before you rush off to put it out. I’m sure that as soon as she gets things under control, she’ll come right back.”
“I guess that sort of makes sense,” Sorgan grudgingly conceded. “Have you got any idea at all of where this new trouble might be?”
Longbow shrugged. “She didn’t bother to tell me. You know how that goes.”
“Oh, yes,” Sorgan said sourly. “She’s an expert when it comes to not telling people things they should know, I’ve noticed.”
“How very perceptive of you,” Longbow murmured. “I’m sure she’ll be back as soon as she’s dealt with whatever it was that pulled her away from here, but we’ve got another problem that’s a bit more pressing.”
“Oh?”
“The fire mountains up at the head of the ravine are still spouting, and I don’t think Lattash will be a safe place for anybody when the liquid rock comes boiling down the ravine. A flood of water’s bad enough, but a flood of liquid rock might be a lot worse, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’d say that it’ll go a long way past ‘might,’ Longbow. What should we do about it?”
“How does ‘run away’ sound to you?”
“Narasan tells me that the proper term is ‘retreat,’ but ‘run away’ sounds close enough to me.”
“We do have a bit of a problem, though,” Longbow continued. “Red-Beard’s uncle, Chief White-Braid, can’t quite accept the idea that the tribe will have to move away from Lattash. Red-Beard and I are sort of sneaking around behind his back right now, so we’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention what we’re doing if you happen to speak with him.”
“Old men get strange sometimes, don’t they?” Sorgan observed. “Don’t worry, Red-Beard. Your secret’s safe with me. When are you planning to pull off your mutiny?”
“Mutiny? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that term.”
“It’s something that happens on a ship when the crew gets unhappy with the captain. They either kill him or set him adrift in a small skiff. Then the leader of the mutiny takes command of the ship.”
“We don’t do that sort of thing here, Hook-Beak,” Red-Beard said firmly.
“Maybe you should give it some thought, Red-Beard,” Sorgan suggested. “If your chief is starting to lose his grip, somebody’s going to have to take charge before that boiling rock comes rushing down the ravine.”
“We can hope it doesn’t come to that,” Longbow stepped in. “Right now, Red-Beard and I need to find a suitable place for a new village. Most likely, it’ll be somewhere on down the bay—or even out beyond the inlet. It’ll have to have fresh water, open land for farming, and some protection from the wind and tides.”
“I gather that once you find it, you’d like to borrow my fleet to move the tribe to their new home?”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Red-Beard agreed.
Sorgan shrugged. “It’ll give the other ship captains something to do beside coming here to the Seagull to complain about not getting paid. Besides, your people and their bows helped us a great deal in the ravine, so we’re more or less obliged to lend you a hand when you . . .” Sorgan stopped suddenly. “The gold!” he exclaimed. “Lady Zelana’s gold’s still in that cave! If that melted rock pours down over Lattash, it’ll fill up the cave, won’t it?”
“That’s not very likely, Sorgan,” Longbow disagreed. “Didn’t Ox shatter his ax when he tried to chop down that wall Zelana put up to protect the gold?”
“So that’s why she put that wall there,” Sorgan said. “We thought she’d put it up to keep us away from her gold, but it’s really there to keep the melted rock from oozing in and swallowing it, isn’t it?”
“It seems to be the sort of thing she’d do,” Red-Beard agreed. “Don’t worry so much, Hook-Beak. The gold’s perfectly safe, and I’m sure you’ll get paid just as soon as Zelana comes back. You might want to pass the word to the ship captains who spend all their time complaining. They will get paid, but right now Zelana’s off someplace in her Domain dealing with some new emergency.”
“That might just be the answer to your problem right there, Red-Beard,” Sorgan suggested. “When she comes back, you can tell her that your uncle’s not quite right in the head, and then she can set him aside and put you in charge. That’d be a lot better than a mutiny, wouldn’t you say?”
“It’s something to consider, Chief Red-Beard,” Longbow agreed.
Red-Beard scowled at him.
“What’s the problem, Red-Beard?” Sorgan asked. “The word ‘chief’s’ a lot like the word ‘captain,’ and I’ve always thought that had a pleasant sort of sound to it.”
“Not to me it doesn’t,” Red-Beard declared.
2
The wind coming in from Mother Sea was quite gusty, and that didn’t bode too well for Red-Beard’s plans to relocate the tribe. The village of Lattash was well sheltered from foul weather, and Red-Beard could almost hear the steady chorus of complaints he was certain the villagers would hurl at him every time he passed by if they were obliged to move out here.
The sun was already low over the western horizon, but due to the prevailing wind, Red-Beard and Longbow were only about halfway along the north side of the bay.
Longbow squinted toward the west. “We’re about to run out of daylight,” he noted. Then he looked at the shoreline. “Isn’t that a river just ahead?” he asked.