The Moor looked at her. She sat like the spirit of the soil itself; the orange tabby-cat in her lap added its golden stare. The pirate captain blinked and nodded silently with wary respect, making a furtive sign with his good hand. Rudi went on: ?Once we?re back you and your men will be held until an English ship puts in-and the Norrheimers have agreed to not ask them to hang you as pirates and enemies of humankind. They?ll say you were shipwrecked here, which in a way is true enough.?

Abdou winced slightly.?Big money English make our families pay,? he said. ?Ransom.? ?Ransom, yes.? Then he shrugged.?Money come, money go, maybe come again, inshallah. Dead man dead always. We do. Go to Sorcerer?s Island, take you.?

He looked down at his arm.?I can navigate, another day, three, four, arm strong enough to hold sextant. Not enough my men able to work ship goodly. Only ten, not hurt bad too much. Wait, more ready with more days, crew big to sail ship with you.?

This time Rudi?s smile was thin; he didn?t think Abdou al-Naari was stupid… and the Moor probably didn?t think Rudi was stupid enough to entrust himself to a crew composed wholly of his corsairs, though he also probably thought there was no harm trying. And while Rudi couldn?t navigate, he did know enough to keep an eye on the compass and the stars, so al-Naari wouldn?t be sailing them off to Dakar or the Saloum delta. ?I have some men who?ve sailed,? he said.?I have sailed myself, a little. More who can pull on a rope at need. I?ll be bringing all my war band along; thirty-two of us. With your ten, that should do nicely for a short voyage of no great difficulty in a schooner. The others can stay here and heal from their wounds.?

Al-Naari made that almost-smile again. And be hostages, especially your son, went silently between them.

It was good when men understood each other. The dark aquiline face was wholly grave when the book they?d found in his cabin was borne in, unwrapped and placed before him. ?And you will swear on your own holy things,? Rudi said.?Let your own God hear your oath.?

A week later two ravens swirled around the masts in Kalksthorpe?s little harbor, on a day that dawned with bleak brightness in the east and a brittle cold in the wind out of the west. Rudi cocked an eye up at the dark forms. This was a natural place for the birds to congregate; the Norrheimer were a cleanly folk, but a fishing haven always had something for the birds. That tang of fish and fish guts was there, and silt, cold seawater, a faint reek of smoke even this long after the raid. There were plenty of gulls, too, though the great black birds ignored those. They perched for a moment on the foremast, and then took off southward along the coast.

The Bouel-Mogdad rose and fell slightly at her mooring at the end of the long T-shaped pier; she was a bit bigger than any of the Kalksthorpe ships. Kalk Shipwright himself prodded at her railing near the wheel and binnacle with his carved staff. ?I don?t like this squared stern,? he sniffed.?Weakens the stem, to my way of thinking. But the wood?s sound. We don?t have timber like this! The way it?s worked… some is good. Some?s strange.?

Rudi nodded gravely. Kalk was old-nearly bald save for a fringe of white hair, stooped, his scalp and gnarled hands liver-spotted. His face reminded the Mackenzie of a turtle?s, ready to snap out from beneath its shell. But his pale eyes were still keen, and so was the mind behind them.

As far as the Mackenzie could see the Bouel-Mogdad -it was bad luck to rename a ship-was in fine condition; he?d seen ships often enough in Astoria and Newport, sailed up and down the coast and studied the art of their making a little in shipyards he?d visited. The corsair vessel was a two-master and rigged all fore and aft, which made her a schooner, technically; about a hundred and ten feet long and thirty at its widest a third back from the sharply raked bow. The poop deck was about four feet above the level of the main; the fantail at the rear held one turntable-mounted war engine, crouching like a dragon of coils and angles behind its sloped steel shield. Another like it was placed in the bows-those two had been dismounted for the siege, and were now back in place-and three more sat on each broadside on limited-traverse mounts.

He could appraise the murder-machines with a true expert?s eye, if not the ship. They differed from the ones made in Montival-to-be in a hundred details, but the laws of the mechanic arts knew no boundaries. They had about the same performance as a six-pounder scorpion, though they were marked for three kilos instead.

A net full of barrels swung by overhead, with one of the ship?s spars used as a crane, then dropped smoothly into the hold. That was stores for the voyage, though mostly they?d added rock ballast to keep the lightened vessel stable. Folk swarmed about, working at the last touches to make her seaworthy; even the dark grained wood of the deck shone. Ashore a gang were singing as they dragged a long bundled sail down the pier, like a great beige snake with many legs.

The tune was a good one to work to, and it had a fine stormy rhythm: ?North to the coast of Iceland

South past the shores of Maine

Out with the whaling fleet

And north to the pole again

Over the world of waters

Seventeen seas I?ve strayed

Now to the north I?m sailing back

Back to the trawling trade!? ?And there?s more mortise-and-tenon work in the hull framing than I like. Bolts hold better with a sheering strain,? Kalk went on, after a pause that made Rudi think the elderly Norrheimer might have dozed. ?Easier to replace.?

Abdou al-Naari had his right arm out of the sling, though it would be a while before it regained full strength. He touched brow and lips and heart, and bowed to Kalk as one craftsman to another. ?You make good ship here,? he said; his English had improved perceptibly in his brief time as a prisoner.?But we Kaolack men, first in Emir?s country make more than big-big-big canoe after Change. We know skill of hands. I help build this ship, draw plans, see all make. Pick trees for her, too.?

The master of Kalksthorpe glared at him, then nodded unwillingly. ?She?s yare,? he said.?Good work is good work.? ?What is word, yare?? Abdou asked.

More barrels and bales swung on board. There was plenty of room. They?d sent ashore the cargo picked up as the Moors cruised north along the coast, carefully selected metals, alloy steel, copper and brass and aluminum, lenses and telescopes and binoculars and microscopes, glassware, fine pre-Change cloth preserved as if new in sealed packages, wrought gold and silver and jewels, ball bearings, surgical instruments, springs and gears and light machine tools, circular saw blades and medicines and chemicals. ?Yare is… eager. Ready. Fit,? the old man said.

Wealth couldn?t bring the dead back, but the gold and gear would mean the Kalksthorpe folk wouldn?t have to risk any voyages of their own southward in the coming year or two. That would save lives in itself. ?I glad you like ship,? Abdou said quietly, and with obvious pride.?She good, fast, ride storm like bird. Yare, like you say.?

Kalk gave him a hard smile from under tufted white brows.?So by Njordh, we?ll get good use out of her, now that she?s ours, blaumann .?

Abdou winced; he?d seemed to grow an inch when he trod his ship?s deck again. The song grew louder as the work gang approached, mounting the forward gangplank and feeding their burden down into the hold: ?Back to the midnight landings

Back to the fish-dock smell

Back to the frozen winds

As hard as the teeth of Hell!

Back to the strangest game

That ever a man has played

Follow the stormy rollers, back

Back to the trawling trade!?

Kalk looked around nodded once more, then headed down the gangplank himself, his staff going thunk… thunk…, a hollow sound on the boards.