It reminded Telio of the keeba, which could be found in the lands north of Saniusar. But this thing was bigger, even in death. Well, it wasn’t as if the captain hadn’t warned them to be careful. There’ll be wild beasts, he’d told them before the first group went ashore. And there might even be tribes of savage Korbs.

Now there was a chilling thought.

TELIO WAS SUPPOSED to be mending sails, but one of the crew had fallen from a spar and sprained his wrist. Telio had some experience as an apothecary, and he doubled sometimes as ship’s surgeon. There was a fully qualified surgeon on the voyage, but he was on the Hasker, and would only be called in the event of serious injury.

Telio put soothing gel on the damaged limb, wrapped it, and warned the crewman not to try to use it until Telio had looked at it again. He was just putting away his ointments and wraps when a sudden burst of wind struck the ship. It came without warning and was of such violence that it almost capsized them.

The captain ordered the fleet to haul down some sail. The sky began to darken. The blow was out of the east, a change in direction for they’d been riding with the westerlies throughout the voyage. The sea had been rough all day, but it had gotten abruptly worse while Telio was below mending the crewman. The ship rode up one side of a wave and crashed down the other. As he watched, all three ships turned to starboard, to put distance between themselves and the shoreline.

Rain began to fall and quickly became torrential. The crew secured the hatches and tied everything down. Lightning ran through the sky.

There was no longer anyone on the Regunto who did not fear the sunset. Night would bring T’Klot, rising black and terrible over the new continent. It was impossible to set aside the notion it was coming after them.

After a time the rain blew off, and they were running again before a gentle northwesterly wind. The sea turned to glass, and the world grew quiet.

The Regunto adjusted its sails and glided beside silver cliffs.

The captain came out on deck, wandering among his deck-hands, reassuring them, finding things to laugh about. Telio watched for an opportunity to take him aside.

When it came, he asked if he might have a moment of his time. “If you’ll excuse my brashness, sir.”

“Of course,” he said, glancing at the deck lieutenant, who framed Telio’s name with his lips. “That was a quick storm, wasn’t it?” And, without waiting for an answer: “What can I do for you, Telio?”

Telio looked up at the Korbs working in the masts, adjusting the sails. “Indeed it was, sir,” he said.

Krolley was tall, lean, with mottled skin and a serene disposition. There was much of the scholar about him: deliberate speech, careful diction, intelligent eyes with a golden cast. He was always impeccably dressed. His posture was perfect, his expression composed. Even now, after a heavy storm during which he certainly had not had time to change, he looked well turned out. It was almost as if he was always ready for someone to carve his image.

“Captain, some of us are worried about T’Klot.”

Krolley bobbed his head up and down. “Ah. Yes.” He smiled at the deck lieutenant, a smile that indicated this is the sort of triviality about which the seamen concern themselves. The lower classes. Not to be taken too seriously. “It’s all right, Telio. It’s simply a weather phenomenon. It will be passing us by in a few more days.”

“Captain—”

He patted Telio on the shoulder. “It’s nothing to fret over. Just pay it no attention, and I think you’ll find it will pay none to you.”

He started to walk away, but Telio stayed with him. “Captain, the thing is not natural. It isn’t just a storm we can run from. There is some suspicion among the crew that it is after us.”

The deck lieutenant tried to interpose himself, and gave Telio a strong look. He’d be scraping down the decks for the next few days. “Telio.” Krolley was being careful because a number of the crewmen had gathered around and were listening. “You’re a scholar. An apothecary. You know, as I do, that the world is not governed by supernatural forces.”

“I’m not so sure anymore, sir,” he said.

“Pity.” The captain studied him closely. “Keep your nerve, Telio. And your good sense.”

BLACK CAT REPORT

Ron, it’s early afternoon on the Intigo. The pictures you see are courtesy of surveillance equipment inserted by the Academy of Science and Technology. This is a view of the harbor area at Roka. There’s a map available on our alternate channel.

Anyhow, it’s quiet there now. The rain has stopped—it’s been raining across the isthmus on and off all day. We don’t see anyone out on foot. There are still some Goompahs who’ve stayed behind. Probably older ones. And it looks as if some who might otherwise have gotten out have stayed with them.

This is the way it looks all across the Intigo. I’m tempted to say there’s a sense of waiting for something to happen. But that’s subjective. I know tidal waves are coming. The inhabitants have no idea. Although they are certainly aware that they are facing a severe hazard tonight.

This is Rose Beetem, near Lookout.

ARCHIVE

We are adrift in a divine tide. Those whom the gods love will find themselves carried to a friendly and amicable shore. Others, not so fortunate, will be dragged into the depths. The terrible reality is that those of us embarked on life’s journey cannot readily separate one from the other, nor have we any idea which will claim us.

— Gesper of Sakmarung

The Travels

(Translated by Nick Harcourt)

Lookout.

En route across the eastern ocean.

Monday, December 15.

THEY WERE THREE hours out from the Intigo and threading their way through storms, crosswinds, and downdrafts, when Bill informed them they were passing over the eastbound tsunamis. The sky had cleared off, save for occasional clouds and lightning. The ocean was churning, but there was no sign of giant waves. “Don’t expect to see much,” said Bill. “We’re over deep water.”

Tsunamis only manifest themselves in shallows. Digger had been researching Bill’s library, and there were stories of people in small boats going over them without ever knowing it. That happened because the bulk of the wave was submerged. When the ocean became shallow, the water had no place to go, and, consequently, it pushed high into the air, forming the wave.

“Traveling at 630 kph,” said Bill. “I still make out three of them. Big one’s in front. They’ll hit about fifteen minutes apart.”

“One for each ship,” said Julie. “Tell me again how we’re going to do this.”

Digger had seen her disapproval the first time he’d explained the plan. “Same way we did things on the isthmus. We’ll use the Lykonda projection.”

“Okay. What is she going to tell them?”

“Bill,” he said, “run the program for Julie.”

Lykonda appeared on the overhead. The implication that she’d been through a struggle was gone. Her garments were white and soft, and an aura blazed around her. She said that it was essential for the ships to turn west and to continue straight out to sea until she told them to do otherwise.

When he’d translated for Julie, she frowned again. “What happens,” she asked, “if the wind is blowing in the wrong direction?”

He hadn’t thought of that. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Can’t they tack against the wind or something?”

“I don’t think so,” said Whit.

She smiled patiently. “If a goddess gave me that kind of command, I’d expect she would supply the wind.”

Digger didn’t know which way the wind would be blowing when they reached the eastern continent. He did know that where they were it seemed to be blowing out of all directions at once.

He’d been considering another idea: They had a sim library on board, which would unquestionably include the previous year’s big horror hit, Fang. The show had featured batwinged horrors that would have scared the pants off the Goompahs. If those things came out of the forests and seemed to be attacking the ships, there was no question which way the ships would turn. It would save a lot of talk. But it still wouldn’t work if the winds weren’t right.

“We need Marge,” said Whit. But they’d lost all contact with the Jenkins.

“Something else to think about,” said Julie. “The waves are going to get there less than an hour after we do. These are only sailing ships. Even with a good wind behind them, they aren’t going to get far in an hour.” She sighed and shook her head. “Small wooden boats. I wouldn’t give them much of a chance.”

“You have a better suggestion?”

“I’d tell them to land and climb trees.”

Digger was tired and unnerved. He knew Goompahs were going to die in substantial numbers before this was over, and he was in no mood for Julie’s acerbic humor. “Just let it go, will you?” he said.

Whit caught his eye and sent him a silent message. Cool down. She’s telling you stuff you don’t want to hear, but you’d better listen.

As they proceeded east they were headed into the late afternoon. Digger wanted to bring off the warning, do whatever they could, and get clear before night came.

He saw lightning ahead and thick dark clouds.

“Hang on,” Julie said. “It’s going to get a bit rough.”

“Can we go around it?” asked Whit.

“If we had time to spare, sure.”

They got hit before they even got into the storm. Digger heard things sizzle, lights went out, an alarm sounded, and it was free fall, grab the arms of your chair, and hang on. Julie fought the yoke and stabbed at her panels, and the lamps blinked on and off. He smelled something burning. The sea spun around them, and Julie damned the spacecraft to hell. Then he was rising against his harness. They continued dropping toward the sea, but she finally gained control, more or less. Digger started breathing again and looked out the window, and the ocean looked very close.

She leveled off just over the waves. “Room to spare,” she said. “Everybody okay?”

We’re fine. Whit laughed and commented he’d never been so scared in his life. Thought it was over.

Digger’d had a few bad moments himself, but he wasn’t admitting it. Didn’t want Julie to think he didn’t have confidence in her. The cabin seemed extraordinarily quiet. He couldn’t hear anything except heartbeats.

“It hit the tail,” she said.

“Are we okay?” asked Digger.

Her fingers moved across the status screen. “Yes. We’re okay. We can stay in the air. Some of our sensors are out. Long-range communications are down.”