THE LAUGHER'S VOYAGE

 

 

            Captain Gronny Dopper sat on the edge of the shipyard's pier with his bare feet dangling in the water.  The sun was low behind him, decorating the rising and sagging waves with golden tips. He puffed on his pipe and exhaled a cloud of smoke that drifted southeast, noting the strength and direction of the wind out of habit.  He could see three merchant vessels and several smaller boats, their sails angled and pulling.  Rocky Point was a thin spike of stone that stuck out from the land like a harpoon out of a fish, an inconvenience for sailors but an ideal home for shipbuilders. Captain Dopper had landed just after sunrise, sold the southern delicacies that he had taken in trade for iron goods, returned his ship and paid his crew.  Then he had purchased two diamonds, making a total of eight that he kept hidden inside his belt.

            He smoked and planned.  He hoped his eight diamonds would complete the payment for his new ship.  A master craftsman had carefully designed the Traveling Laugher, and she was nearly finished.  A laugher suddenly called "ha, ha, ha, ha," interrupting his thoughts.  Its narrow, black wings carried its gleaming white body upward.  The bird plunge into the sea but bobbed to the surface with an empty beak.

            "Better luck next time," Dopper whispered.

            "Ha, Ha, Ha," the laugher called.

            The Traveling Laugher was a small merchant ship, made for long voyages, with two masts and six long oars.  It would take a dozen men to row, three dozen to row in shifts, and another eighteen, six per shift, to make her seaworthy.  Fifty-five including himself.  The Captain's secret doubts about traveling east haunted him like the specter of a dead mate.  Traveling south to the islands was simple compared to crossing the abyss.  Only Meagan the Bold had done it and returned, roughly two thousand years ago.  There would be no wind for most of the way and a wide veriety of dangerous sea creatures ready to devour any vessel that dared to creep along by oars.  Or so legends claimed.  Captain Dopper knew as well as any other seamen that monsters grew in size with every telling of their tales.  Still, it was a journey few would dare.

            He reminded himself that his ship was already designed for the journey and he would have no return on his investment if he changed his plans now.  He could do it.  "Ha, Ha, Ha," said a nearby laugher.  He knocked out his pipe, put on his boots and strode to the inn on the west side of Rocky Point.  His room was provided by the shipyard for clients.  The door was unlocked and a woman sat at the small desk by the only window, reading.  She was short and round with long, gray hair tied back and wore a brown dress with white trim that identified her as a scholar.  She placed a bookmark before leaning back to look his way.

            "Greetings," the Captain said expectantly.

            She grinned and saluted without rising.  "This volume is the most authentic," she announced, handing him the book she had been reading, with a reproachful glance at the others scattered on the desk.  The Captain examined it.  It was small with an untitled blue cover but he knew it contained the log of Megan the Bold.  Finding log books credited to her had been easy, the tricky part was separating actual fact from creative writing.

            "Megan was a ship's captain and priestess of Brigit," the woman began. "The practices of worship described in that log are true to her time.  It also describes a statue of the goddess carved from an oliphant tusk.  An oliphant is a conjuration and would not have bred as natural beasts do.  None remain."

            "Thank you," Captain Dopper whispered.  "You truly are a treasure."

            The old woman stood and stretched.  "Welcome.  If treasure I be, ancient and tarnished am I."

            The Captain chuckled.  "I owe you four hawks, right?"

            The old woman studied him for a moment.  "Two.  And a few answers."  Her eyes twinkled as she smiled a hopeful negotiator's smile.

            "What is the two-hawk question," the Captain wondered.

            "Are you planning to cross the abyss?" she asked.

            Dopper bristled slightly and nodded.  "Do not bother trying to talk me out of it," he commanded as he handed her two gold coins, each with a hawk on one side and a royal visage on the other.

            "Have you room for an old book-eater on board?" she asked, pocketing the coins.

            "Bad idea," the Captain responded.  "You would be on a small vessel for months with over fifty sailors and no private quarters."

            Her smile took on a lustful sheen.  "Fifty muscular young men separated from the company of women save one," she said cheerily.

            The Captain looked reproachful.  "Seriously, Rita?"

            She laughed.  "I know that seawomen were not rare in Megan's time but, now, most sailors are sure a woman at sea is unlucky."

            "And you do not believe such a superstition," Rita added.

            "No," Dopper answered.  "But I do believe that sailors would blame you for any misfortune and only my orders would prevent them from pitching you overboard."

            She stood.  "It is my duty as a scholar to disprove such a notion."

            "Or die trying?" the Captain wondered.

            "Yes," she said, defiant.  "I am old and I have spent my life reading about adventures, not living them. I would go before I am too feeble. If I do not come back, well, it would be better than dying slowly of old age!"

            "And a kraken would appreciate your volunteering for dinner," The Captain quipped.

            "Another myth for me to disprove," Rita countered.

            "A kraken is no myth," Dopper began.  "I have seen one with my own eyes.  The squid was bigger than the merchant ship I was on with a dozen arms as long as its body.  Took the Golden Orange in a deadly embrace it did, piercing the hull with the hooks that lined its arms, long as my hand and sharp as shark's teeth.  It bit through the floor with a beak the size of a man.  Only burning oil halted it."

            Rita was fascinated.  "How did you cook that calamari without setting your ship alight?"

            "We did not," Dopper informed darkly.  "Six longboats went into the water as the Golden Orange burned.  Only two escaped the monster's rage."

            The woman sighed.  "That's the sort of story I want to tell, not read.  I have read enough."

            "You have lost your mind!" Dopper exclaimed, laughing.  "A perfect crewwoman for my little adventure."

            Rita grinned with delight.

            "Well then," The Captain said, businesslike.  "I will be Captain and my word is the only law at sea.  You will do as your told, right?"  Rita nodded.  "And I will only take you with your master's permission."

            "I am no slave," Rita retorted.  "My superior at the university would join us, were she able to walk."

            "Spoke with her first, did you?" The Captain wondered, surprised.

            "I am following her advice," Rita answered.

 

            Krrmodan flew over the village, turned, took a deep breath and belched thunderously, spilling a stream of fire onto the rooftops.  She made one pass after another, belching flame until everything blazed.  She circled as thick, noxious smoke filled the air, firing in short, precise bursts.  She lit a wooden cart here and a pile of barrels there as houses and halls gave way to the tempest of flame and fell.  The village gave a hiss of protest and a gust of steam as even the central fountain was consumed.  Krrmodan turned southward.

            Tamssli lay stretched out on a gentle rise, his lazy golden eyes watching the nearby encampment.  The people there were still setting up and doing an admirable job of caring for each other.  They had nothing and Tamssli was hopeful that someone from the surrounding land would show up with charitable donations.  He seemed relaxed, but his long neck held a watchful tension and his tail twitched from the misfortune he had witnessed.  As Krrmodan appeared in the distant sky, he rose and spread his wings in greeting.

            Krrmodan landed.  "The village of Kli has been purged," she announced in a quiet rumble.

            Tamssli nodded.  "I cannot say that pleases me, but I thank you for doing what needed to be done."

            Krrmodan purred softly in agreement.  "All survivors are here?" she wondered, eyeing the camp. "Has the Greenboil Plague come with them?"

            "I wish I knew," Tamssli hissed mournfully.  "I smell no scent of sickness and none have attempted to depart."  Tamssli paused and then grunted "yet," as an afterthought.

            Krrmodan inhaled deeply through her nostrils, thoughtfully sensing each scent and where it came from.  The smell of fire was faint and the scent of unwashed people was heavy, dominating the background smells of grassland and river.  The bitter odor of disease was absent.

            "I thank you for the use of this part of your fief, I know it is a burden." Krrmodan commented.  Get some sleep.  I will stand watch until you return."

            Tamssli purred his thanks before taking to the air.

 

            "I would come along and row for twelve gold hawks and no shares." The small man looked hopeful. "I am no sailor, but I can pull an oar."

            The man was dressed like an urbanite and looked like he had never pulled anything with any weight.  He sat across a small table that Captain Dopper used as he marked down shares and payment in his log while his first mate, Elmington, loomed behind him. They were on the dock next to the completed Traveling Laugher, which was loaded and ready to sail.

            The Captain laughed and Elmington gave an unfriendly snort.  "You expect me to hand you twelve hawks and trust that I will see you again." Dopper commented.

            "You trust not my word," the man answered, offended.

            "We know you not," growled Elmington.  The first mate was tall and lean, with no shirt and a bandanna covering his shaved head.  He was old enough to speak as a seasoned sailor but young enough to fight, and his defiant eyes warned that he was not to be trifled with.  Dopper had promoted him to first mate when he had been named captain for the first time and had sailed with him ever since.

            "True," said the urbanite.  "I will come aboard now if I can have ten hawks sent to pay a debt," he offered.

            "I am captain of a merchant ship, not head of a currier service," Dopper answered dismissively.

            "I can arrange delivery."  The comment came from a figure approaching, wearing practical trousers, a loose shirt and a gray, wide-brimmed hat, followed by a young serving woman.  Dopper eyed the newcomer, and she shifted her cane and removed her hat.  Elmington's gaze shifted from her to Captain Dopper.

            A sly grin lit the Captain's face.  "Greetings, Rita.  I wondered if you would show or not."

            "I would not miss it," she began.

            "You would not miss it, Sir," Elmington corrected her.

            The Captain shushed him with a look and turned to Rita.  "It is the custom to address your captain and his first mate, Mister Elmington here, as Sir when on board ship," he commented.  "But we are still on land."

            Rita smirked.  "Nice to meet you, Sir," she said to Elmington, who regarded her sternly.  Elmington relaxed a bit and spoke.  "Nice to meet you as well," he said.  "My captain told me of your desire to join us but did not mention your need for a walking stick."

            "I have no need of it on land," she explained.  She showed him the cane.  It was thick and topped with a stone, resembling a mace with a handle.  "As I said Captain, Sir, I can arrange a delivery if you wish."  Her servant handed her the pack she carried.

            "No," The Captain answered calmly.  "There are men who will row for less."

            "I will do it for four hawks and two shares!" a heavily built sailor called from nearby.  The Captain gestured him forward.

            "An interesting stone, that is," Elmington said, eyeing Rita's cane. It was bluish-white and the top had been carved to resemble the moon.

            "I like it, Sir," Rita answered.

            Captain Dopper stood and shouted "All aboard!"  Several sailors stepped up the ramp and onto the deck of the Traveling Laugher.  Rita boarded, followed by Elmington, who shouted "Make way!"  The crew parted to let the Captain stride on board and fore, to the raised aria before the prow that was decorated with a new and polished statue of a seabird.  The men hushed.

            "Take one last look, men," he began.  "For this ship is headed east into the unknown.  Be expecting not even a slight breeze and plenty of monsters the sight of which will have you calling for your mothers."  Sailor chuckled uneasily.  "When and if we do return, it will be with a hold full of exotic goods and a legendary voyage to our names.  Unfurl the sails!"  The men cheered and then moved.  Some brought the sails on both masts into position while the rest went below.

            Rita stayed on deck, using her cane for balance as the ship began moving and watching the rolling sea from under the shade of her wide hat.  She seated herself on a barrel chained to the starboard rail and drew a book and a packet of crayons from her pack.  She wrote a few sentences and began to draw.  A creaking whistle drifted to her ears from the sea.  She looked down and saw several large, pink dolphins following the ship.  One blew a watery spray from a single nostril on top of its head, regarded her with dark eyes, whistled and vanished.  She drew a pink crayon and added it to her drawing.

            "Drawing pinkies, eh?"

            Rita turned and saw that a boy of a dozen years or so was watching over her shoulder.  "Introductions?" she prompted.

            "Ben, cabin boy," the child boasted.  "Although the only cabin on this vessel is the Captain's."

            "Rita," she said, offering a handshake.  "Ship's scholar."

            The child grinned.  "All the crew knows who you are!" he chirped.  "Captain warned each man you would be joining us when we hired on."

            "Ah," Rita answered.  She presented her drawing.  "What do you think, Ben."

            "It is a begging pinky," he said, looking grim.  "They follow every ship in the hope that something they can eat will be pitched.  They also rob fishermen and will make quick work of a sailor who falls overboard."  The boy swore unashamedly.

            Rita winced.  "Pink murderers?"

            "Right scoundrels!" the boy said and swore again.  "I am to show you where you will sleep."

            Rita quickly put away her book and crayons and stood.  "Lead the way," she acquiesced.

            Ben led her down a ramp to a section of the ship where six benches were fastened to the floor, each with a long oar resting on the seat and a square opening in the wall next to it.  A large drum sat at the opposite end before a closed door.  "Cargo hold is fore and crew quarters, galley and head are aft," Ben informed as he maneuvered around the ramp and Rita followed, using her cane for balance as the ship eased up and down, gaining speed.  Over thirty sailors were crammed into one room, most sitting on the floor, talking or playing cards, beneath hammocks slung between the wall and several poles.

            "You are under me here," Ben said, indicating the lower hammock on the fore-port side of the hold.  "The box is yours."  He gave a small, padlocked wooden box under the hammock a gentle kick.

            Rita eyed the hammock.  "I wonder if we should switch so you will not have to climb into a bunk over your head," she commented.

            "And make golden rain by night," commented a sailor who sat nearby.  Several others chuckled.  Ben's reply was a denial of bedwetting peppered with mature obscenities, causing the room to fill with raucous lighter.

            An old sailor rose.  "Enough!" he began.  "All of you know the Captain's orders.  No fighting."

            "Yes Sir," Ben said.

            "Merely an exchange of words," the other man added.  "A little friendly teasing."

            "Mind that tongue of yours, Elmer," said Elmington, who sat on the floor aft, studying his hand of cards.

            "Yes, Sir!" said Elmer.

            Rita smiled sweetly.  "I will trust you, Ben." she said.  "But if my trust is betrayed, doing my laundry and pouring my bathwater will be among your duties."

            "Here-here," the old sailor agreed.

            "Worry not," Ben added.

            The old sailor introduced himself as Quartermaster Rosty.  He was short, with a powerful build, an ample belly and neatly trimmed white hair covering his head and face.  "Key to your box," he said, presenting a small tin key.

            "Thank you, kind Sir," Rita said before opening her box and locking her pack and hat inside.  Then she lay on her hammock, listening to the men around her and feeling the movement of the ship.

 

            Krrmodan had found a comfortable spot, keeping track of who was where by smell. She had guarded the camp from dusk until dawn for days.  The night was clear and moonlit, and cooking smells dominated the air as food had been donated.  Thus far, she had smelled no sickness and was hopeful.

            She smelled someone coming and rose.  The locals had been told to ask permission before entering the area and the fear of sickness had caused them to obey.  But, now, someone had broken quarantine and was running.  Krrmodan took to the air.  From above, she easily spotted a woman in a hooded cloak being chased by a large boar through an open meadow.  She landed in front of the woman.  "What are you doing?" she bellowed.

            "Running for my life," the woman answered.  The boar had been gaining on her but had stopped and glared.  It was the size of a mule and covered in gray fur, with fierce eyes and sharp tusks.

            "Not you," Krrmodan rumbled.  "Him."

            The boar snorted.  "Remove your illusion!" Krrmodan commanded.

            The beast faded away, leaving a guilty looking man standing in its place. Though unarmed, he had the look of a warrior with long black hair and a powerful build.

            "Niskapar!"  The woman removed her hood.  She was young, barely an adult.

            "What were you doing?" Krrmodan repeated.

            "Just having a spot of fun," Niskapar mumbled, his eyes lowered.

            Krrmodan sniffed contemplatively.  "What were you really up to."

            "I..." Niskapar fumbled.

            "Answer true," Krrmodan hissed.

            Niskapar raised his eyes and spoke.  "Tornilla's husband ordered me to retrieve her.  I was attempting a lawful capture."

            "I am not married!" Tornilla shrieked.

            Krrmodan sniffed again.  "I am not!" she insisted.

            Krrmodan nodded.  "It would be easier if humans would simply mate, instead of trying to own each other," she growled.  "And you both risk the Greenboil Plague by coming here."

            "I would gladly choose sickness and death over having that repulsive old man for a husband," Tornilla grumbled.

            "Nolin is chief and can marry who he chooses," Niskapar explained with condescension.  "You will come with me."

            Krrmodan strutted past the woman, her eyes fixed on Niskapar and her tail twitching.  "You will both come with me," she hissed softly.  "You will not leave until you have been washed and your clothing burned.  Or would you prefer to be purged here and now."

            "But," Tornilla protested.  "We had no contact with..."

            Krrmodan raised her head, smoke trailing from her nostrils.

            "I like this cloak," Tornilla whined.

            "The healer's home is that way," Krrmodan pointed with one wing. Both began to walk dejectedly. "And do not stand so close to each other."

           

            Rita took a small swig of gin, swished it around her mouth and swallowed. It was early morning and, like every morning at sea, sailors passed around a tin cup of strong liquor to clean their mouths.  She passed the cup up to Ben.  Suddenly, there was shouting coming from the door to the rowing hold.  It was the Captain, making an obscenity-laden speech about rowing team one, that their idle habits would change as it was time to get to work.  The ship had left the coastal waters and come to a halt at the edge of the windless abyss.

            "Sir!" Quartermaster Rosty exclaimed.

            The Captain turned to look at him, his eyes twinkling.  "There is a lady on board," Rosty said quietly.

            Rita swore heartily, making the point that she was a woman, not a sheltered child nor an uptight courtesan, which caused the crew to hoot with laughter.

            "Well then," Captain Dopper replied.  "You will be our drummer!"

            "Because I can swear as well as anyone?" Rita wondered.

            "Because I am your captain and I said so," Dopper Replied.

            "Yes, Sir," she answered.  "Permission to change?"

            Dopper raised his voice.  "I want team one and drummer dressed and fed in  half an hour!"  Dopper walked up the ramp as sailors changed their clothing and went to the galley. Rita missed the luxury of privacy as she changed from her nightgown into practical clothing.

            Breakfast was dry jerked beast and hard biscuits, eaten quickly, and rowing team one was soon assembled.  There was not a timepiece on board, but Rita guessed it took less than half an hour. Team one's leader, an older, dark southerner with braided white hair, called "Stroke" to establish the rhythm and the ship crept forward.  Meanwhile Rita found two large drumsticks and began pounding, making an astonishingly loud boom with each stroke.

            About a third of the day later, rowing team two came to relieve them. Rita was glad to stop drumming and rubbed her sore arms, but dared not complain about the work, which was far easier than rowing.  She went back to her hammock, fetched her hat and cane and went on deck.  Captain Dopper was piloting with Elmington acting as navigator.  The air hung still and heavy, as though it had died and covered the vessel with its corpse.

            Rita walked aft and turned, facing the rear mast.  The sails were rolled up and a crewman was standing in the crow's nest atop the fore mast.  A group of four sailors greeted her before continuing to arrange and secure barrels, and Ben grinned and waved as he polished the brass railing that surrounded the deck.

            Rita concentrated.  Now she would find out if she could put something she had read into practice.  She pictured mystical energy forming a link between her body and the moonstone on her cane and breathed.  The stone glowed softly, and she began to stir, swinging the cane with both hands in a circle in front of her.  Nothing.  She ignored her feelings of embarrassment and kept at it.  First, there came a slight puff of moving air and she stirred faster.  The air before her swirled, limp at first and than stronger, forming a tiny whirlwind that bathed her in a stiff breeze.  She pointed her cane carefully, aiming the stone at the masts and not daring to move. Wind blew past the masts, taking her hat with it.

            "Yes!" she cried, swearing and cackling with joy.

            "You are a witch!" called Ben.  He had stopped working and stared with wide eyes.  The sailors behind her also watched, looking like they did not know what to make of her.  She lowered her cane but the wind kept blowing.

            "Open the sails!" the Captain called, punctuating the order with a bit of swearing.  "Use the wind while it lasts!"  Men climbed into the rigging and opened the sails.  Captain Dopper approached Rita as the ship sped up.

            "You have hidden talents!" he said.  "Why did you tell me not?"

            "I knew not that it would work," she explained.  The Captain nodded, uncertain if it were good fortune or bad.  The boy had crept quietly closer.

            "A witch that can summon the wind and whatever else," Ben whispered.

            "Back to work, boy," The Captain ordered quietly.  He looked around and sailors quickly busied themselves.  "Come talk with me privately," he said gravely.  The Captain led her to his small, private quarters fore.  There was just enough room for a bed, table and chairs.  As Dopper held a chair for her, his demeanor changed.  Since boarding, what she had seen of him was stern and forceful.  Now, he was the man she had worked for at the shipyard.

            Dopper placed a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table and sat. "You have my thanks," he said.

            "Welcome, Sir," Rita answered.  "I know not how long it will last."

            "Tell me true," he said, smiling.  "Are you a witch?" he poured the wine.

            Rita thought for a moment.  "Yes, Sir.  Not a priestess of Bridget like Megan the Bold, but I have learned what I can."

            "I will have to tell the men," he said, studying her reaction. "They will not blame you for every flea in their beds or crick in their necks if I can help it."  He took a generous gulp of wine.

            "I have had success at healing, but all else I do for the first time," Rita elaborated.

            Dopper smiled.  "A healer.  I will tell the men that for certain."

            "The scholar's house does not normally allow the study of witchcraft, but they look the other way when they can charge for healing services," she confided.

            "I see," the Captain said, calculating.  "If my crew can come to you for such services, it would go a long way toward earning their acceptance."

            "And I will keep attempting to summon wind," she added.  "Less work for the rowers."

            "Faster as well," said the Captain.  "Speed is very important in these waters.  Dangers, known and unknown, swim up from the depths.  However, I cannot pay you a fair price for your services."

            "I never asked for more than passage," Rita reminded him.

            "So we have an understanding," the Captain said.  "Drink to it?"  They touched glasses with a gentle clink and drank.  "Wait here while I address the crew," he ordered, rising.  "Have more wine if you wish."

            Captain Dopper strode out, leaving the door open just enough so Rita would be able to hear him.  She refilled her glass and listened as he assembled the crew, satisfied to hear wind in the ship's sails in the background.

            "We have a witch on board," the Captain began.  He waited as the crew responded with low murmuring.  "She is a healer of the scholar's house and can summon wind.  She has agreed to offer both services to us, so be grateful."  He paused again.  "If any crewman objects to this, you have my permission to speak freely."

            "How do we know she has not bewitched and seduced you?" someone shouted.

            "You do not!" answered the Captain.

            "She's just Rita!" called Ben  "Not no wicked and debauched hag."

            "She can enchant the Captain all she wishes if she can harness the wind for our benefit," someone else said.  That caused several raised voices to drown each other out.

            "If we sink in the abyss, she sinks with us."  It was Elmington who spoke.

            "And it is too late to row back," The Captain added.  A few sailors commented on that, but there was no more shouting.  Rita began to think about how to handle negative reactions from crew members.

            The door creaked open and the Captain stood in the doorway.  "I have need of a healer.  Come?"

            Rita rose.  As she strode out, she whispered, "All is well with the crew, Sir?"

            "Better than expected," he responded quietly.  "This is Derrick the Lame."  The sailor standing not far off looked young and strong, but he stood on his right leg with no weight on his left.  She recognized him and knew he walked with a limp.

            The sailor glanced at the Captain and then spoke.  "Can you help my leg," he said, fumbling nervously.

            "I will if I can," Rita answered.  "I do need to have a look."

            As the Captain beckoned, Derrick limped to the bed and sat down, looking uncertain.  Rita said nothing as she removed the man's trousers and examined his leg.  His shin had been broken and healed crooked, as was typical of people who lacked the means to pay for quality healing.

            "I have learned to walk on it as best I can," Derrick mumbled. "Broke it when I was a lad."

            Rita studied him.  "I should be able to fix this," she began.  "But the process is a painful one for the patient.  Possibly very painful."

            "My leg already hurts every night," he said, shrugging.

            "I must have your consent or the process will fail," Rita insisted.

            Derrick nodded.  "Worth it," he said quietly.  The Captain sat next to him, offering an empty, folded leather pouch for him to bite on.  "Gin," Dopper offered.

            "Got two cups in me," Derrick answered before his teeth clamped onto the pouch.

            Rita shifted her gaze to the moonstone cane and concentrated, controlling her breathing and feeling her senses adjust.  The cane head glowed a pail blue and she could feel the energy around her gathering to it like water down a drain.  Silently, she gently moved Derrick so he lay on the bed, and then touched the stone to his leg.  She felt a burst of power shock her hand and suddenly saw the man's living skeleton. She pictured the bone breaking and the man moaned, biting down hard on the pouch in his mouth.  The Captain rushed to hold him still.  Rita saw the bone in three pieces and pictured the result she wanted, a flawless, straight shin bone.  The pieces knitted together, coming close to what she had in mind. Rita waited until she was certain the job was done before pulling the cane away with some effort.  Her consciousness snapped back to normal and she cringed as if she had gone from darkness into sunlight.

            The Captain helped Derrick sit up and offered him the wine bottle, which he emptied.  The sailor stood and took a few tentative steps, and then walked in a circle.  He made straight for Rita and hugged her.  "Thank you, Madam," he said.

            Captain Dopper opened the door.  Three large sailors waited quietly, watching.  "Are you well, Sir?" one man asked with suspicion.

            "And who are you now?" the Captain snapped.  "My bodyguards!  I've appointed none."  He eye the men reproachfully.

            "We were concerned for your safety, Sir," another man defended.

            "Let me worry about that!" Dopper replied.  "If I want you to act, I will order it."  The man began to speak.  "Dismissed!" the Captain commanded.  As the three men left, defeated, Derrick began to whistle a tune and dance a jig, moving to the deck for all to see, feet thumping loud in the still air.

            "Our wind is gone," called Elmington from the wheel.

            "Rowing team two!" Captain Dopper shouted.  "We must keep moving!"

 

            Foul smelling liquid flowed down Niskapar's shoulders, streaming over his body. He was standing undressed in a small shed with a muddy earthen floor and a stranger had just dumped a bucket over his head, causing him to slam his eyes shut and recoil.  The man was mature and burley, his features hidden by a mask, hood and gray robe.  He put down the bucket and took up a brush on a pole, looking like a soldier with a lance as he approached.  After a long, rough brushing he spoke, sounding more like a prison guard than a healer.  "Turn around, arms up."  When the man finished brushing, Niskapar was red and sore.  The man poured a second bucket over him and clean water washed away the nasty brew, leaving the white foam it had become on the floor.

            There was a knock at the shed's only door.  The man opened it and was handed a white robe from outside.  "Put this on," he ordered gravely.  He held the door open and motioned for Niskapar to walk out into the pristine morning.  They were behind the healer's home.  Four other sheds stood in the dawn light and a woman, also masked, stood waiting, with Tornilla behind, looking dejected in her own white robe.  The reeking brew mixed with the scent of burnt cloth.  Krrmodan stood next to a small pile of ash, watching.

            The woman removed her hood, revealing black hair streaked with white, tied tightly back.  Her businesslike eyes examined both of her freshly scrubbed charges.  She nodded and approached Krrmodan.  "They are cleansed," she declared.  "May we return to our bed?"

            "You and your husband are dismissed." Krrmodan purred.  "And you two are detained," she added, addressing Tornilla and Niskapar.  "The Emperor will sort this out.  We leave after breakfast."

            A young man from a neighboring farm brought a modest breakfast for the two prisoners and a fattened bison for Krrmodan.  Tornilla approached with her eyes down.  "He wants payment," she informed carefully.

            "Did you tell him that it was I who ordered you fed?" Krrmodan rumbled. The woman nodded.

            Krrmodan strode to where the young man stood waiting.  "I am told you asked for payment," she hissed.  "Know you not of the arrangement?  We charge no taxes in exchange for free service."

            "A misunderstanding," the fellow mumbled.  "I merely keep records for my employer."

            Krrmodan turned suddenly.  "Halt!" she bellowed.  Niskapar, who had been sneaking off, stopped and turned.  "Both of you sit," she rumbled.  "And you may go."  The young man departed, looking relieved.

            Krrmodan interrupted Niskapar as he whispered angrily at Tornilla.  "Do you want an audiance with Emperor Tsskrrg?" she asked sharply.  "Where we stand on your dispute is his to decide."

            "He is your Emperor, not ours," he muttered.  "We humans manage our own affairs by right."

            "Unless our help has been requested," Krrmodan rumbled, irritated.

            "We ask no help," he snapped.  "I will take this faithless woman home."

            "No!" Tornilla said quietly.

            "You will not," Krrmodan hissed, sharply.

            "Chief Nolen's orders," Niskapar objected.

            Krrmodan scuttled forward in a combat posture until her mouth was so close that her blue, forked tongue nearly licked him as it flickered in and out. "Tell your chief that this woman is under my protection until the Emperor says otherwise."

            Tornilla was beaming wickedly.  "I wish to petition the Emperor, if I may," she said quietly.

            "Permission to go?" Niskapar asked carefully, eyes down.

            "You have the right to come and present your side," Krrmodan answered.

            "I should ask my chief," he said.

            "Granted," Krrmodan purred dismissively.  She turned and wrapped the long, talon-tipped fingers of her forepaw around Tornilla and spread her wings, trotting forward on her other three legs before taking off.

 

            Rita sat, drawing in her book.  It was a sunny afternoon at sea and she barely noticed the ship easing up and down in calm water as the wind propelled her east.  Her wind.  She had used her moonstone cane to summon a breeze several times and it was becoming easy. The crew's reaction ranged from suspicious watchfulness, which she ignored, to a two hawk tip form a sailor who said he was able to gamble and win because he was not rowing, which she had politely accepted.

            She drew a black, winged reptile flying low over the sea.  A sailor swore behind her.  "Where did you see that?" he wondered.

            "Starboard, flying aft to fore," she answered without pausing.

            The man swore again and called "Wyvern!" while hastening toward the pilot's wheel.

            "Land!"  The call came from the crewman in the crow's nest.  Rita could barely see a speck on the horizon and felt the ship turning toward it.  She strode to the pilot's wheel where Captain Dopper was steering while three sailors stood and watched. It was not long before she could hear the pounding of waves on rock and see a small, jagged island jutting above the surface.  A foul smell grew stronger as they approached.

            Dopper began shouting as he turned the wheel, steering away from place. "Crossbows!  All hands!"  Rita moved aside as crewman raced to the cargo hold.  Over the sound of surf, Rita heard a thunderous roar.  Suddenly, a black swarm left the island.  Wyverns, a thing Rita had only read about.  Dozens of the bat-like reptiles, as long as a man is tall, were headed toward the ship.

            A few wyverns were overhead when the first armed sailors scrambled onto the deck, each choosing a place and taking aim.  One landed on the outer railing and lowered its snout, biting it with formidable teeth.  "Shoot 'em," Captain Dopper called, followed by swearing.  Men shouted "shoot!" all over the ship. Rita began singing, hoping that the words she chanted were correct.

            Crossbows twanged and wyverns fought each other, creating a chaos of noise and movement.  One wyvern flew low, aiming for a sailor.  The man dropped screaming, his crossbow empty.  One quarrel struck the creature's breast, then another.  The wyvern's shriek was nearly deafening as it slammed into the side of the ship and plopped into the sea.  Something impacted the vessel from below, moving her sideways.  A massive head swallowed the wyvern and a huge spout of water shot upward.  A colossal body spun like the tip of a nearly submerged wheel.

            Rita fell on her side and rolled onto her back, clinging to her moonstone cane and starting her song over.  Her words mixed with Ben's frightened swearing.  The boy crouched, using barrels for cover as he reloaded empty crossbows and swapped each for the next.  "Whales with teeth!" the boy gasped.  "Big enough to bite our ship in half!"  Rita lay like a lump of chanting rubbish.  As the last word escaped her, she felt the moonstone pull upward.  Two more wyverns had fallen into the sea to be snapped up immediately, and another had been flying low when a whale had breached the water to pluck it from the air. Suddenly, the sky was dark. Elmington, not far off, took a shot while swearing.  "Storm!" he called, barely audible.

            Rita sat up, deep in concentration.  She pictured it and it happened, two lightning bolts arced through the sky above the ship while two others struck the water.  Each made a deafening bang, too close to merely rumble.  Panicked wyverns scattered and Rita pictured another bolt of lightning to scare them all away.

            "Hold on!" somebody warned.  A massive thump shook the vessel, and then another, coming with the sound of cracking timber.  The ship rose from the sea, seized by a wale's jaws.  Rita pictured lightning striking the nearby water, hoping that the storm's power would be enough to grant salvation.  As lightning flashed, the ship settled back into the sea.  Rita sat up just in time to see the massive whale easing through the water with a frustrated spray spouting from its head.  Then the rain came.

 

            "Greetings, Princess Merssk," Krrmodan purred.

            "Krrmodan!"  The princess answered in a cheery bellow.  "A pleasure."  Krrmodan dipped her head and wings respectfully as the princess landed nearby.  "I hear you have done well against the Greenboil Plague."

            "We have done all we can," Krrmodan rumbled quietly.  She looked toward the nearby wall and the Imperial Garden it surrounded.  "How is your father."

            "In good health for one of his years," Princess Merssk answered.

            Krrmodan pointed with her snout to Tornilla, who sat on the ground nearby. "I bring a petitioner," she said.

            The princess's tongue flicked.  "Have you been waiting long?" she wondered, apologetically.

            "Not so long," Krrmodan purred.

            "I will see if father is ready," Princess Merssk added.  "I'm sure he will enjoy your visit."  She took off, gliding lazily over the wall and into the garden.

            Tornilla rose and stretched.  "Was that...um?"

            "Princess Merssk," Krrmodan said in the human tongue.  "Only living offspring of Emperor Tsskrrg.  I know her well.  She will call when His Excellency is ready to hear you."

            Tornilla eyed the wall.  "Should I go to the gate?" she asked.

            "There is no gate," Krrmodan purred, amused.  "No unescorted humans are permitted, and any of us who wish to enter must wait to be invited."  A rumbling howl sounded from within.  "We are invited," Krrmodan said, offering her forepaw.

            Krrmodan flew low over the garden, holding Tornilla so she could see. Inside was a well groomed forest of trees covered with tiny, sweet smelling purple flowers.  Bright green ferns carpeted the ground, mixed with large yellow or white blooms.  Animals could be heard rustling.  Krrmodan cruised toward a green tree in the center that seemed impossibly tall, thick and ancient.  She landed and released Tornilla carefully.  The Emperor lay in the tree's shadow with only his head raised.  He was solid black, more than twice Krrmodan's size and powerfully proportioned, although a closer look revealed missing scales that showed his age.

            "Greetings, Sire," Krrmodan said in a humble rumble, dipping her head and wings.

            "Krrmodan?" The Emperor purred.  "It is always a good day when you come to visit.  How do you fare?"

            "I fare well," she said, formally.  "Your wise policy for combating the Greenboil Plague has been successfully executed."

            "I am relieved," he replied.  "Beware, however.  That disease often returns unexpectedly."

            "True, Sire," she agreed.

            "You bring a visitor," The Emperor rose slowly, his joints creaking. He cocked his head and slightly unfolded his wings.  "Look I regal enough?"

            "Always, Sire," Krrmodan purred.

            "Rise, please," The Emperor said in the human language.  "I am not your ruler."

            Tornilla rose from her knees with care.  "I present Tornilla," Krrmodan said.  "She comes to exorcise her right to petition you for aid."

            "Mighty Emperor, hear my plea," she began.  "Chief Nolan attempts to make me his bride against my will.  He is a powerful man and I can do little to stop him without your help.  I have abandoned my home and lost all I had.  His men are hunting for me.  Please help, you are my last hope."

            "You have my sympathies, dear," the Emperor answered.  "But the chief is permitted by law to choose his wife.  I gave my word to end the wars that were killing so many of your kind and mine both. Ours is to keep the peace but your laws are made by your kind and we must remain neutral.  To take an unwilling bride is wrong, but for us to impose our ways on humanity would lead to tyranny.  This arrangement has kept peace and prosperity for nearly a thousand years."  The Emperor turned to Krrmodan.  "You know this as well as I, and I am surprised that you would put me in this position."  His yellow eyes prompted her to explain.

            "A chief's man chased her into a guarded area, Sire," Krrmodan hummed. "I intervened in order to stop them."

            "Where is this chief's man?" asked the Emperor.

            "He declined to come, Sire." Krrmodan answered.

            "He was afraid to defend such an unjust law in your presence," Tornilla added.

            "Human law is law," the Emperor interrupted gently.  "The law demands your return.  Tell me, how do you feel?

            "I am well," Tornilla said hopelessly.

            "If there is any chance that you may carry the Greenboil Plague, we cannot deliver you anywhere." the Emperor purred quietly.  "Therefore, if you show even the slightest sign, please reveal it to me."

            Tornilla smiled slyly.  "I itch," she said, nearly breathless.  "All over."

            The Emperor nodded.  "Than you must be separated.  I take it that living like a hermit for a week or so would be preferable to marriage."

            "Certainly," Tornilla answered, pouncing.  "Thank you, kind and just Emperor."

            "My pleasure, dear."  The Emperor settled back down.  "She should be taken to a remote place, perhaps those caves by the sea where you nest will do.  Please see to it, Krrmodan."

            "With pleasure, Sire," Krrmodan purred enthusiastically.

 

            Elmington swore in a brutal bellow as he asked Rita what she was doing. She was in the rower's hold, sitting on a bench and stroking an animal on her lap which resembled an immense, green rabbit and singing a lullaby.  A dozen sailors were quietly making repairs with pitch and trowels.  A thin layer of sea water sploshed back and forth on the floor.

            "Sh!" she answered.  "Disturb it not, Sir"  She was very confident.  It had been a day since she had summoned a storm and the whales appeared to have been driven away.

            "Making a friend of the ship's kobold?"  Elmington said, quietly shocked.  "Have you saved our ship only to bring its curse upon us?"

            Rita giggled softly and the animal raised one ear.  "Kobold?  No, this is the spirit of once living trees."

            "Trees at sea?" Elmington wondered, confused.

            Rita began to sing again and glanced meaningfully at wall.

            "Oh," Elmington said, embarrassed.

            "It works, Sir," the nearest sailor whispered.  He moved to show Elmington the damage done by whale's teeth.  The holes had shrunk and stopped leaking.

            The green rabbit suddenly bolted, splashing onto the floor.  "Let it go!" Rita warned quietly, stopping Elmington from lunging after it.  The rabbit hesitated, ears swiveled forward, and then hopped about, sniffing and twitching its whiskers.  Then it hopped straight into a timber wall and vanished.

            Rita stood, resting on her cane as seawater eased over her bare feet. "Done!" Quartermaster Rosty declared, looking to Elmington.

            "Let me see," Elmington said.  Sailors moved aside as he examined their work.  "Thank you," he said, swearing gratefully.

            Rita swore.  "I could use a drink."

            "Set up the crank hose and get this seawater out."  Elmington commanded before turning to Rita.  "Come with me."

            Elmington led Rita to the sunlit deck and aft.  Two sailors stood near a barrel with a tap.  The day was clear and the sun warmed the ship as she drifted on the windless sea.  Rita took a deep, salty breath of thick air.  Elmington snatched a tin cup from a sailor, filled it and handed it to Rita, who took a swig.  The gin warmed her insides as it went down, and she took a second gulp before handing the cup to Elmington, who emptied it, shivering slightly.

            "Rationing," one sailor whispered.

            Elmington swore.  "...me with a barbed harpoon if this woman has not earned her gin!"

            "Yes, Sir!" both men responded.

            Two sailors emerged from below, unrolling a leather hose as they moved toward the rail.  They tossed one end over and shouted.  The hose rose as it filled.  "Go help," Elmington prompted, addressing his crewmates.  Rita followed as he stalked fore, toward the wheel. Captain Dopper stood nearby, marking a map and writing in his log.

            "Report?" he ordered.

            "Our ship is healed and the pump is working, Sir." Elmington answered crisply.

            The Captain secured his quill and turned.  "Healed?" he wondered.

            Elmington favored Rita with a meaningful look.

            The Captain swore with surprise and delight.

            "Thank you, Sir," Rita answered, grinning.  "I am relieved it worked."

           

            "A big hole in the ground," Tornilla said.  She sat at a table in the modest lounge attached to a remote trading post, enjoying a cup of tea and a buttered muffin.  The owner and sole proprietor, who had turned out to be friendly in spite of her tough appearance, had listened as Tornilla told her tale and than asked what a dragon's lair was like.

            "I should have figured that the tales I had heard were lies," the owner said.  She paused to sip tea. "It is not an underground fortress with traps and secret passages, I take it."

            Tornilla shook her head as she finished her muffin and swallowed. "It is a cave opening upward at one end with a natural balcony facing the sea.  Not much use for one without wings but the view is breathtaking. The cave is unworked, and any passages remain hidden from me."

            "And you have been imprisoned inside?" 

            "More like a houseguest," Tornilla corrected.  "Krrmodan provided food and left me alone with nothing to stop me from leaving."

            "So, you broke quarantine for a cup of tea and something sweet," the proprietor observed.

            "It has been five days," Tornilla said.  "I asked permission."  She finished her tea.  "I would understand if you order me away."

            The proprietor smiled.  "You are welcome so long as it is safe for you to be here," she said.

            "Thank you," Tornilla responded, rising.  "Has been a pleasure."

 

            "Bird!" a sailor shouted.

            The man on spotting duty near the prow pointed to an unfamiliar seabird that resembled a gray flying chicken, gliding southeast.  Dopper turned the wheel and the Traveling Laugher eased to follow.

            "Land!"  The cry came from the crow's nest.  "Land to the East!"  Rita stopped sketching in her journal, rose and strode fore.  As word spread, sailors poured on deck from below.  She stood at the railing, watching the distant coast and listening to the excited sailors around her.

            "Thank you!"  It was Ben. "We would not have made it without you."  Rita paused, not knowing what to say.  Then she hugged the boy while the sailors around her began cheering.

            "Dragon!"  The call silenced the crew.  Rita could see the creature gliding steadily toward the Traveling Laugher.  Its serpentine neck and tail were rigid, like an arrow stuck through a melon, and its green and red striped hide glimmered in the sunlight as its pale green wings glided and flapped.  As it approached, the crew could see that it was frighteningly large, longer than the ship.

            "Crossbows!" Elmington ordered from somewhere behind.  Men scrambled for weapons.

            "Belay that!" Captain Dopper cried urgently.  "Provoke it not!"  Stillness spread through the crew, and even the air ceased to move.  The ship slowed as her sails hung limp.

 

            Krrmodan was patrolling off shore when she spotted something curious.  It looked like a oversized sailboat and it was further out than was safe.  She turned and glided toward it.  She could hear men shouting in an unfamiliar language.  Humans who did not use the human tongue?  The huge boat had two masts with three sails each, which suddenly sagged as if the wind did not want to get caught blowing.  Wind?  The outer sea had been windless for as long as she had known.  She sniffed, slowly drawing air into her nostrils.  Under the smell of the salty sea and unwashed humans, she detected the subtle strangeness of magic.

            She slowed and dropped near the craft, easing herself into the cool water. "Greetings!" she bellowed. "Are you in distress?"

 

            "No shooting without orders," The Captain repeated, quiet but firm.  The men relayed the command. "Rowing team two ready and waiting."  Men hustled to the oars. The dragon settled into the sea like a duck in a lake as the crew waited, tense and quiet.  Rita concentrated, using the moonstone to gather energy but not knowing what she would do with it.

            The beast spoke in a rumbling bellow.  What it said was anyone's guess, but it sounded oddly like a human language.  The Captain was silent and sailors looked to each other, not knowing what to do.  Rita began singing.

 

            Krrmodan waited for a response, easily able to smell fear and confusion. A woman's song drifted outward, carrying a minor enchantment.  Krrmodan listened and began to hum along, concentrating.  At first, she sought to steer it back to its source, but felt it was harmless as she hummed.  She welcomed it and hummed louder.

 

            Rita stopped singing and leaned on the rail, tired and relieved.  She had sung a translation song used to read ancient books, and would be glad if it worked at all.  The dragon slowly swam closer.  "Greetings."

            "Hello and well met!" Rita answered.  The sailors around her kept quiet but the Captain looked about to speak.

            "Are you in distress?" Krrmodan wondered.

            "No," Rita answered. "But our supplies are low and we hope to make landfall."

            "Then landfall you shall make," Krrmodan rumbled thoughtfully. "Unless your purpose is hostile. Those are weapons?"

            "It wants to know our reason for coming, Captain." Rita said, knowing the gigantic reptile could hear her.

            "We are explorers," Dopper answered.  He raised his voice.  "We carry a small load of goods to trade as well."

            Krrmodan did not respond.  "Our captain said our purpose is exploration and possibly trading," Rita said.  "I would add that our weapons are only to defend our ship."

            Krrmodan took an analytical sniff.  The woman spoke truthfully.  "The lowlands meet the sea to the south," she answered, glancing at the shoreline.  "Follow me there and you may land, so long as you stay put."

            "Our host says to follow," Rita told the Captain.

            Dopper smiled.  "Rowers get us moving!" he shouted.  "Rita's magic has averted another disaster and we have made it!  A cup of gin for all!"  He turned to Rita and took her hand.  "Many thanks," he said quietly.  "We would..."  He was interrupted by a spray of seawater from the dragon's wings as she took to the air.

            The Traveling Laugher caught the wind and her oars were pulled in. Captain Dopper steered, keeping the dragon in sight and slowly sipping his cup of gin.  A sailor had brought cups for him and Rita, and a flute and drum made music on deck as some of the sailors danced, their boots adding to the rhythm.  Rita emptied her cup.

            The Captain steered for a gap in the seaside cliffs.  A small sandy beach nestled between two jagged mountains came into view.  Surf eased over the sand before retreating, even as it pounded stone on either side.

            Captain Dopper turned the wheel and eased the ship parallel to shore, beyond the rolling waves.  "Drop Anchor!" he commanded.  "We come no closer!"  The celebration on deck broke up as the crew hustled to work.

            Once the ship was bobbing securely, the Captain called "Gather round, men!"  He paused as the sailors obeyed. "We made it!  We, the crew of the Traveling Laugher have crossed the abyss and have come as close to shore as we are able.  Our good lady Rita was able to talk to that dragon, and only the gods know what would have become of us were she not aboard.  We have been given permission to land.  The dragon says to stay by the shore, I know not for how long.  Any who wish to plant their feet on foreign soil will be coming with me by longboat.  Any who would stay behind are assigned to guard this vessel, so take a crossbow and stand aft.  Loose the longboats!"

            Six men took crossbows and went aft while the rest undid the longboats that hung below the deck rail and let them drop into the surf.  A handful of sailors dove in as the Captain led the others to the ladder.  Sailors waited, allowing the Captain to go first, but Dopper offered the honor to Rita.

            A moment later, Captain Dopper, Rita, Elmington and five other crewmen were seated comfortably in a longboat.  Two of the men rowed, skillfully negotiating the rolling surf. The Captain drew his pipe.  "Share a smoke?"  Rita shook her head and Elmington asked, "Though you were out?"

            "I saved one last pipes worth for celebrating," The Captain said, striking a match carefully and lighting up.  He took a deep, hissing pull and offered it to Elmington, and the two men passed the pipe.  The boat rose and plunged as a wave broke beneath them.

            "The dragon waits to meet us," Rita observed, squinting shoreward.

            "That thing makes me nervous," Elmington grumbled quietly, pipe smoke leaking from his mouth.

            "If it is laying a trap, I would rather it were sprung on shore than risk our ship," The Captain revealed.  "Do you think you could take it on if needed, Rita."

            "Doubtful," Rita mumbled.  "It knows magic.  I believe it is in our interest to be friendly."

            An ore scraped bottom and the rower pulled it in.  Elmington and another crewman stepped into the knee deep water and pulled the boat the rest of the way.  Before long, the empty longboats sat in a line on the beach and the sailors were gathered in clumps while Krrmodan stood inland.  Rita stepped toward her and began to sing cheerily.  She grabbed the Captain's hand.  "Join hands, men!" the Captain ordered.

            Krrmodan hummed along.  "Thank the dragon for..."

            "Krrmodan," the dragon hissed.  The Captain looked confused.  "My name."

            "Thank Krrmodan for his hospitality," he ordered.

            "Thank you!" the men said in a chorus.

            Krrmodan paused.  "What makes you think I am male?" she growled.

            "Pardon him, please," Rita pleaded.  "You are the first dragon we have seen, Lady Krrmodan."

            "I would be more hospitable were it not for our troubles." she purred.  "The Greenboil Plague stalks all people here, and I must be very careful not to allow it to follow any who visit you.  You are welcome to build a fire and I will provide food, but I must ask you not to venture past where I stand."  The cheerful sailors deflated like empty wineskins.

            "Greenboil Plague?" someone winced.  "What is that?"

            "A lethal illness without a cure," Krrmodan answered.  "Be glad you know of it not.  We have done what we can, but the sickness hides only to return and claim more human lives."

            "So, this land is inhabited," another sailor observed.  Krrmodan nodded.

            "Tell me more of this Greenboil Plague," Rita said urgently.  "We may be able to help."

            "Once its seeds have found a person as a weed finds soil," Krrmodan began.  "Small boils sprout and grow large, green and painful.  The helpless victim then becomes fatigued until unable to stand, has a fever and sees frightening visions.  The victim's torment ends only in death, and any who try to ease their suffering or honor their remains risk the same fate."

            "Have you tried lancing the boils?" Rita wondered.

            "All I can do is burn the bodies and all the victim has touched," Krrmodan hissed.  "I could bring a healer for you to share your knowledge with, if you are willing."

            "Please do," Rita said.  "I will help if I can."

            "All of you are ordered to stay," Captain Dopper added.  A smattering of "yessirs" rose from the sailors.

            "Make yourselves at home," Krrmodan purred.  "I will return with meat and then I shall fetch the local healer."

            Krrmodan belched a puff of flame, igniting a dry bush before she took to the air.  The crew spread out, gathering what wood they could find and organizing campfires.  Moments later, the dragon returned with two freshly killed mountain sheep and dropped them nearby.  She said something, but the translation song had worn off.

            "Ready the longboats, two men each!" the Captain ordered.  "Bring cookware and cutlery from the galley, all the drink we have left on board and the rest of the crew."  Rita gave him a curious look.  "Shallow waters and no other vessels.  We can leave the ship empty for one night of celebration," he explained quietly.  The entire crew had flame roasted sheep and drink in their bellies by sunset.  They played music and sang drunkenly in the dark as the last glowing coals of the fire died out.

 

            "We have company!" Ben shouted.  Captain Dopper's eyes snapped open.  He lay on his back watching the world spin.  The dragon stood quietly nearby.  "Wake the dead!" he ordered.  Sailors roused each other.

            "Let me sleep," Rita moaned.

            The Captain noticed that a cluster of people were approaching slowly.  They were brown and dressed in unfamiliar clothing. A sturdy lady in a modest gray dress followed by two older men and a lumpy brown beast pulling a cart.  He sat up and murmured, "We need a translator."

            "I do not think..." Rita's protest was cut off as four sailors under Elmington's direction doused her and the Captain with sea water.  Rita's surprised shriek came out as a soft moan, barely audible over Dopper's angry swearing.

            "You said wake the dead," Elmington pointed out, grinning.

            "I did at that," Dopper conceded.  "Help me up, men."  As two sailors pulled their captain to his feet and helped him stand, he realized that the dragon was singing.  Slowly, he came to know which song the musical rumble formed.

            "She does not look like a savior," the woman in the gray dress commented.

            "Come now," one old man laughed.  "We have both looked worse than that after a night of fun."

            "True," the woman answered cheerily.

            Krrmodan stopped singing.  "Time for breakfast," she purred as the song's enchantment hung over the beach.

            Rita struggled to her feet.

            "How much?"  Captain Dopper asked.  Hungry sailors stopped and listened.

            "It is a gift," Krrmodan rumbled.  "Eat."

            "Thank you, generous host!"  Dopper said.  "Men!"  A chorus of gratitude rose from the gathered sailors.  The woman in gray led the beast-drawn cart forward.  "I am Healer Telgia.  Your condition is neither mysterious nor uncommon and I prescribe food and plenty of water."

            "Hungry," the beast grunted, causing Telgia's head to turn in surprise.  The animal eyed the nearest green vegetation.

            "That song really works," one old man observed.

            "Loose the bison," Krrmodan suggested.  Healer Telgia untied the animal as the two men unloaded a crate and several kegs of water.  Dopper gestured to Rita to go first and stood behind her.  "Line up and be orderly!" he ordered. Each man was given a small loaf of bread stuffed with meat and cheese and a generous portion of water.

            Rita stood eating and eyeing the massive bison warily.  "He is tame," Healer Telgia reassured her.  "Feeling better?"

            Rita nodded.  "Sorry, I am not at my best at the moment."

            Telgia shrugged.  "I hope you enjoyed the night before."

            "It was a celebration," Rita said.  "We made it across the abyss."

            Telgia's eyes widened.  "From the West?  That is a reason to celebrate."

            Rita chuckled.  "I am Rita the Scholar."

            Telgia bowed and gestured to the two old men.  "This is my husband Amkan and Malkori, Mayor of Selcore, the nearest village."  Each man bowed politely.

            "And this is my benefactor, Captain Dopper," she said, motioning him nearer.

            "I am just an old sailor," Dopper said.  "Rita got us here."

            "And saved all our lives," a nearby sailor declared around a mouthful. He swallowed and gulped water. "I was called Derrick the Lame but now I'm known as Dancing Derrick, thanks to her."

            Another sailor added, "She healed the very boards of our ship."

            "We could use your help," said Healer Telgia. "We cannot cure the Greenboil Plague, only treat it.  Only prolong the patient's suffering and watch."  Her husband put an arm around her.

            "I can try," Rita said.  "I've never treated such an ailment."

            "Any help would be valuable," Mayor Malkori said.  "What would you ask for in exchange?"

            "Oh," Rita said and shrugged.  "It would be my..."

            Captain Dopper placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered in her ear. "Only food and a place to stay for the crew," she said.

            The mayor looked around.  "I think we will need Krrmodan's help for that," he said, glancing at the dragon, who stood listening.

            "I hope she will not start a conflict on our behalf," Dopper mumbled.

            "Her kind gives us protection in return for anything they ask for," Telgia explained.  "Mostly food and places to nest.  They can ask for more if given a good reason."  Rita's look said she wanted to know more and Dopper seemed a bit skeptical.  "Anyone who starts a war would face at least one as an enemy.  They have kept the peace for nearly a millennium."

            "No war for so long," Rita said.  "I marvel."

            The mayor approached Krrmodan and bowed.  "May I prevail upon your good graces," he asked. "Healer Rita will help us in our fight against the Greenboil Plague in return for rooms and food for her and her crew."

            "Yes," Krrmodan said.  "The inn to the north along the caravan road lies nearly empty."

            "Mmm!" the mayor exclaimed.  "It has more than enough room!  Shall I make the arrangement."

            "I will arrange it," Krrmodan purred.  "I can be there by midday."

            "Thank you," said Healer Telgia, who had followed the mayor.  "I shall guide them to my home for now."

            Krrmodan paused.  "Only Rita."  She raised her voice to an authoritative rumble.  "All but the healer must stay here until I know that the inn is safe and ready."

            "I and my men will stay on this beach in the sunlight!"  Captain Dopper responded, raising his voice for all to hear.

            "I will send word," Krrmodan answered before taking to the air and gliding purposefully to the north.

            Telgia led the bison back to the cart.

            "The translation song must be sung again," The Captain observed, listening.

            "It must have gone with the dragon," said Rita.  She held her moonstone cane and sang, prompting the Captain to sing along with a look.  She finished singing and closed her eyes as Dopper sang the verses twice more.

            "Ride with me?" Telgia invited.  Before Rita could answer, Ben rushed her, embracing her enthusiastically. "Come back safe!" he exclaimed.

            "Yes," the Captain added.  "Take good care of yourself.  Captain's orders."

            Rita gave the Captain a lingering hug and a kiss on the cheek as the crew gathered around to say goodbye.

            Telgia was waiting on the cart as her husband and the mayor stood nearby. "You are certain?" Telgia asked.

            "Yes," her husband answered, smiling.  "I am certain I want to have a day on the beach with these fine fellows."  The mayor chuckled.

            Telgia made a "Tik-Tik-Tik" noise and the bison plodded forward with the cart in tow.  Rita and Telgia began to chat about the ways that had been tried to cure the Greenboil Plague.  Lancing the boils and applying a fungus balm had come the closest, but the disease had always come back.  Several other concoctions had been tried, with results ranging from nothing at all to hastening the patient's death.  Rita could hear the frustration in her companion's tone.

            The cart proceeded along a path leading between looming mountains to a valley. To their left, chestnut trees grew high and to the right stood leafy, aromatic bushes planted in neat rows. The morning sun overcame a brisk breeze to heat them.  They passed a round farmhouse with a pointed roof and then a fence surrounding a herd of bison.  A large bull eyed the cart and grunted as they passed.

            "Home is there," Telgia said, pointing.

            The cart approached a cluster of round buildings.  The largest was the healing house, surrounded by small huts.  Two were sealed and locked, and several others looked burned.  Rita closed her eyes and could feel magic around the sealed sheds. "Enchanted or burned?" she wondered.

            "Patient's quarters," Telgia answered.  "When occupied, we use a spray of enchanted herbs to halt the sickness and purge it with fire after."

            "And that does halt the spread?" Rita wondered.

            "It does, or I and my assistants would have been taken," Telgia answered.  "We also use a diluted mixture to wash a person who may have been exposed.  The main ingredient is woodwart.  We grow it ourselves."

            "Wood Wart?" Rita asked.

            "A mushroom that grows on dead trees," Telgia explained.  "Deadly if swallowed, but useful when mixed with care."

            "White with purple spots?" Rita guessed.

            "Light gray," Telgia answered.

            "In the land I come from, purple-eye is used to make a potion," Rita enthused.  "Not the mushroom itself, which is deadly, but the wood it grows on, which grants visions when powdered and mixed with tea."

            "Speaking of tea, care for a cup?" Telgia invited.  The cart had passed the healing house and halted before a round, two story building.

            "Thank you, yes," Rita said.  Tea was just what she needed.

            Rita stayed on the cart while Telgia undid the bison and led him to the stables. She studied the roundhouse. It had the look of a home, with a curved awning over the only entrance and flowerpots in the windows.  Telgia returned quickly and helped her from the cart.

            Before long, Rita was drinking strong black tea in the parlor. "Woodwart begins as a lump which blooms into a mushroom," Telgia was explaining.  "It grows best in a dark and cool place.  There is plenty growing downstairs."

            "Does the wood grow soft until only dust remains?" Rita wondered.

            "Yes," Telgia answered.  "We mix it with bison dung to make fertilizer."

            Rita looked thoughtful.  "May I have a look?"

            "Certainly," Telgia answered.

 

            When Tornilla arrived at the beach, the crew of the Traveling Laugher was just about done preparing an afternoon meal of wild sheep flavored with spices that Amkan had gathered.  A crewman hollered "company!" and Captain Dopper stood.

            Mayor Malkori rose and grinned.  "Hello and welcome," he prompted.

            "Greetings, Sir," Tornilla began.  "I bring word from Krrmodan."

            Dopper looked her over.  "I would be Captain Dopper," he said.  "You are welcome to share our meal and rest."

            Tornilla's nervous formality vanished and she beamed.  "Thank you, Captain."  A sailor brought a cup of water.  She was seated with a piece of wild mutton before the Captain asked her for Krrmodan's message.

            "I am to guide you to the inn on the caravan road," she said.  "Krrmodan has gone to visit the Emperor.  She said you were expecting word."

            "She asked us to wait until she was sure it was safe," the mayor added. "I trust arrangements have been made at the inn."

            "One would assume so," Tornilla said.

            "How far is it on foot," asked the Captain.

            "A quarter day," the Mayor answered.

            "If we leave now, we could be there before sunset," the Captain calculated.  Tornilla nodded. "Ready!" he shouted.  The crew hustled to dump sand on the fires, pack up and bury their trash.  "Line up two abreast and follow," Dopper ordered as they gathered around him.  He turned to the girl as sailors obeyed.  "Lead the way," he invited.

 

            "Here it is!" Telgia said enthusiastically.  She stood in front of a bookshelf, holding a gap open.  Rita sat at a nearby table in her library with her sketchbook open to an early entry with a handwritten formula for a healing potion.  Telgia spread a book, made of a single page folded into squares with etched stone covers at each end, and the two women examined it closely.

            "Most of the ingredients would absorb and dilute the mushroom, which is the only medicine," Telgia observed.

            To Rita, the writing looked like doodles and drawings of unfamiliar plants. "I cannot read this," Rita said, embarrassed and squinting.

            Telgia read the instructions aloud, which involved boiling water, adding powdered grain and herbs followed by chopped gray mushrooms and stirring. "Allow to cool and add water for consistency.  Best used for washing patients to prevent the spread of disease," Telgia concluded.

            Rita flipped through her sketchbook and found something.  "This potion is made with a similar base, which is cooled before the active ingredient is added."  she showed Telgia the entry.

            "Is that writing?" she asked, intrigued.

            "Yes," Rita said with satisfaction.  "Each symbol represents a sound in our language, rather than an image."

            "Hm," Telgia intoned.

            "We could try making the base and adding raw mushrooms," Rita suggested.

            "It has been tried," Telgia answered.  "Toxic."

            "But the balm is not toxic," Rita wondered.  "Even if the patient breaths its fumes?"

            "No," Telgia answered.

            Rita opened her sketchbook to a drawing of an elderly woman's head, with the mouth and nose covered in a dripping rag, followed by written instructions on the next page.  "Soak rag in potion and place over patient's nose and mouth to be inhaled.  Causes alertness," she read.

            "Alertness?" Telgia wondered.

            "Cures senility in the aged," Rita explained.  "Temporarily."

            "But we could use the same method," Telgia answered.  Rita nodded.  "The woodwart would have to be well diluted.  Even then it could be very dangerous."

            "Yes, it could cure or kill and I do not know how to tell which," Rita cautioned.

            Telgia thought.  "I could make several batches at differing potencies, to figure out how much is needed to cure.  I've done something like that before."

            Rita nodded.  "See if the lower potency works and then test the next batch if it does not."

            "We should get started," Telgia said.  "I hope I have everything."

 

            Krrmodan had just finished off a bison and curled up behind the inn under the warm sun when a young man came to address her.  "The guests have arrived."

            She stood and stretched.  "Seat them in the tavern and offer refreshments," she said.  "And I would speak with their guide."

            The fellow all but saluted as he returned to the inn.  "Greetings!" Tornilla called, moments later.

            "Hello, my friend," the dragon purred.  "The Emperor sends his regards."

            "Long live the Emperor," Tornilla answered.  "Most of the crew is here, but they are unable to speak our language.  All who saw us have questions and Mayor Malkori is making statements."

            Krrmodan cocked her head.  "True statements I hope," she rumbled softly.

            "He says little with many words," Tornilla confided.

            "Any news from Rita?" Krrmodan wondered.

            "Not so far," Tornilla answered.

            Krrmodan churrumped softly.  "I will attempt that song of hers and hope it works."  She leapt into the air without waiting for a response, fluttering over the inn.  An expectant silence fell over the waiting sailors along with her shadow.  Beyond them, Mayor Malkori stopped answering questions from a small crowd of storytellers, merchants and farmers and waved in greeting.

            Krrmodan landed and sang.  Captain Dopper stepped forward, adding his voice to hers.  Silence followed.  "Did it work?" Amkan asked from among the sailors.

            "Yes!" Ben answered.

            "The Emperor sends his greetings!" Krrmodan bellowed for all to hear.  "He has agreed that you will be provided with room and board in return for any help Rita can give against the Greenboil Plague."  She eyed the mayor.  "The Inn is to be compensated for the expense?"

            Mayor Malkori grinned.  "Of course!" he responded.

            "We are grateful for your hospitality," Captain Dopper answered. "Our long walk is over, men.  In we go!"  The men lined up, went inside and sat without waiting to be seated.

            The mayor approached the dragon, followed by a richly dressed old woman. "Greetings, Guildmistress," Krrmodan purred.

            "It is always a pleasure," Responded the Guildmistress.  "I have been asked to represent several merchants who wish to trade for the foreigners' cargo."

            "I will introduce you to their captain," Krrmodan said.  "But let them enjoy their refreshments first."

            "Good mood makes good trading," The Guildmistress responded, smiling.

            "May I join them?" the mayor asked.

            "Ask the innkeeper if there is room," Krrmodan said.  The mayor smiled and nodded.  "A place has been set for you at the Captain's table," she told Tornilla, who approached quietly, looking weary.

            "Thank you," she answered.  She followed Malkori inside as Krrmodan settled down between the inn's entrance and the road and made herself comfortable.

 

            "I am dead anyway," the patient said.  The man lay on a bed, his ailing body covered in a sheet.  Rita and Telgia stood outside his hut.  They had five batches of woodwart potion and several rags.  "Testing your potion is a less un..."  The man coughed.  "unpleasant path to the afterlife."

            Rita concentrated on her moonstone cane.  "This still does not feel right to me," she murmured.

            "Do it!" the patient sputtered.  He thrashed as if defending himself from an unseen attacker.

            "Fever visions," Telgia spat quietly.

            The moonstone sparked suddenly and a flash lit the inside of the hut. "More visions," the patient lamented.

            "I saw that," Telgia interjected, a question lingering on her face.

            "Dispellation," Rita murmured, concentrating.  The unearthly light flashed again inside the hut.  A young woman tapped Telgia's shoulder and presented two hooded, gray robes with masks.  "Many thanks," Telgia said as she accepted the clothing.  She put one on, tightening the hood and securing the mask so that only her eyes showed.  The robe added the fresh odor of woodwart balm to the mix of smells surrounding the hut.

            Telgia grabbed a flask of potion and read the hand drawn label.  "Last chance to withdraw," she said firmly. The patient was silent, struggling as he gestured for her to enter.

           

            "Bunk with me, boy!" Captain Dopper ordered.  The crew had spent the day in the tavern, sampling the local selection of cuisine and intoxicants.  Now, they had learned that there would be three men to a room.  A drunken sailor had been complaining that he had slept near Ben on the ship and wanted a break.

            "Thank you, Sir." Ben said.

            Dopper sipped a cloudy white liquid.  "That would be you and I, and a bunk for Rita if she returns." he complained.  His long negotiation with the Guildmistress had affected his mood.  He had made a deal to trade his cargo for many exotic wares, guessing at their value.  She would return with a caravan and they would then exchange goods.  He would see if she brought everything they had agreed upon.

            "No more for me!" Tornilla said a bit too loud.  The girl tried to stand and a sailor caught her and held her upright.  "My quarantine is over," she babbled.  "That ancient warthog will still try to wed me."

            "You are our guide!" Dopper called.  "Krrmodan decreed it and I believe she could make quick work of that warthog."

            "Until you leave," she moaned.  "After that, Krrmodan would not intervene in a matter of human law."

            "What good is she if she will not help you," a sailor asked.  Several others grumbled in agreement.

            One fat, drunken man stood.  "I will tell that scaleball a lesson!"

            The Captain put a hand on his arm as he stumbled toward the front door. "Think, man!" he ordered. "Do you want to be a dragon's dinner?  Sit!"

            "Krrmodan has been a kindly friend," Tornilla was explaining.  "But she has promises to keep.  As for me, I need a way out."

            "You have a way out!" Ben said suddenly.  The boy favored his crewmates with a cunning leer. "Captain, I think we need our guide for our voyage home."

            "A clever idea, but.." the Captain answered.  He moved quickly to stop the sailor from falling out of his seat.

            "Please," Tornilla said.  "I will do any job."

            "There are not enough bunks," the Captain said, knowing it was an excuse.

            "She can have my bunk," Elmington piped up.  He took a gulp of the thick green slop he was drinking.  "I would stay for this drink if nothing else."

            "We cannot risk getting lost on the way home," another sailor added.

            "Begging your pardon Captain, but no one need stay," Quartermaster Rosty declared.  "I keep spare hammocks."

            Dopper scowled at Tornilla.  Her eyes dropped, giving the table before her a mournful look.  The sailor next to her put an arm over her shoulders, looking defensive.

            Dopper looked away and swore quietly.  "All those in favor of taking our guide with us.  Sound off."  The response was explosively loud.

            "Opposed?" Dopper said.  Silence.

            "My crew has spoken," The Captain declared.  "But be advised that the journey home will neither be safe nor comfortable.  Tell me if you change your mind."

 

            "No effect at all?" Telgia wondered.  She stood over her patient, wrapped in her cloak and mask.

            "Give me a third!" the patient begged.

            "So soon after your second," she said quietly.  "I would wait until tomorrow."

            The man raised his arm to ward off something only he saw.  "I may not last until then."

            Both were silent as Rita sang.  She stood at the door, also masked and cloaked, holding the moonstone cane before her and concentrating on each word.  The patient took a more relaxed posture and began to nod off.  "He will see the next dawn," she whispered.

            Telgia tapped Rita on the shoulder and motioned her out.  "Do you know a song that can cure a patient?" she asked.

            "I wish!" Rita answered, eliciting a nod.  The two women spent the day working, attempting to wring all the knowledge they could out of Telgia's books.  Later, Telgia made a meal of a sliced tuber with chestnuts added, which looked unappetizingly brown but had a sweet and salty taste.  Rita asked if the Greenboil Plague effected dragons, which it did not, and the conversation switched to a discussion of dragon rule.

            "In ancient times, men hired dragons as mercenaries," Telgia explained.  "Then, this land was ruled by an Empire that worshiped evil gods that have been purged from our knowing."  She found a historical text and opened it.  "Their soldiers captured enemies and sacrificed them, giving their blood to the gods."  Rita eyed a drawing of a man in colorful robes tossing his victim's limbs off of a temple to a waiting crowd below.  "The Empire had two dragons in their service, and their enemies, small villages and wandering tribes, united and offered payment to Tsskrrg.  He was a large, black beast with a reputation as a skilled hunter.  He said no. He said that that dragons should not be involved in human wars, but Chief Akramonic, leader of the alliance, pointed out that they already were involved on the side of the Empire."

            Telgia pointed to a drawing of an aerial battle between Tsskrrg and another beast.  "Tsskrrg, it is said, tried to reason with the Empire's dragons.  First, he went to Krrnot, who would not listen and attacked him.  This was Krrnot's last mistake.  The other, Ssraggot, listened as Tsskrrg explained that, rather than following the Empire's rules, dragons should make their own."  She quoted from the book.  "No more shall any man order a dragon to kill."  Tsskrrg and Ssraggot spread their word and more dragons joined them.  Imperial high priest Teghopic called for his armies to gather for a fight, but his own men brought him down and surrendered to Tsskrrg without engaging in a battle they were sure to lose."

            "Dragons have kept the peace ever since Tsskrrg was named as their Emperor," Telgia concluded.

            "Because nobody can pronounce Tus-kerg," Rita added.

            Telgia grinned.  "Perhaps.  Whatever we call him, his methods work.  Nobody has even attempted war, and dragons are less expensive to maintain than armies."

            "Quite enviable," Rita said with a dark look.

            "Is there war in the West?" Telgia wondered bluntly.

            "Always," Rita mumbled.  "Someone is always fighting somewhere on the continent.  The place where I live is fairly peaceful, due to the strength of the King's army.  As a healer, I have only witnessed the aftermath."  Telgia winced at that.  "But that was long ago.  Now, I am old and such duties are for the young."

            "You are not too old for a sea voyage," Telgia observed.

            "Yes I am," Rita said.  "But I did not let that stop me."

            "Your shipmates were glad about that!" Telgia exclaimed, chuckling. That got Rita talking.  She told the story of her voyage, showing drawings in her sketchbook as she spoke while Telgia listened closely.

            "Do you plan to go back with them?" Telgia asked.

            Rita nodded.

            "We could make room for you here," Telgia invited.  "if you wish."

            "I..." Rita fumbled.

            "I should think that staying and reaping the rewards of your work would be better than risking your backside at sea."

            "I will consider it," Rita conceded.

 

            "I must make a request on behalf of my crew," Captain Dopper said. He kept his eyes down and tried not to hear his own heartbeat in his head.  "They have voted to ask our guide, Tornilla, to help us find our way as we voyage home."

            Krrmodan had drifted awake when she smelled the Captain approach.  He must have had breakfast as the Inn behind her smelled of strong tea and bison sausage, but he still suffered from a mighty hangover.  "That would be her decision," she purred.

            "She has accepted," Dopper explained.

            "Than may she serve you well," Krrmodan rumbled cheerily.  She wondered what use a simple shepherd girl would be at sea, but kept it to herself although she found Tornilla's method of escaping marriage most amusing.  She looked forward to telling the Emperor.

            "You have my gratitude," The Captain added.  "You have been most generous."

            "Certainly." she responded.  "Quite a bargain for Rita's assistance."

            "And we shall depart when she returns," Dopper commented.  He glanced in the direction of the Inn. "Best not to exact to much of a cost."

            Krrmodan dipped her head in gratitude.  "I will seek word of her."  She stood and stretched.  "Later."

            "Farewell," the captain said quietly, retreating to the Inn.

             

 

            "Ah!"  The sound escaped the patient's lips involuntarily.  He was laying on his front as Telgia lanced a boil on his back and dabbed it with a soaked rag.

            "Had enough?" she asked.  The job could wait.  He had been given his third batch of woodwart potion earlier that morning and was no longer feverish.

            "Finish the job," the man said with cheer.

            Telgia worked on his back and legs.  "Feeling better?"

            "Yes.  Ouch but yes," the patient chuckled.  "I am still tired, but I have had no more visions and am glad to be alive.  Thank you."

            "Thank Rita," Telgia corrected.  "It was her idea.  For now, sleep.  Provided that you are well enough, we will move you tomorrow and then burn this hut."

            The patient rolled over on his back and pulled up his sheet.  "I would like to see that," he said.

            Telgia's cheeks rose under her mask.  "Sleep well," she said, departing.  Outside, she took off her cloak and mask.  Rita stood nearby, prompting her with a look.  "It worked!" she said, adjusting her hair. "His fever has passed and his boils have reddened."

            Rita exhaled and looked up.  "Thank the Gods," she murmured.

            "Let us make more potions of the third recipe," Telgia said quietly, placing an arm around Rita's shoulders and leading her back to the kitchen. On the way, they chatted enthusiastically, making plans full of hope.  Telgia went to work making potions while Rita wrote and sketched in her book.

            A shadow passed over the window that afternoon.  Rita and Telgia sat in her parlor, sharing a bottle of something purple and exotic that had been saved for a special occasion.  Rita found it to be sweet and only mildly intoxicating.  Telgia's work was done.  She had made medicine until she ran out of woodwart and copied the formula.  She rose and went to the window and then rushed out the door.

            "Greetings, Krrmodan!" she called.

            "Greetings," The dragon rumbled.  "The Captain and crew of the Traveling Laugher have nearly drunk the inn's larder dry, so I thought I would find out what we have received in return."

            "We have a cure!" Telgia declared.  As she explained about the medicine, Rita quietly joined her.  "It has only worked once so far, but it appears that it can eradicate the sickness."

            Krrmodan listened quietly and then bellowed a celebratory howl. "Thank you," she said to Rita.

            "It was as much Healer Telgia's doing as mine," Rita said, smiling.

            "May I ask where my husband is?" Telgia requested.

            "I last saw him at the inn, drinking his fill," Krrmodan purred, cocking her head.

            Telgia grinned.  "Wish you to join the fun before they run out of drink?" she asked, turning to Rita.

            "I wish to stay here and see the results of our work, if I may," Rita answered.

            "And I must tell the Emperor the good news," Krrmodan declared.

            "Perhaps a meal first," Telgia added thoughtfully.  "We have bison and sheep."

            "Thank you, but I filled my belly at the inn," Krrmodan answered. "Farewell!"  She took off.

 

            Tornilla stood on deck with Captain Dopper, watching as cargo was loaded. The Guildmistress's caravan had come and gone, and Rita had arrived with a cart load of gifts as well.  Rita joined them as sailors unloaded the longboats with professional care.  She had said goodbye to Telgia and politely turned down her partnership offer, so the healer had thanked her by giving medicine and books to take home.

            A sudden splashing sound announced Krrmodan's arrival as she swam next to the ship.  "By order of the Emperor, I am to escort you as far as I am able," she announced.

            Dopper and Rita exchanged grins.  "Many thanks!" Dopper said.

            The Captain stroked his beard.  "Now you have stories to tell, not read," he observed quietly.

            Rita smiled sweetly.  "I do. And a wealth of fresh knowledge to bring to the scholar's house."

            "Cargo secure!" came a call from below.

            Dopper strode toward the wheel.  "Say goodbye to this marvelous land and hello to the brine of the abyss!  To Work!  Off we go!"

 

 

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