[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
relation to each other according to complex orbits, all of which appeared to
be centered on Hegira. Not all the orbits had been calculated, however. Only
ten especially bright fire doves were used for most navigational problems.
One of the major problems of navigation was knowing when a fire dove would be
illuminated.
Each had its own cycle of light and dark, which ranged from seven hours to six
months. It was considered bad form to be tracking a fire dove and have it
unexpectedly go out on you.
During the day prevailing winds -- which seldom shifted -- were used to
indicate direction, according to how the ship ran with them. Some ocean
currents were also used as guides. When weather permitted, the Obelisks were
referred to, and these fixed points were the most reliable.
The four points of the compass weren't used in their normal sense by Hegirans.
Magnetized needles didn't point any particular direction, though it was
rumored that lodestone poles did exist to the very far northwest. The side of
an Obelisk that began with the invocation text was called the north side. Left
of it was west, right east, and opposite, south. Beyond that one traveled by
original orientation, using Obelisks and fire doves as references.
The Trident would soon lose sight of the Obelisk Tara in Mediweva, and of the
Obelisk Onmassee east of it in the central highlands of Fedderland. Trincoma
was the westernmost port of
Fedderland, and while the Obelisk Onmassee was not visible from that city, a
kilometer out to sea brought it into plain view.
Barthel studied the books and charts given to him. They obviously did not come
from Obelisk texts. Therefore the crew of the Trident, though they came from a
land that had access to an
Obelisk, didn't share the prejudices of the Mediwevans. He read voraciously.
One of his teachers was a deck officer named Avra, a woman at least twice
Bar-Woten's age, with thick black hair and a thin, stern face. Her eyes were
the same green as the phantom lights that formed rings in the waves at night.
She spoke in a small, precise voice and carried her shoulders with an arrogant
squareness belying her personality, which was pleasant and gracious.
She was a widow. Her husband had been a methane-tender, and they had sailed on
the Trident for twenty years together in more foreign ports and strange seas
than anyone else aboard, even the captain, who had joined the ship four years
before. At age fifteen she had hired on as a cook, and all her training and
schooling had been aboard the Trident. She was an excellent teacher, and she
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Hegira.txt (29 of 77) [5/21/03
12:35:57 AM]
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Hegira.txt found the Khemite an
eager pupil.
Bar-Woten remained quietly puzzled by the Trident. She had no true home port,
though most of her crew called the country of Weggismarche home. They were
heading there now, by way of a few ports along the Bicht av Genevar, a broad
archipelago between Weggismarche and the Obelisk Daana.
In a few months they would pass the Ocean Obelisk. The Trident had spent most
of her half-century in these waters plying trade between the islands and
Weggismarche. In this way she had developed a good reputation that sustained
her when she had been isolated from her previous owners through several
revolutions in Weggismarche. For a few harsh years she had become a pirate of
sorts.
But that was all past now. The Trident carried only a token complement of guns
that were powerful enough for defense, but would never let her play the role
of a raiding ship. Besides, she wasn't fast enough.
Page 39
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
What puzzled the Ibisian was the spirit of cooperation that powered the ship
almost as much as the wind. Survival in the tough trade of the Bicht av
Genevar and elsewhere was apparently determined by blatant and dependable
honesty. He had never known a system run in such a way. He doubted its
efficacy.
Kiril accepted it with a joyous heart. He listened intently to stories told by
the crew of dozens of encounters with civilizations that had never known
foreign trade, or even foreigners --
without a single mishap. "She's a goddess!" he told Bar-Woten
enthusiastically, patting the varnished oak railings. "One king even called
her a Kwan-Yin -- Mercy. What a ship we chose to join!"
The Ibisian kept his silence and learned all he could about the lands the
Trident had visited.
He kept a notebook in which he drew his maps and charts and recorded private
observations.
They had been at sea for three months without sight of land, navigating by the
Ten Agreeable
Fire Doves, when a call for general quarters was rung. The crew took positions
in a few minutes.
Nothing could be spotted from the decks, but the lookout in the mainmast
tower-nest had spotted something odd ahead of them. Within a quarter hour
people on the decks spotted it too.
Kiril was standing next to a wiry old man who usually supervised repairs to
the ship's sails and deck canvas. The old sailor's eyes were sharper than
Kiril's -- he held his hand above them and mumbled something about it being
the largest he'd ever seen.
"What is it?" Kiril asked, almost shaking. The sea was suddenly a very
unpleasant place again, green and cold and unknown.
"Untersay draken" the canvasmaker answered.
"What's that?" Kiril wanted -- and at the same time didn't want -- specifics.
"Spruten."
"I don't know that word."
"Ochobras, diesbras, dolfijn-manker."
No better off than before, he turned his eyes back to the horizon and saw it.
At first it looked like a thick tangle of what the sailors called sargass, a
weed that formed in ocean eddies like floating islands. But its pulpy tendrils
took on a ropey sort of life which made his neck hairs crawl. Sometimes it was
pink, sometimes blue. He regretted ever leaving his landlocked home.
"Polypus," another sailor said, approaching the rail to get a better view,
pointing with a lean brown finger. Kiril looked at him, and the man raised his
shaggy eyebrows urging him to see it while he could. "Rare sight!" he
explained. "Makes a seaman of you."
"Or a pudding," another said. A few women and one young girl joined the group,
and Kiril tried to pull himself together for their benefit. But he still
trembled.
The polypus -- a word close enough to the Mediwevan equivalent that he could
understand they were talking about a squid -- was basking without much concern
off the port side, barely a hundred meters away. The Trident was giving it a
wide berth. It was common knowledge that untersay drakens, like fishermen's
floats, carried nine tenths of their bulk below the water line.
At night the sea was alive with growing lights. This was truly the realm of
drakens, Kiril learned -- a hundred leagues of squid and glowing fish and
fliegen-say-drakens, which could land on deck and squash a man, but were
harmless otherwise. Then there was the possibility of meeting a pack of true
serpents, not shy like the squid, not harmless like the flying beasts, but
carnivorous and nasty and difficult to drive off.
Bar-Woten was unpleasantly awed as he stared over the railing and saw the
lights pass and flash in the depths. Overhead were the fire doves in the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl freetocraft.keep.pl
relation to each other according to complex orbits, all of which appeared to
be centered on Hegira. Not all the orbits had been calculated, however. Only
ten especially bright fire doves were used for most navigational problems.
One of the major problems of navigation was knowing when a fire dove would be
illuminated.
Each had its own cycle of light and dark, which ranged from seven hours to six
months. It was considered bad form to be tracking a fire dove and have it
unexpectedly go out on you.
During the day prevailing winds -- which seldom shifted -- were used to
indicate direction, according to how the ship ran with them. Some ocean
currents were also used as guides. When weather permitted, the Obelisks were
referred to, and these fixed points were the most reliable.
The four points of the compass weren't used in their normal sense by Hegirans.
Magnetized needles didn't point any particular direction, though it was
rumored that lodestone poles did exist to the very far northwest. The side of
an Obelisk that began with the invocation text was called the north side. Left
of it was west, right east, and opposite, south. Beyond that one traveled by
original orientation, using Obelisks and fire doves as references.
The Trident would soon lose sight of the Obelisk Tara in Mediweva, and of the
Obelisk Onmassee east of it in the central highlands of Fedderland. Trincoma
was the westernmost port of
Fedderland, and while the Obelisk Onmassee was not visible from that city, a
kilometer out to sea brought it into plain view.
Barthel studied the books and charts given to him. They obviously did not come
from Obelisk texts. Therefore the crew of the Trident, though they came from a
land that had access to an
Obelisk, didn't share the prejudices of the Mediwevans. He read voraciously.
One of his teachers was a deck officer named Avra, a woman at least twice
Bar-Woten's age, with thick black hair and a thin, stern face. Her eyes were
the same green as the phantom lights that formed rings in the waves at night.
She spoke in a small, precise voice and carried her shoulders with an arrogant
squareness belying her personality, which was pleasant and gracious.
She was a widow. Her husband had been a methane-tender, and they had sailed on
the Trident for twenty years together in more foreign ports and strange seas
than anyone else aboard, even the captain, who had joined the ship four years
before. At age fifteen she had hired on as a cook, and all her training and
schooling had been aboard the Trident. She was an excellent teacher, and she
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Hegira.txt (29 of 77) [5/21/03
12:35:57 AM]
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%20Hegira.txt found the Khemite an
eager pupil.
Bar-Woten remained quietly puzzled by the Trident. She had no true home port,
though most of her crew called the country of Weggismarche home. They were
heading there now, by way of a few ports along the Bicht av Genevar, a broad
archipelago between Weggismarche and the Obelisk Daana.
In a few months they would pass the Ocean Obelisk. The Trident had spent most
of her half-century in these waters plying trade between the islands and
Weggismarche. In this way she had developed a good reputation that sustained
her when she had been isolated from her previous owners through several
revolutions in Weggismarche. For a few harsh years she had become a pirate of
sorts.
But that was all past now. The Trident carried only a token complement of guns
that were powerful enough for defense, but would never let her play the role
of a raiding ship. Besides, she wasn't fast enough.
Page 39
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
What puzzled the Ibisian was the spirit of cooperation that powered the ship
almost as much as the wind. Survival in the tough trade of the Bicht av
Genevar and elsewhere was apparently determined by blatant and dependable
honesty. He had never known a system run in such a way. He doubted its
efficacy.
Kiril accepted it with a joyous heart. He listened intently to stories told by
the crew of dozens of encounters with civilizations that had never known
foreign trade, or even foreigners --
without a single mishap. "She's a goddess!" he told Bar-Woten
enthusiastically, patting the varnished oak railings. "One king even called
her a Kwan-Yin -- Mercy. What a ship we chose to join!"
The Ibisian kept his silence and learned all he could about the lands the
Trident had visited.
He kept a notebook in which he drew his maps and charts and recorded private
observations.
They had been at sea for three months without sight of land, navigating by the
Ten Agreeable
Fire Doves, when a call for general quarters was rung. The crew took positions
in a few minutes.
Nothing could be spotted from the decks, but the lookout in the mainmast
tower-nest had spotted something odd ahead of them. Within a quarter hour
people on the decks spotted it too.
Kiril was standing next to a wiry old man who usually supervised repairs to
the ship's sails and deck canvas. The old sailor's eyes were sharper than
Kiril's -- he held his hand above them and mumbled something about it being
the largest he'd ever seen.
"What is it?" Kiril asked, almost shaking. The sea was suddenly a very
unpleasant place again, green and cold and unknown.
"Untersay draken" the canvasmaker answered.
"What's that?" Kiril wanted -- and at the same time didn't want -- specifics.
"Spruten."
"I don't know that word."
"Ochobras, diesbras, dolfijn-manker."
No better off than before, he turned his eyes back to the horizon and saw it.
At first it looked like a thick tangle of what the sailors called sargass, a
weed that formed in ocean eddies like floating islands. But its pulpy tendrils
took on a ropey sort of life which made his neck hairs crawl. Sometimes it was
pink, sometimes blue. He regretted ever leaving his landlocked home.
"Polypus," another sailor said, approaching the rail to get a better view,
pointing with a lean brown finger. Kiril looked at him, and the man raised his
shaggy eyebrows urging him to see it while he could. "Rare sight!" he
explained. "Makes a seaman of you."
"Or a pudding," another said. A few women and one young girl joined the group,
and Kiril tried to pull himself together for their benefit. But he still
trembled.
The polypus -- a word close enough to the Mediwevan equivalent that he could
understand they were talking about a squid -- was basking without much concern
off the port side, barely a hundred meters away. The Trident was giving it a
wide berth. It was common knowledge that untersay drakens, like fishermen's
floats, carried nine tenths of their bulk below the water line.
At night the sea was alive with growing lights. This was truly the realm of
drakens, Kiril learned -- a hundred leagues of squid and glowing fish and
fliegen-say-drakens, which could land on deck and squash a man, but were
harmless otherwise. Then there was the possibility of meeting a pack of true
serpents, not shy like the squid, not harmless like the flying beasts, but
carnivorous and nasty and difficult to drive off.
Bar-Woten was unpleasantly awed as he stared over the railing and saw the
lights pass and flash in the depths. Overhead were the fire doves in the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]