O Redrin, What Is Redrin? O Redrin, What Have We Made?
The towns and cities lower down the Bow River regained the general Yumin aesthetic that the unkind might call “slapdash,” though with magnificent Dvanjchtliv-style estates occasionally glorifying the fields and dipping private docks into the river.
Fyalang Gardalihm, the Busy Port, deserved its name. However, after agreeing it also qualified as pretty while Gwin Gardalihm could fairly be called busy, Dirant and Takki concocted a theory that Redrin's ports had all entered a contest to determine the order they picked their names. Takki surmised Fyalang Gardalihm won with Gwin Gardalihm taking second. “After all, pretty is fine, but wouldn't you rather be described as beautiful, stunning, or sultry?”
“I would not,” Dirant said. “I understand the point and agree with it for all that.”
“Oh yes, I suppose you would prefer, I don't know, crafty?”
“That too is a bit . . .”
Takki tugged her scarf and switched to Yumin. “Well I'm sure I don't know what Adabans want. What compliments do you men like to hear?”
“Compliments?” Hugal's blank look sufficed for a sad answer. The lesser menservants joined him in that.
Takki's smile disappeared in her dismay. “Oh. I think you're all very nice. What about you women? What compliments do you hope to be given?”
“Hope?” Eyanya's expression echoed Hugal's, as did those of the womenservants.
“Ressi, I'm starting to feel homesick.”
“And that touch of wistfulness in your look makes you quite beautiful and stunning.”
“Oh! Thank you.” A less discerning hearer might have suspected there to be mockery in that, but Battler Millim Takki Atsa noticed Dirant left sultry out and concluded from the exception that he meant the other two sincerely. A shame, since the excluded one appealed to her the most, but in no way did that lessen her appreciation over the compliments she did receive.
Onzalkarnd ended that scene so distressing to the uncomplimented by riding back with the news that all preparations had been made for the Foam Stallion to receive them.
“Did the Olzenchipt Stavripdeu family win a competition for that name the way we have decided Fyalang Gardalihm did? Are there a Foam Stallion II and Foam Stallion XVI out there somewhere on the endless blue?” Dirant judged he could get away with that impertinence, but he was mistaken. About it being taken as an impertinence.
“It was a stiff contest, yes,” Audnauj informed him. “Special race at the Famolyion Downs. First place grabbed Wavecrest Destrier. The captain didn't like how we used our spot to claim a masculine name, but the sailors all call it 'her' regardless. Did Fyalang Gardalihm win a name fight? I've never heard of it.”
“Yes, my lord, some three hundred years ago.” Onzalkarnd did have a sense of humor, Dirant knew, but he appeared not to be exercising it just then.
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“Good for it. All right then. We can delay a tad if you've made up your minds to say goodbye to our patient steeds here, but no more than that.”
“We did that yesterday, Master Audnauj,” Eyanya lied.
“As did I, so that's taken care of. This way.” The servants and traveling companions followed him on foot to the pier. They were on foot, that is. Lord Audnauj still rode. He had arranged to have most of his horses stabled there, but one or two should be all right to bring along, he reasoned.
Unlike the specialized horse transport that met them at Uviuvi, the Foam Stallion lowered only two gangplanks, one for important travelers and one for humans. Dirant walked onto that ship that awed passengers with all its masts and ropes and so forth. His one sea voyage had not made him an expert in nautical matters, surprisingly. At least he had advanced far enough in his seamanship to identify the captain by his scowl and his hat made forbidding by the lack of a friendly bundle of horsehair.
He wondered, as the captain glared at the two horses being led up the ramp, whether the man's dissatisfaction stemmed from there being too few horses for his liking or too many. Not all Dvanjchtlivs had an infatuation with horses, presumably, and men of the sea could be persnickety, probably. That all sounded correct based on the serials and wild cultural speculation current in Kitslof.
Later, far from land, surrounded by nothing but fish and clouds along with creaking sounds he was getting better at ignoring, he trespassed upon the patience of Captain Reivsawm Hoidchaj Neuchipt Shchavliraj. The captain deemed him beneath notice, but realizing Lord Audnauj disagreed, gave him a brusque answer. “I do not question, sir, the value of horses on land. Every man of sense must agree, sir, that much of what is valuable on land falls under the category of cargo on a ship, even as he admits the opposite, that carts haul about the necessities of naval transportation. The Foam Stallion, sir, was not built and commissioned to carry cargo. She carries passengers.” The stocky captain looked Dirant over with one hand behind his back and the other on his graying beard, something rarely sighted on a land Dvanjchtliv. “Important passengers.”
But before that clarification of the captain's preferences as to the employment of the vessel he commanded, Takki had a question for Dirant. “Ressi, did you see . . . something?”
“I believe I did, and I had this idea he was . . . a certain person.”
“I think he was. I'm glad we were able to get out of there without doing anything. It would have dropped Lord Audnauj in a rotten bushel.”
“Is that a saying?”
“Yes, it is.”
With that agreed, they and the other passengers yet had to occupy themselves during the voyage. They engaged in conversations about history, fashion, the worst class (Warm Body), the best class (no agreement), epic poetry, non-epic poetry, and much else. Five days to the half of the island of Salustrid occupied by Redrin and no fairs to attend allowed them time enough to address an assortment of topics. By the time the Foam Stallion hove in to Dwecosptichdeu, they had covered all the controversies across the continent and had begun to conceive contempt for one another's tastes.
Dwecosptichdeu at first presented to the sea traveler an aspect unlike what either Yumin or Dvanjchtliv cities typically exhibited because of its stone emplacements where ships were being constructed or else had been drawn out of the water entirely for repair. Dozens of warships moored in that harbor, some as far longer than the Foam Stallion as the Ontoffemmiror River was than the Onbehemmiror River.
“That comparison doesn't mean much to me, Ressi.”
“Then think of it this way. The Ontoffemmiror is about as much longer as the Onbehemmiror as those ships are compared to the one we're on.”
“Oh, I have it now.”
The captain hewed to the ways of the professional too closely to evince any displeasure at his assignment unless asked about it directly. His crew meanwhile had enjoyed the routine trip on a route little subject to piracy on account of the presence at the destination of the greater part of Redrin's naval might. Further, the opportunity to conduct Lord Audnauj himself gave them material for later boasting. For those reasons it was a genial parting the passengers had from the waving sailors and dignified captain when they disembarked to march, or in one exceptional case ride, into the city.