A Triumph of Souls by Alan Dean Foster Read Free Book Online Page B

still arrive at the trading port of Doroune less than a week later than originally
     planned. We carry more than enough stores to sustain us through the delay.” She contemplated the placid waters.
    “There is only one element I cannot account for, and that my experience is not equal to.” Raising a hand, she gestured over
     the railing. It did not matter in which direction she pointed, because their surroundings were identical on all sides. And
     therefore, so was the problem.
    “I have sailed through straits so narrow they wouldpinch a coal lugger’s gut, navigated my way past shelves of coral and rocks so black they could hardly be seen by the lookout.
     I have taken the
Grömsketter
safely past whirlpools strong enough to suck a lesser vessel down to its doom, and seen to a fire in the galley in the middle
     of the night. But I have never, ever, had occasion to try to sail uphill.” She was watching Ehomba closely.
    “This astonishing liquid vale has been a welcome refuge. Now, how do we escape it?”
    Ehomba returned her gaze. Nearby, Simna ibn Sind leaned back against the rail and grinned. It always amused him when his tall
     friend startled the skeptical with one of his unexpected magical revelations. He looked forward with great anticipation to
     the look of amazement and realization that was soon to come over the Captain’s beautiful face.
    “I do not know,” the herdsman replied frankly.
    “What?” Stanager’s expression hardly shifted.
    Simna’s grin widened. “Hoy, he’s just toying and teasing with you.” He smiled at his companion. “The stiffer they are, the
     harder it is for them to loosen up and have a laugh. Right, long bruther?”
    Ehomba turned to him. “I am telling the truth, Simna. I do not know how we are going to get free of this place and back out
     onto the upper ocean proper.”
    “Right, sure!” The swordsman smiled at their hostess. “Would you believe that there was a time when I thought he had no sense
     of humor? Tell her, Etjole. Tell her now.”
    “I just did,” the herdsman responded quietly. He considered the watery late-afternoon panorama. “I have no idea how one is
     supposed to sail uphill.”

    His expression falling, Simna straightened away from the railing. “This isn’t funny, bruther.”
    Ehomba glanced over at him. “Why should it be? As you have said yourself, I have no sense of humor.”
    Stanager moved nearer. “If you had no notion of how to leave a place like this, why did you guide us into it?”
    “Because you insisted you needed a place to rest and repair, and this was the only such shelter I could detect. Attend to
     the ship first, I thought, and deal with the leaving later.”
    “Well, the later has arrived, bruther.” Simna was no longer smiling. “Time to deal with it.”
    “I am trying, my friend.” He looked hopefully at their Captain. “Have you any ideas?”
    Placing her hands on the rail, she regarded the valley in the sea. Soon it would start to grow dark again. “Terious and his
     people are stout of arm and strong of back, but I don’t think even they could kedge uphill.” She spared a quick glance for
     the sails. “We have some wind, but not enough to gain sufficient momentum to push us up one of these enclosing slopes. We
     might sail partway before sliding back. This is a magical place. Your friend claims you are a magician.” Her gaze was steely.
     “Make some magic, Etjole, or we will surely all grow old together in this place.”
    “My friend is constantly overrating my abilities. It is a conceit of his.”
    “There must be a way out!” Simna was, however mildly and gracefully, feeling the gnawing edge of panic. “You speak to dolphins;
     I’ve seen you do it. Call them up and make a bargain with them! Have them pull and push us back to the surface above.”

    “I can speak to the sleek people of the sea, yes,” Ehomba admitted, “but I cannot call them up, Simna. And believe me, I have
     been looking