Free Slow Turns The World by Andy Sparrow Page B

life and hope when all else has gone, but some will not see this.  Some bring bad fortune and bad fortune is best given to the sea; a reckoning must sometimes be made.   So how will you serve us?  Do I need to have you chained?”
    Torrin did not answer but Valhad spoke.
    “It is as you say, sir; our lives belong to the ship.  We shall serve until the ship releases us.”
    “Captain!”
    As they turned to see who had called, two men joined them on the upper deck; a scowling Kalor with his master.   Torrin recognised him at once; the man who had denied the Vasagi their rightful path, who had also saved them from Kalor’s blade.   Once again he stood in simple clothes, finely made, bearing the emblem of triangle and circle upon his breast.  He had a lean shaven face, cold blue eyes, and long greying hair that hung behind him, woven in a single plait.
    “Captain,” he said, “are we making good speed?”
    “The best that we can.”
    “We must reach our destination within two moons.”
    “I cannot promise that.  The wind still blows against us and now brings cloud from the south.  Soon the sun will be hidden and then we cannot know our place upon the sea.  Gradala is twenty turns away and must be passed widely for many ships have foundered there.   We should take a longer course westwards.  That will delay us by five turns.”
    “I would remind you, Captain, that any payment for this voyage assumes we keep to the agreed schedule.”
    “The weather and the sea have no bargain with us.    And your servant here has not helped by bringing bad luck upon us.”
    “We have no need of luck, Captain, because we do God's work.”
    “Your God is a long way from home.”
    “Keep the bargain, Captain, and keep your payment.  Fail and it shall be reduced.”
    The Lord and his servant strode away. The Captain looked silently after them, shaking his head, and passed a quiet order to the nearest sailor.
    “Stay on the fastest course.”
     
    Life upon the ship was governed by the turn; it was the turn of the hourglass that swayed upon its gimballed cradle on the upper deck.  The passing of sand from the upper to lower chamber was equal to the time a man might sleep.  It divided time of rest from time of work, and also the crew into two watches.   As one turn followed another Torrin and Valhad began to learn the way of the ship and became instructed in its art.  At first, while their full strength recovered, they mainly swept and scrubbed the dark timbers of the deck.  Then the time came when they were taken down to the source of the constant rumbling in the depths of the ship; there was a great compartment across the full width of the hull, several decks in height, where set between the walls were three great treadmills filled with toiling shapes.  
    So here was the power that turned the great paddle and drove the ship; the long gasping toil of thirty men in this dimly lit chamber.   Toothed wheels fashioned from metal turned and clattered while timber strained and creaked.  Sometimes the men sang and every tune beat the rhythm of their labour.  One man would sing out the verses, stories of places and people far away, names unknown to the Vasagi, and then the chorus would bellow out from every mouth.  A few songs were sad, but most were bawdy and the men would laugh as they sang and toiled.
    A tolling bell marked the turn, but the work did not cease until the next watch assembled in the chamber.  Men would leave the treadmill from one end as the next shift entered from the other and the turning of the great wooden drums would not slow for even a second.   They would file away to the crew’s quarters and gather around the table.  All ate hungrily, upon dried meats and fruit, and swigged their ration of ale.  Many tales were told of distant lands; of lost love or perils on the sea.  Torrin listened quietly to the stories, fascinated by how great a place the world was and how little he knew of it.