"Well then, resign yourself to the good fortune that fate has inflicted upon you, and cease this endless complaint. You whimper like some girl who has played her virginity card, but failed to take the trick. It commences to pall."

"Then I will leave you."

"Stay where you are, we are not finished. You were suggesting, if I am not mistaken, the possibility of enemy action or reprisal. What did you mean by that? This ship and her crew are Lanthian. Do you believe it likely that any among the sailors or officers may-"

A howl of terror arising from multiple throats below truncated the grandlandsman's query. The cries repeated themselves, intensifying in volume and emotion. Moments later a trio of soot-grimed, panic-stricken sailors came bursting through the open hatch up onto the deck, where they clung cowering to the rail.

"What is it?" Torvid demanded in Grewzian of the nearest crewman. There was no reply, and he seized the other's collar in one formidable fist. "Explain."

"He is Lanthian, he doesn't understand you," Karsler remarked calmly. "And probably could not answer in any case."

Another couple of crewmen boiled up screaming through the hatch.

"Are these people mad, or idiots, merely?" Disgusted, Torvid released his hold. The liberated mariner, white beneath his tan, backed away.

"Neither, if I am not deceived. You know the nature of my training, Grandlandsman, and for the past hour or so I have sensed some echo of arcane energy infusing our atmosphere."

"And deemed it unworthy of mention?"

"I was not certain. Within the last couple of minutes the sensation has greatly intensified, and now there can be no doubt that-"

Someone below fired a gun. Three shots rang out in quick succession, followed by a full-throated scream.

"Whatever this Lanthian nonsense may be, I will settle it." Drawing a revolver from the shoulder holster perfectly concealed beneath his coat, Torvid started for the hatch.

"Do not attempt it," Karsler advised. "The force now at work upon this ship is proof against mundane weaponry. Stay away from it."

For a moment Torvid considered, then returned the gun to its holster. "I will be ruled by your superior experience in these matters, for the moment. Understand that my patience is limited, however."

"I suspect you will shortly discover that patience is not the issue."

"This deliberate obscurity of yours is-" Torvid broke off as a tentacle of midnight vapor came undulating up through the hatch into the brilliant daylight, where it paused, swaying a little, as if tasting the unfamiliar sunshine. "What is that thing?"

A couple of sailors and a junior officer on deck spied the black vapor, shouted an alarm, and ran for the stern. The dark tendril silently withdrew.

"Ah, it flees. Here is nothing to concern us." Torvid Stornzof dismissed the visitation with a shrug.

"You judge too quickly. Wait," Karsler instructed, and his tone of authority drew a narrow glance from his uncle.

"Wait while these Lanthian fools allow the ship to slow to a full stop? Wait while the fires in the boilers die because the idiot stokers have abandoned their posts? I think not." Again Torvid made for the hatch.

"Halt," Karsler spoke as if to a soldier under his command, and the tone froze the other in his tracks. "You have not the faintest idea what you are dealing with."

"Ah? I deal, it would seem, with a Stornzof who forgets that he addresses the head of his House." Torvid turned to face his nephew. "Allow me to refresh your memory. Inasmuch as excitement has clouded your judgment, however, I will indulge you so far as to hear your explanation. What, then, are we dealing with?"

"A fairly potent arcane manifestation," Karsler returned without emotion. "The product, I believe, of the traditional Lanthian Cognition. The Select of Lanthi Ume support and aid the local resistance. In this case it is safe to a.s.sume that the sorcerous support has resulted in the creation of a Cognitive shadow hidden away somewhere aboard the Inspiration Inspiration and designed to activate itself at sea. All things considered, I cannot say I am altogether surprised." and designed to activate itself at sea. All things considered, I cannot say I am altogether surprised."

"Are we to fear shadows?" Torvid's brushing gesture repelled imaginary gnats. "This timid rag of mist has poked itself briefly up into the light, lost its courage, and fled. It would seem the effluvium of irresolute Lanthian minds fears us."

"Do not depend upon it," Karsler advised. "And do not be too quick to dismiss Cognition. There is power in it still, and such sorcerous visitations as this are often dangerously malign."

"It would seem these little Lanthian tricksters have quite cowed you. Fortunately, I-"

"Look. Up there." Karsler pointed.

Torvid's eyes followed the other's finger to the Inspiration's Inspiration's smokestack, whose vaporous grey plumage was swiftly changing character. Even as the Stornzof kinsmen watched, dense ropes of black insubstantiality began thrusting up from the depths of the vessel. One after another the dark tentacles shot from the smokestack, climbed for a moment or two, then curved to descend on the deck. Within seconds dozens of them tented overhead, blocking sunlight to create an eerie artificial dusk. One came down inches from the Stornzofs, its weightless touch bubbling the painted deck. smokestack, whose vaporous grey plumage was swiftly changing character. Even as the Stornzof kinsmen watched, dense ropes of black insubstantiality began thrusting up from the depths of the vessel. One after another the dark tentacles shot from the smokestack, climbed for a moment or two, then curved to descend on the deck. Within seconds dozens of them tented overhead, blocking sunlight to create an eerie artificial dusk. One came down inches from the Stornzofs, its weightless touch bubbling the painted deck.

Torvid regarded the nearest writhing strand with interest. One hand reached out fearlessly.

"Do not touch that," Karsler counseled. "It is likely to burn you."

"Ah? Remarkable. Let us see." Torvid pa.s.sed the tip of his index finger unhurriedly through the shadow, then drew back and watched with apparent pleasure as the skin reddened and a rash of small blisters appeared. "You are correct, Nephew. I should hardly have thought those Lanthian sheep had it in them. Here is unexpected novelty."

"There is more to come. Look."

Visible through the interstices of the shadowy Cognitive web veiling the Inspiration Inspiration, the ship's smokestack continued to belch unnatural blackness, but again the character of the emission was changing as serpentine tentacles gave way to a larger, denser spread of midnight, swelling as it mounted skyward, darkening as it expanded.

Finally the shadow emerged in its globular entirety to hover above the smokestack, and then the features adorning the central ma.s.s revealed themselves. The wavering projection of something like a hooked beak pierced the sky, and above the beak, slightly paler than the surrounding blackness, bulged the gigantic vacuity of two dead eyes.

"I confess I am surprised," Torvid acknowledged. "Explain to me the nature of this imaginative display, Nephew."

"Cognitive in nature, moderately potent, potentially lethal." Karsler's eyes never left the empty visage looming overhead. "Make no mistake-the human bathed in that caustic shadow, or drawing the vaporous substance down into his lungs, is unlikely to survive."

"Interesting. And that appearance, somewhat reminiscent of an overgrown cephalopod-that is purely pictorial, I presume? The shadow possesses nothing resembling life?"

"It is not alive, nor does it possess true awareness," Karsler reported. "Yet it perceives, and its response to its perceptions is governed by the intention of its creator."

"And that intention?"

"To block the boat's way east to Aennorve. Perhaps nothing more. The shadow is Lanthian in origin, and the Inspiration Inspiration is manned by Lanthians. Confronting neither resistance nor defiance, this visitant will probably cause no harm, although it possesses the power to kill." is manned by Lanthians. Confronting neither resistance nor defiance, this visitant will probably cause no harm, although it possesses the power to kill."

"I see. Well, you are the supposed expert. What do you advise?"

"That we wait."

"Wait. I see. Now there's true Grewzian valor for you. Shall we then abandon ship, take to the lifeboats, and set off for the nearest island, there to loll on the beach until rescued by the next eastbound vessel? Is that your battle strategy, Nephew?"

"It is not, nor would you imagine otherwise, were you even minimally knowledgeable in this area," Karsler returned evenly. He saw the other's lips thin and, without awaiting reply, continued, "Deprived of its creator's presence and sustaining will, the shadow's term of existence is limited. Presently-within a few hours, or less, according to the skill of the originating savant-Cognitive force will flag and the shadow will cease to be."

"A few hours, to sit idle and helpless?" Torvid demanded.

"We can afford them. Barring magic and miracle, my fellow racers can hardly expect to embark from Dalyon until the day after tomorrow, at the very earliest. This Lanthian gesture amounts to nothing."

"There you mistake the matter. Pa.s.sive acquiescence is not Grewzian. Nor is toleration of conspiracy and open defiance. The sooner our subjects learn that lesson, the better for all concerned."

"What remedy do you favor, Grandlandsman?"

"Cognitive sabotage or no, this ship continues on toward Aennorve. That is a simple statement of fact."

"Fact does not always lend itself to simple statements."

"Spare me the Promontory profundity, now is not the time. Observe, I will demonstrate."

The darkened deck around them boiled. Agitated sailors scurried everywhere in search of escape always blocked by snaking strands of Cognitive shadow. Torvid Stornzof reached out at random, and his estimable grip closed on a pa.s.sing arm clothed in a sleeve bearing the braid and insignia of an officer.

"State your name and rank," Torvid commanded in Vonahrish, and that language was comprehended by the prisoner.

"Heek Ranzo, mate of the Inspiration Inspiration." An unsuccessful effort to wrench free accompanied the reply.

"The ship has veered from course, and slowed almost to a halt," Torvid observed. "The crew's performance is inadequate."

"Are you mad? We're abandoning ship. Let go." Another sharp twist failed to free the trapped arm.

"You are ill informed, I think," Torvid pointed out, and a turn of his powerful wrist drew a hiss of alarmed pain from the victim. "I am a grandlandsman of Grewzland, and you will address me properly as 'Armipotence.' Is that understood, little Lanthian?"

"You Grewzian fool, turn me loose!" Ranzo snarled, then gasped as his captor calmly backhanded him across the face.

"Is that understood, little Lanthian?" Torvid repeated, without apparent rancor.

"Yes, Armipotence."

"Excellent, Mate Ranzo. Now here are your orders. You will go forward, take the helm, and steer this ship east at top speed."

"I haven't the authority, Armipotence. Now, will you let me-"

"I take responsibility," Torvid a.s.sured him. "You will carry out your orders."

"That's impossible, you-Armipotence," Ranzo recollected himself. He pointed with his free hand toward a ladder wreathed in writhing tentacles of shadow. "Look, the way up to the bridge is blocked, and-"

"So I see," Torvid concurred serenely. "And yet I place my full trust in your resolution and competence. Surely the Mate Ranzo is not a man to be deflected by minor obstacles." He released the other's arm. "Go forward and take the helm."

"Go b.u.g.g.e.r yourself, Armipotence," Ranzo suggested, and started to turn away.

"One moment," Torvid advised, and drew his revolver.

Ranzo halted at once. He studied the gun, his expression glazed with disbelief.

"Forward to the helm," Torvid commanded calmly.

"Enough, Grandlandsman," Karsler spoke up. "This is a pointless exercise in tyranny. These men cannot hope to withstand a Cognitive-"

"Silence. You forget both soldierly and familial duty," Torvid rebuked his nephew, without letting his eyes stray from the Lanthian mariner's face.

Conflicting values waged internal war. Karsler said nothing.

"Now, Mate Ranzo, forward." Torvid took leisurely aim at the Lanthian's belly. "I will not repeat the command."

For a moment Ranzo's desperate eyes flickered between revolver and shadowy ladder, weighing the known efficacy of bullets against the unknown potency of anonymous Cognition, before opting to brave the latter.

"b.u.g.g.e.r yourself," the mate repeated almost inaudibly, and went to the ladder.

Setting his feet to the rungs, he climbed toward the bridge, and for a moment it seemed he might reach that goal. A vaporous tentacle coiled experimentally about his leg, but the woolen fabric of his trousers seemed to ward off burns, and Ranzo shook himself free. The agile ascent continued, but the activity in the midst of its appendages must have triggered the shadow's innate defenses, for a dark throng came undulating out of nowhere to converge upon the luckless officer. Instantly Ranzo was engulfed, wrapped from head to foot in squirming Cognitive blackness. His woolen uniform gave way at once, and then his flesh began to do likewise. The flashes of white intermittently visible among shifting coils of blackness quickly darkened to red, and then the screams began, but they were brief. The strong intake of breath that his cries demanded drew the shadow deep into his lungs, and at once Ranzo tumbled headlong from the ladder. He hit the deck hard and lay still, whereupon the Cognitive strands lost interest, detached themselves, and withdrew.

Torvid Stornzof eyed the corpse in annoyance and flicked his cigarette aside. For a moment he cogitated, then concluded, "Body armor of some sort. Heavy swaddlings of fabric, perhaps. We will wrap one of these Lanthians in canvas or linen, dampen the layers, and send him to the bridge. If that proves unsuccessful, we will experiment with protective windings of rope or stout twine-"

"Your experiments are concluded for the moment," Karsler noted expressionlessly. "Look around you."

The senior Stornzof obeyed. The shadowy Cognitive net enclosing the Inspiration Inspiration allowed a fairly clear view, and it was easy to see that the boat had come, by accident or design, to a small bay hollowed into the coastline of a steep island, one of the hundreds of such islands scattered across the broad blue reach of the Jeweled Expanse. A gap in the shadowy web had opened itself, patently inviting exit, and the crew seized upon the opportunity with enthusiasm. The anchor was lowered and the men sprinted for accessible lifeboats. allowed a fairly clear view, and it was easy to see that the boat had come, by accident or design, to a small bay hollowed into the coastline of a steep island, one of the hundreds of such islands scattered across the broad blue reach of the Jeweled Expanse. A gap in the shadowy web had opened itself, patently inviting exit, and the crew seized upon the opportunity with enthusiasm. The anchor was lowered and the men sprinted for accessible lifeboats.

"Lanthian sc.u.m." Torvid's hand automatically sought the revolver. "We will stop them."

"We would do better to join them," Karsler told him. "Come, Grandlandsman, put that away, it is useless against Cognition. Understand that Inspiration Inspiration fails for now, and there is nothing we can do. Console yourself with the thought that the delay is temporary." fails for now, and there is nothing we can do. Console yourself with the thought that the delay is temporary."

"The delay is unacceptable. I will steer the ship myself, if all others fear to do it."

As if it comprehended the last words, the great Cognitive shadow sent a couple of midnight serpents sliding along the deck, straight for Torvid Stornzof. The grandlandsman watched them coming, and stood his ground. Stance and expression communicated nothing beyond cold contempt.

"Come, Grandlandsman," Karsler repeated. "Into the boat. That is the best course, for now. I urge you, come."

"Very well, if you are so alarmed." Torvid suffered himself to be persuaded. "This time, I will humor you."

Without further debate the Stornzof kinsmen went to the nearest boat, whose occupants admitted them reluctantly. The small vessel descended and made for the island sh.o.r.e.

Karsler turned to look back at the besieged ship. The Inspiration Inspiration was lapped from stem to stern in Cognitive coils, all of which joined the huge k.n.o.b of a head bulging at the summit of the tallest smokestack. As he watched, the head turned slowly, immense dead eyes aiming themselves at the trio of fleeing lifeboats. Perhaps the arcane perceptions extended beyond the confines of the ship, perhaps not. Either way, the shadow attempted no pursuit. was lapped from stem to stern in Cognitive coils, all of which joined the huge k.n.o.b of a head bulging at the summit of the tallest smokestack. As he watched, the head turned slowly, immense dead eyes aiming themselves at the trio of fleeing lifeboats. Perhaps the arcane perceptions extended beyond the confines of the ship, perhaps not. Either way, the shadow attempted no pursuit.

Minutes later the boats reached sh.o.r.e. Crew and pa.s.sengers disembarked onto a narrow stony strand hugging the base of tall rock formations. For a while they loitered at the water's edge, watching the shadow-smothered ship in antic.i.p.ation of final disaster-an explosion, or perhaps quiet disintegration-but nothing happened, and finally the bizarre but static scene began to lose interest.

The beach was bare and inhospitable. The captain issued orders, splitting the group into several reconnaissance units, dispatched separately. The sailors departed. The Stornzof kinsmen stood alone beside the water.

"Do you not wish to investigate, Grandlandsman?" Karsler asked.

"No need." Extracting a black cigarette from his platinum case, Torvid lit up. "We stand upon a rock. There is nothing to see. In any event, be a.s.sured we shall not mark time here for long. Go ahead and explore if you wish, Nephew. Amuse yourself as best you can."

"I will, Grandlandsman." Karsler inclined his head to the correct angle, and set off in the wake of the vanished sailors. Behind him lingered his faultlessly groomed uncle, an incongruously elegant figure upon that barren beach, cigarette in hand and contemplative eagle gaze trained upon the black-shrouded Inspiration. Inspiration.

Karsler turned his back and took his leave with a subtle but distinct sense of relief. He had not antic.i.p.ated his own pleasure in solitude, nor had he fully recognized, until that moment, the oppressiveness of his uncle's polished iron presence. Now, for the first time in days, he could draw an unenc.u.mbered breath. He did so, pulling the clean sea air down to the bottom of his lungs, and his spirits lifted despite the misfortune that had brought him to this stark little island.

Or perhaps because of it.

He reached the level summit of a tall escarpment, where he paused to survey his surroundings. The grandlandsman had been right, there was little to see. The island-probably nameless-was small and all but devoid of vegetation. Nothing but a naked stone protrusion pushing up out of the sea, home to a colony of slovenly seabirds nesting raucously atop the rocks. No food, no fresh water. Not much s.p.a.ce, no cover. From his present vantage point he could easily spot the separate squads of crewmen toiling antlike over the rocks, and his uncle's mannequin figure, solitary upon the strand. A bleak little sun-drenched prison, comfortless, probably frightening to the sailors confronting residency of indefinite term.

But Karsler Stornzof realized that he liked the place. A moment's reflection suggested the reason. This anonymous little crag overlooking the sea reminded him of another place, another life. There the surrounding waters and the sky were eternally grey, and here both were brilliantly blue. There the sun rarely showed its face, and here it shone unremittingly. And yet the stark pure contours of this isle recalled the granite grandeur of the Promontory, and both shared a quality of extreme isolation, a separation from the world and its frenetic concerns.

He felt at home in this unyielding place. He understood it, and vice versa, but he could not stay for long. The race called, and beyond the race, the wars that never ended. He had once regarded his withdrawal from the Promontory as very temporary, but the battles raged on, he was needed, and return waxed increasingly problematic. Of late he had begun to suspect that he would never again know the solitary tranquillity of that youthful, far-off haven. But today he caught an echo of it.

He did not know how long he sat there on the sun-washed ledge, mind lost in the past, eyes blind to the blue infinity of sea and sky. He did not sleep, yet awareness distanced itself, and when at last his sense of duty called him back, the light and colors had changed, the shadows had stretched, and the tired sun was hovering a hair above the horizon. His newly wakeful eyes shot to the Inspiration Inspiration lying at anchor in the bay below. Tentacles of shadow clutched the ship. A well of blackness bulged above the smokestack. Vast lifeless eyes met and absorbed his gaze, returning nothing. lying at anchor in the bay below. Tentacles of shadow clutched the ship. A well of blackness bulged above the smokestack. Vast lifeless eyes met and absorbed his gaze, returning nothing.

Hours had pa.s.sed, yet the Inspiration Inspiration remained magically immobilized, a voiceless testimony to the prowess of some unknown patriot savant. Down below, the stony beach was clotted with human figures. The Lanthian sailors, returned from their unrewarding explorations, had regrouped beside the water. Now they were sitting around in small cl.u.s.ters, playing at cards, playing at dice, or just staring out over the Jeweled Expanse. One ramrod figure held itself conspicuously aloof. Even at a distance it was not difficult to pick out the Grandlandsman Torvid. remained magically immobilized, a voiceless testimony to the prowess of some unknown patriot savant. Down below, the stony beach was clotted with human figures. The Lanthian sailors, returned from their unrewarding explorations, had regrouped beside the water. Now they were sitting around in small cl.u.s.ters, playing at cards, playing at dice, or just staring out over the Jeweled Expanse. One ramrod figure held itself conspicuously aloof. Even at a distance it was not difficult to pick out the Grandlandsman Torvid.