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  “But what is her plan?” Several voices called out, both among the Undeani and the others.

  “We build a boat,” Tienna said. “And we cross Uustgond, rowing east right toward the mountain.”

  The questions and objections were the same ones Braga himself had raised just a short time ago. How could they build a boat in such a short time? It can’t be done.

  “It can’t be done by our enemy,” Tienna replied. “That may be our salvation. Because we can do it. With the help of Keet and Breanga.”

  Breanga heard his name, and before Braga could even translate he began shaking his head. “I know nothing of the making of boats,” he told Braga in the Undeani language.

  “They know that,” Braga replied. “But one of them will guide you. Will you try?”

  He took a deep breath. “I will try. I will do what I can in the shaping of the wood—if another can show me what shape to give it.”

  Braga relayed the answer to Elynna and Tienna and the others.

  Bandor turned to the young boy. “Keet? Can you help?”

  For the first time since Braga had seen the boy, his eyes held a spark of life. “I know how to craft a boat. I will help.”

  They departed soon. Braga took the lead with Bandor. Regon and Elynna followed close behind. As he predicted, they reached the southern shore of Uustgond after just an hour of hiking. He came through the trees and saw the great lake spread out in front of him. The beauty and vastness almost took his breath away. They were at the southern end of a large bay, surrounded by a rocky shore. Tall cedars lined the water’s edge on both sides of the bay, but due north the lake extended to the horizon. Ice from spray and waves had glazed the rocks along the shore, but the lake was still free of ice. Chop from an east wind rippled across the surface.

  But Braga had no time to delight in the sight. He conferred quickly with Bandor then the two of them began to organize their people into work crews. His people, not speaking the same language as Keet, would be of least help with the building. So he sent Jama along the shore to catch fish for their next meal. Regon worked on building a fire. He posted the other Undeani as guards in the woods to the south and west along the ridge they had just descended. Namha and Tienna, on their own initiative, went back to the southeast on a longer mission to scout out the position of the enemy if they could. As they disappeared into the woods, Braga caught a fleeting glimpse of a large white, black and orange shape gliding through the trees beside them.

  Bandor sent all the others, under the directions of Keet and Breanga, to gather wood for the ship. Braga’s own job was to translate for Keet and Breanga. Their communication, he knew, was the most important aspect of all of this.

  The wood cutting proved slow. They had only two Undeani battleaxes among them. The rest of them were forced to use swords—an unwieldy and tedious task as the swords continually got stuck in the wood. But enough hands worked that a pile of limbs and logs began slowly to grow. As the others worked in the nearby woods, Keet began to describe for Breanga what the planks of a ship looked like: how long and thick to make them, what kind of curve they should have, and how they should be joined. Braga helped translate for Breanga. Elynna, who apparently also knew something of boats, helped clarify some of Keet’s instructions.

  Finally, thanks to the strength of Cathros and Aram, two large cedar logs appeared, alongside the pile of smaller logs. They were half again Braga’s height, and roughly the diameter of his leg. The workers had stripped them clear of branches. Breanga was ready to begin.

  Keet picked out a cedar log. Braga watched as Breanga sat down on the ground beside it. Elynna stood beside Braga. For a moment, Breanga just sat and ran his hands up and down the wood, feeling its grain and the knots. Then he began his work. He put his hands on the bark and sang a slow tune whose melody sounded like something Braga’s mother sang to him as a child. A minute or so passed with no visible effect, but then slowly the wood began to change shape beneath Breanga’s fingers. Once the change began, it spread like fire through dry grass. Four minutes later the log was gone and in its place lay a rough cedar board eight feet long and as wide as Braga’s shoulders.

  Keet stared wide-eyed. “Great,” he said. “Now we need twenty-nine more of these to form our strakes.”

  Braga himself had seen Breanga shape wood on many occasions. Every time it left him speechless. And never had he seen Breanga shape something so large. It took Braga a moment to get over his own amazement and translate what Keet had said. Breanga listened, sighed deeply, and shook his head as though in doubt. Yet he set to work. Before the second plank was shaped, Cathros and Aram dragged two more logs over.

  The morning rolled past. The sun shown down through a thin haze of clouds. The lake grew windier. Still the company continued to work. One by one, Breanga turned the logs into flat planks. Braga could see that the task drained him. Whatever mysterious power he possessed, it took tremendous effort to use it. At midday he collapsed in fatigue.

  Jama returned from further down the shore with a large fish. They roasted it over Regon’s fire. The workers took breaks in turns. Each got a small piece of fish. Then Bandor sent some of his people into the woods to replace the Undeani as guards. Braga’s people returned in ones or twos. They had only a moment to warm their hands by the fire and eat a bite of fish before he set them to gathering more logs.

  “I am ready,” Breanga said. His eyes looked tired and hollow, but he was on his feet.

  Braga put a hand on his shoulder. “You may be the one who saves us all,” he said.

  Breanga nodded, then set himself back to work. Slowly the pile of planks grew. By mid-afternoon he was done with the planks. But though his eyes now looked hollow and his shoulders were drooping, he had no time for to rest. “We need stringers and cross-staves,” Keet said. While all the others appeared more tired as the day progressed, the boy had become more engaged, more energetic. “And a keel. That should be easy. And a rudder. Oars too, of course. And we’ll want some benches, especially for the rowers.”

  “These words mean little to me,” Braga said. “Describe them.”

  Keet did. And Braga, with many questions and further explanations, passed the information on to Breanga.

  Then Breanga set to work again. He formed a keel, then a rudder, and then began to work on the stringers and cross-staves that would provide the needed support. It took him several tries to make the cross-staves just right, but once he understood what Keet wanted he had no trouble. It was late in the afternoon before he was done, but now the parts were all ready.

  Braga stood looking. He had seen the Daegmons and knew they were real. He had witnessed some of the gifted among his own people, before the Gaergaen had taken them away. But still he had no words for this. These were not little deer heads that would fit in the palm of a hand. He had shaped enough lengths of wood to make a boat that would hold twenty-four people, if the young boy Keet had planned correctly. If Braga had not seen it for himself, he would not have believed it.

  Keet stood shaking his head. “It would have taken all summer to cut and plane these if I had been working with my brother.” At the mention of his brother, his face suddenly fell, and some of the excitement drained out.

  The darker-skinned Plains woman put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Your brother would have been proud,” she said. The boy nodded. Tears rolled down his cheeks, fell on the rocks, and froze. He looked back at all the piece. He wiped his cheeks with his arms. “Now we need to put them together,” he said.

  “Tell us how,” Braga asked.

  “Well,” Keet began. “We start at the keel and starting adding the strakes—the long planks—overlapping upward and bending. The key is to make it watertight. At home we would rivet them together with metal nails.” A panicked expression came across his face. “I don’t know how to join them without nails. There are older ways. People in my village who would know h
ow. I’m sorry.”

  “Just go on,” Braga said. “Don’t worry yet.” He was trying to be comforting, but he was worried himself.

  Keet nodded. “The stringers provide lateral support, running parallel to the strakes. Oh, and we need gunwales too. I hadn’t thought of that. But we can just use stringers for those also. The cross-staves—” he paused, as though trying to figure out how to explain it. “Well they run across from the stringers on one side to the stringers on the other. Or between the gunwales. Those and are the most important for the strength of the boat. Though benches will help, if we have time to make them.”

  Braga struggled to form a picture in his imagination. Though he knew what a boat looked like, he could count on one hand the number of times he had been in one. “Can you draw it?” he asked.

  Keet nodded. He grabbed a stick, found a patch of hard dirt scraped clear of snow, and began to draw, explaining the design again as he went. Braga translated for Breanga who watched closely. “This is where we would nail them,” Keet concluded, drawing dots along the strakes and stringers.

  Bandor was now standing over Braga’s shoulder listening. Braga looked up at him. Trying to control the fear in his voice, he said, “we have a problem. My people do not use nails. I do not know how to make them. But Keet said we need them.”

  Bandor looked at the dark-skinned Plains woman. “Beth. You live by the lake. Your people have boats. Do you have any ideas?”

  Beth shook her head. “I stay away from the water. I can’t even swim.”

  Breanga turned to Braga and spoke to him in their Undeani tongue. “What do they say?”

  “We do not know how to create these ‘nails’ of which the boy speaks,” Braga answered. “The boy fears—we all fear—that after all this work we cannot complete the boat.”

  A tired smile appeared on Breanga’s face. “Tell them not to fear. I think I understand now. I am ready. And I won’t need any nails.”

  For the next several minutes Bandor, Braga and Beth laid out all the pieces of wood according to Keet’s directions, in roughly the outline of where the boat would be. They put the keel in the middle, and in symmetric patterns on each side lined up the planks that would form the strakes, along with the stringers. When they were done, Breanga sat down at what would be the stern of the boat. He looked at Keet, and to Braga’s surprise spoke to him in the trade tongue. “Hold planks how you want them be.”

  Keet nodded. He and Bandor put the first plank against the keel. Breanga put his hand on the keel and began to hum. The humming spread, as though the wood itself were vibrating in response. “Done,” he said.

  Everybody stared at him. Nothing seemed to have happened. But then Keet tentatively let go his grip on the plank. It didn’t move. He pushed on it. Braga looked closely. The plank was now fused to the keel. Two pieces of wood had grown together to a single piece.

  Over the next three hours Breanga needed several rests, but slowly the ship took shape. It ran over forty feet long, and was about five feet wide and three feet deep at the center. It had three benches—not nearly enough for all the companions to be seated, but at least rowers would have seats. The last part to go on was a rudder. The sun had nearly set before they were finished, and Breanga was exhausted. He fell asleep with his hands on the keel.

  “We will finish first thing in the morning,” Bandor announced after talking with Keet. “All that remains is to fashion oars and an oarlock. Then we can depart.”

  “I would not have believed it possible,” said Braga as he stood staring at the finished ship. He put his hand on Keet’s shoulder. “In one day. I am amazed. Well done.”

  Keet smiled. Jama and Regon returned again with three large fish, each weighing five or more pounds. Together they were enough to feed the entire company. They roasted the fish over the fire. Most of them were now gathered around the fire and shared the meal. When Noab and Noaem had eaten, they headed up the slope to replace the guards who returned to the fire and got their portions of fish. Soon all were accounted for except Tienna and Namha who had been gone all day.

  “I’m worried that they have not returned,” Elynna said.

  “Their absence makes me feel more secure, not more afraid,” Cathros replied. “While those two are in the woods, no human enemy will approach us undetected,”

  “And if the Daegmon comes, Elynna will alert us,” Bandor added.

  14

  WIND IN THE NIGHT

  Braga and Bandor arranged the company in shifts for guard duty through the night. Braga, feeling guilty that he had spent most of the day standing around the boat translating and had done no work collecting wood, volunteered for a long shift. The others found places to rest beneath the makeshift lean-to shelters they had constructed from leftover branches—all except Keet who curled up under the ship that now lay upside down on the ground a short distance away. Beth covered him with a blanket, but left him alone and found herself a spot near Marti.

  When Braga left the fire to walk up the hill to take his turn on watch, only Elynna, Regon, and the Ceadani woman were still awake. The three of them together by the fire, perhaps sharing some mysterious bond that women shared even when they did not speak the same language. Braga looked longingly at Regon, and felt again how much he loved her. Then he turned and strode into the darkness.

  He found Noab and Noaem and sent them back down the hill to sleep. Then he took his place with his back against a tree looking out across the snow. A thin haze still covered the sky. Only a few of the brightest stars peeped through now and then, along with the moon which glared down surrounded by a wide circle of haze making it look even paler than usual.

  Time passed. Braga struggled to stay awake. Once he thought a darker shadow might have passed across the moon. But if it were the Daegmon-beast, surely Elynna would have felt it. One other time he thought a shadow might have crossed the woods ahead of him. But he stared very hard and saw nothing else. He was glad when the Northlander Aram came and relieved him.

  Back at the camp the fire had died down. A strong wind whistled in from the water, and the air had turned much colder. He felt a storm moving in. Though they had put a good windbreak around the fire, an occasional gust swirled around the embers and blew sparks into the air. Braga threw some more logs onto the fire. He looked at Regon, leaning against a log and sharing a blanket with the Ceadani woman against whom she was tightly pressed. He wanted to slip in between them and wrap his arm around Regon. Instead he sat down beside Amark, nudged him enough to claim some of the blanket, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

  Braga awoke to the moaning of the wind through the trees. It had kicked up more fiercely during the night. He shivered. Amark had tugged some of the blanket away from him, leaving the right side of his body exposed. He tried to pull some back, but Amark’s sleeping grip was too tight. He sat up and looked around. It was still night, but the moon was well passed its apex. The fire had died down again. He leaned forward and threw more wood onto it, poking at the embers with a stick until it began to blaze.

  He was about to crawl back under the blanket when a movement near at hand caught his attention. Somebody was running toward him from the edge of the woods near the boat. Braga leapt to his feet, and reached down to grab his spear.

  It was one of the two Ceadani men. The taller one. The one who had spoken with the eagle. Noaem. He ran right to the fire, and ignoring Braga he shook Elynna. By the time she was sitting up, looking awake and alert, several others had woken also and were staring at the scene.

  “The tiger,” Noaem said. “Something wrong. Nearby, somewhere. Calling me. I sense worry.”

  Elynna took a second to take this in. Then she jumped to her feet. She had a look of panic on her face. “Where is Tienna? Is she hurt?”

  “I not know if woman comes or not,” Noaem replied. “Will try to find out.”

  Before Noaem could say anything more, however, t
he tiger burst from the trees uphill of them and came rushing down toward the fire. Under the moonlight, it looked even larger and its stripes stood out a deeper orange. Despite several days with the animal, Braga was still afraid of it. He resisted the urge to retreat, but several of his people grew taut and inched back toward the fire. The cat, however, came to an abrupt stop at Noaem’s side as the wind rustled through its luxurious fur. Noaem stared into the tiger’s eyes for several seconds, then turned to Elynna. “Soldier’s come,” he said. “They be here before moon has set.”

  A strong gust of wind whipped off the water knocking Braga a step forward and caused sparks to fly off the fire toward the tiger. Branches overhead broke with sharp cracks. The tiger leapt back several feet, knocking Noaem into Elynna. Elynna sprawled face first onto the frozen ground, just missing Regon and Anchara who huddled beneath a blanket watching the scene. Braga could see the confusion in Regon’s eyes. He knew she understood little or nothing of what had just been spoken. But she would see the fear in everybody else’s face. Why had he brought her into this?

  Elynna lay on the ground only a moment while the gust blew itself out. Then she stumbled to her feet. Her face was drawn in pain. “The Daegmon is coming,” she said. “It is still distant, but I feel it. It is aware of where we are.” She turned to Braga and Noaem, and looked back and forth between them. “The moon. How long until it sets?”

  Braga realized why she was asking. He look again at the moon, measuring its arc off the horizon. “It will be down in less than two hours,” he said. He looked down at Regon. Only two hours. She still did not know.

  Elynna turned back toward Noaem, and grabbed him by the arm. “Where are Namha and Tienna?”