Privately, Lyne was of the opinion that this side journey was nothing more than a way for Pick to get even farther away from civilization than he already was. In a somewhat pedantic vein, Prim the map memorizer pointed out that it wasn’t even technically a side journey, since they would in fact be traveling a great distance directly away from their presumed goal.

They made their way back across the island to a little port on the eastern coast that lay across the very southernmost reach of the First Shiver from Toravithranax. There they met Firkin, which had come down the Shiver on instructions from Corvus. They took possession of all their maps and other gear and said farewell to Robst and his three crewmates, who sailed back north; they had now traversed the entire length of the First Shiver from West Cloven down to here, and needed to head for home, looking en route for any such trading or shipping opportunities as might profit them.

Across the Shiver came a different sort of vessel altogether, which Corvus had somehow talked into the job. Prim could only suppose that he had flown across to the city, transformed himself into human form, stolen some clothes, and put his powers of persuasion to work. Aboard Firkin had been a certain amount of money; perhaps that had now changed hands. The new vessel, Silverfin, was a thing called a keelsloop. So Mard and Lyne agreed, and such was the firmness of their agreement that Prim knew better than to ask for an explanation. Querc explained it anyway: these things weren’t very capacious—the hulls, though long, were narrow—but something about the part under the water combined with the sail plan made them quite good at sailing close to the wind, which was what you had to do if you wanted to make your way down the Asking.

Fern, the skipper of Silverfin, would take a bit of getting used to. Robst had been quiet, sturdy, and more interested in deciding how best to carry forward Corvus’s plans than in debating their wisdom or lack thereof. Fern, from the outset, carried herself more as an equal partner. In Prim’s experience, ferns had always been small, delicate plants unfurling their lacy leaflets in damp, placid glades. This naturally gave her preconceived notions about the look and disposition of any soul who bore that name. In the case of this Fern, those were all wrong. Whoever had named her might have been nearer the mark with something like “Tree-Volcano” or “Whirlwind-Boulder.” She was a big woman with dark skin that probably served her well as she sailed about below the southern sun. She was Sprung. When she bared her midsection, which, in this climate, was more often than not, it could be seen that she had a lot of scars, some of which looked to have been inflicted in random misadventures, others symmetrical and/or repeating, therefore deliberate adornments.