Ship of Dreams Read Free

liking. Hero’s clothes were of a russet brown, including his short, hooded cape. Indeed the pair had been lucky to be offered garments so closely matching their habitual dress of old; so that other than their swordlessness, there was now nothing to tell them from the wandering adventurers they had been before reaping the rewards of their heroics in Ilek-Vad.
    For however fantastic it had seemed (and despite one or two minor embellishments), Eldin’s tale in the court of Leewas Nith had been essentially true, and the pair had more than deserved their rewards. Now, however, penniless once more and outcast, it seemed they must turn again to thievery—at which they were very good—or else starve. And if they were to be thieves, where better to start than with their swords? For without weapons any future escapades seemed more than unlikely, to say nothing of downright dangerous. It may be a bad thing to be caught in flagrante delicto, but it is much worse to have to fight your way out with feet, fists and teeth alone!
    “Getting dark,” Eldin grunted. “Time we were moving.”
    Hero shook his head. “Uh-uh. Too many lights in the city. And we’re too well known there. No, we’ll give it another hour or so and let them settle down for the night before we move in. Luckily Ephar Phoog’s auction house is near the wharves. The area should be poorly lighted and dressed as we are we’ll be near invisible, a couple of ghosts. We should come out of it intact. Then we steal a small boat and put out to sea. After that—” he shrugged. “We’ll just have to see which way Lady Luck points us.”
    “And we’ll leave something behind for the folks of Celephais to remember us by, eh?”
    Hero looked at his too-eager friend in the dusk. “What would you suggest?” he suspiciously asked.
    “Oh, I dunno,” Eldin shrugged. “We could always put torch to Ephar Phoog’s auction house …”
    Hero tut-tutted. “You know, I sometimes wonder about you, Eldin,” he informed. “Ever since we burned Thalarion you’ve been dying to set things on fire. First a tavern and now an auction house. But no, I don’t think so,” he shook his head disapprovingly. “No, I think the theft of a boat quite strong enough. Besides, Celephais is a lovely place. Arson isn’t our scene, old friend.”
    Eldin fell silent for a minute, then grinned through his beard. “They accused the legless firebug of that,” he offhandedly informed.
    “Eh? A legless firebug?” Hero peered across the gloomy distance separating them from the city. “What did they accuse him of?”
    “Too much arson about!” said Eldin with a chuckle.
    Hero groaned and cast his eyes heavenward. “At a time like this? How in the name of all that’s dreamed can you tell such awful jokes when we’re—”
    “Oh, don’t go on so,” growled the older adventurer. “And anyway,” he changed the subject, “I’m not so sure you’re right.”
    “Right about what?” asked Hero.
    “About staying here for hours on end. I’ve got the cramps already. Listen, why don’t we make our way into the lee of Mount Aran there, and follow the ginkgo trees toward the sea? There’ll be no one under those trees tonight but lovers. Also, it’ll put us on that side of the city closest to Ephar Phoog’s auction house.”
    Hero looked at Aran where the mountain showed its
snowy cap. Mount Aran was one of those places, of which there were many in Earth’s dreamland, that defied Nature’s laws. No matter the season, there was always snow on Aran’s tall peak. “You’re pretty shrewd for all your bad jokes,” Hero finally said.
    “Good!” grunted Eldin, making to get up. But Hero grabbed his arm before he could stand.
    “Half an hour,” said the younger man. “It’ll be dark enough then. We mustn’t jeopardize good planning for unnecessary haste.”
    Eldin grudgingly grunted his agreement. “Oh, all right,” he said. “But I still think we’re wasting time.”
    “Yes,