the Pole, visible around the curve of the world only because of the way light bent in atmosphere, just as it did in water . . . and he saw a smudge of white, curling over the distant ocean.
Vorbis had very good eyesight, from a height.
He picked up a handful of gray ash, which had once been Dykeri's Principles of Navigation, and let it drift through his fingers.
“Om has sent us a fair wind,” he said. “Let us get down to the docks.”
Hope waved optimistically in the waters of the sergeant's despair.
“You won't be wanting us to explore the tunnel, lord?” he said.
“Oh, no. You can do that when we return.”
Urn prodded at the copper globe with a piece of wire while the Unnamed Boat wallowed in the waves.
“Can't you beat it?” said Simony, who was not up to speed on the difference between machines and people.
“It's a philosophical engine,” said Urn. “Beating won't help.”
“But you said machines could be our slaves,” said Simony.
“Not the beating sort,” said Urn. “The nozzles are bunged up with salt. When the water rushes out of the globe it leaves the salt behind.”
“Why?”
“I don't know. Water likes to travel light.”
“We're becalmed! Can you do anything about it?”
“Yes, wait for it to cool down and then clean it out and put some more water in it.”
Simony looked around distractedly.
“But we're still in sight of the coast!”
“You might be,” said Didactylos. He was sitting in the middle of the boat with his hands crossed on the top of his walking-stick, looking like an old man who doesn't often get taken out for an airing and is quite enjoying it.
“Don't worry. No one could see us out here,” said Urn. He prodded at the mechanism. “Anyway, I'm a bit worried about the screw. It was invented to move water along, not move along on water.”
“You mean it's confused?” said Simony.
“Screwed up,” said Didactylos happily.
Brutha lay in the pointed end, looking down at the water. A small squid siphoned past, just under the surface. He wondered what it was-
-and knew it was the common bottle squid, of the class Cephalopoda, phylum Mollusca, and that it had an internal cartilaginous support instead of a skeleton and a well?-developed nervous system and large, image-forming eyes that were quite similar to vertebrate eyes.
The knowledge hung in the forefront of his mind for a moment, and then faded away.
“Om?” Brutha whispered.
“What?”
“What're you doing?”
“Trying to get some sleep. Tortoises need a lot of sleep, you know.”
Simony and Urn were bent over the philosophical engine. Brutha stared at the globe