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"All right." Rod tucked the silver basketball under his arm. "Anything you say,
Fess. Besides, it's time for lunch."
"You know robots do not eat, Rod."
"That's funny, I thought you might be in the mood for a few bytes& "
The sentry at the door to the solar stepped in and announced, "The Lord High
Warlock, Majesties."
Rod pushed past him and stopped, taking in the tall, saturnine man with the
lantern jaw who stood facing Catharine and Tuan. His face was tanned and
leathery. He wore a short brocaded coat, fur-trimmed, over doublet and hose,
and clenched a round hat in his hands.
Then Rod remembered his manners and turned to bow.
"Your Majesties! I've been doing a little research."
"I trust our new source will aid it, Lord Warlock." Catharine nodded toward the
stranger. "May I present Master Hugh Meridian, captain of a merchant ship."
"Merchant ship?" Rod turned to the seaman, startled. "I didn't know we had any."
"I1 truth, we do, milord." The shipmaster gave him a frosty bow. " Tis quicker,
and less costly, to ship goods along the coastline than to haul them over the
highways."
"Of course; it would be. I should've thought of it. But how did you learn that we
needed seafaring advice, Master Meridian?"
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"We sent word quickly to the fisherfolk at Loguire's estates, and those in
Romanov. Each claimed they did know there were currents sweeping past the
shore, farther out than they generally sailed," Tuan answered. "Yet all claimed
further that they knew naught more."
"Of course; they couldn't know where the currents went." Rod frowned. "They
never go out farther than they can come back, all in one day. But they did know
about you, Captain?"
The captain nodded. "Ever and anon, the lords hire out their fisherfolk to be my
crews, milord. They know of me, aye."
"And you know where the currents go." Rod started to look for a chair, then
remembered it was bad form to sit in Their Majesties' presence. Brom could; but
Brom was special. "At least you know where they go, around the Isle of
Gramarye."
"I do, milord though it might be better to say I know where the currents do not
go."
"Really? There're currents all around the island?"
"Not quite; the western coast is bare of them."
"Odd." Rod frowned. "Can you show me on a map?"
"Map?" Captain Meridian looked lost for a second; then he fumbled a small
book out of his belt-pouch. "Aye, I can show where I ha' writ about it in my
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rudder; yet is't not easier to hear it?"
"No, no! I want you to show me, on& " Rod lef his voice trail off, remembering
that medieval people didn't have maps as he knew them; the idea of graphing out
the outlines of a coast was foreign to them. Maps had had to wait for the
Renaissance, with its concept of continuous, uniform space. Rod turned to the
door, stuck his head out, and advised the sentry, "Parchment and pen, soldier
and quickly." He turned back into the room. "We'll have one in a minute,
Majesties. Master Meridian, imagine yourself being a bird, flying over the Isle of
Gramarye, looking down on its coasts."
Meridian smiled. " Tis a pleasant enough conceit, Milord Warlock but I cannot
see that it serves any purpose."
"Ah, but it does!" Rod held up a forefinger. "I'll draw you a picture of the coasts
as the bird would see them."
The door opened, and a round-eyed page popped in with parchment, pen, and ink.
"Thank you, lad!" Rod seized the tools and marched to the solar's table. He
rolled out the parchment and began sketching. "This is the western coast,
Captain Meridian." He drew a long jagged curving line, then pointed back
toward its top. "There's the Duchy of Savoy, and here's -Hapsburg." He turned
the bottom of the line into a point, and began to draw a lateral line, full of jags
and gouges. Captain Meridian followed his hand, frowning, trying to relate this
ink-scrawl to the realities of rocks, tides, currents, and distant hills seen through
the mist. Finally, his face lit and his finger stabbed down at the southernmost
curve. "Yonder is Cape Souci! Many's the time I've had to shorten sail to keep
the southwesterly gale from rolling my ship over as we rounded that headland!"
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"Southwesterly?" Rod looked up. "Does the current come past there?"
Captain Meridian nodded eagerly. "Aye, aye! 'Tis that very place. Westerly of
that, milord, I know naught of the current; indeed, I know naught at all, for never
have I had any occasion to sail there. But north of that, there is no current; the
whole westerly shore hath naught but tides and local stirrings."
Rod nodded. "That's where the current comes to Gramarye, then. This is the
southern shore, Master Meridian." He drew a long curve; then his pen wandered
north. Meridian watched spellbound as the outline of the island took shape
before him.
" 'Tis witchcraft," he sighed when Rod was done, and pointed at the map.
"Yonder is the Bay of Roland, and hither lies the coast of Romanov. This is the
mouth of the River Fleuve, and yon peninsula is Tristesse Point." He looked up
at Rod. "Thou art indeed the Lord High Warlock! By what magic canst thou tell
the shape of this coastline so well?"
"Oh, I know some people who do a lot of flying," Rod shrugged. "Anything I've
missed?"
"Not of the coast itself." Meridian turned back to the map and pointed. "But you
must draw the Grand Skerry here, midway down the west coast and Geburn
Rock here" his finger jabbed at the map just off the coast of Romanov
"and& but, another time." He waved the thought away. "There are a host of such
things that are not on your map, but that any seafarer would need to know of."
"Such as currents?" Rod dipped the pen in the ink and handed it to him, feather
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