* * *
Soon the novelty of leisure wore off, and the group began to systematically read all the books written in High Common. Catrin had been confused at first, having never heard the language she spoke given a name.
"Most nations speak High Common," Benjin said. "In the past, it was only the Zjhon who spoke Zjhonlander, but their influence has spread, and most people of the Greatland now speak both languages. Very few people understand the Old Tongue or High Script. Pelivor is quite a rarity."
Pelivor would accept no credit for his accomplishments. He would only say he was fortunate to have received a fine education. His self-effacing attitude annoyed Catrin. She could not stand to see such a bright and talented person think so little of himself, and she was determined to convince him of his self-worth. He seemed to sense her desire and was unnerved by it. She asked him pointed, personal questions and watched as he squirmed uncomfortably while attempting to formulate suitably humble responses.
Benjin and the others almost seemed to have sympathy for Pelivor, and they gave him advice on how to handle women. Their advice, however, seemed to disturb him more than Catrin's constant probing, and he often appeared to be fleeing as he departed their company, which seemed to amuse the men.
Catrin enlisted Pelivor's help in getting herbs for Chase. His shoulder still pained him, and Pelivor happily accepted the task. The next day he arrived with a special tea for Chase. Catrin would have preferred the herbs themselves, but she decided to trust Pelivor's judgment. However, she kept a close watch on Chase's condition just as a precaution.
"We should set sail by nightfall," Pelivor said on his next visit, and excitement rippled through the cabin. The journey ahead would be long, and everyone was anxious to be under way.
Pelivor became slightly bolder over time, and he spent most of his days helping them learn different languages. He concentrated on Zjhonlander, which Catrin found quite easy to learn. She made a mental mapping of each word in High Common and its Zjhonlander equivalent. It was easier for her to learn proper sentence structure, verb conjugation, and other linguistic nuances when she already knew many of the words and their meanings. Still, Pelivor insisted she learn to speak in three different ways, depending on where she was.
"There are many dialects and accents," he said. "If you wish to fit in wherever you go, you must not speak like a Southlander when in northern Mundleboro."
Before long, Catrin could speak passably with each accent, but some of the others struggled. While Pelivor worked more with them, Catrin picked up a book written in Zjhonlander but found it depressing. The other Zjhonlander books had a similar effect on her. They seemed to be written with the intention of making her feel inadequate and unimportant. More like propaganda than stories, they told her she should be thankful her betters were in control of her life and destiny.
One, in particular, raised her ire; it was among the newest and most recently written. On the cover, an embossed image portrayed Istra and Vestra in their immortal embrace. The now familiar symbol of the Zjhon triggered her initial anxiety, but the words within infuriated her, defying everything she'd ever been taught. Descriptions of the Statues of Terhilian made them sound as if they would be the salvation of mankind, if only they could be found. Everything Catrin had been taught about the statues portrayed them as terrifying weapons disguised as gifts from the gods.
"What do you know of the Statues of Terhilian?" she asked Pelivor, but he seemed hesitant to answer.
"I know very little about them," he said after a long pause, "but I know a great deal about what other people believe to be true. The statues are the source of the greatest and deadliest debate our kind has ever known. It would be presumptuous of me to offer any information as fact. Some believe the statues will destroy the world; others believe just as strongly they will save it. I remain unconvinced by either argument."
"Another unanswerable question," Catrin said as she put the book aside.
Disgusted with Zjhonlander writings, she convinced Pelivor to help her learn High Script. "In ancient times," he said, "the spoken language was much different from written language, and even in those days, High Script was understood by only a very small part of the population. We will concentrate on the written." He taught her how to form each of the symbols, and the sheer number of them, many of which were only slight variations of others, discouraged her.
"You mustn't make the strokes in the wrong direction; it distorts the character," Pelivor said as he watched over her shoulder. Over time, she came to see that it did.
It took much longer for her to grasp the intricacies of the archaic language, and many of the concepts seemed foreign to her, but she persisted nonetheless. Once she gained a rudimentary understanding of the language, she attempted to read books written in High Script, but they were confusing. Most contained accounts of family bloodlines and little else. Often, when she asked Pelivor what specific words meant, they were names of places, people, or families.
The books written in High Common were a luxury; most were tales of adventure and intrigue with happy endings. Nothing in them would help her prepare for the Greatland, though, so she pressed on with her studies.
Strom and Osbourne both gained passable knowledge of Zjhonlander, but Vertook steadfastly refused. He had tried at first, but no one spoke his native dialect; thus, it was much more difficult for him to learn. Catrin doubted Vertook would ever be mistaken for a native of the Greatland, and it probably didn't matter anyway. If they kept him disguised, perhaps he could be convinced to remain mute.
Boredom plagued the men. They didn't share her passion for books and needed some other way to occupy themselves.
"Any chance you could find us some dice?" Benjin asked Pelivor one afternoon.
"I suppose there's a chance. I'll make some inquiries on your behalf."
In the meantime, he brought a new stack of books for their entertainment; most were in High Common, but a few were in High Script. Those in High Common were soon divided among the others, and Catrin supposed more ancient lineage wouldn't kill her. She picked up a badly faded and ancient-looking tome and was pleasantly surprised to find it actually told a story.
It was an impossibly difficult text to translate, and she often had to read a passage several times before she had even a cursory understanding of what it meant. Even when she thought she made sense of something, she wondered if she weren't misinterpreting it. Based on her best guesses, she surmised that there had been two warring factions: the Om and the Gholgi, and the Gholgi were very powerful. Some passages seemed to indicate that the Om were forced to live underground in order to avoid the Gholgi. This confused Catrin, and she was almost certain she was reading something incorrectly, but she continued, hoping to find something to confirm or deny her assumptions.
"What do these two words mean?" she asked Pelivor.
"I don't know what Gholgi means. I apologize for my ignorance. This book is from the captain's personal collection, and it is probably the oldest text I have ever seen. Based on the ancient form of High Script, I suspect this is a relatively recent transcription of a much older work. Some of the words it contains may have never been translated before or may have no translation. The other word you asked about, Om, could be similar to Ohma, which means men."
"That makes no sense either, unless the men were fighting women. Perhaps Gholgi is the word for woman," she said.
"I doubt that. Uma is the more modern form of woman. Perhaps the old form was Um," he speculated, and Catrin scanned the pages in hopes of confirming his guess. She was almost disappointed to find the word Um used later in the text since that bit of conjecture only made the rest of the puzzle appear more complex.
The further she read, the more confused she became, and she eventually set the book aside in frustration. Pacing the cabin relentlessly, she was like a caged animal. She needed answers, not guesses, but all she had were feelings and assumptions. Her confinement became like a tangible thing; it trapped her and prevented her
from getting the answers she sought. She knew, deep inside, it wasn't true, but frustration overwhelmed her good sense. She stewed in her uncertainty and anxieties until she worked herself into a frenzied state. The men seemed to sense the rising storm, and they exchanged glances, as if wondering where she would strike.
Fears and concerns overwhelmed her, and she realized not all of the worry was hers. She could sense the others, and their moods were influencing hers. And she wondered if she could remain sane while trapped with so much emotion in what now seemed like small quarters.
Pelivor broke the tension when he brought dried fruits and walnuts soaked in maple syrup. Everyone gathered around him and sampled the unexpected treats. The mood lightened, and soon they laughed while licking their fingers. Chase and Strom told tall tales along with more than a few true tales, and Pelivor laughed so hard he nearly choked. Chase patted him on the back, and as soon as he was breathing again, they launched into a series of humorous anecdotes that nearly killed the young man.
Vertook surprised everyone when he told the tale of an adventure with his horse, Al Jhadir. He was somber at first, and Catrin could sense his pain, but she was also glad to know Al Jhadir's name; she would never forget him.
He said that he and Al Jhadir were once caught in a tremendous sandstorm, a storm so terrible, his love feared for his life. They limped back to camp barely alive and bearing a mighty thirst. The first thing they came upon to drink were jugs of whiskey. Laughing so hard that tears ran down his face, he had trouble finishing his tale. He finally managed to tell them that he and his horse nearly drank themselves to death, and his lover threatened to leave him after she found him passed out, his arms around Al Jhadir. Pelivor fell from his chair laughing.
The sight of Pelivor enjoying himself lightened Catrin's soul, as she felt somewhat responsible for his new confidence. It was Chase, though, who sent Pelivor over the edge. His rendition of their trip through the marshes sent Pelivor into fits. Even those who had endured those trials found Chase's comical reenactment too humorous to resist. When Chase got to the part about Strom realizing he had mistakenly used the leaves of a poison plant for personal purposes, Pelivor's eyes grew very large and he covered his mouth. He could not make a sound as he pointed and stared at Strom, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Claiming his stomach hurt from all the laughing, Pelivor excused himself, and they were all sorry to see him go. His mood had been infectious, and they all felt better for it. The silence he left behind seemed to lend itself to quiet reflection, and Catrin found herself reviewing many of the good times in her life. The silence held as if everyone in the room were enamored with it, and Catrin wondered who would finally break the spell.
All of them nearly jumped from their skins when there came a loud knock on the door just before it opened. A motherly looking woman gracefully entered the room and addressed them. "Greetings, friends. I'm Nora Trell, captain of the Trader's Wind. I welcome you aboard, even if it is a bit late," she said as she looked each of them over, and she smiled brightly when she got to Benjin. "Ah, so there's a storm cloud aboard one of my ships again. Benjin, you scoundrel, it's good to see you again."
Benjin approached her, and they exchanged a brief hug.
"This one nearly let my Kenward and your father get him killed," she said while pinching Benjin's cheek and arching her eyebrows at Catrin. "Kenward has said many a time that sailing with Benjin was like sailing with a thunderhead. I'm guessing it's still true," she said and laughed as Strom and Osbourne nodded vigorously in agreement. Benjin shot them a good-natured scowl, but Nora looked at Benjin seriously. "I still owe you a debt, Benjin Hawk, for helping to keep my fool son afloat. I would repay that debt now," she said, and she pulled a small bag from within her stout robe.
An assortment of brightly colored dice rolled out when she emptied it onto one of the tables. Benjin sucked in a breath, for these were not ordinary dice; each one was carved from a different type of gemstone, and they sparkled in the light. The faces of each die bore detailed designs, along with the etched value of that face. They ranged from four to eighteen sides, with several variations of each. Catrin didn't know the value of the stones themselves, but each of them was a work of art. Gauging by Benjin's reaction, she guessed they were very valuable indeed.
"It's too much, Captain Trell. I cannot accept such a generous gift, even if it is in the exact form I desired. I thank you, though."
"Nonsense," she replied. "I insist you take them, as they are not for you alone. Miss Catrin saved the Slippery Eel in rather spectacular fashion, I'm told. I hope to repay part of that debt this day and satisfy my curiosity. I'm not certain I wish to see anyone rip the clouds from the sky, as Kenward described your attack on the Zjhon, but the description creates a vivid image. He's an excitable boy, and he tends to exaggerate, but he seemed sincere in this?" she said, making the statement a question and looking at Catrin for confirmation.
"I wouldn't have used those words, but I cannot say his description is inaccurate," Catrin replied as humbly as she could. Benjin and the others nodded in agreement, and Nora was duly impressed.
"Truly powerful indeed," she said. "You have your mother's look about you. I hope you have a more conservative disposition than she did, given the power you wield." Captain Trell seemed to realize how harsh her words sounded. "I'm sorry, my dear; that was insensitive of me. Sometimes I forget when I'm not speaking to a member of my crew. Please forgive me. Your mother was a lovely young woman, and I was very sorry to hear of her passing."
Catrin nodded in silent acceptance of the apology.
Captain Trell broke the uncomfortable hush and changed the subject by asking Catrin if she had been able to read the books she sent with Pelivor. Catrin was downcast as she admitted she had grown frustrated with the old book, but Nora was sympathetic.
"Don't let it bother you. I've had several scholars examine that book, and they could tell me very little about it. Mostly they said the writings were so old, they were written in a language that preceded High Script. I cannot remember what they called it now," Nora said, and she looked thoughtful as she shuffled through her memories. "It was a long time ago, but I believe one scholar thought this book told of the discovery of the Greatland."
Catrin was unsure what good the information would do her, as she doubted she would ever be able to fully translate it, but she tucked the knowledge away.