Authoress's Note: Many apologies for the delay, dear readers! I appreciate your patience, and I can assure you that I will see this story on to completion. We are nearing the end at last, and I've been working on many of the final chapters. Once we get past the next few, the updates will come very quickly.
The usual disclaimers apply.
Chapter the Forty-sixth: Wizard's Holiday
25 Sunbend 2076
A fine afternoon about a week later found Galen exploring the woods around the camp. Sunlight filtered through the green treetops, and in the distance, he could hear the pounding hammers of men hard at work. While Valiant had been drawn up close to shore to repair her hull, Commander MacLeod commissioned the Narnian woodsman to seek out new masts for both damaged ships. The Archen officer could have given him no happier task. His skill let him pass through the quiet forest without breaking the birdsong or startling the deer; the animals paused instead to hear the singing voice of this strange visitor, who told them of great adventures from a half a world away. He paused to glance at the scrap of paper the Jewel's chief engineer gave him earlier, then eyed a particularly tall, straight pine. Satisfied that it met the criteria, Galen tied a bright red cord to a prominent branch. His work done, he returned to the camp in high spirits.
As he reached the outskirts, the industrious murmur increased. Many tents lined the forest's edge or spread here and there under the trees, while make-shift lumber kilns and smithies stood in neat rows well away from the tree line. Galen passed a master cooper and his mates, hard at work repairing and replacing water casks. Still further on, cook's mates smoked and salted boar meat some of the marines had hunted earlier that day. Other sailors sat in groups in the warm sun sewing sails or mending clothes.
"Have you found the masts for us, my lad?" Commander MacLeod greeted cheerfully as Galen approached the pavilion where the officers worked. The engineer himself stood over a table with a variety of papers with drawings or mathematical figures.
"Aye, I believe so," the Narnian cheerfully replied. "I can guide your men on the morrow if you like."
"Wonderful," the Archen officer complimented. "I'll send the men to you just after breakfast. "We'll take the masts to the cliff-top to prepare them—work parties are already building mast kilns up there to cure them."
"Why not bring the masts back to camp?" Galen puzzled.
"Because, my friend," the engineer's eyes twinkled proudly, "by the time they're cured we will rig a system of tackles to lower the masts down the cliff and straight into the ships, as pretty as you please."
"I look forward to witnessing this feat, commander," the young knight replied enthusiastically. "I am at your men's disposal." With a nod, he left the pavilion and went in search of his lady. He found her walking near her own tent beside the bubbling stream that rushed beneath the green trees. Her marine escort lingered nearby.
"A fair day, my lady," he greeted cheerfully.
"Indeed, my friend," she smiled in return. "Success in finding us masts?"
"Very much so! Exploring these woods is a taste of home."
"That is well," she answered, looking absently towards the stream. "My days are more idle—leaves me with much time for thinking."
"Anything in particular?" Galen asked curiously, sitting comfortably on a nearby rock. She paused a moment.
"This and that," she answered at last, mustering a smile before returning her gaze beyond the stream. The heaviness in her eyes belied her voice's light tone. Before Galen could inquire further, a growing commotion reached their ears. Glancing at each other in alarm, they hastened to the main camp.
"Now, we don't want any trouble, see?" A gruff little dwarf growled, threatening the marines and sailors blocking his way with a garden shovel.
"Hear him! No trouble indeed!" A chorus of dwarves behind him echoed, each wielding a garden implement.
"Well, what do you want?" A tall young sailor asked, looking down at the child-sized shovel with amusement.
"There's a question for you!" The chorus added. "Never a better!"
"Eh, what do we want, Chief?" One of the chorus asked, befuddled.
"We want you lot to leave," the Chief answered at last with a good deal of confidence.
"That's the way, Chief! Tell them right proper!"
"Oh you do, do you?" One of the marines laid a hand on his sword hilt. "Let's see how far you get."
"What's the trouble, marine?" Lyra's voice cut through the commotion.
"Your highness!" He and all the men around him immediately straightened at their sovereign's approach.
"We seem to be under attack, your highness," the tall young sailor answered her with levity.
"Indeed," she chuckled, then approached the band of dwarves.
"Perhaps I can help you," she addressed them kindly. "You must be the gardeners we frightened upon our landing—what are you called?"
"We're called the Duffers, missy," the Chief answered proudly, "and the Wizard himself has sent us to send you on your way."
The chorus echoed his sentiments.
"Well, we've already spoken with the Wizard, and he gave his leave for us to repair our ships," Lyra responded calmly.
"Don't you see, lass? We're here to make you leave," the Chief (and the chorus) emphasized.
"Well, we can't do that until our ships are repaired," Lyra maintained matter-of-factly.
"And I suggest you find a civil tongue before addressing the Princess of Archenland again," the marine beside her warned the Island's would-be eviction marshal. But the Archenlander only managed to confuse the chorus instead of threatening it.
"What's that, laddie?"
"How're we to find a tongue? What's wrong with the ones we've got?"
"I don't know about any princess—what's that anyway?"
"Nevermind," Lyra chuckled, and the marine sighed.
"You don't have a way with words like our chief," the befuddled chorus member (a remarkable title) added.
"So," she reasoned, "if you're here to make us leave, and the only way we can leave is to repair our ships, then it seems that the only thing you can do is help us repair our ships."
"That's it, lassie!" the chief agreed. "Now you understand us. That's the ticket exactly."
"Smart lassie, that, for a big person," the chorus agreed.
"So, you were trying to help us all along?" Galen puzzled.
"Well, of course, lad—we've been trying to tell you that this whole time!" The Chief Duffer rolled his eyes, and the sailors and marines all around them laughed at the absurdity.
"In that case, we are happy to accept your assistance," the princess answered graciously. "Come with me."
That evening as the setting sun turned the sea to molten gold, Lyra and Galen took their usual walk away from the camp's bustle. The princess's ever-present marine escort accompanied them before and behind, but they kept a generous distance while the two strolled along the water's edge. Neither spoke for some time, and Lyra gazed absently over the gold-tinged waves.
"Your heart seems heavy this evening, my love," Galen broke the silence at last. "What troubles thee?"
"These days are long and idle," his lady sighed, and he rested his hand on hers, which was tucked into the crook of his shield arm as always. "Troubling thoughts grow in them."
They continued to walk steadily, and her knight waited patiently for her to continue.
"In particular, something Ayden told me months ago," she began to answer, but now hesitated. "He—he saw Aslan the night before we left Anvard."
Galen started in surprise but remained silent to allow his lady to explain at her own pace.
"Ayden wanted to come on the voyage—to help me face the terrible enemy Aslan said I would have the opportunity to stop. But Aslan indicated that, in the end, I will face that enemy alone. Ayden concluded he could not help me if he came, and with the Calormenes threatening war his duty was clear."
The two continued walking steadily as she spoke, but now Lyra paused and looked down. Galen gently held her hand, his brow furrowed with concern. When she finally looked up at him, his lady's eyes pooled with tears.
"Galen," her voice trembled, "when you left me to fight the dragon and bade me take up your quest if you fell, I despaired that the dragon's teeth would fulfill Aslan's word."
The young knight's heart broke for his lady, and at once he held her close.
"I was relieved beyond all hope when we recovered you from the sea. But my heart has been in my throat at each danger we have since encountered," she continued, lingering in his embrace.
"I will happily face any foe—die if I must—to protect my dear Archenland, but what will become of you that you will not be there when the time comes to face this dread enemy?" Her tearful voice caught as she spoke. "It terrifies me that some evil fate may await you—and each day brings it nearer." She shuddered in his arms.
"My darling Lyra, this is a terrible burden for you to bear," her knight murmured, holding her tightly. "And I'm sorry for the weight my actions contributed," he added remorsefully.
After a moment, he released his embrace and rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"But prophecy is a tricky thing, my love," Galen counseled gently. "It could mean many, many things."
"I know," she nodded quickly and looked down, her voice betraying that she had already tried to tell herself the same.
"And whatever does come, I want you to know how dearly I cherish every moment with you," her knight spoke earnestly, and she raised her eyes to his. "My sword is yours for as long as Aslan allows, and my heart is yours always."
The tears fell at last, and Galen bent down and kissed his lady tenderly.
"Do not borrow grief before its time, my love," her knight gently wiped the tears from her cheek.
28 Sunbend 2076
"Careful, now," a blacksmith's mate cautioned as one of his compatriots worked the bellows for the glass furnace. "Keep the fire nice and even," he instructed, drawing a blob of molten glass from the furnace. It burned bright orange at the end of the long rod in the young smith's hands. Carefully, he blew through the hollow rod, then worked the molten glass against his worktable before returning it to the furnace to repeat the process. A large cylinder gradually took shape.
"There," he exhaled with relief as he set the molten cylinder to cool. "When it's cool, we can cut it in half and flatten it into panes."
His friend whistled in admiration.
"This sure is difficult. How'd you learn how to do it, Dan?"
"Glazing is the family business, and I'll go back to it if we ever return to the populated side of the world," he answered as he wiped his face with a rag. "I never thought it would come in useful in the Navy."
"Is that why you've been acting like some sort of hermit-alchemist and won't let me near when you're mixing the sand with all those other ingredients?" The other blacksmith's mate teased with a grin.
"My father wouldn't sell this formula if you offered him your weight in gold—I'll certainly not let some 'foremast Jack take it for free," Dan retorted.
"Fair enough," his friend laughed. "Looks like quitting time to me, anyway," he glanced out at the setting sun.
"Well, those Duffers were supposed to be bringing more sand," the blacksmith's mate anxiously looked out of the makeshift glassworks.
"Come on," he tugged at his compatriot's sleeve. "It'll be here in the morning. Besides—if we want any supper, we'd best beat the marines to it."
Dan nodded absently, then followed his friend to the mess tents.
The next morning, the young glazier whistled happily as he returned to the workshop. But he stopped short when he reached it—or rather, when he reached the place it was supposed to be. His friend, who followed at a leisurely pace, found him staring dumfounded at the bare ground.
"Dan," the sailor remarked curiously in between bites of an apple, "isn't the workshop supposed to be here?"
"Yes. Yes, it is," the young glazier deadpanned.
"Did someone steal it?" his friend puzzled.
"I—I don't know," Dan stammered in shock.
"Why would someone steal it? How would someone steal it?"
Small footprints covered the ground where the workshop had been, and many patches of earth suggested that something (or many somethings) had been dragged. The two blacksmith's mates followed the trail, and the young glazier's heart sank as they approached the sea.
The disassembled workshop and all its contents were scattered haphazardly over the sand. The group of Duffers stood around the rubble, trying to put the walls back up without the slightest notion of proper construction.
"What on earth did you do?!" Dan yelled.
"Well, you need sand, don't you?" A Duffer answered.
"What does wrecking my workshop have to do with bringing sand?" The distraught blacksmith's mate demanded.
"We figured we'd save time and move the workshop to the beach. Then you'll have all the sand you want," the Duffer answered sullenly, not appreciating the blacksmith's tone.
"It doesn't work that way," Dan sighed in exasperation. "And the tide is coming in!"
"Ungrateful lad, you are," the Duffer answered, little realizing how close he was to becoming well acquainted with the business end of the enraged young smith's hammer.
"Come on, my little friends," the other blacksmith's mate feigned a cheerful tone after patting his friend on the shoulder. "Let's find you someone else to help. Maybe the marines need help with their washing."
His friend shooed the Duffers off and promised to bring back help. As the young glazier sat down despondently, holding his head in his hands, a wave washed up and extinguished the furnace with a hiss of steam.
29 Sunbend 2076
"What on earth happened to you?" The master cooper and his mates laughed uproariously as a sopping-wet marine lead the group of Duffers up. The marine sighed heavily and turned to the Duffers first.
"Here—start filling these finished barrels with water from the stream over there. You can't do much harm doing that."
The Duffer chorus murmured their general agreement, and the marine finally answered the coopers.
"They tried to help with the washing and figured it would save time if they washed our clothes while we were wearing them."
The coopers erupted in laughter again.
"What, did they just pour a bucket over you where you stood?"
The marine gritted his teeth.
"It took three of them—one standing on another's shoulders and a third to pass the bucket up."
The cooper and his mates were laughing hysterically now.
"Did you just not notice them?" The cooper asked.
"Did they chase after you with the laundry soap?" One cooper's mate added eagerly.
"So much for situational awareness!" Another laughed.
"To be fair, you lot probably needed the washing!"
The marine just glared and sloshed off, water still squishing in his boots.
"Good luck!" He called back to them cynically.
The next morning, the master cooper and his mates resumed their work cheerfully. The Duffers had not caused a disaster; in fact, they worked industriously to fill the water casks and deliver them around the camp.
"Perhaps the marines just aren't smart enough to direct the little chaps," the master cooper gloated to his mates, who eagerly concurred. He failed to notice that only half the Duffers turned out for work. Within a few hours, he realized that no amount of clever management could make the Duffers reasonably useful.
"Sir," one of his mates began hesitantly, "the stream is turning muddy and running dry. We can't use it to clean out the new casks."
Nearby, a small group of Duffers began whispering among themselves. The master cooper threw them a suspicious glance and, laying down his hammer, approached the stream.
"Come on; let's follow it upstream and find the problem," he sighed with frustration.
As they began to walk, shouts of dismay and hissing steam reached their ears. The cooper and his mates started to run towards the cacophony. As they reached the middle of the camp, they could see the stream had been diverted to flow through the smokehouses, then the wood kilns and the makeshift smithies. The stream kept going, seeking the sea through the main line of sleeping tents.
"What's going on?" the master cooper demanded of the master carpenter as men ran hither and thither.
"They flooded the camp, Anthony!" The carpenter answered incredulously. "The little fellas kept shouting 'Fire!' as they went, but nobody understands what they're about. The smokehouses are supposed to smoke. All the fires were fires we needed."
He threw his hands up in the air just as the Jewel's irate first officer approached—dripping wet—and demanded an explanation amid the chaos. The master carpenter did his best, and Randolph clenched a fist in frustration.
"Put those Duffers under guard," the Archen officer fairly snarled at the nearest marine lieutenant in earshot.
Early that afternoon, as the men worked to put the camp back to rights, Lyra, Galen, and the fleet's senior officers met in the pavilion.
"We must do something, commodore, my lady," Commander Randolph addressed his commanding officer and the princess in turn. "We cannot endure the Duffers in our camp any longer."
"What are you proposing, commander?" His sovereign raised an eyebrow. "That we kill them? Imprison them?"
"Your highness, these infernal creatures have delayed our repairs by weeks. I beg you, there must be a way to get rid of them," Commander MacLeod pleaded.
"We must consider that their interference may not be accidental—their stupidity may be a pretense," Randolph added firmly.
"It is a fair point, my lady," Galen agreed.
"Indeed," she murmured. "They do have a persisent way of wreaking havoc."
"Perhaps they are acting on orders from the wizard. He is no friend, surely, by your description," Captain Scott suggested.
"But what reason could he have to detain us?" Commander Tremain countered.
"Reasons that are his own, I expect," Randolph interjected.
"Good sirs," Lyra's even voice cut through the debate, "perhaps there is a solution—let us ask him."
"My lady?" The Jewel's first officer puzzled.
"If the wizard does intend to keep us here for some ill purpose, best to confront him before he accomplishes it. And if there is some other explanation, perhaps we can prevail upon him to reveal it."
"Based on our first meeting, he does respect Aslan," Galen added. "While he may not be a friend, I do not believe he is a true enemy. It may be fruitful to seek dialogue with him."
Nods of agreement generally followed around the table.
"Then, Commander Randolph, please have the Duffers gathered," Lyra stood, and the men around her scrambled to their feet as well. "With Captain Scott's leave, I will embark with Huntress to return them to their master. Perhaps we can discover the wizard's true purpose."
"We are much obliged, your highness," Commander MacLeod answered. "We will take advantage of the little fellows' absence to set in the new masts. At least those were spared."
"Very well, gentlemen," the princess nodded, then took her leave and returned to her own tent.
A little while later, Lyra and Galen prepared to return to the Huntress. Several longboats and their sailors stood ready, along with the princess's guard. Nearby, another small party of marines surrounded the persistent Duffers to keep them from wandering away from the beach.
"We can't leave!" The Chief Duffer emphasized. "We're supposed to help you leave."
"We no longer need your help," an exasperated Commander Randolph replied. "We are returning you to your master."
"We dursen't leave! We dursen't!" A chorus of voices answered him.
"The Wizard will be powerful angry if we disobey him."
"That's it, Chief. The very truth!" The chorus added.
"He says to help you—and help you we must!"
"Hear hear!" The chorus continued. "Nobody explains it like you, Chief!"
"But you're not helping!" Randolph bawled.
"Not a bit! Couldn't help if we tried!" The chorus agreed.
Randolph sighed in exasperation, while Lyra turned her back to the assembly of dwarves, trying to conceal that she was shaking with laughter. After a moment she mastered herself and approached them.
"Why don't you take me to your master," she spoke kindly. "Surely you'd like to see your families, and we can talk to him."
"Hear her, hear her, there's a clever lass!" The chorus complimented.
"Well, I suppose that we could," the Chief Duffer agreed dubiously.
"Then it's settled—come along," she gently, but firmly, instructed. The Duffers began to stumble into the longboats.
"Watch out for that water, Chief!" One Duffer called.
"Aye, aye—it's powerful wet!" Added the chorus.
"Aslan's mane," mumbled a sailor in the bows, shaking his head.
After a great deal of chattering, the Duffers managed to sit down in the bottom of the boats. The sailors pushed off from the beach and rowed the longboats out towards the Huntress. As each swell rolled beneath the hull, the Duffers squealed in dismay. A few of them looked quite green. The seasoned sailors rolled their eyes.
Thankfully, the boats soon reached the ship. Lyra nimbly ascended the steps at the ship's side first, then Galen followed. The Huntress's crew straightened as their sovereign reached the deck, and Captain Scott approached to offer his welcome.
"We bring you strange passengers, captain," Lyra answered the young officer's bow.
"Indeed," he chuckled, glancing over the rail to see the sailors' herculean efforts to encourage the Duffers to board the ship. "It seems our disembarkation may be delayed a while."
"We'll keep the little fellows contained on the main deck, your highness," Commander Tremain approached. "They'll be comfortable enough—the journey is a short one and the weather fine."
"Very well," she answered.
"If you would care to rest, my lady, my lord," Captain Scott nodded to each in turn, "my steward is setting out tea."
The friends accepted gratefully, and within an hour the sleek ship weighed her anchor and slipped out of the harbor.
As the sun began to dip towards the western horizon, the Huntress drew up on the bay near the wizard's home. The seasick Duffers were only too glad to set foot on dry land again, and the ship's exasperated sailors were equally overjoyed to have them gone. Although Captain Scott preferred the princess take a double guard of marines, she refused.
"If we arrive in force, it will only hinder the diplomacy I must attempt," she insisted as she, Galen, and the marines began to board the longboat.
"Then, by your leave, at least let Commander Tremain join your men once more," the captain relented conditionally.
"Very well," she assented, and soon they joined the Duffers and their marine keepers on the beach, where the chorus chattered loudly.
"Chief," Lyra addressed the Duffers' leader commandingly, and the chorus softened to a murmur.
"Aye, missy?"
"Lead us home."
"Hear hear, chief! Lead us home, that's the way!" The chorus cheered, and the Duffers began the walk up the well-tended path with the Archenlanders following slowly behind.
"Tell me, chief," Galen asked as they walked, "have you a family waiting for you?"
"That I do, lad," the dwarf answered. "My Matilda will have a right good loaf in the oven about now."
"Have you always lived on this island with the wizard?" Lyra inquired.
"Oh yes, lassie, as far as anybody can remember," he answered, and the chorus concurred.
"What about your mother and father? Were they born here too?"
"There's a question for you, chief!" The chorus laughed. "What a silly lassie!"
"Come now, lassie, what a thing to say," the chief chided. "As if we had mothers and fathers! The idea!"
Galen and Lyra shared a perplexed glance.
"You mean you don't remember your parents?" Galen puzzled.
"None of us had them," the chief answered matter-of-factly.
"You expect us to believe you all just popped out of the ground one fine day?" Commander Tremain sneered.
"That's it, captain!" The chorus (heedless of his rank) agreed enthusiastically. "There's the clever one of the group!"
"As well as any of us can remember it, that's just what happened. I opened my eyes one day standing on the lawn with all the rest."
"And the wizard was there too—talking with a great big Lion."
Galen and Lyra looked up at each other in surprise.
"Were you afraid of the Lion?" The Narnian followed up after he recovered himself.
The chorus erupted in laughter again.
"As if anyone could be afraid of Him," the Chief Duffer laughed with them. "I don't think we could have been afraid if we tried to." Then he became serious. "The wizard, though. He was afraid of the Lion."
"That he was, chief!" The Duffer chorus agreed (to no one's surprise).
"And we've been here ever since," the chief finished, tired of the subject. "Come on," he hurried them along, "Matilda and the other lasses will have the supper ready."
By this time, the sky dimmed to a dusky lavender and the house's cheerful lights came into view. Matilda and the other Duffers' wives welcomed them enthusiastically, and the Archenlanders sat down to a boisterous, hearty meal in the warm, wood-paneled dining room without seeing a trace of their unwilling host. Nearby, a dark staircase yawned upwards, and Lyra found herself glancing towards it apprehensively during the meal.
"Don't worry about the Wizard, dearie," Matilda comforted as she served a dish of shepherd's pie, "he never joins us for dinner."
But as the evening wore on, Galen and Lyra became restless. The Duffers had quite forgotten their fear of their master, as well as any thought of the Archenlanders. The princess withdrew from the raucous party and conferred quietly with her companions at the window.
"I little think it wise to intrude on the wizard's privacy," Captain Anderson cautioned upon Lyra's suggestion that they ascend the imposing stairs and seek out their host, "and certainly it is not wise to contend with him in his own lair."
Commander Tremain nodded his agreement.
"We must not leave without speaking to him, though," Galen concurred with his friend. "We should discover, if we can, his purpose in such mischief. Especially given what we learned from the Duffers earlier—he is under some sort of punishment, I think, from Aslan himself."
"Having this lot for servants would be a pretty punishment," Commander Tremain added wryly.
"Perhaps—" Lyra began, but she trailed off as she saw movement on the stair. The Wizard plodded heavily down the staircase, glanced blankly from the Duffers to the Archenlanders, and continued without a word out the front door. It slammed loudly, and all fell deathly silent. The Duffers, who had not noticed the wizard initially, murmured in fright and scurried away, vanishing elsewhere in the manor.
The Archenlanders looked at each other in surprise, suddenly alone in the silent house.
"It looks like he is just sitting in the garden, my lady," Galen observed as he peered out the window.
"Then let's take our opportunity," Lyra resolved. "Remain here and keep watch from the house," she instructed her escort, much to their dismay. "Do not worry," she smiled gently. "This is as much invitation as we could expect to receive."
Captain Anderson and Commander Tremain bowed slightly, and the princess and her Narnian friend quietly left the house. The courtyard air was deliciously cool after the stifling warmth of the dining room. No lanterns or torches illuminated the courtyard; only faint moonlight glancing on the flagstones showed the friends their way. They crossed to the other side of the courtyard, where an opening in the low wall led to a garden. In the middle of the garden, they could see the old man's shadowy figure stretched out on a sort of chaise. His pipe glowed as he puffed ponderously, and the two friends saw as they approached that he stared almost longingly up into the starry sky.
"I see you have been enjoying my pantry," the Wizard greeted evenly.
"Indeed," Galen answered equally dispassionately, "our compliments."
"It took you long enough to come out here," the old man half-complained as the two visitors took seats on a nearby bench.
"Well, now that we're here, what can we do for you?" Lyra took the opening and returned his wit.
To her surprise the wizard chuckled in response.
"You know, princess," he answered, "it has been so many years since I've carried on an intelligent conversation that I decided I might as well tolerate your presence."
"Very kind of you," she laughed. "What is your name, sir, lest we keep calling you 'wizard'?"
"You can call me Coriakin, my lady," he puffed at his pipe and looked back up at the stars. "And what brings you and your knight of Aslan back to my door?"
Galen straightened at the wizard's description of him.
"We have the distinctly happy privilege of returning your servants to you," Lyra answered wryly. "They have proved themselves most effective at wreaking havoc."
"Indeed, I must thank you, your highness," the wizard arched an eyebrow mischievously as he puffed at his pipe. "I haven't had so wonderful a holiday since I came to this accursed island."
"Coriakin," the princess addressed the wizard firmly. "If you insist on sending the Duffers to interfere with our repairs, then we will be forced to intrude on your privacy far longer than necessary."
"Oh, I've enjoyed watching them bedevil someone else for a change," the wizard laughed. "I'm not quite ready to give up my holiday."
"And is that all your purpose in sending the Duffers to our camp?" Galen pointedly asked. "A holiday?"
"Ah," Coriakin leaned forward and met the Narnian's eye sharply. "You think I hope to further some Evil Scheme," he rolled the last two words around on his tongue. He held Galen's gaze firmly for a moment, then nodded. "Their incomprehensible negligence is worthy of that conclusion, I suppose." He sighed and leaned back on the lounge. "But we ultimately serve the same Master, however ignominious my service may appear to you."
Lyra and Galen glanced at each other a moment. Then the princess decided to take a different tack.
"How did you come to be here?" She inquired solicitously. "Have you been marooned? Perhaps, we can return you to your own country when we have finished our errand in these waters."
"Marooned?" A strange light came into the wizard's eyes, and he stood. "You hit near the mark, madam. But you do not know my country and cannot return me to it. This exile is mine to endure."
"From what country do you come?" Galen questioned persistently, but the wizard only cryptically swept his arm towards the sky and disappeared into the house.
Authoress's note: The innovative manner of replacing the ships' masts is inspired by C.S. Forester's novel Beat to Quarters. Hopefully the Duffers have done all their damage, but I suppose we'll see. They're quite persistent and gave me a good bit of trouble to write.