his statement. ‘All right. Across the wind. But it’s a huge improvement on the old square sail. That’s unusable once the wind is any farther forward than dead abeam.’
‘But you’ve duplicated that thin top boom and the sail,’ Evanlyn said. And she was right. On the deck, lying fore and aft, was another boom, with its sail furled around it. It lay on the opposite side of the mast to the boom that was currently in place.
Gundar favoured her with a smile. ‘That’s the beauty of this design,’ he told her. ‘As you can see, the sail is currently on the starboard side of the mast, with the wind coming from the port side, so it’s blown away from the mast into a perfect curve. When we tack…’ He glanced quickly at Alyss but she kept her expression blank. ‘The wind will be on the starboard side, forcing the sail against the mast, so that the perfect wing shape would be spoiled. So we rig another boom and sail on the port side. Then, when we tack, we lower the starboard sail and raise the port sail. The two are linked by rope through a pulley at the masthead, so that the weight of one coming down actually helps us raise the other one.’
‘Ingenious,’ Halt said at length.
Gundar Hardstriker smiled modestly. ‘Well…most of us Skandians are.’
Shukin held up a hand and the small party of horsemen drew rein, stopping in the central cleared space among the houses.
The villagers were wary, but with the long-ingrained habit of respect for the Senshi class, they waited silently for the newcomers to state their business.
They edged a little closer, forming a loose circle around the horses. Some of the villagers, Horace noted, were carrying heavy blackwood staffs, while others held axes loosely. But none of the makeshift weapons were being brandished in threatening gestures. They were simply kept close at hand while the villagers waited to see what might happen next.
Shukin, who had been riding a few metres ahead of the group, turned in the saddle.
‘Come forward and join me, please, cousin,’ he said quietly to Shigeru.
Shigeru urged his horse forward until he and Shukin were on their own, in the middle of the group of waiting Kikori. It was a courageous move on the part of the Emperor, Horace thought. Up till that moment, he had been safely surrounded by his group of warriors. Now, if trouble started, he was vulnerable to attack from all sides and his escort would not be able to reach him in time to save him.
The rain began to mist down again, pattering softly on the thatched roofs and forming misty haloes around the hanging lanterns under the eaves of the verandahs that fronted the cabins. A cold trickle ran down the back of Horace’s collar and he shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. It was only a small movement but even so, a dozen pairs of eyes swung to him instantly. He settled back in his saddle and remained still. Gradually, the wary eyes returned to Shukin and Shigeru.
‘Kikori people,’ Shukin began. His voice was deep and authoritative. He didn’t speak loudly, but such was the timbre of his voice that his words carried clearly to everyone in the clearing. ‘Today, a great honour has come to your village.’
He paused, his gaze scanning the waiting timber workers and their families. He felt a twinge of disappointment as he saw the disbelief in their eyes. They were cynical of any Senshi warrior who told them they were about to receive a great honour. Usually such statements were the prelude to a series of demands on their homes, their food, their time and their wellbeing. Be honoured because you can give us whatever we ask for – after all, we plan to take it anyway.
Sad to say, it was the way the world had always been between the two classes.
He sought for the words necessary to convince them that he and his men were not seeking to impose themselves on the village. They were asking for hospitality and shelter, yes. But they would pay. They would treat the villagers fairly. Any
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