Geo got a chance to report his findings to Urson that evening and the big man was puzzled.
"Can you add anything?" Geo asked.
"All I've had a chance to do is work," grumbled Urson. They were standing by the edge of the rail beyond which the mist steeped thickly, making sky and water indistinguishable and grave. "Hey, Four-arms," Urson suddenly asked. "What are you looking at?"
Snake stared at the water but said nothing.
"Maybe he's listening to something," suggested Geo.
"You'd think there were better things to eavesdrop on than fishes," said Urson. "I guess Argo's given special orders that you two get no work. Some people! Let's go eat." As they started toward the convergence of sailors at the entrance of the mess hall, Urson said, "Oh, guess what?" He turned to Geo and picked up the jewel from the boy's chest. "All you people are going around with such finery, I took my coins to the smithy and had him put chains on them. Now I'll strut with the best of you." He laughed, and then went through the narrow way, crowding with the other sailors into the wide hall.
For two weeks, nights without dreams left them early, and the boat rolled from beneath the fog. Dawn was gray, but clear; then, by one breakfast time the ragged slip of Aptor's beach hemmed the horizon.
On the wheel deck the sailors clustered to the rail, and before them rocks struck like broken teeth from the water. Urson, in his new, triple neckchain, joined Snake and Geo at the rail. "Whew," he said. "Getting through them is going to be fun."
Suddenly heads turned. Behind them now, Argo's dark veils, bloated with the breeze, filled about her as she mounted the steps to the wheel deck. The sailors moved away from her. Then, one hand on a stay rope, she stared across the gray water to the dark tongue of land.