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If I doubted that the world had gone topsy…turvy； Isgrimnur thought bemusediy； here is all the proof I need： a Rimmersman taking a leaky boat to sea in a storm； and snow in the southland…in high summer。 Can any doubt the world has run mad？
Madness。 He remembered the hideous death of the lector and felt his stomach gurgle。 Madness…or something else？ It was a strange coincidence that Pryrates and Benigaris should both be in the house of Mother Church on such a dreadful night。 Only a stroke of rare luck had brought Isgrimnur to Dinivan in time to hear the priest's last words； and perhaps to salvage something from this grim pass。
He had escaped from the Sancellan Aedonitis only moments before Benigaris； Duke of Nabban； had ordered his guardsmen to bar all doors。 Isgrimnur could not have afforded capture…even if he had not been immediately recognized； his story would not have held up long。 Hiafmansa Eve； the night of the lector's murder； had been a bad night to be an unfamiliar guest at the Sancellan。
〃Do you know of a place here called Pelippa's Bowl？〃 he asked aloud。 〃I think it is an inn or a hostel。〃
〃I have never heard of the place； master monk；〃 Sinetris said gravely。 〃It sounds like a low establishment； one in which Sinetris would not be seen。〃 Now that they had reached the relatively still waters of the canals； the boatman had reassumed much of his dignity。 Isgrimnur decided he liked him better when he sniveled。
〃By the Tree； we will never find it at night。 Take me to some inn you know； then I must get something under my belt。〃
Sinetris steered the little craft down a series of crisscrossing canals to the city's tavern district。 Things seemed quite lively here despite the late hour； the boardwalks lined with garish cloth lanterns that swung in the wind； the alleyways full of drunken revelers。
〃This is a fine inn； holy brother；〃 Sinetris said as they glided to a stop at the dock stairs of a well…lit establishment。 〃There is wine to be had； and food。〃 Sinetris； feeling bold now that their journey had ended safely； gave Isgrimnur a chummy； gap…toothed smile。 〃And women； too。〃 His smile grew uncertain as he surveyed Isgrimnur's face。 〃…Or boys； if that is more to your liking。〃
The duke forced a great hiss of air between his teeth。 He reached into his cloak and pulled out a gold Imperator； then placed it gently on the rowing bench beside Sinetris' skinny leg。 Isgrimnur next moved to the bottommost stair。 〃There is your thievish payment； as I promised。 Now； I have a suggestion for how you might spend your evening。 〃
Sinetris looked up warily。 〃Yes？〃
Isgrimnur drew down his eyebrows in a horrible frown。 〃Spend it doing your very best to make sure that I do not see you again。 Because if I do；〃 he lifted his hairy fist； 〃I will roll your eyeballs around in your pointy head。 Understood？〃
Sinetris dropped his oar…blades and backed water hastily； so that Isgrimnur had to quickly swing his other foot up onto the stairs。 〃So this is how you monks treat Sinetris after all his favors！？〃 the boatman said indignantly； puffing up his thin chest like a courting pigeon。 〃No wonder the church is in bad repute！ You 。 。 bearded barbarian！〃 He splashed off into the darkened canal。
Isgrimnur laughed harshly； then stumped up the stairs to the inn。
After several fitful nights in the grasslands…nights in which he had been forced to keep a careful watch on the treacherous Sinetris； who had several times tried to slip away and leave Isgrimnur standed on the bleak； wind…swept coast of Firannos Bay…the Duke of Elvritshalla took his sleep in full measure。 He remained in bed until the sun was high m the sky； then broke his fast with a manly portion of bread and honey acpanied by a stoup of ale。 It was nearly noontide before he obtained directions to Pelippa's Bowl from the innkeeper and was out on the rainy canals once more。 His boatman this time was a Wrannaman； who despite the bitter wind wore only a loincloth and a broad…brimmed hat with a red； drizzle…soaked feather drooping from the band。 The boatman's sullen silence was a pleasant change from the ceaseless carping of Sinetris。 Isgrimnur settled back to fondle his new…sprouted beard and enjoy the sodden sights of Kwanitupul； a city he had not visited for many years。
The storm had obviously cast a pall over the trading city。 Unless things had changed greatly since his last sojourn； there should be many more boats out on the water at midday； many more folk wandering Kwanitupul's exotic byways。 Those who were about seemed to be hurrying to their destinations。 Even the ritual cries of greeting and challenge that rang between canal boats seemed unusually muted。 Like insects； the residents seemed chilled almost to immobility by the snow that melted in patches on their wooden walkways； and the wind…borne sleet that stung exposed limbs and filled the canals with circular ripples。
Here and there among the sparse crowds Isgrimnur saw small gatherings of Fire Dancers； the religious maniacs who had gained their notoriety by self…immolation。 They had bee a familiar sight to the duke since he had first reached Nabban。 These wild…eyed penitents； uncaring of the cold； stood on the walkways near busy canal intersections and shouted the praises of their dark master； the Storm King。 Isgrimnur wondered where they had heard that name。 He had never heard it spoken south of the Frostmarch before； even in a children's bogey…story。 It was no coincidence； he knew； but he could not help musing on whether these robed lunatics were the pawns of someone like Pryrates or true visionaries。 If the latter was the case； then the end they foresaw might be real。
Isgrimnur shuddered at this thought and made the sign of the Tree on his breast。 Black times； these were。 For all their shouting； though； the Fire Dancers did not seem to be engaging in their familiar trick of setting themselves aflame。 The duke smiled sourly。 Perhaps it was a little too damp today。
The boatman stopped at last before an unprepossessing structure in the warehouse district； far from the centers of merce。 When Isgrimnur had paid him； the little dark man reached up with his gaff hook and pulled down the rope ladder from the dock。 The duke was scarcely halfway up the swinging ladder before the boatman had turned around and was coasting out of sight down a side…canal。
Huffing and cursing his fat belly； Isgrimnur at last made his way up onto the more trustworthy footing of the dock。 He rapped at the weather…worn door； then waited a long time in the freezing rain without answer； growing increasingly cross。 At last the door swung open； revealing a frowning woman of middle age。
〃I don't know where the half…wit is；〃 she told Isgrimnur as though he had asked。 〃It's not enough that I have to do every other lick of work here； but now I have to answer the door as well。〃
For a moment the duke was so taken aback that he almost apologized。 He struggled with his impulse toward chivalry。 〃I want a room；〃 he said at last。
〃Well； e in； then；〃 the woman said doubtfully； opening the door wider。 Beyond lay a makeshift boathouse that stank of tar and old fish。 A couple of hulls we