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all now.
    â€œI thought I spied a jewel in the road,” he said through his teeth, giving a little hop onto his left leg.
    He could see the darker shadow of her outline as she placed her hands on her hips. “What?”
    â€œI slipped.” Adrian sighed. “My leg is—”
    His explanation was cut off as Maisie Lindsey gave a great sigh and abruptly left the path to approach the sparse woods to their left. She returned in a moment with what appeared in the darkness to be a long branch. She snapped off the reedy tip and spindly twigs jutting out from its sides and then stomped the thick end onto the road twice—Adrian could feel the reverberations through the soles of his own boots. Then she thrust it at him.
    â€œHere you are,” she said and then spun on her heel. “Now, hurry. We’re almost there.”
    Adrian reluctantly braced himself against the makeshift walking stick and stepped forward with his right foot. He was amazed to discover that the discomfort was lessened by half, and in moments, he had nearly caught up with Maisie Lindsey.
    He was disappointed in himself that he hadn’t thought of the thing earlier—after all, it was simply a matter of physics. If the crutch was taking half of the burden of his stride, it would only make sense that his discomfort would be lessened by at least as much, not even considering the completely mental reassurance the stick provided as a way to test out his footfalls on the black road before he stepped. Such a simple, brilliant solution.
    Regardless of the thousands of manuscripts at his disposal, life at the abbey was obviously causing Adrian’s brain to rot.
    To his further astonishment, the longer he walked, the less he felt any discomfort at all. It seemed only moments had passed when Maisie Lindsey veered suddenly to the right ahead of him. Adrian could smell the dormant cold of the river before he crested the edge of the path and looked down to find Maisie’s goatlike shadow skittering over the rocks, but what he saw was, again, not what he expected.
    This surely could not be Maisie Lindsey’s ship—the one that was to navigate the North Sea to the Scots coast in winter. The long black shape on the inky water below seemed little more than a strange, cylindrical raft without even a mast at its center.
    Maisie Lindsey stopped at the edge of the river and turned to look back at him. “What are you waiting for? Come on!” Then she gave a great leap onto the vessel itself, not bothering to wait to see if Adrian would follow.
    Which he did, and as he drew nearer to the narrow ship, he saw the long oars jutting from the side nearest the riverbank, the slightly domed shape of the deck with its square depression in the center of the vessel, hinting at cabin areas to either side. Not even a railing could be seen, nor a wheel for steering. Its general shape reminded Adrian of the long Norse ships he had seen on occasion, but up close, it was apparent that this vessel was wider, although its keel appeared so shallow as to be nearly flat.
    â€œCome on!” Maisie Lindsey repeated, waving to him from the center of the odd ship. A single lantern hung on a hook to the side of a short black doorway behind her, and as Adrian gathered himself for the short leap from the rocks to the ship, the oars protruding from the side of the ship lifted and turned in unison, showing Adrian the sharp, blond wooden edges.
    The sudden synchronic movement unsettled him, and he hesitated.
    â€œAdrian!” Maisie called out. “If you doona get on, you’ll be left behind!”
    Adrian’s eyes flicked back to the twenty oars on the side of the ship facing him, and as if they were obeying a command from Maisie Lindsey, the paddles turned flat edge, moved forward as one entity, and cut into the water.
    â€œAdrian!” Maisie called again.
    Adrian dropped his staff and leapt onto the ship just as it began to turn into the