Legacy by Greg Bear

of travel and commerce. I knew the nautical terms -- what I did not know was which terms the immigrants had retained in the decades since the informant had made his gate and left, and what they had added. Nkwanno's slate had little to say about ships or travel on Lamarckia's oceans and waterways. I walked a few dozen meters along the pier, to the next vessel, a full-rigged ship. A tall, lank, discouraged-looking man stood by a pile of lizboo-plank boxes wrapped in nets, waiting for a short, thick crane to lift the assemblage and convey it into the ship's hold. I approached. "I'd like to find Erwin Randall's ship -- I mean, Captain Keyser-Bach's ship." The man looked me over woefully. "I'm the chandler's assistant," he said. "This is the _Vigilant._" "Keyser-Bach?" I persisted. "He's the captain, yes." "Where's Ser Randall?" The discouraged-looking man curled his lip. "I'm not _from the ship,_ man. I deal with supplies." "Who would I talk to?" "I don't want to judge, but by your dress ... You've not had work in some time." He chuckled and shook his head. "She's an eccentric ship, the _Vigilant._ There's a shortage of seamen here, but you don't look the grade." The man sucked in his cheeks. "I don't spread tales, besides, but Captain Keyser-Bach is not the man I'd sail under. A thinking man's thinking man, and what kind of a sailor would that make him? All wrapped in charts and studies." He tapped his head meaningfully. I thanked him and waited for someone to disembark the _Vig