The End of Time Read Online Free PDF Page A

seen navigators use instruments of Umber’s invention to plot their courses based on the position of the sun and the stars. But those tools were useless under a canopy of cloud. Sandar, who had taken a liking to Hap from the beginning, was happy to explain.
    “I have charts to tell me the distance between lands. And I have a compass to show me our heading. All I need, then, is to know our speed. Now, Hap, have you seen my crew let that knotted rope slip into the water every so often? That’s how we judge our speed, depending on how many knots pay out in one turn of the glass. Then I mark our progress on the chart. We can be more accurate than you’d imagine this way. I once got through the Straits of Maur in a driving rainstorm with that sort of reckoning.”
    Hameron had said that the coast of Chastor was often enveloped by mist, and his words proved to be true. The next day the Bounder sailed into a thickening vapor. Hap felt moisture collecting on the fine hairs of his arms. It was high noon, according to the ship’s glass, but the light was dim and diffused, and there were no shadows. The ship nudged forward under a single sail, in a gentle breeze that carried them toward the land of the dragons.
    Hameron stood near the prow, leaning over the rail. “You’d better know what you’re doing, Captain Sandar,” he called back. His neck craned forward. “How far from the coast are we?”
    “About a mile,” Sandar replied.
    “ About , he tells me,” Hameron muttered. He waved a hand in front of his face, as if he could push the fog away, and cupped his hands beside his eyes, peering forward. A sailor named Hannigan was in the crow’s nest at the top of the foremast, and his urgent cry came down: “Land ahead—a spike of land!”
    “No!” cried Hameron. “That’s my needle! Hameron’s Needle! Sandar, you incompetent fool, you’ve got us too close! Quiet, everyone,” he screamed, though he was the only one making a sound. He rushed back toward the helm with his eyes bulging. Hap saw a narrow, jagged rock, taller than the ship’s masts, resolving in the mist before them.
    “That way!” Hameron hissed, jabbing at the air. “Take us that way!”
    “Starboard, hard,” Sandar said, and the helmsman spun the ship’s wheel. The fog overhead dimmed for a moment—a flash of darkness that passed swiftly from east to west. Hameron’s head snapped upward, and his mouth sagged open.
    “Did anyone else see that?” said Oates. “Hap, could you see?”
    Hap shook his head. His vision was sharp, even in the dark, but it couldn’t penetrate this fog.
    It happened again: a shadow moving swiftly inside the vapor. Hap thought he heard a sound this time, a great fwoop of air being pushed, like a sheet snapping on a clothesline. Part of the mist billowed into whorls, disturbed from above. Hameron made a dash for the hatch, but Oates grabbed him by the collar. “Where are you going?” Oates asked, as Hameron flailed.
    An orange plume flared within the mist. The thing passed by again, but closer this time, and its form could be seen: long-necked and long-tailed, with diamond wings on either side. It was half the length of the ship.
    “Oh no, no, no, oh no,” whined Hameron, clutching his skull. He turned to Sandar with every tooth showing in a ghastly grimace. “You’ve doomed us all!”
    Sandar’s face had gone pale, and his throat bobbed. He looked at Balfour with watery eyes. “The map,” he said hoarsely. “I know how to sail; the map must be wrong!”
    A terrible sound came from directly above: a loud screech that fell in pitch to a booming roar. All eyes turned up to see a golden serpent drop out of the cloud with its wings spread wide. Hap was sure it would crash onto the deck of the ship, but the sprawling wings flapped once, arresting the descent. The gust of air nearly knocked Hap off his feet. The dragon seized the top of the forward mast with all four of its legs. In the crow’s nest, Hannigan was