At the Queen_s command

"I need to know speed to calculate rates of movement for troops."

"Miles per hour, then?"

"Yes, that sort of thing."

"You won't be finding that of much use here, Captain." Woods smiled back over his shoulder. "Ain't really how fast the river goes as how fast a man can go on the river."

Owen frowned. "Meaning?"

"Well now, supposing the river goes five miles in an hour. A man going from dawn to dusk could go pretty far."

"Sixty miles. Knowing that, I can estimate how quickly du Malphias could deliver troops to Temperance."

"But if his people all got in canoes and paddled fast, they'd go farther, and your figuring would be wrong."

"Yes, but…"

Nathaniel shipped his paddle and turned halfway back toward Owen. "The Altashee don't worry none about miles. For them it's all 'walks.' Right fine system."

Owen frowned. "Let me be clear. I need to know distances so I can put things on a map."

Kamiskwa cleared his throat. "Captain Strake, how long does it take a man to walk one of your miles?"

Owen looked back at the Altashee. "Flat road, easy pace, a third of an hour."

"And in the rain, no road, through the forest, heavily laden?"

Owen laughed, remembering more than one similar march in the Low Countries. "One in a day."

"Distance does not matter. Speed of arrival does." Kamiskwa smiled indulgently. "We have many walks. Your flat road would just be a walk; though we have no flat roads. A hunting walk would be slower. Garrahai -warwalk-much faster. Then there are wet and dry walks, and light and heavy walks. We have words for all of them."

Owen was about to complain that this system was highly impractical, but he stopped. For a people that migrated seasonally, in a land where no roads existed, the system actually did work. And while it seemed impractical to his mind, it suited the land. He might have to calculate distance backward for mapping purposes, but absent a surveying crew, his measurements were going to be inexact. While his sextant would allow him to track latitude, but without a pair of timepieces, determining longitude couldn't be done.

He frowned. "If you measure in walks, how do you measure travel on the river?"

"This river is a two-three: twice as fast as a walk paddling up, three times floating down." Kamiskwa dipped his paddle again. "The system has worked for all time."

Owen nodded. "And the charts sent back from those who came before me? Their distances?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "Made up mostly, I 'spect. Ain't never run into any of the Branches outside Bounty. Only true distance they know is between alehouses and stills."

The Altashee chuckled. "They measure in dizzy-walks."

Owen fell silent and listened to the sound of paddles in the water. A dragonfly zipped over, paced them for a bit, then lighted on a gunwale. Its iridescent wings sparkled in the sunlight. The insect's mahogany body hue reminded him of Catharine's eyes for a moment, then his thoughts abruptly shifted to Bethany Frost. He thought she would be entranced by the insect.

Catharine would want me to save her from it.

The dragonfly took off, zigzagging toward the shore. Owen followed its flight, then looked up and gasped. "My God, what is that?" He reached for his musket.

Nathaniel turned and signaled for him to leave the gun alone. He lowered his voice. "It's a tanner. This range your ball would bounce off."

Owen stared. The creature appeared to be an elk, but one of prodigious proportions. It stood taller than he was at its shoulder, and he was certain he could have lain straight out on its vast rack of antlers with plenty of room for his head and feet. It grazed, still chewing, as it lifted its head to regard them.

"A tanner?" The brown coat with white throat blaze provided no clue about its name. "Why do you call it that?"

"One of the first explorers through here, Blackston, I'm thinking his name was, called it the 'Titan Elk.' Cumbersome name."

"Ti- tan becomes tanner, I see." Owen shot Nathaniel a sidelong glance. "And I could hit it from here."

"Hitting ain't killing." Nathaniel nodded toward the elk. Tanner'd take more than one ball. Wounded, it would run a fair piece. We'd be all day finding it. If it tried to find us, well, we'd run a fair piece our own selves."

The guide sighed. "Now, iffen we was out trapping or hunting, beast like that would be worth the shot. Meat'd feed a village for a week. That hide would cover Reverend Bumble. Worth a pound or three down to Temperance."

Owen dug into his coat pocket. "Perhaps it's on the Prince's list."

The other two men chuckled. "You'll be finding a lot on his list. Half of it don't exist."

"But the Prince…"

"He's a smart man, belike, but some of that learning has come from books that ain't worth the time to open."

Kamiskwa cleared his throat. "My people related stories to early explorers, who paid them with a variety of baubles. The more fantastic the story, the better the pay."

Owen nodded. "How will I know what is real and what is not?"

"Only know what I see, only believe what I touch." Nathaniel smiled.