The Burning Tower

by Colin Glassey

  The man with the yellow hat translated, and the words had an electric effect on the people around him. Everyone was talking louder and louder; it was like the announcement of the new year or the naming of the champion of the grand melee to the crowd outside the stadium of Seopolis. Words were repeated over and over, people smiled, and then a hidden orchestra of horns and pieces of ringing metal began playing. The man wearing the richest robe came up to Sandun and shook his hand with both of his hands. He was introduced as “Itor.” The older man with the yellow hat introduced himself as “Gushi.”

  Quickly, it was a party. Strong drink was poured into silver cups and passed around to all the members of the expedition. Small dumplings coated with nuts and honey were presented to them on silver platters. Joining a party of ten thousand people after being alone in the hills for six months was such an overwhelming experience that the rest of that day remained a blur of color and movement and sound and taste.

  Later, Sandun vividly remembered a small woman, very pretty, hardly dressed in some gauzy red dress, laughing; unexpectedly, she was kissing him, and she tasted like a wine that he had never drunk before, and she felt soft and warm and so wonderfully alive that he thought in one blinding flash, I have never kissed a woman until now—which was certainly not true, and yet the memory remained and, in some sense, it was true.

  After at least an hour in front of the city gates, they were conducted through the narrow streets of Gipu, with children and women hanging out of upstairs windows, waving at them and shaking strips of cloth and laughing. The street opened onto a plaza, also filled with people; everyone was drinking, and the noise was loud. After their months alone in the Tiralas, the sheer noise humans were capable of making in small, crowded streets nearly overwhelmed Sandun. In front of one large building, servants poured out glass after glass of a dark drink to anyone who held a cup or mug to them. The expedition was then led to a large building on the far side of the jammed plaza.

  They entered, the doors to the building closed, the roar of the crowd abated, and all at once Sandun could think again. Their translator stood on a chair in the entrance hall and managed to convey the news that they would stay here in the “house of guests.” A big feast was being prepared, and they would be going across the street to the “house of rulers” in the evening for a banquet. They were welcome to go back outside and join the “cogmash,” which would continue for the rest of the day.

  Three of the scouts and Kagne volunteered to go back outside and mingle with the people of Gipu. The rest went to explore the rooms and wash up before the banquet. Upstairs, Sandun and Sir Ako and Basil had a rapid conversation about the city and their situation.

  “The walls are well maintained. The guards looked capable,” Sir Ako offered.

  “The city, from what I could see, is quite dense, more so even than Thalapolis. More than fifteen thousand people, I think.” Basil seemed surprised at the density of the housing.

  “They appear pleased to see us,” Sandun said. “The fact that they have a linguist who has kept some small knowledge of Kelten language after all this time…well, it suggests they live by trade. I can imagine they would like to see the ancient west road revived. If we avoid committing capital offenses, I think we should be fine. I’ll try and learn something from their translator, Gushi, before dinner.”

  Sandun went back down and found Gushi in animated conversation with two other men, Itor and a little man who waved his arms around in circles like a windmill. With patience, Sandun learned Itor’s full name: Lord Itor da Laska. The way the people acted toward Lord Itor suggested that he was not the ruler of the town but something equivalent to the Lord Mayor of Seopolis.

  Gushi reintroduced himself as “Gushi da Etchana” and the arm-waving man’s name as “Ortzi da Gokoet.” As to the dispute, Sandun had no clear idea what it was about, and his efforts to learn more were limited to the following words of wisdom: Gipu—city of trade.

  The evening’s banquet featured music, as well as dancing by eight very attractive young women. The food was small cubes of meat roasted on skewers and dipped in different sauces, some green and spicy, others milk based. The Keltens were encouraged to drink copious amounts of the dark liquor, which Sandun learned was a fortified wine made from pears and tiny apples.

  After the meats and steamed vegetables had been eaten, more young women came out and sat beside the members of the expedition. They all said, “Hello,” and their names; apparently, they had been coached within the last hour. They smiled and laughed at the men, feeding them more balls of crushed nuts mixed with honey and plying them with drinks.

  Olef fended off the girl that was trying to feed Basil, and when the girl realized Olef had a claim on Basil, she got up and went over to Padan’s side, shooing away the girl that had been fawning over Padan. There was clearly some sort of pecking order among the women.

  Sandun immediately recognized the woman who sat by his side; she was the same small woman who had kissed him in the street earlier that day. Now, in a halting fashion and with many foreign words mixed in, she told him that her name was Ashala, that she was the daughter of Gushi, and she had learned a little Kelten along with other languages from her father.

  Sandun was happy. He asked her if she knew the language of Serica. Ashala nodded and spoke several sentences in a different language that Sandun assumed was that of Serica.

  A few minutes after Sandun and Ashala retired to his room at the house of guests, a soft tap at the door was followed by a short conversation with a servant outside the room. Ashala brought in a beaten-metal ewer filled with hot water and then a wooden bucket with cool water. She mixed these into a wood tub and invited Sandun to the bath. Sandun lost no time in getting in; opportunities for cleaning on the trip had been few. To Sandun’s surprise, Ashala took off all her clothes and washed Sandun from head to foot, getting covered in water and soap as she did so. Her warm, wet body touching his own coupled with the months of isolation from a woman, and it wasn’t long before they were in bed together.

  The next morning, she was still lying next to him contentedly, like a warm cat. Part of Sandun was quite willing to leave things as they were for a long time, but he worried about the possible reactions of the men of Gipu—especially her father, from whom he hoped to learn as much as possible in the coming days.

  “Don’t you have to leave?” he asked her.

  Ashala thought about this with half-closed eyes and then pulled herself closer to him. “No,” she said. “We two, together now. You stay.”

  Sandun had read about some odd marriage customs in other lands such as Thessagon, where women picked their husbands, but this seemed an unlikely turn of events.

  “We are going to Serica. I am going to Serica, not staying in Gipu.”

  “Hmmm, yes, later. But now you stay, and now I your wife. I…learn Kelten speak, you learn Gipu and Serica speak. All happy. Is our…way? Path?” She held her arms out as though she was holding the city between her splayed fingers.

  “Do I have a choice? Suppose I like a different woman?” Sandun was teasing her but curious to see what she would say.

  Ashala sat up; her long black hair tumbled down in a wave reaching her bare breasts. “I best woman. Know Kelten better all others. I choose you, you choose me. You like another woman better, you sad.” Then she smiled at him and said, “We two, good two. No lie.”

  That much, thought Sandun, was undeniable.

  Nothing outside of bed was done that day. As the sun set, the expedition gathered for their evening meal in the large common room on the ground floor. Sandun was not surprised to see that each man had a young woman sitting next to him, serving him tea and food—except for Basil. Olef seemed unusually solicitous toward Basil; the competition was forcing her to play a different role, for a while at least.

  The dramatic arrival in the town the previous day and the sudden addition of the young women had ch
anged the relationships between the expedition members. The conversation was just small talk and overeager praise for the food and drink. They tried to sing one of their after-dinner songs as they always had on the trip, but it seemed awkward with the women there, so they stopped after the first verse.

  Sandun also observed the way the women behaved. They seemed quite comfortable with the situation, and Sandun soon concluded that for many of them, this was normal. He resolved to ask about the city and other traders later.

  Ashala said little, but it was clear she was listening intently. Sandun subtly drew attention to Ashala’s language skills, so the others were made aware that at least some of what they said was not a secret.

  Sir Ako was unusually curt and ill tempered for the next several days; he complained about the smell of the city and dust in the air, all of which was very out of character as he rarely complained about anything. Later in the week, Sir Ako, Kagne, and all the scouts save Wiyat and Olef came down with colds. Sandun was blessed with an iron constitution, and he almost never fell ill. The airs of Gipu held no powers of sickness over him.

  Seeing that men were taken care of by their women, Sandun spent happy days wandering the city with Ashala, relaxing in this unexpected haven at the edge of the Tiralas. Indeed, he was very blithe. Gipu was strange, interesting, unexpected, and seemingly not very threatening. Ashala gave every indication of being happy to be with him and to act as a guide, teacher, student, and lover.

  Occasionally, Basil and Olef joined them when Sandun and Ashala went out into the city. Olef had let her hair grow longer since midsummer, and in Gipu she started wearing colorful blouses, which she bought at the market near their lodgings. She and Basil stayed in the same room, and their relationship seemed to blossom now that they could have some privacy.

  Sir Ako had a new woman by the end of the first week; her name was Eria. She was taller and prettier than the first woman who had picked Sir Ako on the night they arrived. Eria wore her hair somewhat like Sir Ako’s wife used to do when she was living at the palace in Seopolis.

  What went on behind closed doors with regard to the young women of Gipu who were now sleeping with the men of the Kelten expedition was just not talked about—by anyone. Set against the moral standards of Kelten, what they were doing was, to a degree, sinful. Simply paying a whore for “a bit o’ fun” was not a crime in most Kelten cities, but living with a woman without marrying her was a sin, and the temple would force couples who started living together to marry. Sir Ako, married to a noble’s daughter, was deeper in sin than the others. It was much the easiest solution for all of them to pretend that what was happening was not actually happening.

  In any event, Sir Ako’s new woman was very agreeable to him, and he was soon back to his old self, practicing fighting exercises in the courtyard every day for hours at a time while Eria gossiped with the other women or did needlework. All the women, except Ashala, sewed, decorating hats and gloves and shirt sleeves with small glass beads and tiny disks of copper.

  After three weeks of delightful fall weather, the snow fell, sweeping across the land and making travel even inside the city rather treacherous. Training was the only thing left, and soon all the scouts took up the military exercises, joined usually by Basil, Kagne, and Sandun. At Sir Ako’s request, Sandun found space for an indoor archery range that doubled as a training hall. Every day, Sir Ako would lead the expedition members through the city to the hall. This attracted the notice of some men from Gipu’s guard. A few of the bravest Gipu soldiers came and joined them in mock combat with wooden weapons. But their fundamental assumptions about hand-to-hand combat were so very different from Kelten military style that it was hard to manage even solo bouts.

  Sandun spent a few days trying to learn about Gipu. He learned that Gipu was one of three trading cities that existed in the Tirala Mountains, roughly on a north–south line. The trading cities survived because merchants in caravans routinely traveled from Serica to the trade cities and onward, both north and south and even southwest to a city of the “little people” known as the Orenik. In addition to goods that they created and sold to the merchants, the people of Gipu found gold in mountain streams, and copper was mined in the hills around the city.

  Regarding the history of Gipu, Sandun learned little, as both Ashala and Gushi would turn most questions about the city into a diatribe about how one clan or another had been working to subvert the efforts of “the good people.” Sandun wondered if the town’s history was really nothing more than internecine rivalries between different families. It seemed so, and lacking any interest in how clan Ordoke had outmaneuvered clan Gokoet thirty years ago, Sandun gave up.

  Instead, Sandun shifted his efforts to a more pressing matter: namely, what was happening in Serica. Here also he was disappointed with the fragmentary knowledge possessed by both Ashala and her father. This much was known: eighty-five years ago, a fierce tribe of “warriors from the north” called the Kitran defeated the last King of Serica. Their leader was called Tolu Tem, and after his conquest of Serica, he was called Emperor Tolu of the Kitran Empire.

  “All cities acknowledged Emperor Tolu,” Ashala told Sandun. “Fantu’veri, Hotan, even Gipu paid him great treasure to end siege and destruction. After Tolu’s death, sixty or seventy years past, life in Serica has turned from bad to very bad. Floods, famines, and plagues. Happily, Gipu left alone. Stopped paying tribute and ignored.” She smiled at him.

  “And what about now, in Serica?” Sandun asked.

  Ashala stood up. They were in one of the unoccupied rooms on the third floor, which they had started using as a school room. She stretched her arms up and spun around in a circle. She looked over at him, a sly smile on her face.

  “Do not know,” she said. “Very confusing. Merchants from north province Zelkat say ‘fighting and revolution.’ Merchants from central province of Kunhalvar say, ‘peaceful and good weather.’ Then other merchants from southern province of Vasvar tell stories about many kings in Serica appear like lightning and Kitran soldiers all gone. If Kitran gone, is good, yes? Back to old days of peace, maybe?”

  Sandun nodded. Sir Ako and Basil agreed that the Kitran must be one of the Sogand tribes. That the Sogands were divided internally into great tribes the size of nations was well known in the Archipelago. The Keltens didn’t care what their names were, as it was believed that they were all equally followers of the Black Terror and thus accursed.

  The next day, Sandun and Ashala went to visit her father, who lived just a few streets west of the guest house. Gushi had a bit more knowledge to add. He unrolled his map of Serica and pointed out locations.

  “Zelkat, under the control of the Red Swords. They had a king; he died fighting the Kitran, but his young son still rules.” Gushi tapped the paper with his finger and then shrugged his shoulders. “So we hear.”

  He pointed at the center of the map. “Kunhalvar, perhaps under control of Red Swords. Unclear. Not ruled by king but a governor, called the Lord of Tokolas.”

  Then Gushi pointed to the province with the large lake beside a river, closer to the bottom of the map. “Vasvar: ruled by a king for several years. Claims allegiance with Red Sword of Zelkat, but merchants tell us those words are empty.”

  Gushi sat back down in his chair. Ashala came over and put her hands on his shoulders. He smiled at her and then looked at Sandun. “Of the other provinces, we know little. Buuk? Kisvar?” He shook his head. “Only Dombovar, the last province of Serica to resist the Kitran, that is controlled by the Iron King. Five or six years now, he has ruled. But Dombovar is three thousand tik from Gipu. Not as far as Kelten, but a long journey.”

  Sandun, Sir Ako, Basil, and Kagne all met in the evening to discuss the news.

  “King Pandion directed you to meet with the king of Serica,” Sir Ako stated. “Yet there seems to be no king of Serica, or maybe there are ten petty kings like the thirty princes of Melnehlan. I know
not how to proceed.”

  “At least the Sogands or the Kitran no longer appear to rule,” Sandun replied. “That would be terrible news to have to bring back to King Pandion.”

  “By the Spear, our journey would end here if that were so.” Sir Ako spoke the plain truth. The Sogands traded with no nation of the Archipelago. Merchants who tried to cross their lands were brutally murdered, their goods stolen. The temple held that trade with the Sogands was proscribed.

  “Melnehlan has a king, as I recall,” Basil said slowly. “The princes are powerful, yes, but the king is more than a figurehead. Perhaps one ruler is more significant than the rest? Wouldn’t the man who rules the last province of Serica be the most important?”

  “We are here to trade,” Kagne stated. “Does it matter who we trade with? If we can exchange glowing orbs for Serica-glass and return home, I count that as a success. What really matters is finding a ruler who respects traders, one who deals honestly. If there is no single king, doesn’t that give us the freedom to choose?”

  One day, when Ashala was out with her younger sister, Mashia, Sandun came to visit Gushi. He was sitting in a leather chair in his study, which was lined with old books and papers faded with the passage of years. Sandun thought he recognized one ancient book at the top of a shelf, covered in a thick layer of dust. At a wave from Gushi, Sandun took it down. It was handwritten by scribes in Pella, a now-obscure work covering the life story of Sister Demostheia, the successor to Saint Pellar in Akia. The vellum pages were cracked, and the book was four hundred years old if it was a day.

  Feeling a bit embarrassed, Sandun asked Gushi about the young women who had attached themselves to the men of the expedition. He didn’t mention Ashala by name.