A Dirge for Sabis

by C. J. Cherryh

  "Sulun, my beloved philosopher." His voice was perfectly calm and level. "You have less than a year, perhaps only half that, to bring me a reliable bombard and the skills to make more. After that, nothing will matter. Nothing."

  Sulun shivered, and felt obliged to whisper. "Why?"

  "Because I've read the latest reports from the frontier patrol officers. Because I know what they foretell, even if the emperor himself can't. Because I've seen this happen before, and before, and before—"

  "What?" Sulun snapped, hoping to the gods that Zeren was only drunk.

  "Another fall." Zeren fixed him with perfectly sober eyes. "What remains of Jarrya is being overrun. Within less than a moonspan, the Ancar will be at Sabis's northern borders. With what army and supplies Sabis has now, we can last no longer than a year."

  "A year?" Sulun set his cup down on the table, very slowly, as if it were made of thin glass instead of good, sturdy bronze. He knew Zeren—his skill and wit and knowledge—too well to doubt this. The unbelievable could happen. Sabis could be invaded. The queen of cities could burn. He must make himself think about this, try to understand it, believe it.

  "No more than a year," Zeren repeated. "Unless the gods open the sky and grant us a miracle. Or unless you give us a weapon that can stop an uncountable invading horde. The bombard. Do you understand?"

  "Gods!" Sulun gripped a double handful of his wiry hair and tugged hard enough to hurt. "How? How, when I have to sneak every copper piece past this wretched miser? Tell me how!"

  "Steal," said Zeren. "Cheat. Intrigue. Find another patron in secret. I wish to all the heavens and hells that I could do it for you, but none of the nobles, not even the City Guard Commander, will listen to me. Be as ruthless as you must, Sulun, for worse is coming. Worse than you or I or even Entori could ever be. I know. I've seen it. So many times over—"

  "Gods, I must . . ." Sulun scrambled away from the table. "Must go back, before I'm missed. I'll find a way. Less than a year, perhaps only half . . . Gods!" He hurried to the door, too distracted for proper farewells, mumbling to himself about sulfur and saltpeter.

  Zeren watched him go, then turned to study his almost empty winecup. "Vozai, my patron god," he murmured. "Why are wise men enslaved to fools? Why do the fates of a hundred thousand innocents rest upon one wretched servant? Why do you play such insane games with us?"

  The cup didn't answer.

  Zeren sighed, and drained it.

  * * *

  "Not enough." Omis sighed, peering again at the figures on the wax tablet. "I can get the iron, tomorrow maybe, but this just isn't enough for the flux and the firepowder ingredients."

  "I know, I know," Sulun groaned, tugging absently at his hair. "And before you ask: no, there's no point asking Master Entori to take on the Bombard Project openly. I've tried hinting delicately, tried asking the other servants for advice, and no luck to it anywhere. He's a little man with big fears and big resentments; he hired us to do one project for him, and he won't take risks on anything else. No money for anything more, not until he sees some profits on the engine."

  "We could always make haste slowly. I won't have the new iron for a few days anyway. We could put off getting the flux until next moon, then—"

  "No, no time!" Sulun ran his gaze around the room as if looking for omens in the cracked plaster. "The bombard can't wait. We must start it as soon as possible. There must be more money, some way—"

  "I know of one." Vari leaned over to trim the oil lamp, almost catching her long untied braids in the guttering flame. "The -Mistress."

  "Eloti?" Sulun sat up, pulling back his ragged sleeves. "How could she help? And why?"

  Vari peered out the door, making certain they weren't overheard, before answering. "I've heard she has some money of her own, often funds quiet little projects of her own, without Entori's knowledge. It's a legend among the servants. The difficulty lies in persuading her, and it's said to be worth one's neck to try and fail."

  "Worth all our necks anyway," Sulun muttered. Then aloud: "How do I approach her?"

  "She takes evening promenades alone in the courtyard, every night. But, Sulun—"

  "Every night? Would she be there now?"

  "Why, yes. But Sulun, why the haste? This is dangerous!"

  "Everything is dangerous now." Sulun stood up, straightened his robe, and made a quick study of his appearance in the mirror. "Third courtyard, you said?"

  "Yes." Vari stepped back, watching him. "But are you so sure you can persuade her?"

  "Of course." Sulun marched determinedly to the door, and out, and off down the corridor.

  Behind him, Omis and Vari stared at each other in dismay.

  "What," Omis asked feebly, "has got into the man? Does he realize what he's risking?"

  "Something's frightened him," Vari concluded, "Frightened him too much to reveal it to us. And that, love, frightens me."

  * * *

  The third courtyard was small and swept clean, containing only a small central fountain and narrow rows of herb beds, circled with a cobbled path. In the lights of the sickle moon the surrounding walls and path and fountain shone dull white, the herb beds and pooled water and shadows dead-black. Eloti in her dark dress was likewise a sketch in faint white and black, passing almost automatically around and around the pool, eyes distant and expression blank.

  She could almost be a sleepwalker, Sulun considered, watching from an archway. Best to approach with dignified slowness, let her see him as soon as possible, give her time to travel back from her unguessed mental distance. He waited until her round brought her almost facing him, then stepped out into the open air.

  She saw, and stopped, and awaited his approach with no change of expression.

  Courage, Sulun reminded himself. "Lady," he began quietly, "may I walk with you?"

  "Why do you disturb my evening walk?" she asked calmly, the faintest ghost of a frown creasing the inner edge of one eyebrow.

  "I mean no disturbance, Lady Entori. I've come to bring an urgent warning to your ears alone."

  "Walk with me, then." The ghost-frown vanished. Eloti resumed her stately pace about the fountain, allowing Sulun to match her stride. "What warning, sir?"

  Sulun drew a deep breath. "Within five days, Lady, news will come that the north riverlands have fallen to the barbarians. Sabis will be shaken to its rooftops, trade will be shaken also, and I have no doubt that many of the wealthier families will begin fleeing south across the straits."

  Eloti did not so much as slow her steps. "So? And is there any more?"

  "Indeed there is." Sulun marveled at her composure. "The Ancar will sweep down the river valley and take Sabis within the year, unless some great change comes to halt them."

  Eloti flicked her vision toward the sky, then back to her path. "You are telling me only that the sun will rise tomorrow," she said, "and set, also."

  "And set indeed," Sulun murmured, watching her. "Do you care nothing for these things? Would you wish to live in a city while it is sacked by the Ancar?"

  Eloti paced on, implacable. "When life becomes insupportable, there is always the quick knife, the quiet poison." An ironic smile touched her lips, ever so faintly. "We all die. What changes?"

  "Lady, given the chance, I could change this!"

  Eloti stopped in midstep. "You?" A slight but distinct tone of interest tinged her voice.

  "Yes, I could," Sulun gulped. "I know the means to make a weapon that could defeat the Ancar. Given the equipment to make it, the space to test it, I and my friends could make this weapon within . . . um, one moon's time. My Lord your brother, unfortunately, won't hear of this. He wants his ship engines, and will spare no coppers for anything else."

  "Ah, so you come to me." Eloti resumed her pacing, a definite smile on her face now. "You want money."

  "Yes, Lady," Sulun answered, unashamed. "Enough to pay the rent on our workshop by the river. Enough to buy the flux for Omis's iron. Enough to purchase the saltpeter, sulfur, and cha
rcoal for the powder. Enough for the leather canisters of shot. Not cheap, Lady, I admit—but less costly than the quick knife or the quiet poison, I daresay."

  Eloti actually laughed, a low and quiet sound. "You intrigue me, sir, I admit. Yet I've seen that you're honest enough."

  "I've no time for anything less, not knowing what I know. I've no wish to endure the fall of the city."

  "Nor I, actually." She glanced once at the silver moon. "I've wagered before, the gods know, and for poorer stakes. I shall give you my answer tomorrow."

  "Thank you, Lady."

  "You may g—Htcha!" she sneezed.

  Sulun, already backing away, suddenly remembered where he'd heard that exact sneeze before. He turned and hurried off through the archway, mind rolling with possibilities.

  * * *

  In the morning, after a mercifully brief report of purchases to the master of the house, Sulun chivvied his crew to work with a ferocity that was rare for him. They assembled a small procession of carts and went down to the smeltery to fetch Omis's iron and Sulun's brass, headed home by the emptiest road, and managed to get the whole shipment into the courtyard by lunchtime. Vari was waiting for them there, holding something wrapped in a napkin, looking thoughtful.

  "Here." She handed Sulun the bundle. "Mistress came up to me while I was at the scrubbing, handed this to me as quiet as you please, says to bring it to you quietly, and adds that she'll want an accounting later. I haven't dared look. Sulun, what have you gone and done?"

  Sulun said nothing until he'd unwrapped the napkin, opened the small drawstring bag he found there, and looked inside. Sunlight caught on the edges of wide gold coins. He stared blankly for a moment, then pulled the bag shut and stuffed it quickly into his robe.

  "I've managed to persuade the Mistress," he said, feeling the smile stretch across his face. "How soon can we have those carts ready to go again?"

  "An hour! An hour!" Doshi wailed. "Let the poor beasts have their meal—and us, too."

  "An hour, then," Sulun agreed, "But no more."

  The afternoon passed in purchases of odd minerals and tallows and odd cuts of leather, plus a side trip by Arizun and Yanados to pay the rent on the riverside shop. On all but the latter, Sulun dickered fast and furiously, and kept careful track of the money spent. Not so much as a copper piece went to anything outside the Bombard Project, though Sulun did yield to pressure from Arizun and Doshi and bought some cut-rate sheets of parchment for diagrams. They came dragging the carts home barely in time to unload, no time to wash and dress before supper. They looked a tired and well-worked group at the table, and more than once Sulun caught Mistress Eloti giving him and his crew appraising looks. She must guess, he considered, that they were giving her full value for her money.

  After-dinner conversation at the servants' table was unduly full of comments on their industry and devotion to their tasks. Aobi went so far as to growl at them: "Don't work so blazing hard, you lads; you'll make us all look lazy, and the old goat will take it out of our hides."

  "It'll go slow after this," Omis predicted, thinking of the days of forging and hammering ahead of him.

  "Entirely too slow," Sulun muttered, imaging the gods' hourglass hanging, invisible, over Sabis.

  Vari and the apprentices exchanged worried glances, and excused themselves early from the party.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "Enough of that." Entori cut off Sulun's droning report of items bought and progress made, shuffled through a teetering pile of waxed tablets, pulled one out, and shoved it across the desk. "The fifty-tonner Yanira sits at fourth dock south, unloading this morning. Here are the directions." He handed over a scrap of folded and sealed parchment as well. "Here is my note to the captain. Take as many of your . . . scholars as you need, and go make your measurements."

  "I beg pardon?" Sulun fumbled, caught off balance by the change of subject.

  "The ship you wanted," Entori snapped, impatient. "Go measure it for your engine. Its docked and idle for the day."

  "Oh. Yes, of course. Today."

  "You have until evening, when she'll be loading again. I trust the time will be sufficient."

  "Er, yes, Master. It should be." Sulun ran his eyes once more over the wall behind Entori, wondering where the spy hole was and if it was occupied.

  "Then go to it, and don't waste time. Next!" Entori rang the small bell on his desk and turned his attention back to his pile of parchments.

  Sulun backed away, bowed, turned, and went out, almost colliding with the three house guards on their way in. He hurried back to the workshop-courtyard, wondering when, if ever, he'd have time to explore the house thoroughly and discover just where the spy hole was hidden. Not that it really mattered; the lady was his ally, for the moment at least.

  Omis already had the forge lit and working, with Doshi pumping the bellows and Ziya shovelling in the woods. "Gods!" he wailed at the news. "I can't go now! I'm about to start the first heat, and the forge is nearly ready."

  "And no doubt you'll need Doshi and Ziya," Sulun added. "Don't trouble yourself, then. I'll take the others. Where are they?"

  "Back courtyard, hitching up the donkey cart. They've already heard the news."

  "What? How?"

  "By being earlier in the morning line than you, lay-a-bed." Omis grinned without looking up. "Ziya, hand me that first iron billet."

  Sulun shook his head, and went off to fetch his measuring tapes.

  * * *

  A sea gull creaked and wheeled overhead, throwing its shadow across the deck. Sulun eyed it warily; he'd been splattered once already by the pesky birds, much to the amusement of the two sailors idly guarding the ship.

  "Twenty cubits, two spans," Arizun duly reported from the other end of the tape.

  Sulun scribbled the figures on his tablet, and took his foot off the near end of the tape. "Roll it up," he said, searching down the column of notes to see if any were left unfilled. None were. "I believe we've finished."

  Arizun and Yanados gave sparse cheers and began stuffing the tapes and instruments back into their basket. Sulun stuffed the tablet in his bag beside the others, tried once more to pinch the pervasive stink of tar and rotting fish out of his nose, and headed gratefully for the gangplank. The others caught up to him at the donkey cart.

  "It isn't going to work," Yanados whispered in his ear.

  Sulun started to turn, then caught himself. The sailors, or anyone, might be watching. "Why not?" he asked, just as quietly.

  "Look at the whole length of the ship. Look at the length of the boom and the sweep of the tiller. How much space lies between them?"

  Sulun looked, for the first time that day seeing the little ship as a complete unit. A good, low, wide design, he thought: sleek enough for speed, but stable in the water. A well-set long boom, and the tiller's sweep—"Oh." He saw it. "Maybe five cubits," he said, sighing. "No room for the engine. Very well, the sweep and boom will have to be shortened." But how many cubits? He measured it with his eyes, trying to guess at the right size for the engine.

  "Another problem." Yanados pulled out a tablet of her own, showing the basic sketch of the ship mounted with its two side-set paddle wheels. "Were you planning to run the axle straight across the deck?"

  Sulun was about to say, "Of course, and why not?" but stopped, reconsidering.

  "Yes," Yanados caught the unspoken words. "How would the sailors get past it?"

  "So be it!" Sulun flapped his hands in resignation. "The axle and engine should be mounted under the top deck, on that second level, the . . . uh . . ."

  "Captains quarters, crew's quarters, and ship's stores?"

  Sulun tugged at his hair, briefly wondering if he saw a few grey threads in it. "It shouldn't take that much room. Hmm, put the supply room behind it, under that last hatchway. A bit inconvenient, but workable."

  "True. Now we come to a tougher nut to crack. Sulun, once the engine begins spinning, how can it be stopped quickly? Or made to run backward?"

/>   "Why . . . It can't."

  Yanados rolled her eyes skyward. "Then we must devise a way to disengage the engine from the paddle wheels, even turn it around and reengage, and that, speedily. Otherwise, once started, the ship can neither stop nor maneuver."

  "Oh." Sulun gave her a sidewise glance. "Forgive me, but I don't believe I've ever so much as set foot on a ship before."

  Yanados shrugged and looked away.

  Arizun, who'd been impatiently holding the donkey's bridle, asked if they intended to stand there until dinnertime. The other two turned and climbed into the cart quickly, without speaking. Arizun scrambled up beside them, took the reins and fly whip, and chivvied the donkey into a slow but steady walk home.

  The other two didn't speak for most of the ride, and Arizun, guessing that something was wrong, didn't prod them for conversation. Halfway past the market, though, Sulun drew out his last unmarked tablet and began sketching a new design.

  * * *

  "This isn't what you showed me before." Entori frowned across his table in the dim light. "What are all these complications?"

  And how much will they cost? Sulun finished for him. "What I showed you earlier, Master, was a simple illustration of how the engine works. This is the full and complete version, designed to fit the needs of the ship. The finished version is always more complicated than the basic model, just as a painted portrait is more complex than the original sketch. Once we've completed a working model, we can demonstrate for you—"

  "Designs! Models!" Entori shouted, his face turning purple. "Do you think I'm a fool to be misled by toys? Waste no more of my money on such playing! Make the engine for the ship, and that right quickly! Do you hear me, servant?"

  Sulun only gaped at him.

  "Do you hear me?" Entori bellowed.

  "Er, of course, Master." It was the only safe thing Sulun could think to say.

  "Then get out of my sight, and do it!" Entori lifted the bell's striker as if he might use it on Sulun's head.

  Sulun bowed quickly, turned, and fled.

  A faint sniff sounded behind the wall, but Entori, grumbling and shuffling parchment sheets, didn't hear it.