She said, “Ah, yes. You are very clever. I had not considered that. Have you now heard all you need to hear?”
I said, “No, not quite.” Then I asked, “Are all the ships within the fleet as large as this one?”
She said, a little impatiently, it seemed to me, “Some are as large, others are a little smaller, still others are a great deal larger.”
“And what is your mission?” I said.
She said, “To spearhead the raids along the coast of America, and to destroy those cities which are within the realm of the emperor, for the Ucher Tad has heard this wicked emperor is an eater of goat flesh.”
I was alarmed to hear of this plan, for the emperor had shown me nothing but kindness. I resolved on the spot to do all I could to avert this attack, and I realized I might do so by means of issuing false orders.
“Good, good,” I said. “I am now completely satisfied you are indeed who you claim, which is to say, the noble and fearsome Captain Da Qua Yansh. I will now deliver to you my message, which comes directly from the person of Ucher Tad.”
But before I could give my orders, she interrupted me. “First,” she said, “perhaps you should allow me to ask a few questions of you, again, just to determine that you, too, are who you say, for it strikes me now you do not look like a Tulvuki, and your ship’s design is strange.”
Now, I will confess I was afraid at these words, especially since the captain then waved her hands and called myrmidons to surround me with spears. Still, I was determined I should not let my fear show, and it was well I made this decision, for her next words to the myrmidons were: “I will ask him questions. If he shows fear, or hesitates with his replies, then run him through instantly.”
Then she said to me, “How many toldics decorate the Ucher’s mask?”
I laughed carelessly, and said, “The question is preposterous!”
She said, “Why is it preposterous, good Yreth?” Then she leaned forward, with some unusual interest, it seemed to me.
I thought to myself, “Ah, there is a trick to the question, and while I do not know what a toldic might be, I will warrant there are either none of them on the Ucher’s mask, or that the Ucher does not wear a mask.”
So I took a chance then, and said, “There are no toldics on the Ucher’s mask, and I pray there never will be!”
She gave a great smile at this, and all the men and women around her cheered, saying, “Well said! The Ucher will never be reduced to wearing toldics.”
Then one of the men, a young fellow with blue eyes, said, “Let me ask a question, captain. I have a good one.”
She gave her assent, and he turned to me, saying, “Do you enjoy eating the flesh of the cow during the moon’s half phases?”
Well, from the way he asked the question, it was so obviously a trick I did not even take any time to think about it, but instead pretended to grow angry, saying, “How dare you accuse me of such a vile act! The Ucher will certainly hear of this!”
He looked scared then, and said, “But it was merely a question to test you.”
Then I said, “It seems to me anyone who would ask such a question must have thought about committing the act himself. There can be no other explanation for thinking upon such depravity.”
“I would never do such things!” he said.
But the captain said, “Are you sure, Tin Mik? I find Yreth’s argument compelling. I will be watching your behaviour carefully from now on.”
Then another man asked me a question. He narrowed his eyes and said, “What shade of red may a warship be painted?”
I suspected yet another trick question, and so I said, “No shade of red. A warship should never be painted red.”
Once again, my answer pleased them.
Then one of the women said, “What building lies in the centre of Pior’s Lake?”
But all the others objected to this question, saying, “No no, it is too easy. All the world knows the great Mathematical Dome lies in the centre of Pior’s Lake. Ask him something harder. Try to trick him.”
The woman retracted her question, and instead asked me how many times deer had been seen in the Forests of Lid. I replied that deer had never been seen there, for the Forests of Lid contained no deer. They laughed then, saying “Of course! How could they? The deer would drown in Old Lid’s watery kingdom.”
Their interrogation continued in this way for some time. They asked question after question, each trying to outdo the other in the sophistication of their trickery. However, because I knew each question was a trick question, I had merely to discover the nature of the trick in order to deduce the correct answer. This was fortunate for me: if they had asked me an ordinary question, like the one about Pior’s Lake, or even a question like “What is the name of the country we come from?” I would certainly have been exposed.
Finally they were satisfied I was who I claimed, and the captain apologized to me for the rigour of the test.
“We had to be certain,” she said, “for there is much about your appearance that is unusual.”
“It enables me to blend easily with others in these parts,” I said.
“I can see that,” the Captain replied. “But on to our business. Do you prefer to give me the Ucher’s order here and now, or would you rather rest for a few hours and tell me over dinner.”
I said, “That depends on the dinner. What do you plan to have served?”
She replied, “In your honour, we will serve fine spadge, naturally.”
Then I said, “How do you prepare your spadge?” I wanted to find out what sort of food it was, you see.
Her reply was not helpful, though. She said, “Oh, in the normal way.”
So I said, “No, I mean, in what order are the ingredients added?”
“Ah, an excellent question!” she said. Then she called for the slave who supervised the cooking. When he arrived, she said, “Tell this man in what order the ingredients are added to the spadge.”
The slave said, “First goes the brine, with the seaweed in it. When this is heated, I add the black beans, then the yellow beans. The fire onions are thrown in next, and the mixture is stirred until it forms a thick paste. Only then do I add the cabbage leaves, cloves and scraps of bone marrow.”
Then the captain said, “Although he is but a slave, he is a master of the spadge.”
Well, whether he was a master or no, the concoction did not sound tasty to my ear, so I told the captain I had remembered other urgent tasks I needed to perform aboard my own ship, so I would not be able to attend the dinner.
Then the captain asked me for the new orders I had brought.
I said, “Here are your orders. In the first place, you must not attack the coast of America.”
She said, “That is strange, for we were given very specific orders, even down to the ports we should attack. But perhaps this was merely a ruse on the Ucher’s part, in order to foil spies.”
I said, “The Ucher is ever mysterious, and spies may be anywhere, therefore your speculation seems to have merit.”
The captain said, “But if we are not to journey to the coast of America, where are we to go?”
I said, “Go west.”
“To what land?”
I thought for a moment and remembered a story I had once heard about the foul and crude people of Poagh. They live upon a rocky island and sew their clothes from sackcloth. They are in the habit of drinking too much strong wine, and when they do, they shout loud insults at each other and sing disagreeable songs.
Perhaps the people of Poagh did not deserve to be slaughtered for the sake of these habits, but neither, as it seemed to me, did the kind folk of America, and if it was a choice between one or the other—as it clearly was—the people of Poagh were obviously less worthy to survive. So, faced with two violent and disagreeable options, I did what I had to do, and what
any reasonable person would have done, and picked the one less disagreeable to me.
I said to the captain, “Find the island of Poagh and lay waste to its towns and villages.”
The captain said, “With rockets or with myrmidons?”
I said, “First unleash all your rockets upon their towns, then send in the myrmidons to kill all the inhabitants.”
She nodded and said she would do as I had asked.
Then I said, “Do you have some way of contacting the other ships in the fleet?”
She said, “Certainly. We have trained certain large seabirds to search out our ships. By means of these birds, which we carry aboard in cages, we can send messages to the main body of the fleet. Do you wish me to relay the Ucher’s message to them?”
I said, “Yes. Send the message. Let all the ships in the fleet unleash their fury upon the wicked inhabitants of Poagh. I, for my part, will return to my ship and travel on ahead of you.”
I returned to my ship and we sailed off. Even though my ship was heavily laden with treasure, it was faster than the great warships, and, by late the next day, they were no longer visible behind us.
I was very satisfied with the work I had done, and I knew in sparing the cities of America from the enemy fleet, I had handsomely repaid all the kindness the emperor had given to me over the years. What I did not yet realize, though, was that my actions would also bring salvation to our own dear land of Cyprus in its time of need. You will hear how a little later, but remember this story!
We continued to sail west for a month or so, plying our way across the Pacific Ocean. I had made sure I had plenty of water and food for the journey, along with a number of interesting books, not to mention the excellent company of Bitian Teppel, whose skills in philosophy and reasoning were almost as keen as my own.
There were dangers, of course. Several times the weather turned foul, and on one occasion the wind lifted the waves up like mountains, and they towered three times higher than my ship’s masts. Oh, we were cruelly tossed! Although I am normally of a sturdy constitution, and not prone to seasickness, I became very seasick then, I will tell you, and things went even worse for Bitian Teppel, who was not used to the sea and would become sick even when things were only a little choppy. Still I was not afraid when these great storms lashed at us, and I prayed hard to God despite my sickness. Sure enough, within a day or so the storms had gone and my sickness with it.
On another occasion, a number of large whales appeared near the ship and swam alongside us for a time. I saw the cruel eyes of these monstrous fish and knew they had only one purpose: to sink my ship and eat its crew. Still, they did not attack us immediately, for I rather fancy they sensed something unusual about this ship, and they said to each other, “I feel within my brutish heart there is one aboard this vessel who is protected by God.”
I went out onto the deck then and waved to the whales with both arms, shouting, “Begone, you murderous fish!” Then I said to them, “I am Yreth, and I swear by God that any injury you visit on me will be visited upon you tenfold.”
Well, the fish thought on my words for a time and, I am sure, discussed it among themselves. At length, they seemed to decide it was not worth the risk to attack me, and they turned away to seek some other victim, which proves that, on occasion, a fish can be more intelligent than a man, for I had given a similar warning to the courtier Lambic Staid, but he had ignored it and suffered the consequences.
Eventually we sighted land. It did not seem we had been travelling very long, so I thought this was just some island in the middle of the ocean, but, as it turned out, it was the land of Sira Tereen, close to the Western Extremity. I had heard of this place, and, because I am of an inquisitive nature, we put in there for a time, at a port called Iacho, so I might see what kind of folk lived there.
I will tell you about this, because it well illustrates the dangers of travelling to far lands, dangers which derive, very often, not from savage animals, but from the curious customs found in various parts of the world.
I knew Sira Tereen was a land with strange ways, so I decided to go about the town with some care. I did not dock the ship where its cargo might easily be seized, but instead anchored it out in the bay and lowered the rowing boat from the deck.
Bitian Teppel wanted to come with me, but I had qualms about this, for he was not so resourceful as I, so I said, “No, stay here for the present. If all is safe, I will return for you.”
He said, “Will you take myrmidons?”
I said, “No, for then I will appear like a warrior, and this may provoke an attack. Instead, I will go as a merchant, for all the world loves merchants.” Then I put on a merchant’s robes, and took a large bag, as if I had wares to sell. I also carried a solid staff, for this is a good weapon, but it does not look so threatening as a sword or a spear.
I rowed to the dock, climbed up from my boat, and walked into the town. I looked around for some person whom I might befriend and employ as my guide to this place. When I approach strangers in foreign parts, I have learned always to proceed with the utmost caution. I do not approach those with scars or wild hair, for these features indicate a quarrelsome disposition. Neither do I speak with those who snarl or curse or bang hirdy stones upon the walls, for these are the traits of assassins and thieves. Rather, I look for a person of light build, well dressed, and with a small mouth tilted slightly upwards at the edges. I always seek out a man rather than a woman since, unfortunately, my own attractive appearance makes women weak in the hips and incapable of giving useful advice.
After a few minutes of casual searching, I spotted a fellow who met my standards. He was standing by a merchant’s stall, sharing a dish of creamed bacon with his two children. I nodded to him, then addressed him, saying, “The weather, you will note, is not in an extreme state today.”
I had carefully chosen this remark for its four merits: it was unlikely to give offence; it was undeniably true; it was interesting in itself; and it demonstrated what Vanseefe calls “a delight in the moderate,” which shows a refined nature.
Well, the fellow agreed the weather was very much as I had described it, and, since there was little more to discuss on that topic, I moved on to greater ones. I explained I had travelled to his island from across the ocean. He said he had seen my ship in the bay and assumed something of the sort.
I was about to tell him more when I noticed a small dog sniffing near his children. Without considering the matter, I kicked the dog away, so it might not bite them. Instead of showing gratitude, though, the man became ferocious. He shouted, “What? You would kick a dog!”
I said to him, “These are my boots, and I kick them where I will.”
He pushed at me then, and I pushed him back. Then he struck at my face with his hand and waited for my response.
I knew I must be careful then, for if I struck at his face in return, he would likely strike me again, upon the body, whereupon I would strike him upon the body. Then he might kick at me, and I would kick back. And where would this lead? Before I knew it, we would both have drawn weapons, and we would be fighting like a couple of bandits. And yet I had not come to this place to begin a fight, and now that a fight seemed to be starting I wished only to end it quickly. Therefore, I lifted up my staff and brought it suddenly down upon the ingrate’s head, to his great alarm and instant stupefaction. The fight was efficiently finished, with my adversary flat upon the ground.
There were people watching, and many gasped to see my skill. But one argumentative old man pushed forward and shook his finger in my face.
“How dare you commit such an outrage!” he said.
I said, firmly, but without anger, “The outrage was committed against me. The matter is now settled.”
He said, “Not so! Not by any means! A man lies insensible. Stand where you are, while the impositors are summoned.” Then he waved to a boy to fetch these impositors
of his.
I said, “Peh! Do you think I will remain here at your whim? It is clear you are either demented or the worse for drink. Begone.”
I made to leave, but old Grandfather would see and hear no reason. He pulled out a spillot, which is a weapon like a flat-sword but with a spoonlike tip, and thrust it towards me. I brushed it away with my arm, but he brought the blade around and swung hard at me, and I had to move swiftly to avoid the blow.
I could see this dotard meant to kill me, so I fought back with a will, parrying his blows with my staff and taking a few swings of my own. We fought only a minute or so, and finally, having knocked the spillot from his grasp, I took his legs under my arms, spun him around, and swung his head against a wall, which, alas, brought about the death of the old fellow.
You might think the business would have ended there, but this was a violent land, and no sooner had I picked up my staff than four young men came running, their leader blowing upon a whistle, and all of them clutching swords. Well, I was in a foul mood now, so I stepped forward to give them my warrior’s handshake. I brought my staff down sidelong into the leader’s face, which brought a quick end to his annoying whistle-blowing, then I pulled my silver throwing-razor from my right boot and stabbed him with it. It was a perfectly placed blow and struck him directly in the heart, so he fell instantly dead. I made a run for it then, with the other youths chasing after me.
One of the three was a swift runner, and as I ran back to the dock, he grabbed at my legs, sending us both to the ground. I turned on him with a vengeance, though, and gave him some good deep cuts with my weapon, until his pain from the injuries became a matter more pressing to him than the seizing of poor Yreth.
By this time, the other two youths were almost upon me. I scrambled for the long ladder which led down to the boat but instantly realized that, if I were so foolish as to climb down, the youths would catch me as I climbed, and swing their swords down upon me. I did not dare jump into the boat, either, for the dock was high up from the water, and I would certainly have capsized the boat, or broken the timbers in its belly.
The Ultimate Stonemage: A Modest Autobiography Page 31