by Andre Norton
“Kolder?” Lord Simon interrupted.
“If Kolder, then unlike their other ships such as we have representatives of,” replied the port officer. He thumped the rolls he had been consulting and Koris drew the nearest from under his fingers, pulling it out to its full extent.
Though to my view it was upside down I could see the drawing very boldly painted there and recognized it from cruder pictures I had seen copied among the charts of Sulcar seamen. This ovoid form which seemed to be entirely without any Superstructure, more like a queerly shaped bladder, blown and sealed, had traveled under water, as ready as any native killer of the sea to lurk below the surface in its hunt for victims.
The same servants who had cleared the table so deftly at command returned with trays bearing plates and goblets and these were shared out among us. I had not realized that hunger had made a hollow within me until I looked at the bread and cheese, the pannikin of well-baked fish pudding on the plate I balanced on my knees. We ate and drank in haste as ones who are at siege and must speedily return to their posts. Yet it was tasty and I licked the spoon from which I had eaten the pudding. The crumbs left on my plate were very few indeed.
I nursed my goblet after taking only a sip: This was the wine of sea port, potent stuff, and perhaps befuddling to one not used to it. Nor did the Lady Loyse drink deeply, though like me she cleaned her plate.
“This Captain Harwic, what story does he have for us?” asked Koris.
“He has been sent for, my lords. You may listen and judge for yourselves what unknown thing has been brought to mystify us.” The port Officer had never ceased to frown since we had entered and I believed that he indeed considered that Es Bay might well be threatened by what was now at anchor in it.
“This he brought to me—” The officer now pushed something across the table into the fuller light of the lanterns which now shown clearly, for it would seem that this defense tower was not equipped with those ever-burning moonlike lights which studded walls of most of the old part of Es City. “This,” he, repeated, and pulled back his hand more quickly as if he found even the touch of the thing in some way dangerous.
It looked to be a box, but inset in the lid was a round disc of glass—fully transparent—and below that was a dial which bore strange markings. There was a needle suspended so it trembled over that dial, and it swung easily as Lord Simon took up the find. I saw his face become set and he beat a tattoo on the side of the box as if striving to move that arrow. Though it quivered, it did not shift.
His lips formed words which he did not share with us and he arose so suddenly from his seat that his goblet overturned and the dark river of wine would have smeared over the edge of the parchments had not the officer snatched them away.
“This was found on board the ship?” There was an incredulous note in Lord Simon's voice.
“So Captain Harwic said.”
We were all staring for it was plain that the box had delivered some shock and it must have been a mighty one to so affect this man noted for his many forays against the Kolder and the ancient evils of Escore. For shaken he plainly was.
He put the box down with care, almost as if he had held something which might spout fire, as had the mountain from the sea in my farseeing. If he were going to explain what he found so overpowering he did not have time before, another Sulcar wearing both a mail shirt and the winged helm of a ship's captain came in, pausing by the door until the port officer waved him forward.
“This is Captain Harwic,” the port officer named him.
He was older than Sigmun. I had heard of him, that he was one of those born with a very restless spirit, to whom the finding of new sea paths was more needful than the trading with any people he might encounter on unknown shores. Yet that he could do also, as stories of his unusual cargoes were well known, encouraging others to try for such. He was what was known to his fellows as a “lucky captain'’ and those who berthed on his ship were envied.
Now he sketched a salute as his eyes swept from one to another of our company. I believe that they mirrored that chill which I expected from, his people when they touched me.
“You have brought in a ship.’’ Lord Simon stood with his fingertips just touching the box which had amazed him so, as if to make sure that it really lay there before him. “One,” he continued, “which is a craft strange to you.”
“Very strange, my lord. And I have been north to the Islands of Ever Ice and south past any chart we know,”
Lord Koris looked up to him. “Kolder?”
For an instant or two Captain Harwic hesitated. Then he spoke with careful slowness as if he were not certain himself. “It is unlike the Kolder ships which Were seen at the taking of Gorm. This one Was hot meant to ride beneath the waves, but with them. Yet how it could sail at all I do not see—there are no masts … and never were, by the look of the deck. And there are no oars, also it was not designed for rowers. The Kolder ships moved by their magic, perhaps this does likewise. Yet it was a derelict, floating unmanned and answering to no tiller when we found her.”
“And there was no one on board?” Lord Simon asked.
“No one, my lord. Still two lifeboats swung on the deck. Yet it would seem when we searched her that those who had been there had been called away by a sudden order. There was dried and rotted food set out on a table, and the bunks had been slept in. Also in the place where the captain must have been there were charts out which we had never seen the like of, two cups had stood there but had rolled and spilled across the charts. And that"—he pointed to the box before Lord Simon—"was on the floor skidding back and forth with the roll of the vessel.”
“What was the cargo?'’ The Lady Jaelithe spoke for the first time.
“Bales of something which had once been a plant of sorts, my lady. That was swelled by the water which must have come through the hatch in some storm. It was, rotted and without value. Nor did it look as if it had been grain.”
“And where did you find her?” Lord Simon cut in.
“South, my lord. We were well south of the Point of the Hound. There hit a storm out of the northwest and that carried us well past waters which we knew. When we were left afloat after the fury of that subsided, we took a star sighting and tried for a shore. But there were reefs and islands and those we dared not venture among with the Wave Skimmer. We put out the longboat and Simot, my first officer, took four men, two of them Falconers, and they oared towards the islands which were large enough for a landing. The falcons were loosed, but the birds reported nothing but the bare rock. Not even lichen seemed to grow there.
“That night there came a distant roaring and there was fire in the-sky. The like of that my father had once seen and the story he told very often. It must have been fiery rock from beneath the sea, shooting up. So we took sail away from there, for who knew-where that troubled rock might rise next?
“It was midday as we sailed westward that we saw the ship. We lifted signals but there was no answer. Then he who commands the Falconers sent his bird to spy closer for it looked very strange. When the bird reported, none on board we closed and took her in tow: though that was difficult. We have found derelicts before but they have been Sulcar, and once or twice a round-bellied merchant coaster from Karsten too far out from their usual coastwise sailing. Never have I heard that any have brought into port what we have.”
“It seems, Lord Simon, that you have seen that before.” The port officer pointed to the box.
“Not an exact match to this, but like it, yes. It is a compass.”
“And that, my lord?”
“A direction finder of sorts. This needle"—he tapped the bubble glass under which that lay—"is supposed to point always to the north—thus one can keep a path. At sea such, were always …” He hesitated for a moment, looking to the Lady Jaelitlie before he continued. “This, all-of Estcarp and Escore knows—I am not of this world by birth but have won through one of the gates. This is something which my own time and place knows. And
if so—'’ Again he fell silent; it was Kemoc who finished for him.
“Thus this derelict can be from another time-place? Can there be gates on the sea also? If so—what can win through them? The Kolder was an evil which near finished Estcarp in their time. Must we fear that some new disaster may come from the sea?”
“We can only learn though what has been found,” Lady Jaelithe said. “And what the Power can tell us.” Perhaps there are answers for us aboard that ship?”
“We shall see.” Lord Simon's expression was grim and now he gave a push to that which he called a compass, sending it out from under his hand. “The sooner, the better!”
Though the night was dark enough, our-way was lit down to the quay by lanterns so that most of the shadows retreated to the farthest reaches. Captain Harwic had a ship's boat waiting and we all. crowded into that. He gave the order quickly and we were shoved away from the quay, heading out into the dark of the bay. I had thought that we must return in his own vessel and that would be worked out towards brooding and damned Gorm. But instead his men plied oars and we pulled apart from the last of the anchored ships, heading on toward the full darkness since it was a moonless night.
I thought of Gorm and what it meant to those who were chosen by lots to garrison the watchtower there. The streets where the dead had walked under the control of the Kolder lie forever deserted, still the horror of what happened in Sippar, the great port, must remain always in memory. It had been more than a generation ago that Lord Simon and his following had fought the great battle there—and I knew that the Council had sent Witches with Power for cleansing. Yet it was still a place deserted and accursed.
Lord Koris should rule there by right of birth. He had been a self-exiled one when Sippar fell. Did he have any inner ties now to a place so blackened by the terror and despair of utter evil?
I saw by the dim light of the boat lantern at our prow a white hand move and touch upon a shoulder. Lord Koris—the Lady Loyse—both had been deprived of their birthright, yet it would seem to all whoever saw them together they had made their own kingdom of inner faith and strength.
On the still-distant island I saw the spinning beam of the great light, its sweep from side to side across the sea entrance to the bay. We had that for a guide and our men were quick and strong. It was not long before I picked up the wink of much smaller lights, those which must mark one of the great quays to provide landing beacons for anyone coming to Gorm.
It was towards those that we were making our way now. Beside me Captain Sigmun stirred. That we shared seating had come by chance and I knew that he was finding that an unhappy fortune. Only now I was better aware of something else.
That stone which I believed was a gift to me in Gunnora's shrine was warming against my skin. Such had chanced once or twice before. Power—remnants of Power—must still lie ahead. I raised my hand to press over the stone where it lay beneath my shirt. I wore Sulcar dress which afforded freedom from the long skirts and robes-of-state one sees in Estcarp. And because, except for my eyes, I looked Sulcar, my otherness was seldom apparent to those who had not heard the whisperings which followed in my wake when I went among the people who would not own me.
The short, loose breeches were an aid when we came at last to the quay in the dead city. I swung ashore with ease which matched that of Orsya, whose tight-fitting, glittering, short tunic was like scales, and truly I believed was fashioned from the skin of some large aquatic creature. She stood beside me looking towards the dark lump-mass of the city. Then she wheeled and faced the sea.
“This is a place of the Dark,” she said. “I—” Her, hands went to cover her ears, pressing tightly on either side of her head. Kemoc swung up beside her.
“It is well—!” I caught his thought and swiftly raised barrier, for never did I read unless that was asked of me.
Lord Simon might have some of the Power, bred in him in that other world from which he came. And Lady Jaelithe was surely Witch. Two of their three children were gifted in spite of sex and nontraining. All knew that Kaththea was a Witch in all but formal acceptance, and, as for Kemoc—He had dared to summon that which had not been called upon since the beginning of time of Estcarp itself and had not only survived but been answered for the aid of others. Warlock he was named, though he did not use regularly the gifts. While his brother, Kyllan, who had been named “warrior” at their triple birth, had mind send and some forewarning to draw upon, but his skills lay mainly in the meeting of battle.
The quay on which we stood was cracked and in one place part fallen from its support to be awash by waves. Not too far ahead there were two lanterns set and between them a ladder hung against the side of a ship. Lord Simon's stride lengthened and his pace was close to a run. While the Lady Jaelithe, wearing the riding dress which “gave her more freedom, was quick to, catch up with him.
He stood, his hands on his hips, his head turning slowly from, right to left as he studied, what was visible of the derelict in this light. The craft was large—near the length of a smaller Sulcar vessel—and I wondered at the skill and labor which had been expended to bring it to anchor here. There were two decks—the smaller upper one having a forward section placed higher still. Toward the stern behind this there were two lifeboats still snug set as Harwic had reported.
Lord Simon paced down the quay beside the ship. There were portholes but they were dark, dead eyes and no one could see through to what lay behind. As if the rest of us were invisible he caught at the ladder to climb to the deck. There was a lantern aloft there which gave some light.
Still without speaking he caught that up and a moment later disappeared into the cabin. The rest of us followed more slowly. Indeed this ship had never been meant to sail after the fashion of those of Sulcars. No mast had been ripped out by a storm; there was no place to set such.
Beside the door where Lord Simon had vanished more ladderlike steps led up to the smaller top deck. Sigmun and Harwic went in that direction. The rest of us followed Lord Simon. Here was a long cabin first which had portholes like windows on the sides. Ahead was a table set for four, wooden partitions marking out each place so that the plates and cups there would not slide to the floor during any attack of storm.
These showed remnants of a meal which certainly had not been finished, judging by the amount of food dried and rotted on the plates. We went on to visit other cabins. The walls were of well-rubbed wood, a rich red-brown. in two of the smaller spaces undoubtedly meant for private sleeping quarters, there were brightly colored garments on the bunks, which more resembled beds, and such things about which suggested women had been quartered here. Yet there was not any untoward chaos which would mark looting by pirates. In fact, Lady Loyse picked up a necklet of shining stones as rich as any worn for court in Alizon, where they flaunt their wealth. It was simply that the owner had gone as if for a moment of time only.
Back in the largest cabin at last, Lord Simon caught up with an exclamation something lying on the padded seat along the wall. It was certainly not a reading roll nor one of the rare books made by. fastening separate strips of writing material into a common back made of carven wood or engraved metal. This was back-fastened right enough, but the strips were larger and seeming of a lighter material than any parchment.
Yet looking over Lord Simon's shoulder as he flipped this apart, glancing at each square as he turned, I thought that the markings there—though totally foreign to any script I had seen, must be runes of a kind. There was a picture of a woman dressed in strange garment which hardly covered even a quarter of her body. The clothing—if it could be called so—was a vivid red. Her hair was long, tossing free about her shoulders with no constraining ribbon or net. And she was lying belly down, her legs stretched out, her body resting on sand except for her head and shoulders, as her arms held her so. While behind her was a stretch of blue which might be meant to suggest water and out on that was just such a ship as the one we had boarded, water curling back on either side from the bow as if a k
nife blade were cutting through the waves!
Lord Simon snapped the reading record shut and studied the cover. Here was another picture, also of a woman, smiling—her hair, cut very short, was as black as that of the Old Race, but she certainly was not of Estcarp, and the robe she wore left her shoulders bare though she had jewels at her ears and her throat.
With his finger Lord Simon was tracing a line of what surely must be runes above the picture and suddenly he dropped the book to stare at his own hands.
“Simon—!” Lady Jaelithe set her hand upon his nearer wrist and was looking into his face with concern.
He started, as might a man awakened out of an absorbing dream, or one who was farseeing. Perhaps the latter was the truth for he said, as if speaking some unbelievable thought aloud:
“Fifty years! But it cannot be fifty years!” (Still he looked down at the hand where his lady's fingers had slipped to grip his. The skin was brownly weathered but taut. Into my mind came then—perhaps his thought reached us all—that he expected to see grooved in his own flesh the signs of great age.
It is well known that the Old Race do not show marks of age (and they live longer than many other peoples of our world) which are common to those other races until just before they die. Yet the Lord Simon was off-time as all knew and it seemed he expected to be otherwise.
“This ship, Simon, is it true that it—”
“Of my own time and place?” he asked harshly. “Yes—of my own place—not my time. It seems that the latter moves faster elsewhere. A gate—in the sea?”
“Perhaps,” she answered him. “But one which would take a ship without the crew? That I think is another matter.”
3
I had slept during the latter part of the night after we returned to the port tower. Our quarters were not equal to those of the citadel at Es, but they were better than many I had known in my wandering life. If I dreamed, no warning from that carried over into the daylight. A .patch of sun stamped on the stone floor a little away from the small bed told me that the hour was indeed late.