by James Gurley
Sira, who had abandoned his cart for her family’s wagon earlier, climbed up onto the cart beside him. She now wore a colorful short skirt and blouse, revealing her long, lean legs, Tad’s first view of them except while he had spied on her swimming. Strings of tiny flowers festooned her red hair, which smelled of hyacinths. He felt a shiver of excitement run through him at her new bold appearance.
“Isn’t it lovely?” she asked.
He smiled and said, “It is wonderful. The entire city has turned out to greet us.”
“Oh, they aren’t as much interested in the Caravan as the opportunity to party. My father says Delphinians will party at the drop of a hat.”
“Well, they certainly seem to know how to do it,” Tad shouted over the din of the boisterous crowd.
Sira reached out and lightly touched his hand. He felt a spark run through his fingers and into his stomach.
“Oh, Tad, I’m going to love it here,” she squealed with delight.
“I may stay, too,” he said.
She looked at him with a wide smile. “Really? That would be grand, having a friend here.”
“Will you have time to sightsee, with your studies and all?”
“My major will be the Humanities, you know, Sociology. Part of my studies will be to observe the different races and how they interact.”
He did not reveal to her of the possibility that he might work for a Watcher. It might sound like bragging. Besides, he did not yet have the job.
“That sounds like fun. Much better than some stuffy classroom.”
“Oh, I’ll have lots of classes too,” she said, rolling her eyes in mock dread, “but at least they will be in the mornings. I will have most afternoons free for roaming the city.”
“We can sightsee together,” he suggested.
She looked at him and smiled. Her green eyes reflected the dazzling light display going on overhead. “I would like nothing better,” she said.
A group of boys, obviously well into their tankards of ale, grabbed Tad from his perch on the cart and heaved him onto their shoulders.
“Welcome to Delphi, friend,” they sang in harmony, slightly off -key but with great gusto. They paraded him around the square a few times and dropped him off in front of a tavern that smelled of stale ale and urine. Too young to drink much, he accepted a tankard of cider and slipped back onto the cart only to find Sira gone. He caught sight of her on the shoulders of another group of young men and women, laughing and singing. He lost sight of her as the cart turned the corner. He started to run back to her, but another sight caught his eye—the Black Tower.
From afar, it looked like a cloud of black smoke solidified by some conjurer’s magic. From a few blocks away, it dominated the sky, a black javelin piercing the heart of the city. Leaning his head back as far as he could to see the top, he got dizzy watching the fire dragons and light sprites roll down its glassy smooth ebony sides. Balconies and balustrades studding the dark edifice were ablaze with lights of their own and about five stories up he thought he saw the royal emblem of Delphi, a clutching raptor’s claw on a shield, fluttering on a flag.
He spotted movement on one of the balconies, a flitting of shadows, and wondered if King Karal was watching the festivities. People said that the king was just a child, sickly from birth and unable to rule. In his place, the High Council of Regents made the laws and carried them out in the king’s name. Members of the Delphinium Guard lined the entrance to the Tower and the drunken crowd stayed well back of their gleaming lances and swords. Tad thought they looked like ancient knights in armor of which he had once read. He imagined himself standing in their midst and smiled, but knew it was just a dream. He would never become a soldier or an adventurer.
After a few more dizzying turns, the Caravan passed through a second set of smaller gates and reached a large, open grassy field beside the sea. The wagons and carts, with no threat of Marauders, abandoned their usual defensive circular formation and spilled across the field. Many revelers poured onto the field with the Caravan and started a large bonfire.
Tad unharnessed the karth and locked them in a nearby pen set aside for the animals, first removing their controlling bands. He poured grain and a bit of honey into a trough and watched Flick and Flack greedily down their well-deserved meal. As soon as they had eaten their fill, they strode into the waters of Great Sea to preen themselves and wash away ticks and mites in the rolling waves. A portion of the sea adjacent to the animal pens had been fenced off to keep out predatory fish, but the karth stabbed their heads beneath the rolling waves and emerged with tiny fish, which they eagerly gobbled down as dessert for their meal. Tad stood and looked out over the sea’s calm waters, savoring the tangy, moist air after so many weeks on the arid plains.
By the time Tad returned to the camp, a makeshift band of horns, drums and stringed instruments was playing a slightly out of tune version of an old familiar ballad. Couples danced or swayed drunkenly in rough time to the music, clinging to each other, or simply sat and watched the flames of the fire dance in their stead. Cleodora rose above the sea, turning its waters silver and adding a twin to everyone’s shadow. He saw Sira just as she ran up to him, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the crowd of dancers.
“I … I can’t dance,” he protested.
“Nonsense,” she said. “Hold my left hand with your right hand and place your left about my waist.”
He did so and felt the warmth of her body as she pressed it into his. He caught the aroma of her perfume and marveled at how nicely the curve of her body fit into his.
“Now, place your feet beside mine and move them when I do in time with the music.”
He stumbled a few times at first, but quickly caught onto the simple 1, 2, 3 rhythm of the song. Soon, he was gliding around the fire with Sira in his arms, enjoying every second of it. It could not last.
“May I break in?” a young man asked. He looked at Sira and smiled. “My name is Janith, Janith Hokum.”
He was taller than Tad by several centimeters, quite handsome and a year or so older. His clothes marked him as well to do, and Tad took an instant dislike to him. Something in the boy’s eyes spoke of betrayal and secrets, as if his smile was part of a façade to hide his thoughts from others. Beside him, a fair-haired girl stood clapping in time to the music. Tad glared at the newcomer a moment before looking to Sira. She nodded in acquiescence. Tad stepped back, allowing him to take Sira’s hand. The boy’s companion grabbed Tad by the elbow.
“Come on,” she said and pulled Tad deeper into the crowd of dancers.
Janith danced well, better than he had, swinging Sira out and back and twirling her about without entangling their arms. As Janith whispered something in Sira’s ear, making her laugh, Tad felt a wave of jealousy rush over him, followed by a sense of shame at that jealousy. Sira owed him nothing.
“Ouch!” the fair-haired girl howled as Tad stepped on her foot. She hopped away on one foot, laughing. “Perhaps they dance differently in the country.”
Tad was sure she meant nothing by her remark, but she reminded him of his awkwardness. He turned to his disgruntled partner and said, “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good dancer.” Before she could reply, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone on the floor. She shrugged, laughed, chose another partner, and continued dancing.
Tad found his uncle sitting on a stack of grain bags speaking with an old man wearing gray robes and a round, brimless cap. As Tad drew closer, his uncle saw him and waved him over.
“Tad, meet Askos, the Mage.”
The Plin looked up at Tad with wizened eyes hiding behind small oculars resting on the bridge of his nose. The deep blue eyes behind them sparkled with flecks of silver.
“Pleased to meet a friend of a friend,” Askos said in a soft singsong voice, giving each word a long ‘e’ sound.
The Plin were decidedly humanoid. Except for their mysterious ability to manipulate the bonds of matter by carefully honed feats of concentration, they pass
ed for Terran. Tad had heard that some internal differences existed, such as an enlarged hippocampus, a small bundle of nerves in the neocortex of their brain, and two smaller hearts sitting side-by-side rather than a single organ, but in mind and spirit, they were Terran.
As Tad touched the Plin’s hand, a spark jumped between them, startling him, and apparently, the Plin. Askos’ eyes opened wide and then he slowly smiled.
“Indeed, pleased to meet you,” he said.
His uncle appeared not to have noticed the exchange between the two as he said, “I have been speaking to Askos and he has agreed to submit your name to the Plin council as a Watcher’s helper. It doesn’t mean you will get the job, but Askos will speak in your favor.”
The Plin nodded. “Simios watches the young King and is in need of an assistant. Since King Karal is Terran also, your case will carry additional weight.”
Tad bowed. He had not expected such a rapid response to his need for a job nor so lofty a position. He had not suspected his uncle of having such well-placed friends. “I thank you.”
“There will be tests and questions, of course, but I will guide you,” Askos said. His eyes narrowed. “There is one test now.”
He held out his right hand, palm up and closed his eyes. Slowly, a small globe of silver fire appeared, floating just above his flesh. Tad could feel the heat of the flames and drew back in surprise. The orb danced slightly and changed from silver to white. He opened his eyes and looked at Tad.
“Hold out your hand,” he commanded.
Tad offered his hand hesitantly but found that he could not resist the Mage’s voice.
“A Terran might hold the flame a few seconds before it disappears. It will be warm, but will not burn the flesh.”
Askos tossed the globe onto Tad’s hand. Tad was amazed that the flaming sphere did not burn. Instead, it was surprisingly cool to the touch, in spite of the heat he had at first felt, like the winter mist above a frozen pond. He concentrated just as he did with the smoke and watched excitedly as the globe began to spin faster and faster, spiraling trails of flame. His hand began to tingle. Laughing, he tossed the globe back and forth between his two hands until an arc of flame, a fiery rainbow, appeared between them, and then, with a loud pop, the globe disappeared.
He turned to Askos. “I thought you said it would be warm. It was cold.”
Askos looked at him with his mouth slightly open before pursing his lips and nodding. “To a Mage, the globe would seem cool, but to another it would scorch the flesh to hold it so long.”
Tad stared into Askos’s eyes to determine if the Plin was lying, but saw no falsehood there. “What are you saying?” he stammered.
“When I shook your hand, I felt something different about you, some tendrils of the ether that are wound into your genes. I sought to test you and you surpassed my expectations.”
“What does it mean?” Tad pleaded. Now, fear was coursing through his body where before amazement had dominated. He remembered his uncle’s failure at just such a test. “Different? How?”
“If my friend Wilbreth did not assure me you were Terran… ” He paused before finishing his sentence. “It is well that you work with the Plin. Perhaps Simios will allow me to test you further, with your permission, of course. I sense greatness in you, young Terran.” He smiled. “Now, go dance with the young lady before another boy grabs her.”
Tad turned and saw Sira motioning for him. He looked back at his uncle, who said nothing, and then to Askos, who merely nodded his head slowly to the rhythm of the music with his eyes closed.
“How did you summon the fire? Where did it go?”
Askos looked up at him. “Fire is energy. Thoughts are energy. The two may become as one. Thinking of a thing makes it appear in your mind. It is but a short step to move that thought from mind to hand. When you stop thinking of a thing, does it not disappear? Now, dance, young man. Lift your feet as you turn and you will not bruise as many toes.”
Swallowing the lump of fear in his throat, Tad walked back to the fire and Sira. She saw the strange look in his eye.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I think I might be a Mage,” he said only half in jest.
She laughed and slapped him on his chest. “No, a Mage would be lighter on his feet. You trod on mine until they ache, but let’s try once more, shall we?”
“Where is Janith?” By her frown, he knew it was the wrong question to ask. He glanced at the crowd of dancers and saw Janith dancing arm in arm with two girls.
Clearing his mind of all thoughts of Mages and magic, he concentrated on holding Sira tight and listening to the music. This time, his feet cooperated. They moved about the other couples smoothly and with a grace he did not know he possessed. The fair-haired girl had been a good dancer, perhaps better than Sira, but she did not fit his body as Sira did. With her, he did not feel awkward. It was as if she and he were made for one another. Even in his pleasure, as they danced a voice deep inside whispered.
“Different.”
3
A TOUR OF DELPHI
TAD WAS AWAKE BEFORE FIRST DAWN. THE EXCITEMENT OF Delphi had entered his blood like a virus as he slept, rousing him from sleep early and stoking his fever of adventure. Even so, his uncle had risen before him and was laying out the trade goods they had brought to their best advantage. He had also started a small fire for breakfast. Other fires sparked into existence around them.
Cleodora was a cerulean smudge in the eastern sky, still an hour from full sunrise. Overhead, the Axman, the Seven Sisters, the Red-Eyed Dragon, and the rainbow smear of the Core were visible in a cloudless sky. Castalia, called by most the Bulls Eye moon because of the concentric ring of circular craters on its visible side, cast a pale light almost Cleodora’s equal over the city, reflecting from the still-as-glass sea.
“I see you’re up,” his uncle greeted Tad as he sat by the fire and poured a cup of java brewed from beans he had bartered for since their arrival in Delphi. Grown in the highlands in the south of Churum, the java’s pungent aroma broke through the hearty smells of breakfasts cooking nearby. Tad held the warm mug with both hands to fight off the early morning chill. A ground-hugging fog had rolled in from the sea during the night, softening the harsh outlines of the wagons and nearby buildings and bringing a nip to the moist air.
“I’m too excited to sleep,” he replied as he broke off a piece of fruit bread and began munching it.
“It is exciting, though strangely quiet in the predawn hours for so large a city,” his uncle agreed as he laid another bag of dried fruit on a tall stack beside the open bins of potatoes and corn. “I suppose the entire populace was up late celebrating.”
“I want to see it all,” Tad burst out.
His uncle smiled. “Help me to arrange the trade goods and you can be off.”
They worked quickly, methodically arranging bales of cloth to show off the fine artisanship of the weavers, washing the trail dust off the dried fruit and vegetables, setting them out to dry in the early morning sun and laying out bowls of samples of the various grains contained in the bags on which the bowls sat. By the time they had finished, First Sun Cleodora was a quarter above the horizon and Second Sun Corycia was just peeking over the city walls. The camp was alive with activity. Other merchants were busy setting out their wares. Racks of dried and salted meats and loops of tantalizing sausages hanging from poles stood in neat lines before the carts like an abattoir forest. Stacked wooden coops of live animals—pheasants, tamil, geese and piglets—filled the air with their noise and smell. Casks of Casson dry white wine and hoops of Casson yellow cheese stood in neat rows.
The aroma of breakfast cooking lifted above all other smells, making Tad’s mouth water. His uncle traded a small bag of fruit to two Terran fishermen who had been out in their small boat all night. They presented him with a large fish, strangely flattened with both eyes on one side.
“An Earth sand flounder,” one of the anglers called it. He pointed to
the fog. “They come inshore with the crawling fog. Very good roasted.”
Tad quickly gutted and cleaned the fish and spitted it over the fire. It proved as delicious as they had boasted, especially with fresh butter, a dash of salt and the leftover roasted potatoes.
“Mmm—good. I will try to find some of these dried for the return trip,” his uncle said around mouthfuls. “It will be a welcome change of diet.” He looked at his stack of trade goods. “Looks like we’re ready. You can go now, but try to be back after lunch. I might need your help to pack the goods I trade for.”
Tad nodded. He grabbed a portion of leftover fish, rolled it in a piece of flatbread, sliced off a hunk of cheese, wrapped both in a piece of paper, and stuck it in a pocket for later. Then, he headed into the city.
The city was slowly awakening, an enormous beast shaking off the last lazy dreams of the night and stretching its great muscles, straining for the coming day. Even the fog was dissipating, making it appear that the buildings were growing from the mist. Vendors yawned as they opened their sidewalk kiosks for business and squeaky-wheeled carts filled with goods made deliveries to taverns, restaurants and stores. He saw every sort of draw beast – drakken, karth, drissel, oxen, ponies and a few he had never seen—strange, four-legged shaggy beasts that bellowed like thunder through enormous sinuous trunks and large, flapping ears; thin, wiry dog-like creatures that pulled small one-man carts speedily through the streets; even rickshaws pulled by brawny Gecks.