by C. E. Murphy
Lorhen smiled. "Possibly." The ship banked hard to starboard, and Lorhen glanced up. "Good gods."
The port itself was vastly larger than any they'd passed. Ships of varying sizes and shapes were docked or sailing free, some with a multitude of sails catching the wind. Lorhen stared at one of these with fascination as it swung closer to their own ship, watching a dozen sailors nimbly traversing the deck and masts to better use the wind. Masts, many masts, of varying heights, all littered with sails to catch the wind. Lorhen leaned further over the railing, squinting against the sunlight on the water to try to get a better glimpse yet. One sailor caught his intense observation and waved in greeting. Ghean waved back. Lorhen lifted a hand, but continued to study the vessel until it was past. Only then did he turn his attention to the rest of the port.
Sailing ships mingled with triremes, dozens of oars resting idle in the water in neat rows. Smaller vessels zipped between the larger ships, some piloted by children, who, laughing, would speed alongside their ship for a few moments, until outpaced. Whitecaps churned out of the water shone brilliantly against the glowing blue of the harbor. An area in the distance had been roped off. No ships sailed there, but a number of people, ranging from child-sized to adult, swam in the water there, their shouts of pleasure mingling with the general cacophony of the port itself.
The scent of fish was stronger here than it had been on the open water, as fishing boats offloaded their catches in another section of the port. Men and women both worked the boats, calling directions to each other. Lorhen took it in as rapidly as possible, glancing from one area to another. "I've never seen a port this clean."
Delight lit Ghean's face. "We work hard to keep it clean." She pointed to one of the smaller skiffs, captained by a young boy. "They clean up after the ships coming in from the sea. The sewage systems here don't drain into the water. There are natural chutes in the mountains that we drain waste into. About once a moon they're burned clean, to keep disease from coming up."
Lorhen looked down at her in admiration. "What the world couldn't learn from Atlantis," he breathed, and then, finally, looked beyond the harbor, up to the mountains.
Just beyond the docks lay an enormous set of gates, opened now, their doors swinging outward as if to encourage the world to enter. Traffic, both horse and foot, moved up and down a broad road cut into the stone. The rise was just shy of dauntingly steep, and even from the water it was possible to see rest areas carved out of the mountains. People and carts, small with distance, could be made out sitting or napping in the rest areas.
"The city is just on the other side of the pass," Ghean said. "We won't be able to see it at all until we're at the crest."
"Until then, I'll have to content myself with admiring you."
Ghean laughed. "You are not very good at extravagant compliments, Lorhen. You should practice more."
"I will," he promised. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up in a wash of warning, and he turned, wary, to scan the ships closest to their own. Not too far away, he watched a man straighten with the same familiar expression of caution on his face. For a moment the two locked gazes across the water. Then the second man inclined his head, in acknowledgment, and returned to his observation of the port. Lorhen watched him for another few seconds before his attention went back to Ghean. "I will," he repeated, trying to remember what he’d just promised.
"Are you all right?" she asked, worry creasing her forehead. He nodded, looking over his shoulder as a second tingle of nausea swept over him. Aroz came up from below deck, scowling curiously at the nearby ships, and less benignly at Lorhen himself. Lorhen tilted his head toward the ship with the other Timeless on it. Aroz grunted in reply, coming to stand a few feet away from Lorhen and Ghean, his hands planted at his waist. Lorhen's battered bronze sword hung from Aroz's hip. Lorhen absently touched the hilt of the steel sword he now carried, as he nodded at the pass through the mountains.
"How long does it take to reach the city?"
"Only an hour or two. The road looks worse than it is. Coming back down takes no time at all."
The ship banked again, to drift into dock. Ghean hovered impatiently at the gangplank, rushing down it and over the dock to the beach. Lorhen grinned, watching her spin wildly on the sand, and then went below to collect his journal, too precious to leave to the careless hands of ships-men. Minyah, engaged in the same task, smiled at him as he left his cabin. "Let me guess," she said. "My daughter is cavorting in the sand like a child released from captivity." She arranged a satchel over her shoulder, and accepted Lorhen's hand up the ladder leading to the deck. He nodded as she turned to wait for him, and the older woman smiled again. "She has done that on every journey since she could walk. I sometimes think she would outgrow it, were it not for my expectations of her antics."
Lorhen straightened, looking down at the sand where Ghean was engaged in animated conversation with a little boy. The child nodded eagerly and ran off, leaving Ghean to begin her dance on the beach again. "I don't know," Lorhen said. "The celebration seems very much in her nature. She might do it anyway."
Minyah paused at the gangplank, watching Ghean fall to lie on her back in the sand, smiling up at the sun. "I am glad you came to an understanding," Minyah said as she began making her way down to the dock. "I will be pleased to have you as a son."
"You just want to study me as a scientific anomaly," Lorhen accused.
"There is that," Minyah replied equitably. "You know these last two months she has come to repeat all the stories you have told her to me."
Lorhen laughed. "I would save everyone a lot of time if I simply told the stories to both of you at once."
Minyah blinked mildly at him. "An excellent suggestion." She left Lorhen at the end of the dock with the suspicion that he had just been had. Bemused, he followed her, stopping on the waterfront beside Ghean.
"We can't go up to the city yet," Ghean announced. "Ertros is bringing us iced coffee and chocolates to fortify us for the trip up."
Lorhen shook his head at unfamiliar words. "Coffee? Chocolates? What are they?"
Minyah chuckled. "I am not certain they can be qualified as fortifications. They are derived from beans grown across the world, far away. I think neither is necessary for survival, although they are most pleasant."
"Chocolate," Ghean said firmly, "is necessary for survival. I always bring some when we leave Atlantis," she went on, looking up from her seat at Lorhen, "and they never last the whole ship's journey to land."
Lorhen sat down beside her. "But what are they?"
"Bitter treats, with sugar or milk added to soften them. Ertros is nearly as tall as I am, Mother. By next summer he'll have outgrown me."
Minyah looked at her diminutive daughter. "That is not a difficult task, Ghean."
"But I remember when he was born!" Ghean mock-wailed. "I'm getting old and decrepit!"
Lorhen felt Minyah's glance slide off him, and didn't meet her eyes. "You are the freshest blossom on a young and slender tree," he assured Ghean earnestly, then gave her a sly smile. "How was that?"
She clucked her tongue. "You can't smile. Smiling ruins the whole effect. Ertros!" She bounded to her feet again, waving at the boy who made his way across the sand.
Shaggy-haired and bare-footed, he was about eleven, and only an inch shorter than Ghean. He carried a plate of mugs, heavy clay that would stand up to being dropped. There were eight chocolates, two for each cup. "You owe me," the boy said to Ghean severely. "It's hot, and I ran all the way up the beach to get this for you."
Ghean eyed the four mugs. "It looks to me like I paid you back by buying you some coffee."
"It'll do for starters," Ertros said smugly. He handed a mug to Ghean, then Minyah, and stopped before Lorhen, studying him suspiciously. "Who're you?" he demanded.
"My name is Lorhen."
"He's my betrothed, Ertros!" Ghean broke in. "We're to be married as soon as we can."
Ertros' expression slide from suspicion to outr
ight dislike. "He's awfully tall," the boy said critically to Ghean. "And pale. What do you want to marry an outlander for?"After all, his tone said, you've got me. Lorhen ducked his head, grinning at the sand.
"Well, he's very nice," Ghean explained. "For an outlander."
Ertros looked dubious, but offered Lorhen a mug. "Welcome to Atlantis," he said with chilly precision.
Lorhen fought back another smile and nodded his head gravely in reply. "Thank you. I'm honored to meet a man of the island who is such a good friend of Ghean's." He accepted the mug, looking curiously at the chipped ice in the dark liquid. "I've never had coffee before," he confessed to Ertros.
The boy puffed up visibly. "Real Atlanteans drink it all the time," he said loftily, and took a swig from his own mug to prove it.
Lorhen took a more cautious slip, aware of the anticipatory eyes of all three Atlanteans on him. The chilled liquid was considerably more bitter than he'd anticipated, from the slightly sweet scent of it. After another two slightly tentative slips, he slowly nodded his approval. "I think I could get used to this coffee."
Ghean beamed, clearly pleased. "Now a chocolate," she proclaimed, and broke one of the pieces on the tray in half to pop it in Lorhen's mouth.
Bittersweet richness coated his tongue. For several seconds he didn't move, letting the bit of chocolate melt in his mouth. Then, in sheer disbelief, he stared at the mug of coffee. "They're made from the same thing?" He took another sip of coffee, trying to discover a similarity in the flavors. Something about the sharp edge. Perhaps. If he used his imagination. And closed his eyes. "That's wonderful."
"Different beans," Minyah corrected. "Coffee is from far south of Egypt, and the chocolate, from a bean grown on a continent far to the west. I prefer the chocolate as a drink, myself, but the coffee seems to stimulate my thoughts."
"Which are quick enough as they are," Lorhen said. "A continent to the west? And what lies south of Egypt? I've traveled there, but never beyond the jungles that beget the Nile. I got lost," he admitted with chagrin, and Minyah laughed.
"Our explorers have taken expeditions all over the world, following seas to their nadir and then crossing the land as a team. There are records in Atlantis. I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to investigate them."
Lorhen, with genuine sincerity, said, "I look forward to it," and Ghean settled back with her drink and a smile. "I think he'll fit right in here, don't you, Ertros?"
Ertros scowled. "I guess."
Several minutes later, Minyah sighed with contented resignation. "We should begin the journey up to the city soon. A sunset over Atlantis would be an admirable way to introduce Lorhen to our home."
"Is that your way of saying you've finished your coffee?" Ghean teased. Minyah nodded, and Ghean, in a precise mimicry of her mother's tone, said, "Ah. So I was right. That is always satisfying."
Minyah laughed. "Insolent daughter. I will forbid your marriage and betroth you instead to a toothless old minstrel who must sing tales of woe to earn his daily meals."
Lorhen sucked his cheeks in, crumbling in on himself to appear smaller, and climbed to his feet to totter uncertainly toward Minyah. "Will I do, madam?" he creaked. "For such a fair prize I will sing my best songs, though I fear my voice is not what it once was." He blinked near-sightedly at her with eyes suddenly gone rheumy and watery.
Minyah, unnerved, stepped back from the approaching Timeless, stilling herself after one pace. Her usual composure reasserted itself as she lifted one eyebrow. "How extraordinary," she murmured. "Despite the grain if your skin and the color in your hair, I see an old man."
Lorhen pushed himself up straighter, a hand at the small of the back to suggest stiffness. "Not so old!" he said in the same raspy tone. "Young enough to please that impertinent daughter of yours so she'll care for me in my old age!" He thumped an imaginary stick in the sand. Ertros jumped, then looked abashed, casting a glance to see if Ghean had noticed his slip.
She had not. Still sitting in the sand, Ghean clasped her coffee mug in loose hands, staring at Lorhen. Minyah laughed, and Lorhen shook the character off, unbending himself to stand at his full height. "You're spilling your coffee," he said gently to Ghean.
She flinched the mug upright. "Oh! Lorhen, that was—was that you?" With an uncertain frown, she climbed to her feet, setting her empty mug aside on the plate Ertros had brought.
"Of course it was." Lorhen extended a hand to her. "Come. You have a city to show me."
The trek up the mountains took a little over three hours. Lorhen was met with mildly curious stares as he walked, and the Atlanteans with him by delighted greetings and hugs. "I believe you'll have introduced me to the entire city by the time we reach the top," he commented softly to Ghean, after they'd been stopped for the fourth or fifth time.
She laughed. "Just wait. I predict that in the next week our House will be flooded with visitors wanting to see my outland scholar."
"I'm not that remarkable," Lorhen protested.
"Scholars in Atlantis are nothing new. Scholars from outside are a rarity. You'll be very popular. Close your eyes. The city is just over the next rise." Ghean took his hand to lead him forward as Lorhen closed his eyes, lips quirking with mirth.
Perhaps two minutes later, as the land changed from an incline to a decline, Ghean stopped. "All right," she decided. "You can open them now."
Lorhen did, looking first at Ghean. Her mouth curled in expectation as she watched him. Light from the setting sun gleamed red in her hair and warmed her skin. For a few moments he simply admired her, disregarding the images that were her backdrop. Then, because she was waiting, he looked up and beyond her, to the city.
Atlantis was the color of fire. Built of stone, it glowed like fading embers, the sun's dying rays reflected in soft-edged shadows that blended the city's edges into the mountains surrounding it. The road he stood on dropped sharply down to the gates. From his vantage, Lorhen could see the simple layout of the city, built around a central circle. Dominating the central circle was a temple, the roof a high dome that stood above any other buildings in the city. Streets webbed out from the temple circle, some major and innumerable minor. The smaller streets fell in ever-widening circles, details lost to the setting sun. It was a city that had been planned, not one that grew up in a random pattern. The symmetry was awe-striking.
"Gods above," Lorhen said quietly. "I've never seen anything like it, Ghean." He glanced at the black mountain beneath his feet, and back at Atlantis. "The stone," he half- asked. "It looks white." He gestured at the walls, their true color returning as the light dimmed.
"Legend says that the gods came down to look at the city our fathers built, and they were pleased," Ghean answered. "But it was not enough for the children of the gods, and so they struck it a thousand times with lightning. When the skies cleared, all the color had bleached from the stone, and so it has always been."
Lorhen nodded slowly, looking over the city again. "How old is Atlantis, Minyah?"
"Older than you," she replied, "and more enduring. Shall we go home?"
16
Ghean and Minyah had not been in error, when they'd predicted Lorhen would be a highly anticipated conversational partner amongst Atlantean scholars. After only a week in Atlantis, he had spoken in depth with more people than he usually did in a year. Most of it had been fascinating, stimulating, and he dared imagine he'd made a few friends out of the constant throng of well-wishers and critical intellectuals.
He did feel something like the prize bull at a market, though. A significant portion of the visitors had come simply to see what oddity Ghean had brought home from outside. An alarming number of those had returned later with their daughters. The daughters were evenly divided: either they were reluctant and refused to meet his eye, or he required constant motion to keep from being latched onto. Ghean sat through each display placidly only to crawl into bed late at night and giggle about it. Lorhen couldn't decide if he should be offended or relieved that the situation amu
sed her. "What if I found one of them irresistible?" he demanded.
Ghean propped her chin on his shoulder, smiling. "I'd magnanimously allow you to wed your new beloved," she said cheerfully. "And then I'd sneak into your house and kill you. Right in front of her. And then I'd cart your body off the island and marry you anyway. And I'd hold it all over your head for the rest of my life."
"That's not fair," Lorhen said primly. A moment later, with admiration, he added, "You have a mean streak."
Ghean's grin turned smug. "I do. You'd better not find any of them irresistible, hm?"
"No one could ever be as stimulating as you are," he promised extravagantly, and pulled her over for a kiss.
"No one in this lifetime, at least," Ghean replied.
"You also have a morbid streak, wife."
Ghean sniffed. "Not yet," she corrected. "Three whole weeks until the ceremony."
"Doesn't Atlantean law provide that once a parent's blessing has been given to a betrothal, the couple are considered wedded?"
Ghean nodded. "Unless something happens before the ceremony and they decide to not have the words said over them. Then neither is considered to have ever been married." Her eyebrows went up. "Where did you learn so much about Atlantean law?"
"I spent some time at the library yesterday."
"When? We had visitors from daybreak to dusk."
"You had visitors," he said. "I snuck out while you were planning the ceremony." Lorhen grinned. "And here I was worried you'd be offended that I left."
"I am," Ghean had said. "Terribly. You'll have to make it up to me. Now."
Lorhen had laughed and pulled her on top of himself, glad to forget, for a while, about the parade of scholars and visitors filling his days, and the nearly-accusational commentary on his apparent youth that too many of the scholars felt obliged to make.
Another faintly offended scholar was making that same accusation now, under the mid-afternoon heat of the Atlantean sun. Lorhen wasn’t sure, in fact, that this particular man hadn’t come to see him for the express purpose of being offended; it seemed to him that in the past day or two scholars of that nature had begun turning up. This one was was in his middle fifties, slightly portly, called Ragar, and could very clearly not decide if he should be impressed with the Hunter House’s new acquisition or resentful of it.