When he heard people were asking about Theo Zabio he thought he ought to let me know. That is, he thought that it might be worth his while to make me an offer. He knew Grandfather, you see- and me too, though very slightly.
Checuti knows everybody. "
"You mean that Uncle Theo was a thief, like this Checuti?"
"No. I'm no more than a thief, I suppose, but Grandfather was a genuine pirate."
"He was once third in line for the throne of Ferentina," Andris observed sadly. ' "He told me that- but he sa^id it was much safer being a pirate,"
Merel observed drily.
"He was ia successful man in his way. If only my father had been better ablje to follow in his footsteps, I might not have fallen on hard timesi' " Was he caught- your father, I mean? "
"He died of a fever. I was only a child. Grandfather supported us after that- until he died too. My mother met another man. I've been getting by as best I can, working ships when I can but mostly working the docks. Nor well enough, for the most part. When Checuti told me about you . . . well, I didn't have a lot to lose. They say that when everything you own can be fitted into a belt and the coins in your pouch don't make walking uncomfortable it's probably time to move on.
Agreeing to come in on Checuri's plan wasn't quite as brave or as crazy- as you might think. "
She seemed to mean it, but she also seemed to hope that he might contradict her.
"Yes it was," he said obligingly.
"It was the bravest and craziest
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thing I ever heard of. I don't believe
that you didn't give anything up or leave anything behind."
She smiled appreciatively, shaking her head as she did so. She wasn't going to admit to having left anything behind, even if she had. She had a pleasant smile, although her face was a little on the plain side. Andris couldn't see the slightest resemblance to himself or any of his sisters, but that was hardly surprising--she was only a quarter amber, and she obviously favoured her golden forebears.
"You paid me back," she assured him.
"If you hadn't come between us, that spearman would have spitted me. If the blade of the spear hadn't skimmed your spine . . . well, we're about even, I reckon. It was some show wasn't it? Checuti certainly knows how to celebrate a public holiday."
If only it didn 't hurt so much, Andris thought, / might be able to agree with that.
"Is it still the Day of Thanksgiving?" he asked Merel shook her head.
"It worked to our advantage yesterday," she told him.
"Everyone takes the holiday no matter what, so there weren't as many people looking for us as there might have been. You slept a full forty hours it's less than four hours to dawn. Will you be fit to ride by daybreak, d'you think? The horses are well rested, and we ought to make what haste we can.
There's just a chance we can stay far enough ahead of the news to keep out of serious trouble. Have to find you some new clothes ... me too, I suppose.
And something to eat. The horses' saddle-bags were empty apart from that one water-bottle. Just my luck every purse 1 ever cut was either half-empty or full of rotten coin. I've got a few crowns in my pouch, not to mention half a dozen candles, some matches, a good knife and various other odds and ends, so we're not destitute, and food's cheap out here in the sticks. It's a long way to Khalorn, but if you don't mind riding hard and skimping on the good things of life, we can make it."
"I can ride hard," he said determinedly, 'bad back or no bad back -and I've long grown unused to luxury. " He tried flexing his back muscles very gently, by way of experimentation. The result was by no means reassuring, but he knew that there was no alternative. They had no hope of outrunning the king's messengers, given that they could not change horses and dared not use the highway, but there was a good chance that they could avoid the forces rallied in response to the messages, and they ought to be able to stay ahead i59
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of any troops that vvye heading south from the city, provided that they rested regularly and were careful to move on as soon and as fast as the horses were able. More dark nights would help their cause considerably.
Everything stopped when the stars were blotted out, even when the contents of the king's treasury were on the wing. He finally managed to roll over and sit up. Pain flared up along the entire length of his spine, and it was slow to fade to a more bearable level, but he gritted his teeth against the burden. The wound glue had indeed done its work, but it couldn't effect miracles.
He would need time to heal.
Merel put out a hand to touch him on the shoulder.
"Sorry," she said as he winced.
"Don't be," he said, putting his own hand on top of hers.
"If you're right about the princess . . ."
"They do say some very nasty things about her," Merel observed.
"But then, they say nasty things about all powerful people, don't they?"
"Some of them are true," he said gloomily.
"It can be a hard world for folk like us." He wished his back didn't hurt so much. He had a nasty suspicion that it was going to inconvenience him for a long time, and not just when he rri^d to ride a horse.
"Weren't you in line for the throne of Ferentina, once?" she said.
"Third in the queue," he confirmed.
"Just like Uncle Theo. But he was right, you know- it is safer being a pirate. We may not have much right now, but things can only get better.
We'll just have to huddle together for warmth, until daybreak comes- always provided that I can find a comfortable way to' lie down."
"You lie down," she said, 'and I'll fit in as best I can. " He did, and so did she. He had not realised until then how very tired she seemed. While he had slept the whole day, she must have stood watch, worrying all the while.
"It's all right now," he told her, in the same soothing tone that she had used for his benefit.
"Everything is going to be fine." "I know,"
she replied dutifully.
He smiled, and carefully mustered all his strength for the long struggle which lay ahead of them. The morning would be a new beginning, a new challenge. Just now, four hours did not seem a particularly long time.
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The last thing his cousin said to him, before she drifted off to sleep, was:
"Checuti said you were well worth saving. He was only trying to tempt me, but he was right."
Andris savoured that judgment, realising that it was the nicest thing anyone had said to him for more than seven years. 161
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Part Two To the Forest of
Absolute Night, uplifted by dreams of adventure
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The world of dreams is not
so smooth as the world which gave birth to mankind. The world of dreams is flattened at the tilted poles; it dances as it spins, and is ever unquiet.
We are children of the world, but we are also children of the world of dreams; the steps and rhythms of its dances reverberate in our hearts, and its inquietude is in our blood.
There is no fire burning beneath the surface of the world, ever eager to erupt, nor any sleeping giant to quake the earth with his restlessness, but our inner eyes have seen mountains vomiting fire and ash, and our nerves thrill to the echoes of tremors which our furry fathers felt a million years ago.
The world of dreams is a place of violent change which has given birth to tyrannous constancy, 'and the tyrant
of that constancy is man. The world in which we lii^e is a quiet and orderly place which has given birth to anarchic inconstancy, whose produce is unbridled corruption. Such is the irony of our twofold existence.
If Serpents and Salamanders dream at all, they may dream of the womb and the tomb, but not of any other world than this. Men may dream of the u'orld where they were tyrants once, and because they may, they must.
Men have ever tried to make prophecies of their dreams, no matter how difficult the task might be. Whether the world be conquerable or not, men will never cease to hunger for its conquest.
Conquest without constancy is possible, with the aid of Serpent's Blood and Salamander's Fire and that which is nurtured in Chimera's Cradle, but there is no destiny and nothing is written in the stars which says that men will conquer each and every world on which they choose to dwell.
The Apocrypha of Genesys
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h yry keshvara was used to rising long before dawn, and she kept to the habit even though it was obvious when she looked out of the window of her room that there was no possibility of continuing her journey until daybreak. Knowing this, she bathed and dressed unhurriedly.
By the time she came down to breakfast the dining-room was full of men from Xandria - couriers and soldiers- all of them impatient and bitterly inclined to curse the ill wind which had blown dense clouds from the north-west. This Checuti is a wizard," she heard one man complain.
"The elements themselves are partners in his conspiracy. With better weather, we'd have had him by now." It was a hollow lament.
The unhappy innkeeper had already run out of eggs and beer and his milk-churns were very nearly dry. He could offer Hyry nothing but porridge and black coffee, but she accepted these gladly enough. She took them to a little window-seat where she could sit alone; she had no intention of getting into conversation with the king's men after the way they had treated her the previous evening. They had insisted on searching the packs her donkeys carried, and her saddle-bags too.
They had made her count out her money, inspecting every single coin for freshness. She had never before had occasion to offer silent thanks for the fact that nothing in her purse was newly minted. She had, of course, protested vociferously that she was an honest merchant, very well known in the city, authorised to act as an agent for no less a man than Carus Fraxinus, but the soldiers had been adamant. Soldiers always loved an excuse to be imperious and to handle others roughly, and this was probably the best excuse these particular men would ever have. She knew that for the next ten day -perhaps twice as long again the king's men 165
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would make life heUfor
everyone who travelled the great highway and everyone whonved near it. She did not suppose for a moment that the fact that she had been thoroughly inspected by these men would excuse her from further harassment by others.
Perhaps, she thought, it might be better to leave the highway and travel a more discreet rout- but then, of course, she would run the risk of her behaviour being considered suspicious.
Why did it all have to happen now? she thought. Why couldn't the crime of the century have waited until New Year's Day, or the King's Birthday . or even next Leap fear Day? Fraxinus will suffer exactly the same sort of harassment, even if he delays his departure for a day or two- and it'll be just as bad for Aulakh Phar in Khalorn, as soon as the first messenger gets there.
While she ate her porridge Hyry marvelled at the way in which the king's men seized every excuse to hurry hither and thither, every one of them anxious to be seen to be doing something, even though there was nothing constructive to be done. Their horses were already saddled, although there was no prospect of their actually being mounted and taken out for three hours and more, unless some miraculous wind sprang up to hurry the clouds away. She was careful to take her time about things, being deliberately slow in order to prove that the madness was not contagious and that she was still in full possession of herself and her common sense, but she could not make breakfast last for ever. Her request for a second mug of coffee met with a curt refusal; the innkeeper had introduced an informal rationing system1 so as to conserve his supplies of hot water.
Disgustedly, Hyry went out to the stables to see to her own animals.
She had no intention Okf loading them until it was actually time to depart but they had to be watered and fed.
The stables were crowded to bursting, but relatively quiet. Horses had a sense of proportion in these matters, and her donkeys were masters of the Art of Imperturbability. She chatted to them amiably while she doled out their oats, and then she went to the well to get water. She brought back one pail, having waited patiently in line for the privilege of filling it, and then had to go back for a second.
The queue had cleared temporarily and she found the raised bucket still half-full. She reached for the ladle gratefully, but before her hand could close upon it she was grabbed from behind.
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A huge hand was clamped over her mouth, stifling her cry of protest, and she felt herself lifted clear of the ground as easily as if she had been a mere child. She struggled, but her captor had both her arms pinned with one of his, and must have been a very strong man.
The lantern lighting the well was positioned under the angled roof of the well-house; its light was so narrowly confined that she only had to be carried three or four steps before she and her kidnapper were utterly swallowed up by the gloom. He must have had a very good idea of where he was going, because he carried her another thirty or forty mets before someone struck a distant match to guide him further. When her captor brought her closer to the tiny flame she tried to twist around to see him, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't even see the man who held the match, because he was holding it at arm's length, well away from his face. He at least seemed to be a man of normal proportions.
They had gone a further thirty mets and had used up three more matches before the smaller man produced a candle in a tray, and used the last march to light it.
"Now, Keshvara," a deep voice hissed in her ear, 'will you promise to be quiet if I loose your mouth and set you down? "
Perversity prompted her to try to bite the hand and bring her heel up into the man's groin, but curiosity and common sense suppressed the impulse. She tried to nod her head instead.
The big man lowered her feet to the ground, let her take her own weight, and then removed his hand from her mouth. She immediately turned to look at him.
He made no attempt to move away from the light, allowing her to study his features. They were broad and ugly.
He was, as she had inferred, a very big man indeed.
"I know you," she said.
"Very probably," he replied, in his distinctive bass whisper.
"I dare say I'm famous now- or will be, as the story spreads." Although she had spoken the truth when she said she knew him, Hyry hadn't been able to put a name to the man at first. It was the implication of his words which provided the necessary clue. "Burdam Thrid!" she gasped.
"Are you mad? There are fifty men in that inn whose careers would be made if they could seize you.
167
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Do you know whaLprice has been put on your head? They'd cut your belly and pull your guts out inch by inch, twisting all the while, to make you tell them where Checuti is! "
While saying all this she was very careful to keep her own voice low.
The last thing she wanted just now was to be caught- or even glimpse ding the company of Burdam Thrid, who was known to everyone in Xandria as Che
cuti's chief lieutenant. A man of his height and breadth was far too easily identifiable.
"I don't like this any better than you do," Thrid assured her.
"I'd far rather be lying low- but Checuti wants to see you, now."
"What in corruption's name does Checuti want with me?" she demanded.
"I'm not carrying anything of value- and he's already got a small fortune in fresh coin."
"Come on!" urged Thrid's companion- a less distinctive man to whom Hyry could not put a name.
"He's right," the big man told her.
"We're in a hurry."
He was moving off even as he spoke, and he reached out to take her arm as he did so. She might have been able to dodge and run had she acted quickly enough, but the chance had gone before she gave it serious consideration, and so she submitted meekly to being hustled at a fast walk along a series of winding lanes that were no more than cart-tracks.
More than once they cut across open fields which had been freshly turned by the plough. ;Hyry was accustomed to using the sun or the stars to take bearings, and soon lost her sense of direction in the darkness. She knew that tHey were east of the highway, but how far east, and whether they were north or south of the inn, she couldn't tell. Eventually, though, they came to a cottage surrounded by huge barns. Thrid took her in while his companion stayed outside. Checuti was waiting for them in a room to the left of the narrow hallway, sitting casually on a wooden dining-chair with his booted feet on the tabletop. There was a small monkey squatting on his knees, nibbling a plum. The thief master indicated that Hyry should take a chair set at right-angles to his. When she did so, Thrid took the one opposite his master, drawing it away from the table so that it was near the door.
Hyry had seen Checuti before, but never at close quarters. She file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Brian%20Stableford%20-%20Serpents%20Blood.TXT (171 of 495) [11/1/2004 12:26:20 AM]
studied the
man carefully. He was black-haired and black bearded his curly tresses being very neatly trimmed. His eyes were steady and sombre. He was conspicuously overweight, but like his lieutenant he seemed more solid than fat. He was well dressed, but wore no colours save for black and white. He reminded Hyry of her father, who had been a fruit factor renowned for his accuracy in judging a green crop. He studied her with just as much care- and, seemingly, with just as much interest.
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