by neetha Napew
When they had given each other some report of their adventures, TolramKetinet said, 'I have little to be proud of. Since I am a soldier, I cannot complain where I am sent. My generalship has been such that my forces dissolved without my being able to fight a single battle. It is a disgrace I shall always live with. Randonan swallows men whole.'
The ex-chancellor said, after a moment, 'I am grateful for my travels, which were no more planned than yours. The Sibornalese used me, but from the experience has come something valuable. More than valuable.'
He made a gesture indicating Odi Jeseratabhar, whose wound was now dressed, and who sat on the deck listening to the men talking, her eyes closed.
'I'm getting old and the loves of the old are always funny to mere youths like you, Hanra. No, don't deny it.' He laughed. 'And something more. I realize for the first time how fortunate our generations are to live at this period of the Great Year, when heat prevails. How did our ancestors survive the winter? And the wheel will turn, and again it will be winter. What a malign fate, to grow up as Freyr is dying and know nothing else. In parts of Sibornal, people don't see Freyr at all during the centuries of winter.'
TolramKetinet shrugged. 'It's chance.'
'But the enormous scale of growth and destruction... Perhaps our mistake is to think ourselves apart from nature. Well, I know of old that you are less than enthralled by such speculations. One thing I must say. I believe I have resolved one question of such revolutionary nature...'
He hesitated, stroking his damp whiskers. Smiling, TolramKetinet urged him to go on.
'I believe I have thought what no man has ever thought. This lady has inspired me. I need to get to Oldorando or Pannoval to lay my thought before the powers of the Holy Pannovalan Empire. My deduction, I should call it. There I shall certainly be rewarded, and Odi and I can then live comfortably.'
Scrutinizing his whiskery face, TolramKetinet said, 'Deductions that are paid for! They must be valuable.'
The man's a fool and I always knew it, thought the ex-chancellor, but he could not resist the chance to explain.
'You see,' SartoriIrvrash said, lowering his voice so that it could hardly be heard for the slap of the canvas above them. 'I could never abide the ancipital race, unlike my master. There lay much of our difference. My thought, my deduction, weighs very much against the ancipitals. Hence it will be rewarded, according to the terms of the Pannovalan Pronouncement.'
Rising from her chair, Odi Jeseratabhar took SartoriIrvrash's arm and said to TolramKetinet and Lanstatet, who had joined them, 'You may not know that King JandolAnganol destroyed all the chancellor's life's work, his "Alphabet of History and Nature". It's a crime not to be forgotten. The chancellor's deduction, as he modestly names it, will revenge him on JandolAnganol, and perhaps allow us both to work together on reassembling the "Alphabet".'
Lanstatet said sharply, 'Lady, you're our enemy, sworn to destroy our native land. You should be below decks in irons.'
'That's past,' said SartoriIrvrash, with dignity. 'We're simply wandering scholars now - and homeless ones at that.'
'Wandering scholars...' It was too much for the general, so he asked a practical question. 'How are you to get to Pannoval?'
'Oldorando would suit me - it is nearer, and I hope to arrive before the king, if he is not already there, to cause him maximum botheration before he weds the Madi princess. You have no love of him either, Hanra. You'll be the ideal person to take me there.'
'I'm going to Gravabagalinien,' said TolramKetinet grimly, 'if only this tub will sail us there, and we are not overtaken by our enemies.'
All looked back. The Vajabhar Prayer was now in open sea, making laboured progress eastwards along the coast. The Union had emerged from Keevasien Bay, but lay far astern. There was no immediate danger of its catching them.
'You will see your sister Mai in Gravabagalinien,' SartoriIrvrash told the general. The general smiled without replying.
Later in the day, distantly, they saw the Good Hope also in pursuit, with a jury-rigged main mast. The two pursuing vessels were lost in haze as thunderheads towered from the western sea, their edges cast in copper. Lightning darted silently in the belly of the cloud.
A second wave of assatassi rose from the sea, like a wing unfurling, to cast itself upon the land. The Prayer was too far from the coast to suffer ill effect. Only a few of the flying fish-lizard darted past the vessel. The men looked on complacently at what that morning had struck them dumb. As they crawled towards Gravabagalinien, thunderous darkness fell and tiny splinters of light showed ashore, where natives were feasting on the dead invaders.
And something without identity made its way towards the place where the queen of queens resided in her wooden palace: a human body.
RobaydayAnganol had stolen a ride downriver from Matrassyl to Ottassol, keeping ahead of his father. Wherever he went now, he went with a special haste in his gait, half-looking back; did he but know it, this aspect of a man pursued made him resemble his father. He thought of himself as pursuing. Vengeance against his father filled his mind.
In Ottassol, instead of going to the underground palace which his father was due to visit, he went to an old friend of SartoriIrvrash's, the deuteroscopist and anatomist, Bardol CaraBansity. CaraBansity was feeling no great goodwill for the king or his strange son.
He and his wife had staying with them a society of deuteroscopists from Vallgos. He offered Robayday a bed in a house he maintained near the harbour, where, he said, a girl would look after his needs.
Robayday's interest in women was sporadic. However, he immediately found the woman in CaraBansity's harbour house attractive, with her long brown hair and a mysterious air of authority, as if she knew a secret shared by nobody else.
She gave her name as Metty, and he remembered her. She was a girl he had once enjoyed in Matrassyl. Her mother had assisted his father when the latter was wounded after the Battle of the Cosgatt. Her real name was Abathy.
She did not recognize him. No doubt she was a lady with many lovers. At first, Robayday did not enlighten her. He remained inert and let her come to him. To impress, she spoke of a scandalous connection with Sibornalese officials in Matrassyl; he watched her expression as she spoke, and thought of how different her view of the world was, with its clandestine comings and goings.
'You do not recognize me, for I am hard to recognize, yet there was a day when you wore less kohl on your eyes when we were close as tongue to teeth...'
Then she spoke his name and embraced him, exhibiting delight.
Later, she said she had cause to be grateful to her mother, to whom she sent back money regularly, for teaching her how to behave with men. She was cultivating a taste for the highborn and powerful; she had been shamefully seduced, she said, by CaraBansity, but now she hoped for better things. She kissed him.
She allowed her charfrul to slip and reveal her pale legs. Seeing cruelty everywhere, Robayday saw only the spider's trap. Eagerly, he entered it. Later, they lay together and kissed, and she laughed prettily. He loved her and hated her.
All his impulses screamed to him to hurry on to Oldorando, yet he remained with her for another day. He hated her and he loved her.
The second evening in her house. He thought that history would cease if he remained for ever. She again let down her beautiful hair and hitched up her skirt, climbing onto the couch with him again.
They embraced. They made love. She was a well of delight. Abathy was starting to undress him for more prolonged enjoyment when there was a thumping at her door. They both sat up, startled.
A more violent thump. The door burst open, and in blundered a burly young fellow dressed in the uncouth Dimariamian fashion. It was Div Muntras, in bull-like quest of love.
'Abathy!' he cried. She yelled by way of reply.
After sailing alone to Ottassol, Div had traced his way to her by diligent enquiry. He had sold everything he possessed, except for the talismanic watch stolen from Billish, which reposed safe in h
is body belt. And here, at the end of his trail, he found the girl who had dominated his thoughts ever since she idled voluptuously with his father on the deck of the Lordryardry Lady trittoming with another man.
His face altered into the image of rage. He raised his fists. He bellowed and charged forward.
Robayday jumped up and stood on the couch, his back to the wall. His face was dark with anger at the intrusion. That the king's son should be shouted at - and at such a moment! He had no thought but to kill the intruder. In his belt was a dagger shaped from a phagor horn, a sharp two-sided instrument. He drew it.
Div was further enraged by the sight of the weapon. He could soon dispose of this slight lad, this meddler.
Abathy screamed at him, but he paid no heed. She stood with both hands to her pretty mouth, eyes wide in horror. That pleased Div. She would be next.
He rushed to the attack, landing on the couch with a leap. He received the point of the horn just below his lowest rib. The tip grated against the rib as it slid in. His charge ensured that it went into his flesh to the hilt, penetrating the spleen and the stomach, at which point the handle broke off in his opponent's hand.
A long baffled groan escaped Div. Liquids gushed over the wall as he fell against it and slipped to the floor.
Raging, Robayday left the girl to weep. He fetched two men who disposed of the corpse by tossing it into the Takissa.
Robayday ran from the city, as if pursued by mad dogs. He never returned to the girl or to the room. He had an appointment which he had been in danger of forgetting, an appointment in Oldorando. Over and again, he wept and cursed along the road.
Carried by the current, turning as it went, the body of Div Muntras drifted among the shipping to the mouth of the Takissa. No one saw it go, for most folk, even slaves, were indulging in a grand assatassi fry. Fish moved in to give the corpse their attention as the sodden mass was taken into the maw of the sea, to become part of the progression of waters westwards, towards Gravabagalinien.
That evening when the sun sank, simple people came down to the beaches and headlands of the Borlien coast. They were moved by an impulse to celebrate and give thanks. In all the countries lapped by the narrow seas, Randonan, Thribriat, Iskahandi, Dimariam, Throssa, other crowds would gather.
Here the great assatassi feast was ending. Here was a time to pause and offer praise for such blessings to the spirit who dwelt in the waters.
While women sang and danced on the sand, their menfolk waded into the sea bearing little boats. The boats were leaves, on which short candles burned, giving off a sweet scent.
On every beach, as dusk drew in, whole navies of leaves were launched. Some still floated, burning dim, long after darkness had fallen, forming panoramas reminiscent to the superstitious of gossies and fessups suspended in their more permanent darkness. Some were carried far out to sea before their feeble flames were quenched.
XVIII
Visitors from the Deep
Anyone advancing on Gravabagalinien could see from a distance the wooden palace which was the queen's refuge. It stood without compromise, like a toy left on a beach.
Legend said that Gravabagalinien was haunted. That at some distant time in the past a fortress had stood in place of the flimsy palace. That it had been entirely destroyed in a great battle.
But nobody knew who fought there, or for what reason. Only that many had died, and had been buried in shallow graves where they fell. Their shades, far from their proper land-octaves, were still reputed to haunt the spot.
Certainly, another tragedy was now being acted out on the old unhallowed ground. For the time had come round when King JandolAnganol arrived in two ships with his men and phagors, and with Esomberr and CaraBansity, to divorce his queen.
And Queen MyrdemInggala had descended the stairs and had submitted to the divorce. And wine had been brought, and much mischief had been permitted. And Alam Esomberr, the envoy of the C'Sarr, had made his way into the ex-queen's chamber only a few hours after he had conducted the ceremony of divorcement. And then had come the announcement that Simoda Tal had been slain in far Oldorando. And this sore news had been delivered to the king as the first rays of eastern Batalix painted yellow the peeling outer walls of the palace.
And now an inevitability could be discerned in the affairs of men and phagors, as events drew towards a climax in which even the chief participants would be swept helplessly along like comets plunging into darkness.
JandolAnganol's voice was low with sorrow as he tore the hairs from his beard and head, crying to Akhanaba.
'Thy servant falls before thee, O Great One. Thou hast visited sorrow upon me. Thou hast caused my armies to go down in defeat. Thou hast caused my son to forsake me. Thou hast caused me to divorce my beloved queen, MyrdemInggala. Thou hast caused my intended bride to be assassinated... What more must I suffer for Thy sake?
'Let not my people suffer. Accept my suffering O Great Lord, as a sufficient sacrifice for my people.'
As he rose and put on his tunic, the pallid-chopped AbstrogAthenat said casually, 'It's true that the army has lost Randonan. But all civilized countries are surrounded by barbaric ones, and are defeated when their armies invade them. We should go, not with the sword, but with the word of God.'
'Crusades are in the province of Pannoval, not a poor country like ours, Vicar.' Adjusting his tunic over his wounds, he felt in his pocket the three-faced timepiece he had taken from CaraBansity in Ottassol. Now as then, he felt it to be an object of ill omen.
AbstrogAthenat bowed, holding the whip behind him. 'At least we might please the All-Powerful by being more human, and shunning the inhuman.'
In sudden anger, JandolAnganol struck out with his left hand and caught the vicar across the cheek with his knuckles.
'You keep to God's affairs and leave worldly matters to me.'
He knew what the man meant. His reference had been to purging phagors from Borlien.
Leaving his tunic open, feeling its fabric absorb the blood of his latest scourging, JandolAnganol climbed from the subterranean chapel to the ground floor of the wooden palace. Yuli jumped up to welcome him.
His head throbbed as if he were going blind. He patted the little phagor and sank his fingers into its thick pelage.
Shadows still lay long outside the palace. He scarcely knew how to face the morning: only yesterday he had arrived at Gravabagalinien and - in the presence of the envoy of the Holy C'Sarr, Alam Esomberr - he had divorced his fair queen.
The palace was shuttered as it had been the day previously. Now men lay everywhere in the rooms, still in drink-sodden sleep. Sunlight cut its way into the darkness in a crisscross of lines, making it seem like a woven basket that he walked through, heading for the doorway.
When he flung the door open, the Royal First Phagorian Guard stood on duty outside, its ranks of long jaws and horns unmoving. That was something worth seeing anyway, he told himself, trying to dispel his black mood.
He walked in the air before the heat rose. He saw the sea and felt the breeze, and heeded them not. Before dawn, while he still slept heavily from drink, Esomberr had come to him. Beside Esomberr stood his new chancellor, Bardol CaraBansity. They had informed him that the Madi princess he intended to marry was dead, killed by an assassin.
Nothing was left.
Why had he gone to such trouble to divorce his true wife? What had possessed his mind? There were severances the hardiest could not survive.
It was his wish to speak to her.
A delicacy in him restrained from sending a messenger up to her room. He knew that she was there with the little princess Tatro waiting for him to leave and take his soldiers with him. Probably she had heard the news the men had brought in the night. Probably she feared assassination. Probably she hated him.
He turned in his sharp way, as if to catch himself out. His new chancellor was approaching with his heavy, determined tread, jowls jolting.
JandolAnganol eyed CaraBansity and then turned his bac
k on him. CaraBansity was forced to skirt him and Yuli before making a clumsy bow.
The king stared at him. Neither man spoke. CaraBansity turned his cloudy gaze from the king's.
'You find me in an ill mood.'
'I have not slept either, sire. I deeply regret this fresh misfortune which has visited you.'
'My ill mood covers not only the All-Powerful but you, who are not so powerful.'
'What have I done to displease you, sire?'
The Eagle drew his brows together, making his gaze more hawklike.
'I know you are secretly against me. You have a reputation for craftiness. I saw that gloating look you could not conceal when you came to announce the death of - you know who.'
'The Madi princess? If you so distrust me, sire, you must not take me on as your chancellor.'
JandolAnganol presented his back again, with the yellow gauze of his tunic patterned red with blood like an ancient banner.
CaraBansity began to shuffle. He stared up abstractedly at the palace and saw how its white paint was peeling. He felt what it was to be a commoner and what it was to be a king.
He enjoyed his life. He knew many people and was useful to the community. He loved his wife. He prospered. Yet the king had come along and snatched him up against his will, as if he were a slave.
He had accepted the role and, being a man of character, made the best of it. Now this sovereign had the gall to tell CaraBansity that he was secretly against his king. There was no limit to royal impertinence - and as yet he could see no way to escape following JandolAnganol all the way to Oldorando.
His sympathy with the king's predicament left him. 'I meant to say, Your Majesty,' he began in a determined voice, and then became alarmed by his own temerity, looking at that bloody back. 'This is just a trifling matter, of course, but before we set sail from Ottassol, you took from me that interesting timepiece with three faces. Do you happen to have it still?' The king did not turn or move. He said, 'I have it here in my tunic.' CaraBansity took a deep breath and then said, much more feebly than he intended, 'Would you return it to me, please, Your Majesty?'