Sayri's Whisper: The Great Link Book 1

by Daniel J. Rothery

  Sayri herself, then, was torn between excitement at visiting the ancient and famed lands of Somria, of which she had heard and read so very much, and concern for Arad and the trepidation he faced. Both motivated her to be loving towards him, however, so she expressed it at every chance, though he was becoming less and less receptive.

  Now he held her, his dark hair tossing in the warm wind that ran parallel to the coastline, but his eyes were locked on the city, and were narrow and intense. She couldn’t help but smile at the firm contour of his jaw, or the gentle upturn of his eyebrows; he was, she thought to herself with satisfaction, a beautiful man. That said, though, his current expression aged him, young as he was, and reminded Sayri that despite all that she had experienced in the preceding year, he had seen far more. More strife, to be sure, but from what she knew, certainly not more joy.

  Her eyes following his gaze over the rippling water between the ship and the city, she placed her hands over his, and silently vowed that she would shift that balance, to help compose a life for him that would be made less of grief and more of solace.

  ・

  Sayri found herself standing on a large dirt promontory that Arad and the ship’s master had called a dock, though it seemed more a peninsula to her. The dock, like a myriad others reaching out from the city as if intending to snatch ships and pull them in, was dirt, but so ancient and so pounded solid by the many feet, hooves, and wheels that had used it over eons as to be indistinguishable from stone.

  It had been indeed as if the dock has reached out and snatched the ship. Never having been on a ship when it docked, and never having even seen a city that came close to the size of Yalcinae, Sayri had been terrified when they sailed into the maelstrom of vessels off the city’s shore. Countless in number, they had all seemed to be traveling on intersecting courses with no apparent means of avoiding each other, and most were powered only by sail, and thus unable to stop if needed. Somehow, and Sayri would forever be in wonder as to how, the Lord’s Destrier had managed to slip through the perilous swarm and arrive safely at the dock faster than should have seemed possible.

  Now she stood on the hardened reddish earth of the dock, in the midst of the crowd that she had gaped at from a distance. There were people everywhere, all uniformly dark-haired, women with their breasts nearly exposed, and men wearing skirts(!), and they were walking, riding beasts, or driving wagons in all different directions. Just as she had felt that the ship would surely collide with another if it approached the harbour, now she was certain that if she moved a single step from where she stood she would be crushed under the relentless mass of humanity.

  They had come ashore first, after Arad was told by the Front-Captain that the lord would not immediately be going ashore. Arad had generously offered to show her around the city. That he could do so amidst such a violent torrent of humanity had seemed impossible to Sayri, so she had suggested that they might wait until nightfall when it was safer to move about. Arad had laughed at her then, a light and joyful laugh, and she had grinned when he decided to hire a cart for her comfort, and then he had gone off to find one, vanishing into the undulating crowd without a trace.

  So it was that she found herself standing amid the surging chaos. To be true, he had left her to the side of the promontory, with her back to the ship, where she had professed to be fine until he returned. But all of the busily hurrying people and stinking unrecognizable beasts and rattling four- and six-wheeled wagons had seemed to be pressing upon her, so that she feared she might be pushed into the space between the ship and dock, fall, and be crushed. How pathetic it would be if Arad returned with the cart only to find Sayri gone, only to wonder at her fate, until later when her body would be carried out to sea and discovered by a fishing ship.

  It was thus that she had decided that she would be safer in the middle of the dock, and had moved nervously forward, dodging through the rapidly moving obstacles, until she stood roughly in the centre of the dock. Only then had it occurred to her that in such a seething mass, Arad would never be able to find her. So she stood quietly there, her hands clasped to her breast and her heart racing, trying to remain calm in the perilous circumstance in which she found herself, debating what she should do next.

  “Sayri!” she heard, and turned to see Arad hanging off a rope at the rail of the Lord’s Destrier, scanning the crowd from his improved vantage point.

  “Arad!” she cried, perhaps a bit more desperately than she had meant to, jumping and waving with one arm.

  He spotted her, to her great relief, and somehow managed to plow through the crowd effortlessly, all the while pulling a cart behind him. “Jump on,” he said, gesturing at the seat on the cart.

  Sayri climbed up on it, frowning. It was the strangest cart she had ever seen; just two large wheels, a seat, and a pair of poles to pull it. That was it!

  “What sort of cart is this?” she asked as she sat down. The seat was wood but shaped comfortably, and she felt more relaxed already as she settled into it. She was above the people, on the same level as the beasts and wagons, the wheels protecting her from being jostled. Most importantly, Arad was in front of her!

  “A passenger cart, of course,” Arad said, turning his back to pick up the two wooden poles.

  Sayri steadied herself, the cart shifting back when Arad began to walk. She marvelled at the thick muscles revealed under the fabric of his lightweight shirt as he started pulling. “A cart just for passengers? That’s ridiculous! Surely it has some other use,” she said disbelievingly.

  Arad laughed. “Farm girl,” he teased, smiling back at her briefly, then continuing forward.

  Sayri swatted at him, though he was out of reach. “I’ve lived in the city for a year,” she protested.

  “Not this city,” he laughed, without turning. “You should’ve seen your face.”

  Sayri sat back and crossed her arms, pouting playfully. Then, realizing he couldn’t see her pose, she rolled her eyes and laughed.

  From her new viewpoint, she could see much more of the crowd filling the streets; a sea of heads, in which she could make out no details, periodically broken up by a wagon or a rider standing higher than the people around. She had been passed by a few of the rider-laden beasts while standing amongst the crowd; the mounts were similar to horses, but smaller and stockier, and lacking their elegance. Where horses were long and lean, with billowing tails, these were squarish and muscular, with rat-like tails. She thought to ask Arad where they came from, then thought better of it. How would he know?

  As Arad continued to miraculously make his way through the crowds, she began to take in the architecture of the city. Though most of the buildings, as she had initially seen, were made of orange mud bricks, there were a good number of larger edifices that were stone. In particular, as Arad steered them onto a wider, even more heavily congested street, she saw buildings on either side at least four stories in height constructed small, grey, stone bricks. They all had windows on every level looking out on to the street. There were still no balconies, but small metal rails protected their occupants from being released onto the heads of the people passing below.

  Up the center of the street Sayri could see a circular stone depression ahead. As they approached she could see that it was about ten paces across, and people were sitting on its knee-high stone edge, while others milled about inside the circle. She was about to ask Arad what it was when she noticed another construction in the center, about twice as tall as the tallest man nearby. It was ornately assembled of stone blocks into the shape of various imaginary beasts (she hoped, considering the terrifying images they portrayed). As she examined the intricate detailing on a monstrous fish, she realized with a start that water was spouting from its mouth! As they came closer she saw that the circular structure was a basin filled with water, in which the people were wading, finding cool relief from the heat.

  “Arad, stop!” she exclaimed suddenly.

  He came to a sudden halt and turned around, alarmed. “What
is it?”

  “The . . . it . . . I can’t believe it!” She hopped down from the cart’s seat and ran over to the edge of the structure, peering down at the water in astonishment. Then, slowly, she lowered her hands into the water, and cupped some out, letting it run between her fingers, shaking her head.

  “How is this done?” she asked, looking back at Arad with an amazed smile.

  “What?” Arad laughed. “You have fountains in Benn’s Harbour, Sayri.”

  “But we are in the middle of a city!” she protested. “How—how do they get so much water here? The hills look to be a day’s walk!” She pointed in the direction of those she had seen, shading her eyes from the sun as she squinted, but tall buildings blocked her view.

  Arad wasn’t laughing at her anymore, and had come to stand beside her. “Don’t you have an aqueduct in Benn’s Harbour? I suppose,” he continued thoughtfully before she answered, “I don’t recall seeing one. Sayri, it’s a huge channel on a platform that runs down from the hills, carrying water for the entire city. We’ve had them for generations.”

  Sayri stared at him in wonder. Such a simple concept, on such a grand scale! Her father had used something similar, though much smaller, to bring extra water to the crops in their village. Slowly, she nodded as she came to comprehend the concept, then frowned again, shaking her head in wonder as she considered the massive scale of the project. It must have taken years to build.

  At last, the astonishment wearing off, she realized that people all around were staring at her. Adults were frowning in her direction with a smile, and children were even pointing and laughing.

  Reddening, she held her hand across her forehead. “I must look a complete fool,” she said. “Silly foreigner doesn’t understand the simplest things.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Arad said. “It’s your hair.”

  Sayri looked around at the crowd; all had the same dark, swarthy hair that had made Arad stand out so in Benn’s Harbour. Her gaze passed out over the street, and she understood. Her own hair, though still cut short, stood out among the dark-haired locals like a bright yellow candle on a dark moonless night.

  “Should I cover it?” she asked, becoming self-conscious.

  “No,” Arad shook his head. “Soon enough we’ll be traveling with Lord Perrile and the Lordsguard, and we’ll stand out more than this. We have no reason to hide. Unless it bothers you, getting all the attention,” he added.

  Sayri smiled. “No,” she said, her eyes tearing over, just a bit. “I’ll simply stand out, then.” She knew Arad must have wondered why she suddenly became emotional. He didn’t ask, but squeezed her hand helping her back into her seat, where she sat, sighing, and smiling so he would know she wasn’t upset.

  Everyone was staring at her—not because she was a criminal, or running from warders, but just because she was different. They were staring and smiling, and Sayri found herself unable to resist smiling back.

  As Arad picked up the poles and pulled her forward through the busy streets, she knew why her eyes had teared up—because she was free. Free on the streets of a mysterious new land, in the company of a wonderful man, with no one hunting her. Safe, and ready to discover whatever the world chose to place in her path.

  ・ ・

  They had wandered the streets for ages, Arad seemingly never tiring. At one point, after he pulled her up a twisting, cobbled street to the summit of a small hill, she dismounted to take in the view and offered to pull Arad in the cart for a while. Pointing back down the steep hill, he had laughed and said she would have ended in a broken heap at the bottom of the hill. She had laughed and agreed. In any case, despite the muggy heat and the exertion, he was barely sweating; she wondered at his level of conditioning. Surely there were few who could stand against her man, at least in pulling a cart.

  “I’m sorry, at least, that I weigh so much,” she finally replied, and then squealed as he threw her over his shoulder like a sack of flour, hiking up a further twenty paces of footpath to the hilltop as though she was not even there.

  He put her down then, and started to turn and take in the view, but she stopped him, and kissed him, long and tenderly.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said. “I know this won’t be easy for you. I just want you to know, I’ll be here for you just as you were for me.”

  Arad’s smile faded, and he gazed solemnly for a moment out over the city, and she started to regret what she had said. But then he turned back to her, smiling warmly, and kissed her cheek.

  “Sayri, it’ll be fine. I have a new home, and more importantly, I have you.” He traced a finger down the side of her face for a moment in silence, then continued. “I have you, and I am here for Lord Perrile, and the Front-Captain, and the Lordsguard. We’ll do our business here, and go home. Back to the Lords’ Lands, and Benn’s Harbour, or the Lower Valley, if that’s what you want. It’s all different now,” he finished, “because now I have you.”

  Sayri nodded, joyfully soaking in his words. Still, there was an edge in his voice, and she felt it, too. His father was who they were to be facing, and he had yet to learn that his son was among the visiting entourage, as advisor to a man he likely thought of as his enemy. How would he react? How would Arad react? Both were unknowns.

  “Arad,” she began, then stopped. I don’t want to ruin this day, she thought. “Never mind.”

  “It’s all right Sayri,” he said quickly. “Showing you around Yalcinae; it is pure pleasure. But don’t think for a moment I haven’t had tomorrow on my mind.”

  The conference was to take place mid-morning on the day after their arrival. The Overlord would not be present, but his Head Chancellor would. This was a good sign; the Front-Captain had explained during their last dinner aboard ship that the Head Chancellor was responsible for resolving disputes between provinces and officials within Somria. If the Overlord did not see this as a potential war, but rather as a minor border dispute, then Arad’s father could not expect the backing of the entire Somrian army if it came down to fighting.

  Still, Arad’s father was the Commander-General of a large army, and without the Head Chancellor’s explicit orders to the contrary, had the right to defend his territory. The meeting tomorrow would be to determine if the island in question was truly within his territory, and whether or not Lord Perrile’s actions constituted a violation of those borders. Normally, since Lord Perrile had already ordered a withdrawal it would not be a concern, but Arad did not believe that his father would accept that. The way he described it, his father was spoiling for a fight.

  She paused, running all of this through her mind, as she had many times already.

  “Do you think you can stop a war?” she finally asked.

  “It’s not up to me to stop it,” he answered carefully.

  “No, of course not,” she agreed. “But—if your father really is looking to start something, will he accept Lord Perrile’s withdrawal?”

  Arad pondered. “No. I know that this is exactly what Lord Perrile is hoping, that an explanation in person will avert a war, but it will not happen. My father will simply accuse him of attempting an invasion, then withdrawing to buy time when he was caught in the act. It won’t make a difference.”

  “Then after coming all the way here, it will be war?” she asked.

  “Not . . . for certain.” Arad turned to look out over the city. Sayri followed his eyes; he was looking to the Overlord’s citadel, a graceful spire of grey stone surrounded by four large yellow domes, where the meeting would take place. “The High Chancellor can stop it. If he thinks my father is overstepping his bounds, he can relieve him.”

  Sayri frowned. “What are the chances of that happening?”

  “Not good, Sayri,” he answered, shaking his head sadly. “Not good.”

  13 GALLORD-SMIT

  The wind was whistling through shutters at the window when Gallord-Smit awoke. For the tiniest moment in the daze of being half-awake, he thought he was back home, and was ab
out to call for his wife to shut them. Then he heard the crowds—the voices of the hundreds (thousands?) out on the street—and he remembered where he was.

  Gallord-Smit had been to Somria before, but he had never entered a city, much less the sprawling metropolis of Yalcinae. His experience of the country had been that of touring garrisons, barracks, and training bases; he had visited on a military tour, as part of an exchange program sharing training methods. At that time, when he was a young man, there had been positive relations between Somria and the Lord’s Lands—so positive that a trade relationship had been formalized, and discussions of alliance were in the air.

  It was a period of calm and prosperity, when neither of the two nations, or any other nearby nations, had anything to fear. The two greatest powers were at peace and friendly to their neighbours. Economic prosperity defined the era and had lasted several decades, for most of the reign of the previous Overlord, Litrocus Rex.

  Then Commander-General Sherzi had come into power in the north, and everything had changed. The Overlord was in the habit of allowing his Commander-Generals to handle political affairs in their respective provinces; a holdover from the days when Somria had first formed as a federation of independent nations. Sherzi’s province was closest to the Lord’s Lands, only separated by the sea and a sprinkling of islands. More importantly, the rest of Somria stretched away to the south, the coastline curving gently west so that the eyes of Somrians, including those in Yalcinae, tended to face south and west, away from the wide sea and the Lord’s Lands beyond it. If anything, geography granted Sherzi say in dealings with Lord Perrile; that, and its influence over the human psyche.