by Allan Cole
* * *
"I am not inclined to favor this expedition," my father said. His words caught me unprepared. Rali had laid the groundwork well and I had been certain he would approve.
"You must, father," I pleaded. "I doubt there shall ever be such an opportunity in my lifetime. Please, you must give me your blessing."
"There is nothing I must do, Amalric," my father replied. "Except pay my tithes to the Council of Evocators, my taxes to the Magistrates and a gold coin to the Seeker, to make my passage to the other world painless and swift. These things, I must do. Favoring a foolish voyage by a hot-headed stripling of a son is fortunately not a requirement of my existence."
"Forgive me for using that word, father," I said, chastened. "But please tell me what I can say to convince you. Is it the goal itself you find unworthy? Do you doubt the existence of the Far Kingdoms?" My father only looked at me. Not angrily, not sternly, but with great weariness. He did not have to use words to answer. I remember my father being very old at that time, although I am much older now than he was on that day of confrontation. His hair was white, close-cropped like a helmet, in the manner of his generation. He had a small, neat beard - also white. His face was lined and his skin leathered from exposure in his travels. His hands were larger than most and spotted with age. But I realize now Paphos Karima Antero - the patriarch of our family - was only a few years past his prime, and the great age I recall is more a view from my own, very tender years. He seemed so wise, then. I suppose I viewed him a bit like a god. So when he fixed me with that look, my heart sank and I felt small and unworthy. For I saw it was myself who was lacking. I was the reason the journey to the Far Kingdoms was not to be.
Except for the crackling of the fire in the stone hollow behind my father's desk against the chill only he felt, there was no sound in the room as I considered how to plead my cause. "I know I have been a grave disappointment to you, father," I said at last. "My conduct has been unforgivable. To say I am deeply and truly sorry, would be such a weak repayment for my sins that no apology - no matter how object - should weigh the balance in my favor."
My father continued his steady, testing gaze. "This may appear like a sudden, wild enthusiasm on my part. And considering my past history, I would also reject my plan, if I were a father with such a son. But, I beg you, sir, to look into my heart and see the truth that lies there. I desire nothing more than to please you. To wipe away all thought of suspicion of my future motives. To be worthy of the Antero name, so my father can speak proudly in the market place." I fell silent, not sure how to proceed.
"Is that all you have to say?" my father asked, voice harsh.
"No, sir. I also wish to make clear that no matter what your decision, I shall accept it without complaint, and I shall do my best to accomplish whatever Finding you deem worthy for one such as me. However, before you firmly shut the door, sir, please consider this. For most men my age, a Finding is only an excuse to travel and pleasure themselves at their fathers' expense. No new ground is ever broken. Knowledge of the world is not expanded. And our trade routes still bump against the same forces that keep Orissans from achieving their true purpose. Your generation was the last to push those bounds back, sir. You, yourself, dared to redraw the maps with your Finding many years ago. And much of our knowledge of the furthest western regions comes from your later trading expeditions. But you must admit, the tradition of the Finding One's Tradewind, has become a mockery in these days. It is an excuse for the sons of the rich to spend their fathers' money on foreign luxuries and women and wine, out of sight of prudish Orissan eyes. And they return with nothing but a first-hand knowledge of the best taverns and sporting houses in the civilized world."
"You propose to be different?" my father said, dryly.
"Yes, I do, father. For this reason, I ask for no more than a tenth of the funds usually allotted. This is to be a real Finding, sir. I will not purchase a fancy wardrobe to impress the courtesans. Nor do I request coin for an entourage of my friends as is the current custom. Nor do I desire any of the luxuries such caravans usually carry: fine tents and carpets and pillows to ease the passage; wines and delicacies to soothe the pallet after much barbarian fare; slaves to do all the labor; or women to relieve our passions when local pleasures are denied us. I intend for this expedition to be as lean and professionally equipped as I can make it. And with such a small expense there is a good possibility it will be profitable, even if we do not reach our goal. I further believe, sir, that I was most fortunate in meeting Captain Greycloak, a man whose presence doubly assures success in any such venture."
"What if I approved the Finding, but to a different destination?" my father asked.
"I would do the same in all things, sir," I answered. "Except I would not do it so well, because I would not have Captain Greycloak in my company. I would be disappointed, to be sure. But proving to you my worthiness, father, is more important to me than avoiding disappointment." I stopped, then. For no other arguments presented themselves. I braced for his rejection. Begging Halab's ghost to help me take his refusal well.
There came a tapping at the door. My father's servant, Tegry, poked his head in. I saw a small grin of pleasure on his features. It grew larger when he spied my obvious discomfort. He was chuckling to himself, no doubt, that I was finally to get proper punishment for my actions.
"What is it?" my father asked, testy. Tegry's grin vanished. My father's tone was dangerous. "You asked to be informed, master, when Captain Greycloak arrived."
I was dismayed. Obviously, my father had asked Janos to attend my final humility. I tried not to be angry because this would be a rudeness to Janos as well. "Send him in," my father said. "And bring us some wine. None of that vinegar from the marketplace, mind you. Fetch a good bottle from my cellar." My gut wrenched as Tegry shot a nasty look in my direction and disappeared to do as he was told.
My father's actions were very puzzling. What he said to me next was more puzzling still: "For once, I do not quarrel with the company you keep. And I did not rely alone on your sister's evaluation of Janos Greycloak. Captain Greycloak seems to be an excellent soldier to command the military side of such an expedition... if it is approved. I was impressed enough with him, as a matter of fact, to invite him here to personally tell him I find no fault in his character. It would be rude to do otherwise."
I heard Janos's bootsteps in the hallway, and I wanted to slink away like an incontinent mongrel that had just fouled his favorite spot by the fire. "Come in, my good captain," my father called with loud cheer when Tegry announced Janos. "Thank you for being so prompt in answering my request."
Janos had dressed with care and made a fine impression as he entered and bowed low. "It was my own great pleasure in your kind invitation that brought me so swiftly, Lord Antero," Janos answered.
"Here, none of that," my father said. "We should speak as equals, if you are to lead my son's expedition to the Far Kingdoms. Call me Paphos, sir... if you please."
My jaw was polishing the hardwood floor. My head was spinning with first confusion, then sheer joy. Tears sprung to my eyes and I felt a lump in my throat threatening to become a great sob of relief. I wanted to fling myself at my father's feet and babble my thanks.
My father smiled and gave me a wink. "Pour us a little of that wine that Tegry has fetched, Amalric," he said. "I want Janos's opinion of it."
I poured and passed the goblets around. Janos gave me an odd look, but I turned away so I wouldn't make a complete ass of myself. I barely heard the conversation that ensued over the next hour. The exchange must have been pleasant, as well as to Janos's credit, for there was much laughter at my father's jests and respectful silences when he related some of his favorite adventures.
I kept wondering - what had I missed? A moment before my Finding had been denied. Now it had been heartily approved and was being blessed with toasts of my father's best wine. In other words, where had I gone right? What had I said to change the notoriously stubborn mind of o
ne Paphos Karima Antero? Then I understood, at least partly. His refusal had been a test. It wasn't what I had said that won the day, but the heartfelt passion of my defense. It was a ploy I have used many times myself since that day. It has served me well.
"There is one matter we need to be absolutely certain of from the beginning," I heard my father tell Janos.
"And what is that, sir?" Janos asked.
"In my experience, one of the greatest causes for an expedition's failure is that a clear line of authority and responsibility is not drawn."
"Your wisdom is much greater than mine," Janos said. "So I would not presume to argue such a thing. Especially since my own small experience bears your words out as complete and total truth."
"Good," my father said. "Then you will not quarrel with my first and only rule. In all matters relating to the safety of the expedition, you will be in charge. My son will in no way interfere with your dealings with the soldiers.
"However... In all matters of business, of budget, or of trade, my son's word is law. It is his Finding. His expedition. And he shall answer to me at the end for success or failure. Is this agreed?"
"Without the slightest hesitation, sir," Janos said.
My father turned to me. "Amalric... If there is to be argument about this, now is the time. You don't want to leave it until you're in the desert and a horde of demons comes charging over the dunes. So... Do you agree as well?"
I was still too gripped by emotion to do more than nod vigorously and croak my acceptance.
Janos broke in. "If I may be so bold, sir," he said, "I have a small proviso of my own."
His words rocked me. What was he doing? My father had already agreed. Why was Janos pressing for more? I was certain my father would cancel his approval on the spot.
"And what would that be, Captain?' I heard my father answer, amazed at the jovial tone of his voice.
"I only want to know you own opinion of our ultimate goal, sir. For I must warn you, that I will risk anything we have won, once we near that destination. But, if you think it is only a fable we seek... Now is the time for us to part company."
That's torn it, I thought. My father was not a man for fables. I was getting my way, I thought, only because he thought there was a good chance of profit in the voyage. It didn't matter what the goal was, as long as there was a chance for trade along the way. And now all his good will would be dashed by Janos's ultimatum. Still, I was curious how he would react. I remembered it was a question I had asked...and gotten no answer.
I expected to see fury in my father's face. Instead, it was gentle, reflective, if anything. "That's fair," he said at last. "I would want to know the same if I were in your boots." He refilled his glass, and sipped. "We share a common dream, captain," he said at last. "The Far Kingdoms have held me in their spell since I was a child."
He must have heard me gasp, for he turned his head and gave me an odd, twisted smile. "I've never told anyone this," he said to me. "But I once sat where you sit now, son. Pleading with my own father to go on such an expedition to the east. He refused me. And I have regretted it every day since that moment."
I stumbled for words. A moment ago, in my thoughts, I was accusing my father of being a profit-hungry merchant, with a soul too small for fables, or dreams. "But... How could he? Everyone knows you were a great voyager. Why, many of our trade routes would not exist if it weren't for you."
My father waved the praise away. "Anyone could have done the same. This is not humility speaking, for the gods know I am not a humble man. The fact is, few young men set out on really important Findings in my day. So it was easy to stand out in so small a company. I saw then Orissa's world was shrinking, not expanding. And it has only grown worse since our victory over Lycanth. Now it takes small effort to be a rich man. We only have to ply the nice, safe ports of the past. Which is why there have so few important explorations since my time. And this is the reason I give my blessing. If Orissa does not seek, then soon it will not exist."
"Then you do believe in the Far Kingdoms?" I asked.
My father hesitated for a long moment. Then: "Let me put it this way... I prefer to believe. There must always be a place for seekers to seek. We are all born with the curse of a yearning heart. And if the answer is only an extra crust of bread snatched from our brethren, than what is the point of it all? So I give you my blessing, son. And you too, good captain. Seek the Far Kingdoms. Find them, if you can. By God, if the Far Kingdoms do exist, I will go to my grave a happy man, knowing an Antero breathed their air." He raised his goblet to his lips and drank it dry. "Is that answer enough, captain?" he asked, briskly.
"More than I could have ever asked, sir," Janos answered, his voice as respectful as I would ever hear it. "I thank you."
"No thanks required," my father said. He turned to me. "It is settled, then. Now, all that impedes you is permission from the Council of Evocators."
My heart gave a jolt. I had forgotten about the Evocators. No trading expedition was permitted without their approval and that approval could not be won unless money and promises of more money exchanged hands. Even this was no guarantee that the omens would be favorable. Especially for a venture like this, a venture I had boasted to my father was far from the ordinary Findings of my peers. There would be a Casting. How the Evocators would read those bones was always in doubt. Especially for an Antero.
My father read my face and refilled our glasses. "Let me see how I can help you," he said. "I have a few debts owed that are far past repayment. Meanwhile..." He lifted his goblet. "To the Far Kingdoms!"
"To the Far Kingdoms," we echoed. As we drank I looked across my goblet at Janos. He was smiling, but the smile seemed uncertain. At least I wasn't the only one worrying about the Council of Evocators.
* * *
In the days of my Finding the budgeting of an expedition was done by what we merchantmen called "The Rule Of Three." One part of the cost went to equipment, the second to the men of the party, and the third for the gods. Profits of a successful expedition were divided by "The Rule Of Four": Two parts for the merchant and backers, one part for the members of the expedition (or their survivors at home), and the final part was once again for the gods. The Evocators collected the gods' coin, and it was the joke at the time that the eldest Evocator threw all the coins into the air. Whatever stayed up remained with the gods. Whatever fell to the floor was for the Evocators.
Unfortunately for the purposes of true accounting neither rule was completely accurate. The cost of just securing an appointment before the Council could add up to a small river of silver as the merchant slipped "gifts" to Evocator clerks and priestly aides. An even more princely "gift" would have to be given to one of the members of the Council to champion the merchantman's cause before his colleagues. There was no getting around this, although it was rumored many had tried, been caught, and then banned from all trade for life - assuming the Evocators had been kind enough to leave the errant trader a life to suffer.
Next came lengthy and expensive purification rites, and then a "Casting of The Bones," by one of the supplicants. A good omen was not necessarily assured, even if that small river of coin were a flood. For sometimes an ill omen was so powerful it was impossible to deny. But a bad omen was guaranteed if the merchantman was niggardly in distributing the "gifts." As for the four rules of profit division, a wise merchant sweetened the part collected by the Evocators with more handfuls of silver - privately disbursed. This was to get past another Orissan law, which stated every object borne by the returning expedition must be tested for spiritual purity. It was also a given, and no amount of "gifting" could circumvent this, that anything which advanced sorcerous knowledge automatically belonged to the Evocators. Any book, talisman, powder, or potion which met this definition had to be immediately turned over to the Council. The penalty for breaking this law was death.
Since my Finding was for the explicit purpose of mapping a route through the mysterious and deadly barriers, some physical, s
ome sorcerous, which so narrowed our world at that time, a great deal of attention would be paid to this law. The Council of Evocators would require brass-bound guarantees if it was to permit our expedition to the legendary Far Kingdoms.
But my father was an experienced and masterful hand in such things. In the art of wooing the Evocators, Paphos Karima Antero had few masters. Despite his unpopularity with the Council, he was so knowledgeable in negotiating the crooks and alcoves of its administrative maze he rarely failed to win his way and at a better price than most. A stroke of a quill in a ledger book or its absence can sometimes have powerful results. So as I worried over my future from the perspective of a youth looking up at an enormous mountain that must be mastered, my father went to work - dropping a word here, a purse there, and cashing in old favors owed.
Finally the day came. It was early summer, a time of morning mists and warm afternoon suns. The scent of orange and budding rosemary pleasured the air. The sunlight seemed exceptionally bright. We waited in the gardens behind the Evocators' Palace. We wore the pure white robes of supplicants and were freshly scrubbed and anointed with purification oils. Our innards were growling with emptiness from the three-day fast and purging required for the rites. My tension was heightened by my father's last words as we left the house: "Be on your guard," he'd warned. "Do exactly as you are told... and nothing more. The destination you chose for your Finding has aroused the interests of our enemies. They will be watching and listening closely."
Janos was unusually silent as well. I glanced over the head of the small clerk whose charge we were in and saw him nervously fingering his beard. He saw me and the frown on his face turned to a quick grin. "Nothing to worry about," he said. "The worst they can do is tell us no." I thought of Halab, and did not answer.
A slave came running down the steps. "They are ready for you, masters," he said. The clerk tugged at my sleeve. "Put this on, sir," he said, handing me a long bit of red cloth. "Tie it tight and do not remove it until you are granted permission." As he handed a second blindfold to Janos, I breathed a prayer to our hearth god and wrapped the cloth about my eyes until there was no more light. The clerk led us stumbling up broad stone steps and into the palace.