The Far Kingdoms

by Allan Cole

  I considered. Janos had a smile on his lips, but it went no higher. I remembered the Castle Courtyard and the hound. "When we return to the inn, I shall have Eanes shear me like a young lamb," I promised, and reached for my purse to pay the smith.

  Cassini, who had listened, but said nothing during our exchange, bought the exotic rapier and its companion.

  * * *

  "Do not hand me the mirror," I begged Eanes. "Just tell me what I appear to be." My hand stroked at the emptiness where my hair had curled in waves to my shoulders.

  "Perhaps," Eanes said thoughtfully, "a galleyslave."

  "Or a thief intended for the Kissing of the Stones," Janos put in helpfully, peering around the corner.

  "A criminal," I moaned. "A condemned man."

  "You're too harsh, my master. You could also pass for a holy man who's taken a vow of celibacy."

  "Definitely that," Janos said. "Possibly even a castrato."

  "I think," I said, "I shall go next door to Evocator Cassini's chambers, and ask him if he could prepare a small spell that delves into the arena of baldness."

  "Too late for me," Eanes said, patting himself on his shiny pate. "But beware it doesn't turn back on its caster, as so many incantations do."

  "I am starting to believe," I said, "that being cast from a high cliff is better than listening to either of you. Janos. This was your idea. You may buy me a brandy... no, several brandies... below stairs."

  I rose and picked up my new sword. I was still getting used to its heft, more than a bit heavier of the rapiers or shortswords I carried in Orissa. Eanes carefully gathered up the cloths he'd laid around my chair before he began his barbering. He shook them into a leather bag.

  "You were clever enough to not let any of his locks fall on the carpet," Janos asked, most serious.

  "I was, Captain. Just as I have been since I was named his bodyslave, back when he was a mewling infant. Careful with hair, careful with the trimmings from his nails, careful with the down from what he wishes will be a beard one of these years, even careful when he was a disgusting pup and vomiting in all directions like a fountain. Although there have been times I would have gladly sold a bit of my master to some evil witch, provided she would include civility and common sense in whatever spell she planned to cast over him."

  "Good," Janos said, still serious. "But do not dump the cuttings down the jakes, please. Carry them out to the main sewage ditch, where you may be sure the waterflow is constant."

  Eanes' smile evaporated, and he became as serious as Janos. "I shall do as you say," he said. "And I know not whether you've any premonition, but just being in this city of dead stones and cursed souls makes me constantly think all our doom is just around a corner."

  All of us crossed fingers. Eanes gave a heavy sigh. "It is so bad," he said, "I am even looking forward to the ocean, where I will be forced to hold Lord Amalric's head over the side when he pales, and inform him that puking to windward is not blessed. Thanks be that I myself have a stomach of the most solidly cast iron." He picked up the bag, and went out.

  "To the best of my knowledge," I said, "Chatterbox Eanes has never been on any boat in his life, except perhaps one in a garden pond."

  Janos smiled a bit. "He reminds me of my own nurse. Scuffling, whining, complaining, worrying, but always--"

  A scream curdled the night. Janos and I were out the door onto the balcony. His sword was already in hand, I scrabbled mine out. We clattered down the stairs into the courtyard. The two watch soldiers at the gate were peering out, their weapons ready. Other soldiers pelted out from their chambers, buckling on their gear.

  "Eanes," one of the soldiers shouted, pointing down the street. The watch had been ordered to let nothing lure them from their posts. "He just went--"

  I didn't hear the rest, as we rushed out into the street. Janos grabbed one of the torches from its stanchion as we went. At the end of the street, I saw three men struggling. We hallooed and charged forward. One of them broke away and darted off into the blackness. The other paused long enough for me to see his arm strike across the chest of the third, who collapsed. Then there was no one in the cobbled street but the sagging body of a man.

  It was Eanes. We turned him over. He'd been slashed twice - once on the arm, cutting it to the bone, and then across the body, deep into his body cavity. But he still lived.

  "Call Cassini," I told Janos. He shouted for the Evocator and his healing herbs. I could hear feet running toward us.

  Eanes' eyes opened, then found me. "They... didn't get it. I did not let them," he gasped. "They wanted..."

  "Be silent." Janos knelt beside me. He held out a small leather bag - the bag carrying my hair-clippings. My bowels clenched. It could not be. They thought the well-dressed little man was carrying a bag of coins.

  "They said... they wanted what had come...from you... that I would be rewarded if I yielded it over. And if I didn't..." Eanes sucked in air, air that was no comfort to his ripped lungs.

  "Hold on," I said. "Cassini is powerful. He has potions and spells. You'll be all right."

  Eanes shook his head. "No," he whispered. "One boon, master. One last boon." I knew he was dying. "Free me," he managed. "Let me die a free man."

  That was no boon - it was my fault he would die here on these rough cobblestones in this damned city. But that was all I could do. I tried to find words; but I'd had never freed a slave before. Janos spoke.

  "Say the words after me," he ordered. I echoed him.

  "I... Lord Amalric Antero, of Orissa, do declare this slave Eanes, Eanes of...of..."

  "Of Mangifera," came the whisper.

  "Of Mangifera... a free man. He now owes no man homage... save those superior to him by station or duty... he has the right to property... to wife... to children, who shall be free as well...he has the right to his own life... to his own death... I, Lord Amalric Antero, do declare... willingly and openly... here, under the sight of all gods...I will have no claims... now or forever... on this man, his children, his family or his soul."

  Eanes' lips parted, in what might have been intended as thanks, or as a smile. Then his gaze changed, and he saw through me, saw beyond me. Saw nothing. His body was suddenly quite heavy.

  I could not see his face through the blur. Someone took the body from me. Janos helped me rise. Then I remembered: I scraped up a handful of dirt from between the cobbles and let it sift down on Eanes' body. Now his ghost would not wander the earth. And, I promised, I would fulfill the rest of the duty, so that he would be blessed by the Dark Seeker, and avenge his murder. But at the time I felt no anger. Just a great sorrow; and a great shame' for in all those years of service, I had never asked my most faithful servant, and my truest friend, just what his homeland was.

  Janos put an arm around my shoulders. "We mourn later," he said, his voice harsh. "We sail today."

  * * *

  We packed hastily. I fumbled with my possessions, knowing that for the first time in my life I had no one to remind me what hairbrush went where, which tunic should be folded in what manner, and so forth. When I realized my thoughts, I cursed myself yet again for selfishness. A man had just died and all I could think of was whether my pomade had been corked properly and packed in the correct trunk. Sergeant Maeen detailed one of his soldiers to help, but I fear he was of little assistance. At least I had the courtesy not to snarl.

  I sought out the innkeeper and paid our reckoning. He vowed he knew someone who knew the Orissan ceremonies, and that he would have Eanes' body burnt after the ritual, as our beliefs dictated, so no magus could rouse the dead earth and animate it to be serving flesh. Janos had said he was to be trusted in this, so I did not bother mentioning that the Antero family has a long memory, and it would be a black matter indeed if he did not keep his promise. I think he looked into my eyes, however, and knew.

  When we gathered in the courtyard Janos brought us into line and gave each of us a small tooth, gold-mounted and hung on a chain. He told us they'd come from
ferrets and would make us hard to kill. I remembered my pet ferret and how Halab had brought it to life. Perhaps this would be a good omen on a journey that appeared plagued from the beginning. Cassini frowned - any charms should have come from him, rightly, but did not say a word; and he slipped his amulet over his head as quickly as the rest of us.

  Janos stood in the middle of the courtyard, staring at the one tooth remaining. Perhaps he was wondering if it would have saved Eanes if he'd given it to him two hours before.

  * * *

  It was long after dawn before the Kittiwake sailed out of Lycanth's harbor. It took time to raise L'ur, for him to find the sailors we'd hired, for him to find a waterfront witch to cast an evidently-satisfactory prophecy for the journey. A heavy summer fog still hung across the harbor when we finally let go our lines, and four sailors manned the sweeps to row us far enough out to rig a sail for the light breeze coming off the land. Our prow pointed toward the open sea. To either side was the monstrous Sea Castle of the Archons and, across the narrow harbor mouth, the watch tower, claws on the curling, grasping rocky hand of the harbor that seemed reluctant to let us go.

  I turned back to look at Lycanth as it vanished into the mist. The mist lifted and I saw the dock we'd just left. There was someone standing there... so motionless I thought him at first to be just one of the pilings. Then I recognized him, even though the distance should have been too great for my eyes to make out such detail. But I knew. I knew.

  The man watching our departure was Greif.

  * * *

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE ARCHONS' TEMPEST

  In the days that followed I had rueful revenge on Eanes. The sun was bright, the wind brisk and the seas high. The Kittiwake charged through those seas like a living thing, great sail straining for more speed. For once one of Eanes' prophecies didn't come true. I was as healthy at sea as on land. I thought of him often as waves broke over the ship, wetting us all to the skin. The soldiers were permanent fixtures at the sides heaving their guts into the spume, to the vast amusement of Captain L'ur and the other seamen. Among the gut spewers was Cassini, which gave Janos his private pleasure. Sea sickness, Janos's laughed in my ear, did not seem vulnerable to a conjuror's ways. It was a good joke at the time - for I had never felt so healthy in my life. My strength swelled with each passing league as we beat our way toward the port of Redond. My blood was alive with adventure and all thoughts of Greif's dark figure vanished. As for Eanes: I promised myself I would learn from his death, although I was not sure yet what lesson should be drawn. Privately, I dedicated the expedition to him - promising a fat ewe as a sacrifice when we returned - and put him away in my chest of tragedies, along with Halab and my mother.

  It is common for every voyager heading for new lands to pay small attention to his fellow travelers in the beginning. Each sight is so new and different the ways and doings of his companions are overshadowed, so I cannot say with accuracy what the other members of the party were doing. I remember Cassini being permanently sick. I remember the grumbling seamen, although I believed the grumbling minor. I don't remember much of our soldiers, except Sergeant Maeen separated them from the seamen and kept them busy with small tasks and training. I remember Janos keeping mostly to himself, poring over charts and mysterious scraps of documents. He always seemed about, however, when L'ur took a fix with compass, log and glass to mark our course. He discussed the process and the navigational tools thoroughly. Later I would see him by himself with mysterious instruments of his own, muttering and taking what appeared to be sightings, and scrawling notes. When he did this, he always made sure Cassini was not about.

  In the beginning I saw other ships - all from a distance, since L'ur was a properly wary captain who never tempted a pirate. But I wondered at them, as all lubbers wonder; guessing from whence they came, and where they were bound. It came to me they could be seeking no landfall as wondrous as the country I sought and laughed at their puny expectations. Once we were well out into the open sea we saw no ships, for few dared this journey, and those who did traveled as cautiously as we were.

  The seas were alive with all manner of creatures. There were fish that flew right out of the water; turtles with backs broad enough to carry several men; insects with bodies as big as a man's head and long, spindly legs that carried them swiftly on the hunt from kelp bed to kelp bed. I saw a creature twice as long as our craft that spewed water from a hole set in the top of its head. It fled our approach. Later I saw two immense birds, or things that looked like birds, with vast leathery wings and long sharp beaks. They alighted on a dark shape drifting in the waves, crying out in delight and tearing at its flesh. As we drew closer I saw it was the corpse of one of the spouting beasts I'd seen. There were several spears in its side.

  On another day a sea lizard broke surface. It was huge and old with long trails of barnacles streaming from its side. At first the men said this was lucky. But it followed us, and they grew wary, casting dark looks back. The creature trailed us for a long time, and the looks became curses before the sea lizard disappeared. But the men did not forget.

  Just after that the seas changed color and shape as we entered a region of great depths. The sailors whispered there was no bottom here and an angry god dwelt in the vast reaches - a god whose name no man had heard and lived. The captain laughed at the talk; mocked it as superstitious blathering, unworthy of a true sailor. But I caught a hollowness in the mockery, and saw him finger his talisman. He did nothing to stop the whispers.

  Despite the fears of the seamen, nothing in particular occurred during our voyage across the deep. But I understood their nervousness. In the time we traveled in those waters we saw never a living thing - no fish, or sea lizards, or even a wayward bird. It was as if we had come upon a watery desert. So when a seaman spotted another sail one day and gave the cry we rushed to the bulwarks, rather than hastily preparing to take flight. L'ur made the excuse of checking his position and buying fresh food and steered for the stranger, with the two-hands-clasped flag of friendship flying from our mast. The ship was lateen rigged like our own, but with three sails. It stayed its course as we closed, making no attempt to tack nearer, nor to flee. We cried out that we were friends. No one answered. As we came within a spearcast of the ship, and could see its decks clear, we realized there was no one to answer. The ship's sails drew taut and the snap and crack they gave in the wind echoed eerily. We saw with a jolt the rudder had been shipped. Who was steering, and how? "Wizardry," I heard a seaman hiss.

  L'ur barked orders to pull away, but it was too late to prevent us from skimming closer to the strange ship's side. The deck was spattered with a terrible gore; fresh gore - with red blood pocking the deck and more blood dripping down the mainmast. But there was not a corpse to be seen, much less the sobs of wounded men. We fled in terror, L'ur screaming and the seamen dashing about to do his bidding as if the Dark Seeker had loosed his hounds. The Kittiwake leaped away from the ghost ship and when we had sailed a great distance, L'ur hove to for consultation.

  Some of the men said it was the work of an evil wizard. Others said it was men. The men they imagined were half-pirate, half-demon, who crept up on innocent seamen to make a meal of their flesh, or to carry them away to eating pens. At Janos's urging, Cassini stilled his quaking guts enough to give a little speech about kinder gods and gentler men. There was little passion to his talk, so it was unconvincing, less from Cassini's illness than his own fear. He seemed to be trying to come to terms as to what manner of things he would encounter, and be expected to overcome, as the expedition continued. He could see how little his words meant, so he called for a sacrifice to the gods of this region. This started a quarrel. Some said we should sacrifice to our own gods as well, so as not to make them jealous. Some said we should make sacrifice only to our own, or they would abandon us permanently. There was only a small pig to kill - the ship's mascot. Cassini wisely stayed with his first judgment, placating the near, rather than the far. The pig squealed as he cu
t its throat and he bled it into a copper bowl engraved with arcane symbols.

  "That'll do no good," I heard a man say.

  "We'll need a better gift than that," said another.

  "It's just our poor pig," someone said quite near.

  "That's all our luck he's killin'," came a grumble.

  I heard someone say: "It's the red head who's to blame. Everyone knows red hair's bad luck on a ship." Janos's hand gripped my elbow and I gave no indication I had heard. As he pulled me away I heard a final comment: "It oughta be him, `stead of the pig. That'd change our luck."

  "I see what you meant about my red hair," I groaned. "It's always been a curse to me."

  "It's foolish to mourn a thing you were born with," Janos soothed. "I wouldn't be surprised if there are kingdoms with nothing but red headed people, and it is the poor black-haired fellow who's cursed."

  "What should I do?" I asked.

  "Don't trouble yourself. We're only a few days out of Redond. Why stir a pot to boil, when a simmer does no harm? Besides, we have our own men, good, loyal Orissan soldiers the seamen would not dare challenge." He eyed me, grim despite his words. "But keep your knife ready. In case someone comes at you in the night."

  Cassini completed the sacrifice, pouring the blood and a mixture of sorcerous ingredients on the seas, and calling to the gods in a loud voice we were peaceful men who would soon be quit of their kingdom. We set sail again and the spirits of the men seemed somewhat eased. The muttering ceased, although my hair still drew looks. The crew became almost cheery as we entered a region everyone said was always blessed with steady winds. L'ur changed course to make a straight run for Redond, speeding over the waves like the fish with wings. That afternoon the wind died.