by Larry Niven
“The king is more mannerly than we had been given to expect,” Annalun said. “You have known him a long time, King’s Companion?”
“Call me Regapisk. Long enough, and we have shared adventures enough. But not so long that he can’t surprise me.”
“He is not of your land?”
“No, from the north lands somewhere,” Regapisk said. “I’m not sure even he knows how to get back there now.”
She smiled as if Regapisk had made a clever joke.
“I cannot believe someone of your beauty can still saddle a one-horn,” Regapisk said.
She smiled again. “There is a great deal of manna in this place, and with enough manna all things are possible. The girls, now”—she indicated the three, who were making a complicated game of undressing Arshur—“have always been able to ride the one-horns, because we have had no king for a year. They have grown impatient for this night. As my mother was impatient the night I was conceived.” She poured more wine. “Bring your drink, Lord Regapisk, and come with me. I see my ladies have nothing to fear, and we can find more pleasant work than watching them. I doubt we will either of us be missed.”
Regapisk hesitated.
“Your heroism at the crater has been told,” Annalun said. “I will not laugh at the marks of a hero. But the girls will want to see. Come, Feathered Lord.”
Chapter Seventeen
Islands
At dawn outside Sunfall Crater, the emissary who wore the mask of a road runner boarded a floating basket. Sandry, Burning Tower, and Clever Squirrel climbed after him, wincing at stiffness and bruises, flinching from the wobble of the basket and the strangeness of what they were doing and what was to come. The emissary, impassive in his mask, watched them settle themselves. Tower could not have said when the basket began to move; but they were drifting down the line of logs, faster and faster. A wind picked up. All ducked their faces beneath the wicker rim, all but Road Runner, protected in his mask, with slits for eyeholes.
The road on both sides of the High Road was very broad. It ran straight as an arrow’s flight. Tower found she could watch the road unreel behind her, wind whipping her hair around her cheeks. For a glimpse ahead, she could brave the wind for a few seconds at a time.
Sunfall Crater was hours behind them. As the basket reached the top of an uphill slope, Clever Squirrel told them, “It looks like islands scattered across a sea.”
“No, it doesn’t,” said Sandry. “It’s a jumble out there. Wilderness. Plants that reach out and stick you with needles.”
“I can see manna glowing in spots and lines. Flickers of light in a sea of darkness. I can’t make you see it. Fur Slipper had that talent. There—close up—Sandry, do you see twin spires of light?”
What he saw, when they drew closer, was two great petrified trees standing upright. Lesser stone trees began appearing along the High Road, many fallen, many still upright. They glided through a forest of stone. From time to time, armed men showed between the trunks.
“Our priests have dreamed, aided by the ilb’al seeds,” Road Runner said. “Stone men lived in a stone jungle until gods fought a war here. They fled south until doom overtook them. Clever Squirrel, magic once gone doesn’t return. That may be what happened to the stone men, and the trees too. They no longer grow.”
“What do you guard?”
“What the Emperor holds, we guard,” Road Runner said.
Sareg said, “We guard the stone wood from thieves. People who know nothing of magic would steal it for its beauty alone. The Emperor sells it to far lands.”
Near day’s end the High Road ran through a canyon. The great road still ran straight as a rain arrow’s flight. Dusk was coming on. Shadows marked out a maze of rectilinear structures. There was a pillar of light ahead, an enormous fluted tower far too large to be made even by wizards. The view of the tower was framed by impressively tall gates leading into the city. This side of the gateway were big, ornate wagons laid out with travel nests, blocky buildings, and a stream running through meadow.
“Aztlan?” asked Sandry, and “Aztlan,” said their guide.
There were sentries on the cliffs. Smoke from signal fires rose in puffs.
“I was expecting a sea,” Sandry said to Road Runner. “Aztlan is thought to be an island.”
The basket slowed, stopped, and settled almost to touch the stonewood log. The Emperor’s emissary said, “Whatever an island may be, this is Aztlan. We may not enter tonight. The Emperor will have ceased his duties for the day. Come, we’ll find meals and blankets below.” He shooed them over the side and followed them down.
At that day’s dawn, Regapisk woke to squabbling voices.
The girls had prepared them a meal of potatoes, corn, and flatbread. Arshur was already up and trying to eat, but a dozen men were waiting to talk to him; four guards were keeping them in line. The official talking to Arshur was getting frustrated and trying to hide it. He talked slower and slower, as if dealing with a fool.
Arshur wasn’t having trouble with the language, but the concepts were odd. “But how could you keep such a thing secret! Whole towns are deserted or dead, and nobody’s doing anything about it. Somebody had to tell the Emperor.”
“None would risk his life. None but the king would be safe,” the official said.
“Why not choose a new king, then, or a king for the day?” He noticed Regapisk. “Welcome! How’s your head?”
“Pounding. How’s yours?”
“I did not see why anyone would not want to be king until this moment! Well, Swarm of Hornets, find me a map so that I may know which villages have not paid tribute, so that I may tell the Emperor. Is the army prepared to ride out and deal with these matters?”
Regapisk said, “I need to go out into the city.”
The king grimaced. “Better there than here, friend. What do you need? A chariot?”
“That would be handy. I want to talk to my new partner.”
The river that wound through Aztlan was bounded by three- and four-story structures that leaned over the water. The streets were narrow and shadowed.
Reg’s charioteer drove them unerringly to Flensevan’s shop.
Flensevan was small and burly, older than Ruser. He bowed low before the king’s markings on chariot and charioteer. “I am Flensevan and your servant. What would Your Lordship want with me?”
“I bear a letter from your brother and partner, Ruser.” Regapisk gave the man a parchment roll.
Flensevan read. “Ruser lives, then.”
“Healthy and happy and busy, with a new scar healing along here.” Regapisk drew a diagonal along his shoulder and chest. Flensevan’s eyes bugged as he saw the feathers inside Regapisk’s wide sleeve. “I last saw him at Sunfall Crater. He would come no closer to Aztlan.”
“Hardly surprising. I take it you are my new partner, then,” Flensevan said with little enthusiasm.
“Shall we speak inside?”
“Enter.” Flensevan led the way.
“Rejoice!” Regapisk said when he judged they were out of earshot of the charioteer. “Our first business dealings have made us rich! Or will, when Ruser reaches Crescent City.”
“Ruser was too optimistic when I knew him. The letter says he was penniless when you came along.”
“Yes, and I came as a pauper, and he took me into his house, and Arshur too. Arshur the new king,” Regapisk said pointedly. “And I am king’s companion, and we owe Ruser. Partner, you could have done worse.”
He could see the wheels turn in Flensevan’s mind. “What are you to King Arshur?”
“He was placed under my protection by our employer. We’ve fought together since.”
“And how do you know the language of Aztlan? Did Ruser teach you this?”
“Refinements. I learned from an old wizard, Zephan—”
Flensevan cut him off. “I see. Welcome, then. Will you have tea, Regapisk? Or wine?”
“Tea. Don’t threaten me with wine today, Flensevan. The k
ing and I drank half our life’s allotment last night….” Regapisk stared as Flensevan led him through the jewelry shop. Stonewood stood in great slabs; turquoise, jade, and treasure Regapisk couldn’t name was heaped in bins and on shelves. Aisles ran between. He saw wealth on display in a fashion never seen anywhere in Tep’s Town.
A wicker screen covered one wall, and hand weapons were mounted on it: spears and atlatls and swords. He asked, “Do thieves bother you much?”
“Not much,” Flensevan said.
The only man on duty was half-grown and lightly built. His beard was just coming in. His eyes followed Regapisk mistrustfully as Regapisk bent over a bowl of deep purple gems without quite daring to touch them. Flensevan set the young man to closing up shop.
“What’s to stop somebody”—some Lordkin, Regapisk didn’t say—“from just walking off with a handful of this?”
“The Emperor,” Flensevan said.
“Not personally?”
“No, but a thief would lose his heart to the wall.”
The young man was Pink Rabbit, Flensevan’s eldest. He prepared their tea, and then remained in attendance while his father and Regapisk explored each other’s pasts. Regapisk named his home as Tep’s Town and was relieved when Flensevan showed no sign of recognition. He described his financial arrangements with Jade Coin, tacitly admitting that his people didn’t expect him home, ever. Ruser, of course, couldn’t go home either. Regapisk hinted that he would like to know why, but Flensevan did not respond.
Regapisk waited until the boy was out of the room before he said, “Ruser told me to ask about the boat.”
Hot tea slopped over Flensevan’s hand. Flensevan’s face did not move. “Boat?”
“Boat. He said not to speak of this until we were alone.”
“Mmm. Rabbit?” He didn’t raise his voice. Pink Rabbit appeared. Flensevan asked, “Where is the charioteer?”
“Guarding the chariot. He hasn’t moved.”
“Were you able to hear us in the kitchen?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Stroll with me, Regapisk. There is a place where we will be harder to hear, even by an Emperor’s servant. But first—” He held out his hand.
Regapisk took the small crude statuette in its box from his pocket and gave it to Flensevan. Flensevan opened the box and held the statuette to Regapisk’s forehead.
The statuette grew an erection. So did Reggy.
Flensevan nodded. “Come with me, partner.”
In an inner room, two of Flensevan’s servants joined them. It took them both to lift and move a table, exposing a rug. Then the rug had to be rolled up to expose a wooden floor. Then—not the trapdoor Regapisk was expecting. Four heavy timbers in the floor had to be slid along their length, and then eight steps led down by a man’s height, down to water. Boards bordered a sluggishly moving pool.
Flensevan reached to touch a fist-size blob of jade, raddled with stony intrusions, hanging on a rope. It lit up in garish green. He lowered it into the water. By its light Regapisk could see a boat tapered at bow and stern, nine or ten paces long. The mast lay along the length of the boat, dismounted. There was no room for oarsmen, a thing Regapisk was inclined to notice. The boat was tilted on its side on the mud, and the bottom had windows in it.
“My brother must trust you amazingly,” Flensevan said. “Then again, that may be how he lost the money he was given—”
“No, it was the blockade. Lots of people in Crescent City lost everything. They were starving when we came,” Regapisk said.
“Ah? Good. In any case, the boat is a secret. It’s our means of escape if politics turns nasty. It was Atlantean, of course.”
“It’s very dark,” Regapisk said. “I mean it was dark underwater before you lowered the gem. There’s no manna down there at all, and you’d have to float that thing with manna.”
Flensevan grinned thinly. “You’re a wizard?”
“No. I can see manna. Sometimes.”
“Ah. There’s manna. It’s shielded.”
“Well shielded, then. Good. Is it provisioned? And you’d have to get it to the river.”
“We’re on the river. There are barrels of water. I leave them open, so it’s always fresh river water. If we get time, we could add stores of food, but starvation won’t be our most urgent problem if we need this boat! Let me show you.” Flensevan walked along the boards to what should be the river side of the house, if Reg hadn’t got confused. “Here. Throw all your weight down on this beam, then that one across, then this in the middle. It’s a puzzle, so get the order right. The whole front of the house slides aside, and that’s your access to the river.”
“Then what?”
“Well. Ruser and I began stowing talismans nineteen years ago, and I’ve kept it up. There’s a king’s ransom in the hold, in charged turquoise, silver bars and filigree, jade, some gems. But the first thing we did…mmm. First an Atlantean sold us the sunken boat in return for a getaway. He wanted to leave Aztlan quick.”
“An Atlantean. Zeph?”
Flensevan looked wary. “What do you think?”
“I didn’t think Zephans was any kind of great wizard,” Regapisk said. “But I never heard of anyone better at using tiny fizzings of manna.”
“That’s what the best Atlanteans did. As to Zeph’s powers, he never claimed to be more than a journeyman. But he could see the future well enough to know to get out of Atlantis. And out of Aztlan.”
“Mm-mmph,” Regapisk muttered. “And why was he in such a hurry to leave?”
“You’re king’s companion and you don’t know?”
Regapisk kept his stern face. “Ah. So how did you get him out?”
“So we got him in a basket in a mask that wasn’t his, and he took our secret with him. Then we built the shop over and around the boat. We bought some logs of depleted petrified wood and we sawed them into slats. We surrounded the cargo bay with slats. They’re all tied together with cables, completely surrounding the cargo bay.” Flensevan was leading him around the pool. “Then we could put magically charged talismans in the cargo bay without the boat popping up out of the water. Dismounting the mast, that was a challenge too. I learned how to swim like a fish.”
He whacked a pulley mounted on the wall. “Here, you reel this in and the slats roll up inside the bay. Now the treasure’s exposed and radiating manna. The old spells come alive. The boat pops up as far as the second story, and if the mast was up, you’d break it. You get up this ladder. Look straight up, do you see the ramp from the second story? Cross that and you’re aboard, and so am I, because that’s where I’m waiting.”
Flensevan looked straight into Regapisk’s eyes. “Remember that we can only use it once, and it’s treason.”
“Why do this? What were you expecting?”
“Ruser got away quick and easy, and if he won’t tell you why, neither will I. But they watch me more closely now. What happened to my brother could happen to anyone. Now, Regapisk, I can’t stand it anymore. Tell me how you got feathers.”
Regapisk returned to the palace in midafternoon, bringing Flensevan. “You should meet the king,” he told his partner.
They found a mob of officials waiting outside their building. The guards led them past.
A woman was trying to tell Arshur about kitchen supplies gone undelivered for a solid year. Arshur gestured her silent. “Lord Reg! The Emperor wants to see me, but only once a day. I saw him at noon. It’s all bad news, and it’s all months old. He…” Arshur hesitated, but the guards wouldn’t know Tep’s Town speech, would they? “…raved. He didn’t want to hear any of it. Tomorrow I’ll have three times as much to tell him. I’ve got two secretaries rotating duties. Who’s this?”
“My partner Flensevan.” Flensevan’s forehead was against the rug.
“Greetings, Flensevan. Welcome. Get up. Treat Regapisk nice, he’s simple. Look, Reg, I can’t get loose to meet Lord Sandry and the girls. Greet them and make them welcome.”
“
Shall I bring them here?”
“Curse, I don’t know. Let them lodge outside tonight. The Emperor may wish to welcome them outside. He may not.”
“Is he changeable, then?” Regapisk asked.
Arshur shrugged. “Lord Reg, I can make nothing of the man. He is one of the Great Ones, and they live as they will. Greet our friends tonight, and return here.”
“It’s a long journey to the gates and back,” Regapisk said.
Arshur grinned. “And a short one to the wall, Lord Reg. Take what you need. Go to them this evening and see that they are made welcome. Return here tonight.”
“What shall I tell them?”
Arshur looked distracted. “Tell them—” He caught himself. “Tell them they will be invited inside, and they’ll have suitable quarters in the city. If no one tells you different, I can find them a place in this palace; there are more rooms than I’ll ever need. The Emperor has a huge ceremony planned, wedding, something else about my coronation, a big public holiday where he’ll show himself to the people, but it’s not for four days yet. It’ll take that long to bring the beasts. As to when they meet the Almighty One, he didn’t say. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps another day.”
Chapter Eighteen
The Gates
At dusk Regapisk rode through the streets of Aztlan. Stonewood logs ran to his left, separating two lanes of traffic. Flensevan’s wide eyes and white-knuckled grip made it clear that the man had never ridden at the speed a king’s chariot could make with all other traffic scattering to give it room.
Regapisk had hoped to meet Sandry’s basket, but the streets of Aztlan were a puzzle. It was near dark when the great gates appeared before them.
The great gates were not gates in a wall. They stood alone, and if they could be closed, it wasn’t obvious how that could be done. They seemed symbols only.