by Robert Low
‘That is the price,’ Atakan declared with fake apology in his eyes. ‘The Mazandaran Sea which you call the Hyrcanian Ocean is dangerous enough without having to give up cargo for people who take up more space and also eat and drink.’
He spoke bad Greek, which at least let Drust and the others understand him without having to go through Kisa, who frequently took the long road through a short speech.
‘Perhaps I should give this sister-humper a club,’ Ugo growled to Quintus in Greek. ‘Then he can hit me and it will be a proper robbery.’
‘Sister-humper?’
Kisa soothed the sea captain with pats on his arm.
‘It is the way they talk to each other,’ he explained hastily. ‘They mean no harm by it.’
Atakan growled and peered truculently, then shifted his arm away from the close attention of Stercorinus, who was trying to trace the ink-marked spirals with a grimy finger.
‘That is the price. Be it known that I do not haggle.’
‘This may be because he also cannot sail,’ Drust said in Greek to Kag, ignoring Atakan completely. ‘Besides – his ship is a fat-belly. He says he went raiding with it, which may be, but this is a little sea and there is not much sailing in it, so that is not saying much.’
Atakan looked wildly from one to the other, while Kisa tried to fix his smile and soothe with more pats. ‘Just the way they talk to each other,’ he said through his grin.
‘Raiding?’ Kag answered scornfully. ‘Only a dog’s arse of a sailor thinks such a log is a raiding ship – he should be paying us to step aboard it.’
‘Dog… dog’s arse…’
‘The way they talk,’ Kisa interrupted desperately, but Atakan was glowering now and elbowed both Kisa and Stercorinus away with a curse.
‘Little sea? You do not know it, that is clear,’ he bellowed. ‘Out there are raiders from the east and the west and elsewhere. Out there are monsters and worse…’
‘A ship would need good fighting men to travel it,’ Drust agreed blandly. ‘Brave men not afraid to stand up to sea raiders and monsters.’
‘Because such brave men are monsters, you hog’s arse,’ Ugo ended, grinning. ‘You think you can get such men here? You think you can get such men to pay you while they fight?’
Atakan scowled and made a dismissive grunt, but he had been caught fairly and knew it, so he came up with less false in his smile and halved the price. There was spitting and hand-slapping and everyone went off happy.
‘They look powerful,’ Stercorinus muttered as they walked. ‘Skin-marks of note.’
‘Spell-bound,’ Kag replied wryly, but Ugo shook his shaggy head, frowning.
‘There were those back in my village who knew the way of it. If you make a mistake with them, you can turn a charm for a hard pizzle into something unmanly. Easily fixed if scratched on an amulet, or marked on a stone – but inked forever into your skin? You’d have to flay it off, or have a man-root that looked at your toes all its life.’
Praeclarum laughed, seeing Stercorinus worrying at that idea and deciding that, if Atakan had it done, he was clearly unaffected…
‘How do you know he is unaffected? He looks like a bull, but under those fat breeks he wears…’
She broke off and wiggled her little finger suggestively; everyone laughed and moved away down the harbour, where slaves hauled bales of cloth and mysterious boxes and jars. A man with a red hat moved past them holding a basket of bread and calling for buyers; the woman with him had a baby wrapped in a shawl looped round to carry it in front of her. She smiled at Drust and held out her hand, pleading.
‘Just as well he halved the price,’ Quintus said, grinning at the baby, ‘else we would be begging as well.’
‘There may be work on the far shore – this Atakan will know, for he carries salt there and silk and spices back,’ Kisa said, then stopped as he felt the stares on him.
‘Hauling salt,’ Kag repeated blackly and Ugo’s smile was brief and twisted. Kisa shrank a little.
‘I do not trust this Atakan,’ Sib declared and Kisa nodded agreement.
‘Wise. Atakan is like all his breed – he will trade when he can and rob when he thinks he can escape with it.’
‘We are the skilled men in that,’ Quintus pointed out. ‘It may profit such a thief to know who he is dealing with before he makes a mistake.’
Kisa nodded and went off to spread that word to the sea captain. Drust heard excited voices and went to see what was causing such interest. The sun was dying in the sea, a harsh bloody glow spreading like a huge stain and rising higher and higher in the sky, spilling out left and right like wings.
‘Bel,’ Stercorinus declared, kneeling. ‘Send your blessings with Aglibol and Yarhibol.’
‘Ahura-Mazda,’ Sib said, falling into the kicked-dog crouch he always did when faced with mysteries. He had seen Atakan’s amulet, and Drust had to admit the effect looked much like it.
‘What does it mean?’ Quintus demanded and folk waited, knowing either Sib or Stercorinus would have an answer.
‘There is blood in it,’ Sib began, ‘which is not a good thing…’
He got no further because Kag slapped the back of his head, hard enough to smack his scarred leather war hat off. He whipped round scowling until he saw who it was.
‘Blood in it,’ Kag scoffed. ‘The sky is full of blood this time of evening – besides, if it is the fire-starer god who sends this sign, it isn’t blood, only fire. If it is that skinny wolf’s three gods, then, yes, there will be blood. Have you heard of a god who does not want such sacrifice?’
‘It is no good sign to see in the sky,’ Sib persisted and glared back at Kag. ‘From Jupiter Best and Greatest.’
‘You are after making me laugh,’ Kag said mildly, ‘for being worse than any old woman for bad signs you need to ward off. Yet you are clever to have seen it, you dog-bothering dirty sword – something dark is coming, brought by that sunset blood sign.’
He leaned forward, looking fearfully left and right and finally back into Sib’s wide-eyed stare.
‘It is called,’ he said and paused ominously. ‘Night.’
The laughter kept Sib growling sullenly for a long time, but eventually sleep took even him and they huddled where they were, wrapped in what tattered cloaks were left to them and, for all that the day had been hot, the night was chill enough to need them. Drust would not admit he was near to shivering and simply sat and waited, though he did not know what for.
He became aware of her slowly, like a warmth on one side, and when he turned she sat within reach, but looking straight out at the darkened, moon-glimmered sea. The firelight cat-licked her face, so that Drust could see the swelling had gone down.
‘Your mouth looks better,’ he said softly, and she turned to face him.
‘I will not smile, all the same.’
‘How many teeth are left to you?’
She shrugged. ‘I can feel some at the back on both sides – at least my face will not cave in like an old woman’s. The ones in front are mostly gone but so is the pain from them, so it’s all good.’
He sat silent for a time until she laughed softly. ‘Ask it.’
‘Ask what?’
‘How long it lasted. What happened in the end.’
He shifted towards her. ‘How long did it last? And what happened in the end?’
‘Too long. And when the owner saw my mouth and wanted to know why his goods were damaged, he had me sold before it got worse.’
‘And the man who did it?’ Drust asked. She hunched and stared at the ocean.
‘Flavius Milo. He was dismissed as lanista, or so I heard.’
‘I know of him. Good fighter in his day,’ Drust replied, ‘but vicious even then. His behaviour is no surprise.’
‘One day,’ she said, her swollen voice bitter with pain, ‘I will find him.’
Drust reached out a hand, meaning only to pat her soothingly, and encountered her own. For a moment there was unreasoning
panic, but neither drew away, and they sat, fingers touching, breath stilled. Neither was ready for this, had never been.
You could leave life right now – let that determine what you do and say and think, Drust thought wildly.
The quayside had grown quiet. There were no friendly patrols to keep order, so night in this place was a hive of thieves and worse. In a while, Drust would kick someone to take his place and then sleep himself, but for now there was a night of moonlight and chill, save where they touched, which burned.
It was as well, Drust thought later, that she and I were the only ones awake, given the hag-fears of the others, to see the great red glow that spread on the night sky, raising the hackles on his neck. He felt her fingers tighten and turned to see her looking wide-eyed back – then they both stared. It was hard to see how close it was, though it was out to sea and made bloodier by the dark that lay that way.
It stayed that way for a long time as they watched, concerned and flesh-tightened by it – then in an eyeblink, there was a great, silent pillar of fire, shooting straight up to the sky, a bright flare that made the pair of them grunt. The darkness that followed was blacker still and their exchanged glances showed how pale it had made them. Yet they found they had to untangle their fingers when they started to speak.
‘A sea dragon?’ she asked after a pause to gather breath, but Drust did not know, could not speak and simply shook his head. He was blinking at the dark and wondering how far away it had been.
‘Sometimes you can see them for a distance of two or more days’ journey.’
The voice spun them round, Praeclarum’s dagger whipping out of her boot; she cursed when she saw Kisa and Atakan.
‘Such behaviour could lose you an eye,’ she spat. ‘Or worse.’
Atakan merely spread his hands in apology and squatted beside them, his eyes gleaming in the dark.
‘Not dragons,’ he declared, ‘but worse. That fire comes from under the sea and if you are ignorant or unlucky, it will torch your ship and everyone in it as fast as…’
He snapped his fingers and Praeclarum grunted and nodded, which made Atakan’s eyes narrow. He is disappointed, for he wanted us to think he was a great liar, then prove his point, he thought. He does not know we have seen worse things than fire that burns in the sea…
‘We came because Atakan has a proposition,’ Kisa interrupted, ‘which begins with him offering us a safer sleeping place aboard his ship.’
‘We have not agreed to pay the price to take his ship,’ Praeclarum scowled back and Kisa spread his hands.
‘As you say, honoured lady – but the price has diminished.’
‘I want no coin,’ Atakan put in, beaming. Now Drust looked at him calculatingly. A man who offers free what he haggled hard for at the start is one who is selling you nothing. One of Kag’s many rules of life that Drust had sucked up over the years. Atakan saw it.
‘There is a favour to be asked,’ he admitted. Drust said nothing and watched the smile waver and crumble.
‘A short sail from here,’ he went on, ‘is a small place called Bād-kube. It means…’
‘Place of Winds,’ Drust interrupted, just to let him know he knew enough Persian.
‘The Place of Pounding Winds,’ Kisa corrected, then withered under Drust’s gaze. Atakan brought his smile back.
‘A place of dirt and hovels, famous only for two matters. The first is, as you say, the winds that tear at the place and make sailing so bad few go there. I myself find it hard and I am the best sailor on this coast.’
He stopped as if waiting for applause and, when none came, cleared his throat and went on.
‘The second is that about one farsah from it – to you, the distance you can walk in the first part of a morning – is a place where the rocks are always ablaze. Always, since the world was made. It is not the only such place. It stinks worse than the worst fart, which is how you know you are close to it if you are blind. That stink is also the way you can tell if you are sailing over another such place – the sea bubbles and froths, as if someone had broken wind in a bath. You do well to avoid it – that fiery pillar you saw comes from these places.’
Praeclarum was not sure if Atakan had ever been in a bath, as she said with a stone face, but Atakan only shrugged.
‘It is a place of black pitch, the stuff the Great City of Rome pays a great deal to have sent to them,’ he went on and glanced slyly from face to face. ‘They use it to make their flowing flame, the Roman Fire.’
Now this Drust knew well enough, but the man who knew most about it was Quintus. Once, in the wilds of Britannia, he had shown them all what little clay balls filled with such Fire could do.
‘Black pitch is only one ingredient,’ Kisa Shem-Tov said, frowning. ‘The way to make it is a great secret – but the Persians know it too.’
‘They do,’ Atakan declared, touching a finger to his nose in a knowing way. ‘This is the eternal fire, the godfire, a sign from the Ahura-Mazda. This is the Persian god.’
‘You wear his sign,’ Drust answered, reaching to flick the winged amulet on Atakan’s chest. The man grinned; Drust was beginning to think he was related to Quintus for the way he liked to show his teeth.
‘I have many amulets. It helps when you trade with people if they believe you believe as they believe.’
Kisa growled something which might have been curse or prayer, then dragged matters back to the road.
‘What has this to do with us?’
Atakan nodded. ‘There is such a temple, on the eastern shore of this sea. It is said to be very old, very rich and very unguarded.’
Praeclarum squinted at Kisa, then at Atakan.
‘This is your favour?’ he scoffed. ‘A fire-starers’ temple which, if it is as old as you suggest and as unguarded as you say, has clearly been fired and emptied by raiders before now.’
‘Tscha,’ Atakan replied scornfully. ‘This shows how little you know of these waters and how you should be grateful to me to the sum of three-fifths of all we gain.’
‘Two-fifths of nothing,’ Drust pointed out drily, ‘is nothing.’
‘This temple,’ Atakan persisted, ‘is called Bhagavan, which means “field of the fire gods”. It is in a place called the Black Lake, a place fed by the Hyrcanian Ocean so that the water runs into it. It is separated from the main water by a narrow ridge of land and a shallow channel, through which the Hyrcanian flows. Too narrow for a boat – the temple lies on the far side of the lake, a half-day sail away. This is why no one has plundered it.’
‘Not by landing further up and taking it from the landward side,’ Praeclarum growled and Atakan shook his head excitedly.
‘No, no – it is protected by cliffs and the land around the Black Lake is so salty nothing grows there – I know, I have been. I sometimes fetch salt from the folk along that coast.’
‘So the only way in is to swim?’
Atakan laughed and slapped his fat-breeked thigh.
‘If you are a fish – no, the only way in is to take a ship across that ridge, and you can throw a stone across it, from one water to the other. I have a crew of six – but with your men we could haul my Emerald out of the water and across to the Black Lake. Kisa says you are well travelled and have done all sorts.’
Drust looked at Kisa, who nodded excitedly.
‘What have you told this dog-botherer?’
‘Dog-botherer?’ Atakan demanded.
Kisa patted him hurriedly and added, ‘A way of talking – they all do it…’
Praeclarum rubbed her head where the hair was growing out and itching with life that should not have been there. She looked at Drust then back at Atakan.
‘They have sailed in the great grain ships from Alexandria,’ she admitted, ‘but never had to get out and push. Yours is a heavy sow of a ship to be hauling over land.’
Atakan scowled at the description, but did not deny it. His was the biggest bellied of the trade ships and Drust could see that had always been the probl
em.
‘My Emerald may be big and round,’ Atakan declared, ‘but that means she can carry more in that belly. I have six men sailing with me. You have as many – that is enough to drag it across a little sliver of land.’
‘If nothing grows in this area, as you say,’ Kisa put in, ‘then we must carry logs with us, but they will be underneath when we haul, so the ship will be lighter. We also will be out, so it will be lighter still.’
‘And coming back?’ Drust pointed out laconically. ‘Laden with these legendary riches?’
‘Aha,’ Atakan said, slapping his hands together. ‘Your honour is a clever man. The riches are there and here is why they will be no burden.’
He paused and grinned, delighted with the squints and scowls he was getting. Then he laughed; Drust was starting to dislike him more and more.
‘The rich prize is lājavard,’ he declared and sat back, beaming.
‘Now I know this,’ Praeclarum answered curtly, ‘and I know even less than before.’
‘Lājavard,’ Kisa said, ‘is the Persian name. It is a stone, though that is like saying the sea is water, or a lion is a cat, for there never was such a stone. In Rome they call it Blue Stone, or the Stone of Venus. There are many types, but the best and most prized has flecks of gold in it. If powdered and sprinkled on fire, smoke of all different sorts appears, according to Apollonius of Tyana…’
‘We are to travel all this way, drag a boat like a litter-full bitch across land and raid a temple – for a blue stone that makes many-coloured smoke?’ Praeclarum interrupted, then put one finger to her nose and snorted derisively.
Put that way, Drust was thinking, it did not sound much and she had a point. Kisa, however, shook his head, eyes shining – Drust had never seen anyone so smeared with the fever of raiding. This is what happens to quiet folk when you let them off the leash – even a frumentarius spy for the Palatine. Perhaps that beating he’d had had forged something into him, or released something that had always been there.