The Tukara Mora left the harbor in midmorning, with a banging of gongs and drums, creaking of cordage, and shouts of command. One by one the four great slatted brown lugwails rose, jerk by jerk, as lines of deckhands hauled on the halyards.
Once clear, the Tukara Mora swung to follow the coast of Ambok northwest. All day the ship forged ahead, keeping the coast barely in sight to starboard. When Kerin came up on deck after dinner, he found the ship pursuing the same course, rendered easy by a brilliant moon just past half full.
Early next morning, the ship passed the last headland of Ambok and swung northeast. Kerin watched to learn how the ship was navigated. A group of officers, distinguished by little round black hats, gathered on the fantail. With them came a small, wizened Kuromonian whom Kerin had not seen. A pair of deckhands carried a heavy box by handles.
"Reverend Tsemben!" said Kerin. "Who is the oldster?"
"The ship's sorcerer, the honorable Kushingu. It is his duty to protect the ship against any magical mischief that hostile wizards, like him who sent the demon against you, might attempt."
"He wasn't very helpful on that occasion," grumbled Kerin.
"Alas! He was ashore indulging his one vice, which is gambling."
"Who in his right mind would gamble with a magician? By a trivial spell he could control the fall of the dice, the turn of the wheel, or—"
"Owners of gambling places take measures. Some have magicians as partners, who put counterspells on the house; others hire familiar spirits from pawangs to detect the use of magic by gamesters."
"Does Master Kushingu also navigate the ship?"
"Aye."
"This I must see," murmured Kerin, starting towards the group. Before he reached them, a pair of burly marines blocked his way, pointing their fauchards and exclaiming:
"Keep back! Keep away!"
"I am merely fain to watch—" began Kerin, but they only shouted louder and waved their weapons.
Tsemben plucked at Kerin's sleeve. "Pry not into imperial secrets! Men are slain for less."
Kerin backed away until the marines grounded their fauchards, though they continued to glower. Later, the Tukara Mora passed a group of smaller islands. Around the end of one came a swarm of canoes, some almost as long as the Tukara Mora, twin-hulled and driven swiftly by scores of swarthy paddlers. On the ship, gongs banged and whistles blew. The marines lined up at the rail. At the sight of the hedge of steel, the canoes swerved away and disappeared.
"Pirates from Nintava," explained Tsemben. "That isle has an evil repute."
For a few days things were quiet. Every day at noon, the same officers and hands appeared with the little sorcerer and the mysterious box, performed their rite, and went away. Kerin exercised, walked the deck, watched whales and flying fish, and enjoyed Nogiri's company. They were coming to know each other well enough for each to anticipate the other's thoughts. When Kerin confided the details of his deal with Klung, she observed:
"A year as a bondservant in Kwatna were not so terrible, with an easygoing master like Klung."
"Maybe not to you; but I have my own mission, and my family and business back in Novaria. I must return. Besides, if we were living in Kwatna, who knows what devilment Pwana might not cook up?"
"True."
"If I could only get a look at this thing they do on the fantail, it might advance our quest. If I could fasten a mirror at an angle to the fourth mast. . . ."
They discussed this possibility, that with such a mirror in place, Kerin, ostensibly busy with his sword exercises, could sneak a look into the midst of the ship's officers in the mirror. But Nogiri pointed out that such a mirror would interfere with raising and lowering the sail and therefore would almost certainly be forbidden by the officers, even if they did not suspect its true objective. The argument waxed heated until Kerin rose angrily, saying:
"Methinks I'll hunt up Tsemben for another language lesson."
He stalked off. After the midday meal, he found Nogiri in her cabin. Twisting his feet and staring down at them like a delinquent schoolboy, he stammered an apology for his bad temper.
"Oh, forget it!" said Nogiri, embracing him. "A Salimorese husband would have beaten me for daring to oppose him, and never would he admit to being in the wrong. You are so much more likable than the men of my land that I wonder all our maidens migrate not to the West for such husbands."
"I know not that all Novarians be like me," said Kerin. "I merely stumble and fumble along, striving to do my best."
Kissing escalated to full lovemaking. When it was over, Nogiri said: "My lord, you grow daily better at this sport. It is you and not that stupid old Sophi who should have had the thousand wives!"
Reaching for his clothes, Kerin grinned. "Thankee; but methinks I'd better learn how to please one wife ere essaying to manage a flock of them. And by the way, dearest, much as I should like us to have children, it were better to await our return home. Hast been using your contraceptive spell?"
"Aye; my thoughts run ahead of yours."
"They often do, I've noticed," said Kerin, looping the chain of Rao's package over his head.
"What's that, my lord?" said Nogiri. "A protective amulet?"
"Not exactly." Kerin paused, frowning. "I might as well confide in you, for I need advice." He told of the Mulvani Rao and the message he was supposed to deliver to the Kuromonian court. He also told how Rao had given Kerin the package and then vanished at Akkander.
"May I see it?" she said. Turning it over, she remarked: "It is some sort of paper folded in a silken envelope."
"Pwana opened and resealed it on the island," said Kerin. "According to him, it is a set of directions for making a magical fan of some sort. The thing makes me uneasy, for who knows what might come of it? At the same time, I am reluctant simply to drop it into the sea. I promised Rao to make at least an effort to deliver it. What shall I do with the thing?"
"Since you are going to Kuromon anyway, you might as well give it to some authority. They might even reward you."
A day of storm sent huge green waves sloshing across the Tukara Mora's weather deck, while the ship plodded imperturbably on her course. The crew had lowered the sails in their rope tackles until only the upper halves were still spread. Between waves, the crew scampered about their duties without excitement, although the storm was more severe than that which had tossed the Dragonet about at the start of Kerin's journey.
Koteiki harbor was the largest anchorage that Kerin had seen; and the number of ships of all sizes, from little rowboats up, exceeded those at Vindium and Janareth combined. All the sailing vessels bore bamboo-battened sails; most of their hulls were gaily painted in gaudy colors.
When the Tukara Mora dropped anchor in the outer harbor, a big galley-barge approached and drew alongside. Several Kuromonians climbed the boarding ladder. One, in an embroidered robe and a round cap with a crimson button, appeared to be the leader. Others wore a kind of uniform tunic bearing a squiggle in Kuromonian writing. Then came another man, a small, plump, older one with a thin gray beard and a fancy green robe, but with a different design.
Captain Yambang met the delegation. He and the leader exchanged low bows, over and over until Kerin felt a sympathetic backache. They exchanged documents and conversed, too fast and colloquially for Kerin to follow. The leader from the galley sent his men scurrying about the ship, Kerin supposed to check the captain's manifest against the cargo.
Days before, Kerin had asked how to deliver a message to the Imperial Court. The officers had told him to find the harbor master, who would set him on his way. When the official from the galley was momentarily unoccupied, Kerin asked:
"Sir, are you the harbor master?"
"Nay; this humble worm is but the second assistant to the noble harbor master. What wouldst?"
Before Kerin could reply, the older Kuromonian approached, saying: "Your pardon, but are you not Master Rao of Mulvan, with a document for our invincible government?"
"Why—ah—" sta
mmered Kerin, at a loss. While he wondered whether to try to explain how he came to have the little package, the older man produced a sheet of paper bearing several lines of Kuromonian writing and a sketch of a man's face.
"Ah, yea," said the man, bowing. "You are indeed this eagerly awaited courier. Hast that you were sent to bring?"
Kerin reached inside his jacket and showed the package of oiled silk. "Here it is."
"Excellent! If you will step aboard . . ."He indicated the galley.
Kerin whispered in Salimorese to Nogiri: "What shall I do? Hadn't I better confess the mistake now, ere it be too late?"
"Nay!" she breathed. "We shall have better treatment if they think you the original messenger."
"But if they find out later, the gods know what they'd do—"
"And if they find out now, they may chop off your head for murdering Rao and stealing his package, hoping for a reward!"
"My conscience bothers me." Kerin turned back. "Sir, to whom have I the honor of speaking?"
"This person is civil servant Toga, gwan of the tenth rank and fourth assistant secretary of the Foreign Barbarian Section of the Bureau of Internal Travel Control of the Department of Roads, Canals, and Shipping, at your service."
Kerin did not know what gwan meant but inferred that it was some sort of term for "official." His command of Kuromonian was not yet firm enough to follow sentences at normal rate of speech. He was therefore often compelled to ask his interlocutors to repeat what they had said more slowly. Now he bowed, saying:
"May I see that paper, pray?"
The man turned the paper, and Kerin saw a recognizable likeness of himself—in fact, both of himself and of the vanished Rao. The latter was much darker of skin, but this inkbrush sketch ignored that difference.
"Thankee, Master Toga," said Kerin. "Permit us to collect our baggage, and we shall join you."
Soon Kerin and Nogiri climbed down the ladder into the galley. Kerin was in his everyday jacket, trousers, and boots, while over her sarong Nogiri wore the embroidered Kuromonian jacket Kerin had bought her. The vessel pushed off and headed for shore with vigorous strokes of its twenty oars.
When they climbed out on a pier, Toga said: "Have the goodness to step hither.'' He led them along the pier to the shore, where a group awaited them. There were five armed men, wearing brass helmets and long cuirasses of hardened leather studded with bronzen buttons. They had swords at their sides and leaned on fauchards like those of the marines on the Tukara Mora; one wore on his helmet a gilded ornament suggesting that he commanded the rest. There were two litters and several thickset, drably clad Kuromonians to man them.
"Wilt take this chair, Master Rao?" said Toga, gesturing.
"Whither go we?" asked Kerin.
"Why, to Chingun, for you to present that which you bear to the appropriate official."
"Then where is my wife to ride? In the other?"
"The woman? We had not anticipated her presence. She can find lodging in Koteiki to await your return, or she can follow us afoot."
"Nay, sir!" said Kerin, feeling gallant and a bit reckless. "Her transport shall equal mine own."
Toga looked puzzled. "But she is a mere woman!"
"Our Western ideas differ from yours; and she is also, after all, a princess."
"Oh!" said Toga, bowing to Nogiri. "This vile excrescence begs Your Highness' forgiveness. This heap of nameless filth did not know. Pray take the other chair whilst this inferior one rounds up a conveyance for his humble self."
Toga went off. Kerin stared about, taking in the throngs of working-class Kuromonians in faded blue jackets and trousers, with conical straw hats tied beneath their chins. He thought he ought to get a hat of that sort, since the climate at Koteiki was almost as hot and humid as that of the Salimor Archipelago.
Then he examined the chairs as eight men of their escort picked up these conveyances and readied them for use. Each chair, without covering or enclosure, was attached to a pair of shafts extending fore and aft. The shafts were affixed at seat level; a pair of downward extensions, corresponding to the front legs of a normal chair, supported a footboard for the rider. The shafts were braced near their ends by crosspieces, and from each crosspiece a dowel rod descended, so that the porters could set the weight of the chair on the ground.
From the ends of each crosspiece, a rope was belayed to the midpoint of a carrying pole about six feet long. The rope had sufficient slack so that, when the pole was in use, it was about a foot higher than the shafts on either side. Four porters manned each chair, two bearing the ends of the forward pole and two the after, the second of the front pair and the first of the rear pair standing between the shafts. Another man in workman's costume waved to the chairs, saying:
"Sit! Sit!"
At least that is what Kerin thought the man said, although the local dialect differed from the Kuromonian that Tsemben had taught him. He and Nogiri climbed into their chairs and watched the crowds. Kuromonians of the mercantile and official classes could easily be picked out by their embroidered ankle-length robes, bearing patterns of flowers, birds, and other designs, and pillbox hats. They seemed to be mostly stout men, fanning themselves as they walked with slow and dignified gaits.
After another wait, Toga reappeared astride a small gray ass. He barked a command, whereupon soldiers shouldered their pole arms and porters picked up the bags of the passengers' possessions.
"Go!" said Toga. In single file, the chair porters heaved the carrying poles up to their shoulders, raising the passengers' feet a foot above the ground; and all started off for distant Chingun.
IX
The Prohibited Precinct
Kerin had vaguely supposed that being borne on the shoulders of men would give one a feeling of grandeur. The reality turned out different. His four chair porters plodded in single file, keeping in step by a little chant in local dialect. They sang the same stanza in rotation, over and over. After a hundred or more repetitions, the fourth man called out. The porters lowered their poles until the dowel rods touched the ground and took the weight. Then all four shifted their poles from one shoulder to the other. On they went, murmuring the same little song.
Kerin found that chair shafts have a natural period of oscillation. His weight set up a resonance, so that the chair bounced, with a loud, rhythmic creak, with each stride of the porters. At first Kerin did not mind the motion; but after an hour his clothes began to chafe where they rubbed with each bounce, and his stomach felt queasy.
Since the day was advanced when the Tukara Mora anchored at Koteiki, Kerin's porters had covered only a couple of leagues when, with darkness looming, Toga called a halt at a little wayside inn. The official bustled about, getting Kerin and Nogiri settled in the hotel's fanciest room and the others placed elsewhere. Kerin took time before dinner to learn the locations and use of the facilities.
Kerin was now adept with chopsticks. Toga said: "This person must say that, for a barbarian, you adapt readily to civilized ways."
Kerin paused in his stoking. "Master Toga, my brother, who has traveled widely, warned me that, wherever I went, I should find the folk believing themselves above all other human beings; that they are the wisest, bravest, truest, and politest people on earth. So I do not let myself be disturbed when folk of other nations call me a barbarian."
"Your brother is shrewd, Master Rao. Of course, when we of the Heavenly Empire think thus, it is no mere boast, because we are in sober fact superior."
Kerin suppressed a smile. "Another matter. Are these chairmen supposed to haul us all the way to Chingun?"
"Aye. It is a mere fortnight's walk."
"Were not horses or carriages speedier?"
Toga spread his hands. "Doubtless; but only holders of the colored cap buttons—the upper nine grades of the civil service, called mandarins—may ride horseback or travel in chariots without special permission. And if I filed a request for this permission, the document must needs make its way through various bureaus and would
keep us waiting a month in Koteiki. So in practice, it is quicker to walk."
"What said he?" asked Nogiri. "I missed some words."
When Kerin explained, she said: "Oh, I am happy that you did not get horses! I have never ridden, and they terrify me."
Kerin grinned. "You, the bravest woman I have known? Well, we all have weaknesses, I suppose. I hate spiders." He turned back. "Honorable Toga, I should like to ask a favor, namely: to trade places tomorrow, for me to ride the ass and you the chair. I like not being bounced like an infant's ball."
"Oh?" said Toga. "If you insist. A chair implies a higher status than an ass; it was meant as a delicate compliment. Your trouble, Master Rao, is that you are too lean. A well-fed merchant or official, far outweighing you, would not bounce. But it shall be as you desire. Could we feed you properly for a few months, we could give you the obesity proper to a gentleman."
"Thankee, but I like myself as I am. On a perilous journey, one must be ready for violent action."
Toga gave a little sigh. "This inferior person will never understand the barbarian mentality.''
When Kerin was on his way to his and Nogiri's bedroom in the rambling one-story structure, he passed the common room, into which the soldiers and porters had crowded. They were crouched around a little bowl on the floor, into which the head porter poured chick-peas. The head porter began taking out peas, a few at a time, while betting grew frenzied. When almost all the peas had been removed, those who had bet on the number remaining gave shrieks of triumph.
"It is called fantan," said Toga. "Wouldst take a hand?"
Kerin hesitated, but Nogiri said in Salimorese: "Husband, you would not fall into the trap that caught that other fellow you spake of, now would you? You are in a strange land."
Kerin said: "My princess is a-wearied, Master Toga. I thank you for your kindness, but we must retire."
The Honorable Barbarian Page 17