by Alan Lawton
The witch woman smiled to herself as she answered the old merchant’s summons and stepped onto the wharf, for she knew full well, that her beauty had flowered in the months since her arrival in the Water-Realm.
Agar-Marduk led the group towards the nearest gateway in the city walls, where about a dozen spearmen were supervising a milling throng of porters, sailors and numerous other citizens who were seeking to enter or leave the city. Fortunately, one of the guards instantly recognized the old merchant and he led the party through the opening in the walls without delay.
Ashort walk, across a public square, brought them to a plain wooden doorway set into a high stone wall that Agar-Marduk declared was the one and only entrance to his dwelling. This unassuming entrance, however, gave no indication of the luxury that lay within. Atall slave answered the merchant’s summons and the group passed through the wooden doorway to enter a stone paved courtyard giving way to a spacious and elegant colonnade. Flowers grew in abundance in well-tended beds, whilst miniature versions of the ubiquitous Thoa tree wound their way up the many fluted columns and hung in garlands from the lintels they supported. The merchant’s house that lay adjacent to the colonnade was both large and sumptuously furnished and the travellers were greeted at the threshold by six women of various ages whom Agar-Marduk introduced as his wives and concubines.
The old merchant noticed the look of surprise that was evident upon the newcomer’s faces and he quickly explained that polygamy, whilst uncommon in the Water-Realm, was by no means illegal and often practiced by the members of privileged social groups such as landowners and wealthy merchant’s.
“Why be satisfied with a single pair of thighs?” He said with a laugh, as the women knelt to wash the newcomer’s feet, “When one has amassed enough wealth to possess five women, or even six!”
Ura, the merchant’s senior wife, let the guests into a large dining room, where the newcomers were invited to be seated upon the soft cushions arranged around a long low table occupying the middle of the floor.
Two other men were already seated before the table. One was a short hawk-nosed man who wearing a turban, whom the merchant introduced as Enki-Baal, the trustworthy overseer of his warehouses. The other was a diminutive man with wizened features whom Ura briefly introduced as Carl Hems, and, as his white cowled robe indicated, was a senior priest at the temple of ‘Dumteck,’a deity devoted to the task of health and healing the sick.
The woman of the household began the feast by passing around the customary offering of bread and salt. They busied themselves in presenting a succession of spicy dishes created from narrs-flesh, do-fowl and a wide selection of fresh vegetables, most being quite new to the palates of the travellers. The specialty, concluding the feast, was a steaming platter of black-red crustaceans that, to the newcomers, resembled a strange cross between starfish and the edible crabs dwelling in the oceans of their own reality.
Agar-Marduk and his local guests fell upon this new marine delicacy with relish. At first, the crewmembers from the ‘Bonny Barbara’were somewhat wary of the strange crustaceans, but, after a single taste of the creatures sweet and tender flesh, they found themselves digging into the contents of the platter with a will.
“Eat your fill,” the old merchant advised. “Rossfish are only to be found in the shallow waters of the Northern Sea. They are brought here in the holds of our swiftest trading galleys and are kept alive in tanks of fresh sea water. We are lucky to be able to enjoy this delicacy, for only the dried flesh of the Rossfish can be purchased by those who dwell at any greater distance from Calar.”
Sweet wine was passed around and the members of the company began to indulge themselves in conversation. George and the boatmaster listened with interest as the old merchant described the long trading journeys he had undertaken to the Northlands, in the days of his distant youth. They were fascinated by his stories of the dangerous trading ventures into the lands ruled by the white skinned iron-masters whose furnaces could be seen glowing along the shores of their storm-swept Northern homeland.
Myra, meanwhile, had soon forsaken the wine and sought out the priest of the God Dumteck. The pair had quickly found a secluded corner and fallen into a long, earnest and very private conversation.
The feast finally came to an end when the guests had consumed as much wine as they were capable of drinking. Agar-Marduk’s women had then conducted the travellers to a suite of rooms where they passed the hours of darkness in comfort. Indeed, they had little choice, for the gates of Calar were now closed against both friend and foe, and would not be opened again until the light of the morning suns once again illuminated the sky of the Water-Realm.
Daylight struck through the high windows of an upper clearstory and roused the three newcomers to a new day. They washed their faces in bowls of warm water and then breakfasted together from the platter of fresh fruit and cakes of warm Thoa bread, brought to them by the old merchant’s youngest and prettiest concubine.
Myra broke a cake of bread in two and passed half to her brother.
“Last night,” she said. “I talked for a long time to Enki-Baal, that old priest who serves the healing God Dumteck. He seems to know a great deal about us and he certainly knew that I was a wisewoman from another reality.”
She paused.
“Enki-Baal has invited me to visit the refuge for the sick in the temple of Dumteck. He says that he, and his brother priests, will be happy to teach me many of their healing secrets that may stand me in good stead in the future. He informed me that a litter, borne by four young priests, would call at this house an hour after dawn and bear me to their precinct, if I should take up his offer. He also said that I would be their guest for at least three to four days!”
The boatmaster looked worried.
“Do you really believe that you will be quite safe under the roof of these priests?” He enquired. “Where you can receive no help or support from your friends.”
Myra smiled and nodded emphatically.
“Yes, yes without doubt. For the priests of Dumteck are sworn to uphold all life and to harm no member of the human race.” Her voice then assumed a far more sombre tone. “Even so, you are right to be cautious ,brother, for my inner-eye tells me that a great deal of evil lurks inside this city and my witch’s sense warns me that the sooner we are gone from this place the better it will be for all of us.”
Darryl paused for a moment and gave the matter some thought.
“Go to yonder temple,” he said. “And learn anything that may be of value to us. Meanwhile, George and myself will prepare our craft for the voyage down the ‘Great Life River.’ Aye, and perhaps see something of this huge city whilst we have the chance. For in four days time or a week at the most, we will certainly be departing for the Holy city of Ptah and the next leg of our long journey home!”
The young wisewoman had barely time to acknowledge her brother’s words, before a servant entered the room, announcing the arrival of her litter. Myra bade farewell to her companions and departed upon her latest quest for knowledge.
Darryl and the boat hand finished eating a hearty breakfast and then accompanied Agar-Marduk back to the dockyard. They spent the morning supervising the wharf labourers as they unloaded the portion of the iron rails that had been promised to the old merchant. A little before noon, they walked over to a nearby wharf to say goodbye to the three narrsmen who had been such good shipmates during the dangerous journey down the Exit River. They watched, with a hint of sadness, as the men boarded a chartered river boat, heavily laden with bags of Thoa flour and other commodities needed by the people of the Fruitful Stream. They continued watching as the craft cleared the mouth of the dockyard and departed upon its long journey up-river.
The boatmaster spat upon the ground and shook his head.
“To the devil with work,” He declared. “We’ll make the rest of today a holiday and see something of yonder city.”
The two men then sought out Agar-Marduk who was busily employed in hi
s house of accounts and stated their intention. In reply, the old merchant ran his hands over a pile of scrolls and ledgers and declared his inability to accompany them. However, he gave orders for Carl Hems, the overseer of his warehouses to go in his stead and act as their guide for the day.He also detailed two of his strongest dock labourers to accompany them and provide some much needed protection when they ventured into the crowded streets of Calar.
“Enjoy yourselves.” He advised, as the group turned to leave. “And view the breadth of our city, for you will not see it’s like anywhere else in the Water-Realm.”
Carl Hems led the group back through the gate and into the city, but this time he took a sharp turn away from the direction of the old merchant’s house, leading them into a quarter of the city that was given over to its great marketplaces.
First, he took them to the leather market, where the factors stood cheek by jowl and argued over the prices that were to be paid for the great stacks of narr-skins standing on every side. Afterwards, a short walk down a narrow crowded street led them to the square of the woollen merchant’s, where other factors wearing conical hats, were busily engaged in selling this season’s crop of fleeces to the city’s rich spinning magnates.
The party then visited the corn exchange, the rope emporium and many other commodity markets, until the newcomers were heartily tired of fighting their way through crowds of stinking porters and requested to be taken to a quieter part of the city.
Carl Hems led them to a tranquil quarter where large and opulent mansions stood amidst broad parklands and flower decked decorative gardens.
“Here,” the overseer explained. “Is where the ruling aristocracy of Calar have their town houses and where they live when they come to Calar on business from their various country estates.”
By mid-afternoon, the five suns were shining down mercilessly and the overseer led the little group to a wayside tavern where they took shelter beneath a fabric awning and ate a light meal of bread and small do-fowl egg omelette’s delicately flavoured with aromatic herbs.
Carl Hems ordered flagons of light Thoa-beer to wash down the repast and then addressed his charges.
“My master suggests that you spend another darkening as guests at his house near the dockyard gate. If this plan meets with your approval, then you will have no need to exit the city before the gates close after nightfall. This will give us ample time to visit the oldest quarter of Calar and still rejoin Agar-Marduk and his women for the last meal of the day.” He paused. “The landlord here has a passenger cart for hire and we can travel to the old quarter in comfort and avoid the worst of the late afternoon heat.”
Darryl wiped the sweat from his forehead and readily agreed with the suggestion, for the heat was extremely oppressive to the two travellers. Comfort, however, proved to be a relative term, for their conveyance turned out to be a crude two wheeled un-sprung cart drawn by four malnourished slaves; poor creatures who clung to the rough towing shaft like a covey of displaced scarecrows.Apair of hard wooden forms served as seats and the travellers were soon in danger of developing bruised posteriors as the vehicle bumped laboriously through the potholed streets.
The old quarter of Calar, the place where the very first settlement of the city had taken place, was a visual revelation to the newcomers as they finally climbed out of the cart. Gone were the elegant villas of the city rulers, instead, this portion of the city seemed to resemble some ancient Earth cleric’s description of purgatory.
Tall spider-like buildings seemed to wind their way ever upwards, from the narrow stinking alleyways lying adjacent to the ground floors, to the upper stories of the tallest buildings that almost reached to the height of the massive city walls and enclosed the old quarter of the city on three sides. Darryl gasped in amazement at the sight, for the very tallest of the eccentric buildings even eclipsed the line of the great walls and the structure must have stood a good two hundred and fifty feet from street level up to its crowning spire.
Nor were the buildings isolated from each other, for countless timber causeways reached out from one building to its neighbour and the entire old quarter had the appearance of having grown skywards, like some mad organic entity, striving to climb ever upwards in search of fresh air and heat from the life-giving suns.
“By all that’s holy,” breathed the boatmaster. “Can human beings possible live within yonder hell?”
“Yes indeed.” Replied the overseer, as he dismissed the passenger wagon. “More than two out of three of the citizens of Calar call this place home.”
He pointed towards an alleyway that ran between two of the gimcrack towers.
“We will not venture far, because robbers abound in this portion of the city, but there lies the ‘Street of the Bone-carvers’ and no one should visit Calar without viewing the work of the artists who dwell within. Even so, I caution you to keep together for your own safety.”
The ‘Street of the Bone-carvers’was long and dark and was little more than two arm-spans in width. The flaring torches, set in brackets in the surrounding walls, were absolutely indispensable in supplementing the faint trickle of daylight filtering down from the distant upper levels. However, the newcomers were impressed by the sheer quality of the art works that were on display in the tiny booths lying on every side; and they marvelled at the array of geometric and organic ornaments, which the artists of Calar had fashioned from fragments of polished bone.
Darryl haggled determinedly with one of the artists for the possession of a piece of bone upon which the craftsman had depicted a wild narr hunt and had eventually succeeded in obtaining the artefact for the price of three copper discs. George, meanwhile, had successfully obtained a tiny bone sculpture of a Thoa tree. Unfortunately, the men had become so engrossed with their bargaining that the overseer’s words of warning were forgotten, and the travellers were taken completely by surprise when the ambush suddenly occurred.
The incident began when a small urchin darted from the shelter of one of the booths and snatched the newly purchased sculpture from the young boat hand’s grasp. George had instantly flown in pursuit of the diminutive thief. But this action had dire consequences, for he immediately became separated from his companions and was hopelessly vulnerable when unseen hands thrust a heavy wagon out of a side-alley and blocked the narrow passageway behind him. Six burly thugs then flung a net over the young man, and, despite his struggles, they quickly bore him to the ground and dragged him inside one of the spider-like towers.
George’s companions instantly recognized his plight and attempted to clamber over the stalled wagon and come to his aid, but even as they did so, a line of darter projectiles were launched from the shadows above them and thudded menacingly into the woodwork of the wagon. A second flight followed the first and there was no mistaking the message they brought.
“Hold! We can do nothing to help our friend!” Shouted the overseer who was white as a ghost and visibly shaken by the episode. “Except return to my master’s house, as quickly as possible and apprise him of the situation.”
Darryl ground his teeth in frustration, but there was nothing that he could do and he was immediately forced to agree.
Carl Hems managed to hire a pair of twin litters from a portage establishment that was situated close to the ‘Street of the Bone-carvers’ and the four men reached the merchant’s dwelling about half an hour after darkening.
Darryl and the overseer were immediately conducted into a small reception room where Agar-Marduk was waiting to receive them.
The boatmaster was about to speak when the merchant raised his hand and forestalled him.
“I already know what has befallen you.” He said quietly. “For a messenger boy reached my house about an hour ago, bearing a written message from the young man’s abductors. They state that we must surrender all of the iron that remains aboard your vessel, if we wish him to be returned to us alive!’ The rogues have allowed us the space of this present darkening, then another full day from tomorro
w sunrise, to make up our minds. At the second dawn from now, the very same boy will arrive at my door and receive our reply.
“There can be no question as to what our answer will be,” stated the boatmaster.
“The iron must be given up to obtain George’s release.”
But he merchant looked doubtful. “The decision is yours my friend. But the criminals of Calar generally kill their hostages, even when payment is made in full, simply to safeguard their own identities. You had best prepare yourselves for the worst, even if you comply with their demands!”