by Alan Lawton
“Remain still witch!” A woman’s voice hissed in her ear. “Or by the Prophet, I swear to kill you this very instant!”
Chapter 8
A flickering glow on the distant southern horizon was the first indication that the ‘Bonny Barbara’ was approaching the copper clad walls of Holy Ptah, and the temporary crewmembers of the narrowboat were in especially good humour, for they knew they were approaching the spiritual home of their race.
Even so, they had little time for idle pondering, for the river was now crowded with vessels of every shape and size and a careful watch had to be set in the bows and the person manning the tiller had always had to be one of the more experienced steersmen. Indeed, the river would have been even more difficult for them to navigate, had the overseer’s galleys not been in close attendance; a fact that encouraged many vessels to give them a wide berth. Finally, on the thirty-eighth day out from the tragic ‘Island of Plenty,’ the entire crew of the narrowboat were able to stand on deck and view the burnished copper walls of Holy Ptah for the first time.
The Holy City stood on the eastern bank of the river and was protected by enormous metal-clad walls that towered at least two hundred feet above ground level, yet these cyclopean walls were simply dwarfed by the numerous finger-like buildings springing upwards from the environs of the city, and whose spires almost pierced the crimson clouds rolling endlessly overhead.
On the western bank of the Life River, directly opposite the metal girt metropolis, there stood a huge and sprawling suburb, whose modest buildings were constructed from commonly used materials such as brick, stone and timber and erected in the normal fashion of the river-folk. This western suburb, Wilakin the navigator had carefully explained, was a civil settlement that housed a vast labouring population, and the sole purpose of this mass of humanity was to provide all of the basic services needed by the Dark Priests, that strange group of clerics who dwelt in virtual isolation behind their shinning copper walls.
The two vastly contrasting settlements were joined together by a slender single-span bridge, made from some strange white coloured metal that arched over the Life River, and stood a good three hundred feet above the waterway at the highest point of its massive span.
One of the overseer’s galleys suddenly increased its stroke-rate and took up a new position ahead of the narrowboat. A sailor standing by the vessel’s stern-rail executed a series of swift hand-signals, which the navigator carefully read before turning to Darryl who was standing by his side.
“Master, we are ordered to follow that craft to the mouth of the overseer’s military dockyard, over on the western shore where a pair of towing-galleys are waiting to help us into our berth. There we shall be met by a representative of the Dark Priests, who is waiting to give you further instructions.”
“Nothin’ like feeling wanted!” The boatmaster reflected. “Anyway, they may have some fresh victuals waiting for us, for that final week of eking out the last of our food-stocks has left me with a fair appetite.”
He laughed. “I think that George is almost ready to start eating his boots, for he knows they’re made of good narrs-leather!”
The ‘Bonny Barbara’and its two escorts swept beneath the great bridge, and as they emerged, the lead-galley abruptly changed course and headed for the mouth of a large dockyard lying about a quarter of a mile away.
Moments later, two swift towing-galleys passed their lines over to the narrowboat and began easing her towards the entrance of the overseer’s dockyard. Darryl now took over the tiller from his twin-sister and he followed the navigator’s steering instructions with the utmost care, until his precious craft was berthed and under armed guard in the safety of the overseer’s dock.
A young man was standing upon the quayside. He wore a plain light brown robe and held an intricately carved baton of office in his left hand. A squad of eight heavily armed mercenaries were drawn up at his rear. The young official ordered his men to remain on the quayside and then he picked his way across the nearest outrigger and stepped down into the cockpit of the boat, where Darryl had just finished securing the tiller.
He grasped the boatmaster’s hand in the common WaterRealm greeting.
“I bid you welcome to the City of Ptah and extend to you the greetings of the Priests of the Ancient Lore. My name is Paris. I am the personal envoy of Councillor Hemm, the head of the High Council of the Priesthood. I am instructed to inform that yourself, and the two other newcomers to the Water-Realm, who fare with you, will be received by my master at noon tomorrow, in the Palace of the High Council. I will return early in the coming morning, too conduct you thither!”
Darryl returned the envoys greeting and was about to give his acquiescence to the priestly summons, when the door of the cabin suddenly swung open and his twin-sister emerged. She bowed to the young envoy, then turned and quietly addressed her brother.
“I mean no disrespect to our guest and I will gladly offer him refreshments from out remaining store of provisions, but I must warn you that although he is not a member of the dark priesthood, he still possesses considerable psychic ability. Brother, you must shield your mind, for he knows your thoughts as easily as reading a book!”
Paris threw back his head and burst out laughing.
“My lady,” he said, with a smile. “Your knowledge is indeed great, for only the most accomplished of seers could define the extent of my powers and done so before I attempted to make use of them.” The envoy raised his arm. “I swear before the forces of the unknown that I will never seek to use such powers against you or any of your friends!”
He paused and looked the young witch directly in the eye. “You know full well, my lady, that I will never break such a powerful oath.”
The envoy paused again and adjusted his robe.
“Councillor Hemm has much to discuss with you, and please do not be afraid. My master holds no animosity towards any of you, for he has known of your presence in the Water-Realm, almost from the first day that you arrived. Indeed you would not be alive, at this moment, if he wished you ill!”
“You have known…” Darryl began, but the youthful envoy held up his hand for silence.
“All your questions will be answered on the morrow. In the meantime, you must remain aboard this craft, for here you will be quite safe and you will also receive the best of provisions from the dockyard kitchens.”
The envoy adjusted his robe and prepared to quit the narrowboat.
“The dockyard overseer has been instructed to purchase your cargo of rare timbers at the full market price and to pay you, at once, in good solid discs. You will then have the means to pay-off or retain your crew-members, as you see fit.”
The envoy bowed graciously towards the girl. “I am glad to have made the acquaintance of so beautiful a seer. Now I must return to my other duties!”
So saying, he rejoined his escort upon the quayside and quickly disappeared.
“What do you make of the man?” Darryl asked, once they were alone.
But his sister simply shrugged her shoulders. “I feel that we can probably trust him.
He gave me the security of an almost unbreakable oath, when I warned you of his psychic powers, and my inner-eye also suggests that he is a man of considerable integrity, but we may well be minnows amongst sharks, so we must remain on our guard!”
Half an hour later, three sweating cooks visited the vessel, laden with baskets of hot food and a large jug of Thoa-nut beer. The boatmaster immediately called out the entire crew and they enjoyed an excellent meal seated upon the deck of the narrowboat.
However, the crewmembers had barely finished their repast when the brown robed assistant overseer of the dockyard arrived, accompanied by an adviser from the timber merchant’s guild and a dozen common labourers. At the overseer’s request, the ‘Bonny Barbara’s’ cargo of rare timbers was exposed for examination. For a full hour, the overseer and the merchant-adviser clambered about the hold, perusing its contents with care. Finally, they eme
rged from the hold and offered to pay the boatmaster a quantity of copper discs that was about equal to what old Agar-Marduk had expected the cargo to bring in the markets of Holy Ptah. Darryl accepted the offer without a moment’s hesitation, and, for the remainder of the day, the dockside was a hive of actively, as the contents of the hold were carefully unloaded by the labourers and transported to the safety of nearby warehouses.
Darryl, meanwhile, was taken to the dockyard’s main office, where the agreed sum in copper discs was counted out before his eyes, and presented to him in two strong leather moneybags.
The three laden cooks returned to the ‘Bonny Barbara’ at dusk. Once again, the crewmembers dined upon the open deck, but this time with the aid of lanterns. At the end of the meal, Darryl produced one of the bags of discs and meticulously paid out the wages owed to each member of the crew. He also thanked them for their loyalty and offered to retain their services for the foreseeable future.
Wilakin the navigator immediately stepped forward then kissed the boatmaster’s hands and swore to remain with the craft, until all their journeying was over.
He was instantly followed by ‘Whiteflower’ the newest crewmember, who repeated the same oath of loyalty also without hesitation.
The two blood cousins, Tess and Tom-Tess, were undecided, but agreed to remain and experience some of the wonders of the Holy City of Ptah, before deciding whether or not to take part in the next leg of the voyage.
Dromon, as expected, declined the offer of re-enlistment and declared his intention of briefly visiting Ptah, before returning northwards, to the village of his birth, in order to begin life as a freehold farmer.
Once again, Darryl thanked the men for their services, then he and the tired crewmembers sought the comfort of sleep.
Dawn broke over the City of Ptah and the crew of the ‘Bonny Barbara’ awoke and greeted another day.
They ate a light breakfast then Dromon, resplendent in his best garb and with a travel-pack slung loosely over his shoulder, descended the gangplank for the last time and waved goodbye before disappearing in the direction of the dock gates.
The two blood cousins followed shortly afterwards, leaving only five crewmembers aboard the narrowboat.
Darryl turned and addressed both his sister and the giant boat hand. “Well friends,” he said. “The five suns are already high, so we had best get ready for our meeting with Councillor Hemm. Paris said that we should wear only common dress and carry no weapons. So let’s get to it!”
The three newcomers were waiting upon the quayside when the young envoy arrived together with a bodyguard of soldiers.
Darryl and the boat hand were dressed in dark trousers and plain brown caftans and this simple garb drew no comment from the young official, but the man was visibly taken aback by the strikingly beautiful appearance of the youthfulwisewoman. She wore a long figure-hugging dress of emerald green, leaving little to the imagination, matching to perfection the long flowing tresses of red hair covering her shoulders and back.
“In the name of all the Gods!” The envoy gasped. “Can all the women who dwell in the world beyond the barrier, possibly be as fair as she?”
Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, a psychic message pierced the mind of the young envoy.
“No Paris… Indeed they are not. But as the priests of Dumteck say… Beauty of the form, without beauty of the soul, is but an empty and worthless gift!”
The envoy quickly regained his composure and led his charges towards an open passenger carriage that was drawn by four stout labourers. He chose not to comment on the mind-message that he had just received from the red-haired wisewoman, but he now realized that he was in the presence of a female seer with incredible latent power.
The three newcomers followed the envoy into the carriage and the escort of mercenaries took up station at the rear as the vehicle moved forward.
The carriage passed through the gates of the dockyard and joined a dense throng of traffic that was moving down a wide avenue running parallel with the western bank of the Life River. Paris pointed towards the base of the great metal bridge, lying about a quarter of a mile ahead of them.
“We must pass over the bridge,” he said, “for it’s the only means of entry into the ‘Quarter of the Guardians’ the portion of the Holy City that lies closest to the eastern bank of the river and where most of the Dark Priests reside. Fortunately, we shall experience little impediment from other travellers once we near the entrance to the bridge, for the lay-helpers, serving the Dark Priests, will have crossed the river long before dawn and are already at their employment. All commercial traffic crosses by night, so we shall pass unhindered at this hour of the day.”
Sure enough, the press of traffic eased considerably as they approached the bridge, and the carriage was almost alone as it came abreast of the heavily manned checkpoint standing at the great bridge’s western portal, but Paris brandished his baton of office and both the vehicle and its escort passed onto the white-metal roadway without the slightest pause. The carriage had only travelled a short distance when some of the soldiers broke ranks and put their shoulders to the rear of the carriage, so as to help the vehicle in its laborious accent of the sharply curving slope, an incline that led steeply upwards towards the point where the bridge reached its highest point above the Life River. George coughed nervously and all of the newcomers stared uneasily at the many different types of vessels navigating upon the surface of the great waterway lying a dizzy three hundred feet below them. Eventually, the loftiest section of the bridge was reached, and one of the mercenaries hurriedly applied a brake to the rear wheels of the carriage, and slowly, the vehicle began it’s controlled decent towards the heavily guarded gateway piercing the mighty outer-walls and gave access to the interior of the “Quarter of the Guardians.”
Once again, a flourish of the envoy’s baton ensured an uninterrupted passage through the ranks of the guards standing by the gate. The carriage passed through the shinning copper clad walls and emerged at the beginning of a wide avenue running directly into the very heart of the Holy City.
As the carriage moved onwards, the newcomers were held in awe by the immense buildings towering upwards on every side. The vast majority of the structures, the travellers immediately noticed, were constructed from huge blocks of stone resembling the one’s littering the ruined cities of the ‘The Ancient Dead.’The very tallest of the structures, the ones that seemed to almost pierce the crimson sky, were invariably made from the same strange white metal that had been used in the construction of the great bridge spanning the Life River.
Smaller roadways branched off from the main avenue at regular intervals. These were inhabited by numerous groups of scurrying individuals whom Paris described as ‘helpers,’ namely the workers in modest technical and administrative grades, who could easily be identified by their bright blue uniforms. Occasionally, they noticed an isolated figure wearing a plain brown robe, whom they now knew to be an official holding the important rank of overseer and above. Of the black robed Dark Priests, there was no sign, but Paris immediately explained that the ‘Guardians’as he generally called them, occupied the high towers and were seldom seen abroad in the streets.
In addition to the uniformed denizens, a great many parties of ordinary citizens, dressed in a wide variety of local Water-Realm garbs, could be seen being shepherded along by the blue uniformed ‘helpers’ who where obviously serving as tourguides.
The visitors were numerous in the vicinity of a number of richly decorated high towers. These structures, the envoy casually explained, were chapels dedicated to the worship of the Ancient Lore; these shrines were the ultimate destination of most of the many pilgrims who visited the Holy City of Ptah.
The carriage had travelled about a quarter of a mile down the main thoroughfare, when the man-hauled vehicle slowed down and turned into a short avenue. It drew to a halt in the shadow of an immensely tall building constructed from the ubiquitous white metal. The structure, the newc
omers immediately noted, was completely windowless and reached upwards towards the crimson sky like some gargantuan obelisk. Only a single entrance could be seen, a doorway of massive proportions set near the base of the building and reached by a short flight of stone steps.
Paris led the three travellers up the steps and into one of a number of circular chambers facing them as they crossed the threshold.
“Do not be afraid.” He said. “You are now inside a simple transportation device that will deliver us to Councillor Hemm’s place of work without further delay.”
Adoor slid shut behind them and the envoy touched a small green panel with his baton of office. Instantly the newcomers experienced a sensation of complete weightlessness and they realized they were shooting rapidly upwards, on what seemed to be an invisible cushion of air. Each one of the travellers was startled by this new phenomenon and was immediately tempted to shout out in alarm, but the sensation of weightlessness lasted for only a few moments, and they suddenly found themselves standing motionless, upon the floor of another circular chamber, similar in every detail to the one they had entered only seconds before.