The sudden surge of energy between her fingers and his shoulder made her pull back, but he lifted his head, his cat-like eyes wide and sad, and said, ‘Thank you.’ Then he rose and left the cabin, leaving Meg staring wide-eyed at his back, the energy still tingling along her fingertips.
Thunderstorms crept along the horizon, purple and blue clouds alive with flashes of light, and curtains of rain washed the dark ocean. Meg loved to watch them, riveted by the way the lightning played hide-and-seek through the clouds. The storms intensified the heat and humidity and broke the monotony of days of endless sun and blue sky, reminding her that the world was full of energy and life. The weeks of sickness faded to memories. She ate with Captain Marlin and A Ahmud Ki every evening and they talked of the sea and the lands Marlin had visited in his career. Meg reserved what she could of her past, but she told Marlin why her journey to Andrak was so important to her, and they discussed the value of religion and the Seers in the old Shessian order and what they might do in the new Kerwyn order. ‘There’s no state religion in Andrak,’ Captain Marlin explained. ‘There’s a heap of sects and religious groups, but the government policy is to avoid religious fanatics getting any power.’
‘Sounds wise to me,’ said Meg.
‘Doesn’t work,’ said Marlin with a shake of his head. ‘They get in through the pockets of the elected members of government and by making sure that they have believers elected. Luckily they all disagree on what is right and what is good and all that so none of them can get any control for long. Religion ruined Andrak a couple of centuries ago. There were pogroms and witch-hunts, all in the name of God of course, and a lot of innocent people were slaughtered to cleanse the world of sin.’
‘Who stopped that?’ A Ahmud Ki asked.
‘Common sense in the end. People started to realise the religious leaders were nutters and kicked them out of government. They weren’t elected in the first place. They claimed to be God’s representatives and put themselves in power, but it blew up in their faces after about fifteen years of their righteous murdering of people. They preached tolerance and butchered those who didn’t agree with their preaching.’
They talked briefly of what was lying in store in Andrak, and they talked of A Ahmud Ki’s background—at least Meg and A Ahmud Ki fabricated what they could to appease Marlin’s curiosity. ‘It’s the general appearance,’ Marlin told them. ‘He looks like one of the fairy folk because of the hair and eyes. You might do something about that when we get to Andrak to avoid unnecessary attention. People are over their superstitions in the main, but there are some who still get tetchy about the old stories and some who still carry their prejudices about strangers openly.’ They learned that Marlin had three wives in three different ports. ‘Probably a dozen or so kids too,’ he admitted with a sly grin. ‘Can’t afford to settle on land. Better to stay afloat, I say.’ And he told them of his three children at home in Andrak. ‘When we reach Port River I’ll be heading ashore for a few days recreation. I haven’t seen Nell in a year, what with commissions and sailing back and forth. It will be good to play with Nada, Denys and Rohan. Rohan’ll be four this coming winter.’
She sat among the bundled sheets watching the pedalling sailors with silent admiration, their faces and torsos running with sweat as their legs drove the shafts connected to pulleys and belts to move the giant cogs turning the windwheel on the stern of the dragon ship.
‘Invention is the magic of Andrak,’ Marlin explained over his favourite wine. ‘Cogs, pulleys, wheels, chains, belts, wire, steam—everything is connected. Men on the Andrak wharves lift weights a hundred times their own with invented devices. We load ships quicker than anywhere else in the world and our ships aren’t dependent on the wind. We travel places faster than anyone.’ She accepted that they were sailing towards a new world, unlike anything she knew, and always she wondered how and where her children were surviving in that world. ‘They use some slaves in factories,’ Marlin told her. ‘Children more often end up at the mines or on the farms where smaller bodies are more useful and loads are lighter. But there were changes underway just before we set sail so it might be different.’ His talk left her wondering as the days and nights passed. Where were Emma and Treasure? What work was being forced from them? What strange new invention did they serve?
She was allowing him closer every day: at the meals with Marlin, quiet evenings leaning against the railing to watch the moon rise over the swollen blue ocean, walking the deck together, laughing at the seabirds searching for fish and roosting on the masts. She dared to let A Ahmud Ki take her hand one day as the sun set over a small island the ship was passing, the western horizon aflame with reds and oranges, reminding her ironically of the Whispering Forest burning under Kerwyn torches. She knew what to expect as his lithe, soft hand enfolded hers and knew that it was inevitable because of the dream, so the energy coursing between them on contact thrilled her instead of shocking her as it had on earlier occasions. His hands weren’t like Button Tailor’s—broad, work-hardened, calloused, warm and comforting—they were long, elegant, cool and full of energy that was as threatening as it was full of promise. She watched him over the passing days: remembering how the women in the refugee group talked about him with admiration and lust, and how they were jealous of her because they thought that he wanted her alone; remembering his eyes watching her when he didn’t know that she had seen him; remembering his apology in her cabin. Deep inside she feared him—the past he kept hidden; the edge of madness she’d seen in his eyes on the boat leaving Westport; his willingness to sacrifice others to save her and himself—but she also felt the pull towards him as if caught in a whirlpool and fighting against that pull no longer seemed important so far from Shess and the world she’d known. When he pulled her against his side and held her under the white moon, watching lightning play across the distant sky, she sank against him and let the rippling energy flow between them and was glad that circumstances had brought them to this point.
Why? his eyes asked as he stared in silent hurt. She turned from his attempted kiss, but not for the reason he may have thought. In fact, she was surprised herself why she turned away. She always believed she would betray Button if she fell in love with someone new, but it was Treasure’s face that came to her mind as A Ahmud Ki leaned towards her, and the image caused her to turn because that unexpected memory startled her.
‘I—I apologise,’ A Ahmud Ki offered, as he straightened. ‘I think I misunderstood—’
‘No,’ she blurted, squeezing his hand for reassurance. ‘It’s not you. I—’ She couldn’t find the words necessary to explain why she couldn’t kiss him. The image of Treasure Overbrook—the first man she truly loved so long ago—was suddenly, inexplicably haunting her. How can I tell him that? she wondered. ‘I need a little more time,’ she said instead.
‘I understand,’ he replied, but she heard his undertone of disappointment and she was angry at herself for flinching like a child at a ghost. He lifted her hand and pressed his soft lips against the back of it, making her hand and arm and shoulder tingle. ‘This will have to suffice,’ he said, adding with a disarmingly charming smile, ‘for now,’ and the moment passed as they gazed together at the glittering stars clustered low in the eastern horizon.
Later, lying on her bunk, sweating from the humid heat in the gentle swell rocking the ship, she touched the back of her hand where he’d kissed it, rekindling the tingle that echoed not with simple love but with the magical energy that flowed from the Conduit. Whenever they touched the energy surged as it had never surged between her and anyone else, as if they shared a kindred spirit—a common bond or heritage. If a simple touch can animate the Conduit’s magical energy, what would a kiss do? she pondered, and she let her imagination flow through all the possibilities a relationship with A Ahmud Ki might create as the ship gently rocked her to sleep.
PART EIGHT
‘What always fascinates modern researchers are the frequent references to dragons and sorcerers and
heroes once the old historical records reached the millennial period of Andrak history, and the impact of this cultural passion for fantastic tales is evident still in the names of our cities and places. There are remnants of old ballads and tales kept on record in the capital’s public library that attest to the popularity of these tales amongst the peasant populations, and the names of famous mythological characters like King Dilun and Amuchki the Evil Adviser and Dragonlords with unpronounceable names still entertain the superstitious souls of our people in the country regions. Truth is, they wouldn’t know a dragon if it bit them.’
FROM EXORCISING THE ANCIENT DEMONS: A STUDY OF ANDRAK MYTHS BY ERIC AEDWYN
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Welcome to Central Andrak!’ announced Captain Marlin heartily as the Waverunner crew dropped anchor. Ships of all shapes and sizes flying different colours to show their origins filled the harbour, and small boats navigated between the larger vessels in a flurry of water business.
Meg stood beside A Ahmud Ki and gazed across the green water and array of ships at the grey buildings squatted beneath a veil of brown air. Smoke—white, black, grey—spiralled out of a hundred chimneys into the haze, making the city look like it was burning. ‘So much smoke,’ she murmured.
‘Factories I told you about,’ said Marlin. ‘They spew out smoke all day every day. If you want to see a dragon, look at a factory—all belching fire and steam and smoke, dirty stench and consuming people. That’s why I don’t want to be a landlubber. Give me the open elements on the ocean any day.’
‘What do the factories do?’ she asked.
‘Make things. You pour wood and coal and metal and water and people in one end, mix it all up with fire, and things come out the other end.’
Meg noticed A Ahmud Ki was staring silently at the scene, until he asked, ‘What is that?’ Suspended high above the city haze was a yellow-and-green object shaped like a fat unripe tomato.
Marlin snorted. ‘That’s a dragon egg,’ he said dismissively.
‘I don’t understand,’ said A Ahmud Ki.
‘It’s a big bag of hot air that floats. See the contraption underneath? That’s a basket carrying, say, maybe five or six people. They call them dragoneers, the crazy people who fly them. You’ll see plenty of them in Lightsword, if you’re heading there.’
‘Lightsword?’ A Ahmud Ki asked.
‘The capital. It’s inland, maybe two days of travel.’
A Ahmud Ki nodded to Meg as if to suggest Lightsword should be their destination and she noted how remarkably he had changed his appearance in the last cycle aboard the Waverunner. Taking Marlin’s advice, he’d removed his hair braids and cut his hair to shoulder-length, adding a black dye to give it a salt-and-pepper hue. His beard was bushier and darker and the darker frame of beard and hair made his elongated eyes look larger. Close up, his heritage remained visible in his elegant face with its high cheekbones and angular features and his eyes betrayed him most of all, but the altered hair and beard would serve to disguise him from casual observers. In Andrak, his name would be an Ashuak name—Jon Kushel—Meg’s suggestion when they were discussing a name for him. ‘It was my father’s real name,’ she told the captain and A Ahmud Ki.
‘Make sure you have what you brought with you,’ Marlin advised. ‘Time to go ashore.’
Meg adjusted the grey leather vest she’d acquired from Marlin, making certain that Whisper was secure and out of sight. ‘Where would I start to look for child slaves?’ she asked.
Marlin pointed across the harbour to a collection of sheds on the wharf. ‘Slave traders used to take their cargoes to the Slave Market. That would be a good place to start—after you’ve been cleared by the Port Authority.’
‘Port Authority?’ Meg asked.
‘No one comes into Andrak without being registered and cleared. Government regulation.’
‘You didn’t tell us about this,’ A Ahmud Ki complained.
‘There’s a lot you don’t know,’ Marlin replied, grinning. ‘Port Authority won’t bite. They just keep records. You’re only in trouble with them if you’ve already done something wrong that they know about.’
Climbing down the rope ladder into the longboat without losing Whisper proved a challenge for Meg who hoped the rat would not suddenly decide curiosity was a better choice than circumspection, but the goal was achieved and the longboat crew rowed quickly and expertly between the anchored ships to deliver their passengers to the docks. Captain Marlin gave Meg and A Ahmud Ki directions to the Port Authority building before farewelling them. ‘Good luck searching for your children. If they have a good master or mistress then I’m sure you’ll be able to buy their freedom. People here who have slaves don’t mind money in exchange. If not, then be careful with what you do. If you need a ship, just ask for me along the docks. There’s a tavern called the Three-breasted Harpy. It’s owned by Alan Derry. He’ll tell you where I am. You’re always welcome aboard the Waverunner.’ Then he walked away and disappeared in the crowd of dockside workers busy loading and unloading berthed vessels.
Meg took a step towards the Port Authority building, but A Ahmud Ki grabbed her arm. ‘We don’t need to go through there. We can just walk out.’ He indicated the traffic along a road leading away from the docks where no one appeared to be checking who was coming and going.
‘Marlin said we had to,’ she reminded him. Feeling the energy pulsing at the point where his hand rested on her arm she slid it gently from his grip. He shuffled nervously. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘I’m not so certain this disguise is as good as we think,’ he argued. ‘What if someone recognises me?’
‘As what?’ she asked, surprised by his sudden uncertainty. ‘You’ve been dead a thousand years.’
His left eyebrow rose and he grinned. ‘I didn’t think of it like that.’
They crossed the busy wharf, dodging the handcarts pushed and pulled by the dockside workers, sometimes glancing up at the loads flying overhead on cranes towards the holds of the waiting cargo ships as the shadows crossed their path. Outside a two-storey stone and wood building they paused while Meg read the sign proclaiming it as the entrance to the Port Authority. ‘The language has changed,’ A Ahmud Ki noted as he reached for the door handle.
‘How?’ Meg asked.
‘Spelling,’ said A Ahmud Ki, ‘and Captain Marlin and his crew all had a different accent to their Andrakian tongue.’
Meg had noticed the difference between A Ahmud Ki’s speech and Captain Marlin’s expression aboard the ship, but it seemed insignificant to her because people in her village of Summerbrook spoke a different version of Shessian to the language in the city. She assumed there was only a matter of different dialect between the two men. The difference, though, wasn’t place—it was time.
The building opened into a large white-washed room where three men and a woman sat at a dark central table. Two men in green uniforms, wearing sabres and shouldering thundermakers, were watching Meg and A Ahmud Ki closely. ‘This way,’ a voice said to their left. A young woman with short brown hair gestured towards the central table so Meg and A Ahmud Ki approached the panel of officials.
‘Welcome to Central Andrak,’ said a round-faced man with sandy-hued hair. ‘You can speak Andrak?’
‘Yes,’ Meg answered.
‘Good,’ the official remarked. ‘Who are you and where are you from?’
Meg glanced at A Ahmud Ki and said, ‘I am Meg Farmer. This is Jon Kushel. We are from Western Shess.’
The round-faced man studied her and then A Ahmud Ki, his smile unwavering, but Meg noticed that his companions were also studying them closely, the man on the right peering through the strange glass-and-wire apparatus on his nose as he scribed. ‘And on what business have you come to Central Andrak?’ the round-faced official asked.
‘Curiosity,’ A Ahmud Ki replied.
‘And looking for family,’ Meg added, annoyed at his intrusion.
The official’s gaze rested on A Ahmud K
i. ‘What did you say your name was?’ Meg noted an edge to his friendly tone as if he thought he’d found something to pursue.
‘Kushel,’ A Ahmud Ki replied. ‘Jon Kushel.’
‘And what is your occupation in Western Shess?’
‘I’m—’ A Ahmud Ki hesitated and shrugged, casting a quick glance at Meg.
‘He’s a farmer,’ she said.
‘Was,’ A Ahmud Ki corrected. ‘There’s been a war. Northerners came and took my farm. That’s why I came here. I want to make a new start.’
The official’s smile faded. ‘Don’t like your chances. Farming is not making much money these days, what with invention and the factories.’ He seemed to be analysing A Ahmud Ki. ‘You’ve never been in Andrak before?’
‘No,’ A Ahmud Ki answered.
‘What about your family?’
‘His father and grandfather were shipmasters,’ Meg explained. ‘They might have come here in the past.’
‘You seem to know a lot about his family,’ remarked the woman on the panel, who fixed Meg with her serious dark eyes.
‘We’re related,’ Meg replied. ‘We had the same grandfather.’
‘And now you travel together.’
Meg shrugged. ‘Our families were killed and driven out by the Kerwyn. Our children were sold into slavery. We’re all that we have left.’
‘But you don’t look alike,’ the woman noted. Whisper suddenly wriggled, slid out from Meg’s vest to the floor and scampered a few steps across the room where she sat up, sniffing.
‘Rat!’ the round-faced man declared, pointing.
The soldiers by the door unsheathed their sabres and started for Whisper. ‘No!’ Meg cried, holding up her hands as if to ward the soldiers away. ‘She’s harmless. She’s my—my pet!’
Whisper, assessing the volatile situation, bolted between the startled soldiers’ legs and squeezed out of the door. ‘You’re telling us you have a pet rat?’ the woman panellist asked.
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