Shardik

by Richard Adams

  "Yes, sir," said Tan-Rion. "Very."

  "The place needs colonizing, too," said Elleroth. "Willing hands, that's going to be the great need. I suppose we ought to look for young people with nothing much to lose--people who need to be given a chance in life and aren't going to be too particular. It wouldn't be any good just dumping them down in Zeray, though; they'd find it too much for them, and only add to the criminal population. They'll need an eye kept on them by a kindly sort of governor who feels sympathetic and knows how to get something out of people that nobody else has much use for. Someone who's suffered a bit himself, I suppose. Dear me, it is a problem. I really cannot imagine where we are likely to unearth a person who fulfills all these different requirements. Melathys, my dear, have you any notion?"

  "Oddly enough," answered Melathys, her eyes bright in the lamplight, "I believe I have. It must be clairvoyance--or else this excellent wine."

  "I will write to Santil-ke-Erketlis from Zeray," said Elleroth, "but I feel sure that he will accept my recommendation. Radu, my dear boy, it's time you were in bed; and Kelderek too, if I'm not presuming. You've both been ill and you look quite tired out. We ought to start several hours before noon tomorrow, if we possibly can."

  58 Siristrou

  "--THIS BEING NOW the commencement of the tenth day that we have been traveling westward from the western borders of Your Majesty's kingdom, through some of the most inhospitable country I have ever seen. At first, while we remained close to the shore of the river Varin (which our guide calls, in his tongue, 'Tiltharna') there was forest and rocky scrubland--a continuation, in fact, of the kind of country found on Your Majesty's western borders, but wilder and, as far as we have seen, uninhabited. There are, of course, no roads and we ourselves did not come upon a single track. For much of the way we were obliged to dismount and lead the horses together with the pack mules, so stony and treacherous was the ground. Neither did we see any craft upon the river; but this did not surprise us since, as Your Majesty knows, none has ever arrived in Zakalon from upstream. The guide tells us that below his country there lies a gorge (which he named Bereel), full of rapids and half-submerged rocks, so that it is not possible to travel thence to us by way of the river. That this man and his followers should have made the entire journey on foot, their nation being altogether ignorant of the use of horses, shows partly, I think, that this unknown country for which we are bound breeds a tough and resolute people and partly that the inhabitants--or some of them--must be most eager to develop trade with us.

  "We forded two tributaries of the Varin, each--since we encountered both near the confluence--with some difficulty. Indeed, at the second crossing we lost a mule and one of our tents. That was the day before yesterday, and soon afterward we left the forest wilderness and entered upon the desert through which we are now traveling. This is a country of thorn-scrub and fine, blowing sand--bad going for both horses and mules--and of black rocks, which give it a forbidding appearance. There is a kind of flat-bodied, spiny-legged creature, something between a crab and a spider, about as big as a man's fist, which crawls slowly over the sand. It does no harm that I can perceive, yet I could wish that I had not seen it. Drinking water of a sort we can get from the Varin, but it is sandy and warm, for the desert peters out into pools and flats and the true, flowing river is more or less inaccessible behind these. This country is said by our guide to form the southern extremity of a land called Deelguy--so far as I can understand, a semibarbarian kingdom of warrior-bandits and cattle thieves, living among forests and hill-valleys. Inhabited Deelguy, however, lies a good fifteen leagues to the north. The truth seems to be that this desert, being land that nobody wants, is allowed to remain in name part of the territory of the king of Deelguy, a monarch whose frontiers (and authority) are in any case vague in extent.

  "Your Majesty will recall that when the man Tan-Rion, who is now our guide, managed to convey in audience with you that he came from a country beyond the Varin possessing resources for trade, Your Majesty's councilors, including, I admit, myself, found it hard to believe that such a country could exist without our prior knowledge. However, the difficulty of this journey, together with the circumstance that the inhabitants have succeeded only during the past year in establishing a reliable crossing of the Varin at a point within reach of Zakalon, now make this more credible to me; and in short, I have become convinced that, as you yourself said, this may well prove to be a land with resources worth our attention. Tan-Rion has described--if I have followed him--the mining both of iron and of several kinds of gems; also the carving of wood and stone--though into precisely what kinds of artifact I confess I do not know. He has also talked of corn, wine and cattle. Much of the possible trade, I think, will have to await either the construction of a road, or else the development of a water route. (It has not escaped me that it might later prove practicable to bring goods across the Varin and then to embark them again from some suitable point on this shore, below the rapids.) As to what we may barter, I have only to remind Your Majesty that apparently the entire country knows nothing of horses and that none of these people has ever seen the sea.

  "As to their language, I am happy to say that I seem to be making some little progress. In fact there are, it appears, two languages in general use beyond the Varin; the first, called Beklan, being commoner in the northern parts while the second, Yeldashay, is spoken more generally in the south. They have similarities, but I am concentrating on Beklan, in which I can now rub along after a fashion. Writing they use very little and it seems to fascinate my soldier-instructor when I write down the sound of what he says. He tells me that it is but three years since the end of a civil war--something to do with the invasion of Bekla by a foreign tribe who apparently went in for slavery--I confess that I could not altogether make it out. But now they are at peace, and since relations between north and south have improved, the prospects for our embassage seem very fair, coming at the present time.

  "Today we shall--if I have not been deceived--actually cross the Varin to a town from which it will be possible to travel inland to Bekla. I shall, of course, continue to keep Your Majesty informed--"

  Siristrou, son of Balko, son of Mereth of the Two Lakes, High Councilor of His Ascendant Majesty King Luin of Zakalon, glanced through the unfinished letter, gave it to his servant to pack with the rest of the baggage and made his way out of the tent to where the horses were picketed in a patch of scrub. Heaven only knew how or when the letter would get delivered anyway. It would, however, look well to have kept a fairly continuous record, as showing that he had the king and his interest constantly in mind. He had allowed himself a mention of the nasty drinking water, though saying nothing of his disordered stomach and of the flux which he daily feared might turn to dysentery. A discreet suggestion of hardship would be more telling than too much detail. He would not mention his blood blisters, and still less the nervous anxiety that grew upon him the farther they traveled from Zakalon toward the unknown country on the other side of the river. Knowing the king's own hopes, he had taken care to express confidence in the prospects for trade. Indeed, these now seemed reasonable, and even if they turned out otherwise it would do no harm to have seemed initially hopeful of better things. In his heart, however, he wished that the king had not selected him to lead this expedition. He was no man of action. He had been surprised to be chosen and, disguising his misgivings as modesty, had inquired the reason.

  "Oh, we need a detached, prudent man, Siristrou," the king had answered, laying a hand on his arm and walking him down the length of the long gallery that overlooked the beautiful Terrace of the Bees. "The last thing I want is to send some quarrelsome soldier or greedy young adventurer on the make, who'd only upset these strangers by trying to grab all he could for himself. That would be the way to get bad blood at the outset. I want to send a learned man with no craving for personal gain, someone who can make a detached assessment and bring back the truth. Do that, and I assure you that you won't be a loser by me. Those
people, of whatever kind they are--things ought to be handled so that they can trust and respect us. By the Cat, they've sent far enough to find us! I don't want to see them merely exploited."

  And so, to the murmur of the bees in the golden rod, he had accepted his appointment.

  Well, that was fair enough; and to give him his due, Luin was a man of just and sound judgment--if you like, a good king. The trouble lay, as usual, in giving practical effect to his excellent ideas. When it came to the point, quarrelsome soldiers and greedy young adventurers on the make would have been much better at crossing wildernesses and deserts and would have felt much less afraid than a detached, prudent councilor of forty-eight, a schoolman with a taste for metaphysics and the study of ethics. There'd be precious little in that line where he was going. The manners and customs of half-civilized peoples had a certain interest, to be sure, but this was ground which he had covered quite sufficiently as a younger man. Now he was primarily a teacher, a student of the writings of the sages, perhaps even shaping to be a sage himself--if he survived. It was all very well for the king to say that he would not be a loser. He did not really need anything which the king had to give. Luin, however, was not a man whom one disobliged and it would not have been safe to thwart his wishes by refusal or even by seeming too hesitant.

  "I don't so much mind being cut to pieces by barbarians," he said aloud, slashing with his whip at a thornbush. "I do object to being bored" (slash), "wearied" (slash), "condemned to tedium" (slash)--

  "Sir?" said his groom, appearing from the picket-lines. "Did you call?"

  "No, no," said Siristrou hastily, feeling self-conscious as he always did when caught talking to himself. "No, no. I was just coming to see whether you're ready to start, Thyval. We're supposed to reach the crossing today, as I think I told you. I don't know how far it is, but I should prefer to reach the other side in daylight, so that we can get some idea of the place before darkness sets in."

  "Yes, sir, I reckon that's sense right enough. The lads are just getting their things together now. How about the mare, sir? Lead her with the mules?"

  "You'll have to, if she's still lame," answered Siristrou. "Come and tell me as soon as you're ready."

  In fact they reached the east bank a little before noon, after no more than five hours' march. Upon setting out, they had at first struck almost due north, turning away altogether from the pools and flashes marking the southern confines of the desert and filling the broad, treacherous flat which comprised the shore of the river beyond. Tan-Rion, after struggling to be understood, at length took a stick and drew a plan on the ground. Pointing first to this and then southwestward over the sand, he managed to convey to Siristrou and his companions that in that direction the river made a great bend, so that its course helf-encircled them, lying not only to the south but also to the west of where they now stood. Some way above the bent on his plan he scratched a line to represent their intended crossing, and once more pointed, this time northwestward, to show the direction in which it lay.

  In these parts spring had not yet turned to summer, but nevertheless the day soon grew hot and the wind freshened enough to blow the sand about unpleasantly. Siristrou, trudging beside the lame mare, dropped his head, half-closed his eyes and, as the sand gritted between his teeth, tried to think about his metaphysics pupils in Zakalon. One had to count one's blessings. At least there was no lack of tepid water to wash the sand down. Tan-Rion was in excellent spirits at the prospect of return and led his men in singing Yeldashay songs. It was good, boisterous stuff, but hardly music to Siristrou's taste.

  Suddenly he was aware--and felt pleased to have been the first to see them, for his eyes were not all they had been--of distant figures on the sand. He stopped and looked ahead more intently. The country, though still desert, was no longer flat. There were slopes and long, steep dunes, speckled with the shadows of the white stones lying on them, motionless and timeless in the sun as only desert hills can appear. At a point to the left was a cluster of huts--a kind of shantytown, raw and new in appearance--and it was here that the moving figures could be seen. Beyond, the ground fell away invisibly and there seemed to be a kind of reflected glitter in the air. Through the still more distant horizon-haze--and he screwed up his eyes, but could see no better--there loomed a greenness which might be forest.

  An hour later they halted on the left bank of the river and looked across to the town on the western side which Tan-Rion called Zeray. About them gathered a wonder-struck crowd of soldiers and Deelguy peasants, inhabitants of the shantytown and labor force of the ferry on this bank. All evidently realized that these strangers had in truth come from a distant, unknown country, brought back by Tan-Rion, whom they had seen set out three months before. The shrill jabbering grew, and the shoving, and the pointing, and the exclamations of astonishment as it was grasped that the long-nosed beasts wore man-made harnesses and were obedient to men, like oxen.

  Siristrou, determined to show no nervousness in the close-pressing hubbub, not one word of which he could understand, stood silently beside his horse's head, ignoring everything until Tan-Rion, approaching, requested him to follow and began literally beating his way through the crowd with the flat of his scabbard. They scattered, laughing and gabbling like children, in a fear that was half pretense and half real, and then fell in behind the newcomers, dancing and chanting as Tan-Rion led the way to a larger hut which did duty for the Deelguy officers' quarters. He gave a single bang on the door and strode inside. Siristrou heard him shout a name and then, himself wishing to show detachment as the crowd once more closed around him, turning to gaze across the river at the town on the other side.

  It lay beyond a strait of turbid, yellowish water about a quarter of a mile across and running, as far as he could judge, too swiftly in the center for any craft. He watched a great, leafy branch go rocking downstream almost as fast as though it were sailing through the air. He could not see the lower end of the strait, but upstream, on the opposite side, the river bent back into a bay where he thought he could make out what looked like a graveyard among trees at the mouth of a creek. The town itself lay nearer, directly opposite him, filling a blunt promontory downstream of the bay. In all his life he had never seen a town with such an utterly Godforsaken appearance. It was clearly not large. There were several old houses, both of stone and of wood, but none of any size or of graceful or pleasing proportions. The newer houses, of which there seemed to be more than the old, both finished and half-finished, had a utilitarian, quickly-run-up look, and had certainly not been sited or designed in accordance with any plan. There were a number of trees, some thriving and some not, but clearly nothing like a public garden anywhere. Near the waterside, people--and even at this distance they looked oddly small people--were working on two nearly completed, larger buildings, which looked like warehouses. In front of these stood a landing stage and also, both in and beside the water, a complex of stout posts and ropes, the use of which he could not guess. The whole was framed in a gray sky and green, wild-looking country, dotted here and there with patches of cultivation.

  Siristrou groaned inwardly and his spirits fell still further. It was worse than he had expected. Tan-Rion had struck him as an intelligent and reasonably cultivated man, the product at least of an ordered society with settled values. The town he was now looking at resembled something a giant's children might have thrown together with sticks and I stones in play. Setting aside that it was a safe bet that no book or civilized musical instrument could be found from one end to the other, would he and his men be even safe in such a place? However, fear was unworthy of a metaphysician and High Councilor of Zakalon, and after all, his death would matter little--except, he thought bitterly, to his wife and children, the youngest a little girl of five whom he loved dearly. A big workman stepped forward and began to finger the cloth of his sleeve. He drew it away with a frown and the man laughed disconcertingly.

  Tan-Rion reappeared at the door, followed by two men with heavy black moustache
s and long hair, who were dressed and armed as though they were going to take part in a play as wandering bandits. Perhaps that was approximately right, thought Siristrou, except that this was no play. They stood looking him up and down, hands on hips. Then one spat on the ground. Siristrou returned their stare, considered smiling and offering his hand, decided against both and bowed coldly. At this, the one who had not spat also bowed, then laid an enormous, dirty hand on his shoulder and said, in what he recognized as excruciating Beklan,

  "Ho, yoss, yoss! Nover mind! Nover mind!" And then, with great emphasis, shaking a forefinger, "You--most--pay!"

  Tan-Rion broke in, expostulating in an indignation too fast to be followed. "Envoys," Siristrou heard. "Trade mission--important foreigners--not to be insulted." And finally, more slowly and emphatically, so that he followed it fully, "Lord Kelderek will pay you, if you insist. You can cross with us and see him."

  At this the two bandits shrugged their shoulders and conferred. Then one nodded and pointed, remarking, "Furry roddy," and both began to lead the way upstream, the native crowd trailing behind as before.

  They left the shantytown and found themselves once more walking in the empty sand, but now along the waterline beside the river. Siristrou noticed how unnaturally straight and regular this waterline was, and saw also that the edge of the shore had been leveled and paved almost like a road--in some places with stones and elsewhere with thick, round wooden billets, laid and trodden in side by side. There were numerous prints of ox hooves. Pointing to these, he shook his head and smiled to Tan-Rion to convey his bewilderment, but the latter only nodded and smiled in reply.

  They had not been going very long before they reached their destination. In slack water against the bank lay a flat raft of heavy logs topped with plank decking, some twelve or fourteen feet square and having a pointed bow or cutwater on the side facing out into the stream. There was no rail or parapet of any kind, but down the center three thick, upright posts were fastened into the logs with wooden struts and crude iron brackets. Bolted to the top of each post was a hinged iron ring and through all three of these a stout rope ran the length of the raft. From the stern it continued to the shore, where it was secured to an iron bar driven into the ground. Before reaching this, however, it passed through a kind of pen containing several free-ended stakes, around some of which it was hitched. A panel of this enclosure was open, and three men were straining as they twisted the stake inside to increase tension on the rope. Siristrou, watching as the dripping cable rose little by little out of the water beyond the raft and inched its way back through the rings, realized with something of a shock that it evidently stretched across and downstream to Zeray on the other side--not much less than three-quarters of a mile, as near as he could estimate. It was on this cable that their lives were about to depend. The raft was going to be warped across, with the force of the current at a highly acute angle behind it.