Swing south to the harbor, she thought. Then west. Sure as there’s pus under a scab, they’ll be after me soon. She heeled the merchant’s show-beast into a slow canter, threading her way among wagons and carriages and pedicabs. The dart had probably been poisoned, but horses had more mass than humans; it should last. Then whoever ate it was welcome to the bellyache.
And I feel godsdamned wonderful, she thought. I’m doing what I really wanted. What’s Illizbuah to me? You were taking counsel of your fears, stupid bitch.
The docks and warehouses of the Northern Adventurers were crowded; half a dozen sizable craft were leaving on this tide, and twice that number of coasters were making ready to beat north from Port to Port. The sea wall gate was opening as the tide matched the water in the basin, letting the first of the coasters through.
The air was pungent with the smells of sugar and wine, dried fruit and heavy cheap rum; bales of cotton cloth and crates of tools and weapons stood by. Muscle-powered cranes ratcheted; carts rumbled by on ironwood rails, coasting down inclines from the upper stories of the warehouses. Porters trotted up gangplanks, bent double under their burdens, naked skins shining; an overseer stood by with her whip’s jagged ceramic beads dangling against one leg. There were carts and wagons aplenty; few looked up at another rider, even one forcing her way through the throng with unmannerly haste.
Wish I could use my saber, Shkai’ra thought. But that would be madness; not only was there the Watch to think of, but sailors were not as meek as most city Fehinnans. It would have been more useful to unlimber her bow, in a running fight like this. These easterners did not understand horse archery....
The weight of the animal forced a way for her among the crowd. It was winded now, favoring the right foreleg, muzzle low and trailing streaks of foam. There was more on the front of her tunic, spattering it where it wasn’t dark with horse sweat. That brought an absurd pang; she had liked that dark silk ... because Megan had.
The beast lurched and staggered sideways. Poison, she thought. Horsewoman’s reflex brought her legs up and she vaulted off. The animal splayed its hooves, attempting to recover; one knee buckled, and it went over on its side, kicking wildly. The bystanders scattered from the hooves. Shkai’ra darted in, swearing, thankful that it had collapsed on the gold and armor rather than her cat. She seized the leather strap connecting the bags, waited for a heave, and pulled it free.
“You,” she snarled, catching a bystander by the collar. “Where’s the Gullwinged Gainsnatcher?”
“There,” the man choked, pointing. “Just casting off—leggo.”
Shkai’ra threw the saddlebags over one shoulder with a grunt of effort and added the dufflebag as she looked behind her. There were half a dozen figures pushing their way through the crowd; hard-faced, looking uneasy in their civilian tunics of unbleached cotton. Two carried bundles wrapped in rags, and the shape suggested bolt-guns. She craned, using her height recklessly; yes, others with hats on heads that might be shaved. She did not bother to check for Adderfangs; if they wanted to be unseen, they would be.
One of the first party spotted her copper-blond hair over the dark crowd. She could see yellow teeth bared in a pockmarked brown face.
She turned, kicked a man behind the knee, forced her way into the space he left, and shoved. It should be easier for one than a group, she thought. I’ll gain some distance on them.
There was a weary errowr? of protest from one saddlebag.
The gunwale under Megan’s hands was starting to take on the appearance of worm-eaten barnboard, splinters sticking up in random directions. One of the crew had ventured to protest, pausing in her way along the deck, and was greeted with an icy stare and the slow, reflexive crooking of one hand. The crewman decided the gunwale could always be sanded smooth later, and took his eyes elsewhere while he still had them.
Megan looked out over the crowd and vaguely wondered what could be blocking the way down the road, just in sight around the edge of the oil jars and livestock cages being loaded on the next ship. Something was disturbing the flow of the crowd; heads were starting to turn.
The third and fourth mooring ropes were just rattling on deck when an outraged shout rose from the spot where the traffic was blocked. More interesting things going on, Megan thought. That’s one thing I won’t be sorry to leave behind. A snide voice in the back of her mind commented that she would probably go mad very shortly of boredom. She signed and looked down at the scratchings on the rail.
The crowd thinned out toward the water’s edge, where the piers projected out from the dock like the teeth of a comb; there were too many carts for toes to be jammed so closely together. The Gullwinged Gainsnatcher was two piers west; the Kommanza could see her masts and stays, swaying as the tug pulled her head out into the basin, but she had not cast completely free, not yet. A pile of cotton cloth stood before her, twice head-height; cheap stuff printed in the bright patterns the northern forest and sea-land tribes of Newfaai and Naiskat loved. She went straight at it, not even slowing her run, up and over the steep-sided pyramid of cloth. As she reached the summit, there was a deep musical throb, and something half-visible went thrup by her shoulder.
She slipped down, braking with her heels; another bolt slammed through the space her spine and breastbone had occupied a moment earlier; the skin between her shoulders roughened. Then she was dashing along the clear space beside the departing ship, toward the great cable still stretched from a concrete bollard to the stern. It was the last, holding the three thousand tons steady while the tug brought the ship’s stern into the current. The longshore crew stood ready to hit the release catches; tension pulled the meter-thick sisal taut, squeezing water in a steady flow out of the fibers.
Shkai’ra felt the breath panting deep and swift into her lungs. There was no time, not with a repeating bolt-gun behind her; eight meters of water between her and the deck ... and she was carrying nearly her own body-weight in gear.
Her teeth grated painfully as she leaped from dock to bollard and out along the cable; the thick hawser seemed suddenly thread-thin as it stretched ahead to weave through timber balk below the rail. Below, the morning tide sucked hungrily at the oaken piles of the dock.
At the scream and thrum of weapons, Megan’s head snapped up, just in time to see bright copper hair flash, then Shkai’ra pelted through a clear spot. Running as if she could outrun bolt-guns, the Zak thought. A bolt skittered by, shattering on a stone column, and the Kommanza was up on the rope connecting the ship and the dock. The scene froze with the longshoremen standing, mouths agape, staring at this madwoman.
“Move!” Megan cried. “If you freeze you’ll fall!” Her voice was lost in the noise. “Move!” she screamed. And other running figures were now visible. One stopped to kneel and take careful aim.
Shkai’ra’s feet gripped at the rough surface of the sisal through the thin leather of her sandals. Natural balance and warrior training took her out above the hungry water, foot curving swiftly before foot in a walk that was half a skip. Got to keep going—fast, she thought. Like tumbling or a sword-hand throw. Faster you move, easier to balance.
She was halfway between dock and ships, and even the weight of the hull could not deny the hawser a slight curve. There was a massive sudden impact below her right shoulder, the blow of a sledge swung overarm. She felt a sharp prickling as the point of the bolt touched her skin, a tip of metal through the saddlebag and the steel helmet it contained. With a monstrous wrenching effort she seemed to leap, twisting in midair, coming down straddle-stanced along the rope, crouching. Her balance was saved, but the position immobilized her for a crucial brace of seconds. She looked back, to see the bolt-gunman kneel and sight; looked at her own death.
Something snapped in Megan’s mind. The lost, cold feelings surged up, becoming raging flames, forge-heat. Living elsewhere with Shkai’ra alive was bearable. Her akribhan dead?
“NO!” Her hands leaped forward almost of their own volition, one pointing to the bolt-gun
man, the other raised to the sky where the Sun shone. For an instant, she forced the pool of Fehinnan Power to her thought, bearing the shrieking pain as she called for fire. A red glow outlined her whole body, rapidly brightening to orange, like glowing coals, drawing a line from the sun, through her, to the bolt-gunman on the dock.
He threw back his head and howled, flinging the weapon from him, tearing his clothes and hair, screaming that he was on fire; his skin blistered, turning black, cracking open, though no flames were visible. He threw himself into the harbor, still screaming.
Steam rose.
Shkai’ra darted the last ten steps to the railing. Behind, there were screams and frantic prayers and a sickeningly appetizing smell of roast pork; the crowds exploded away from the place of magic like quicksilver on glass. But not many had seen, and it would take time to spread word. The Kommanza cleared the rail, tossed her burden to the planks, and dove, pulling the slight figure of the Zak down with her. Another bolt buzzed by overhead and sank a handspan deep in the rearmast; others followed, and a blowgun dart. Then the whole great fabric of the ship lurched as the longshore crew slammed their mallets into the releases of the bollard. There was a sudden alteration in the movement as the Gullwinged Gainsnatcher slid out into the harbor basin and swung toward the open gate; above, canvas crackled as the crew unrove the topgallants to put steerage way on her.
Through the gates, the twenty oars of the tug flashing. They cast off and reeled in their towline as the offshore breeze and the making tide caught at the long hull. The ship heeled, and the keel bit water as she headed for open river and the sea beyond.
Megan lay limp beneath Shkai’ra as the Kommanza raised herself on one elbow. Her eyelids fluttered, and a small sound escaped her.
Shkai’ra slowed her breathing with an effort. “I changed my mind,” she said. The thin mouth moved in a naif smile. “Sea voyages are so healthy.... You said something about revenge on someone?” One of the bosuns strode near, a belaying pin tapping at the hilt of his knife. The blond woman jingled her pouch, flashing a gold bit between thumb and forefinger, and the bosun smiled. Beyond, Ten-Knife’s small black head poked free of a saddlebag, glanced about, then retreated to lie glaring in the sheltering darkness, eyes darting from side to side.
Megan’s eyes snapped open, and she tried to raise herself on one elbow. “A ... sloppy ... way ... to kill someone, hey?” she gasped, and smiled.
“It’ll do,” Shkai’ra said, returning the smile; it lit her harsh features. “It’ll do very well, love.”
Appendix A:
Glossary
All terms are Fehinnan unless specified.
A-moi lei-ehuk naigz—Kommanzanu, “I love my horse” (literally, I endure a state of fondness for my horse)
Aahngnaak— a wine
Ah’yia—a river
Ahkomman—Kommanzanu, the kinfast (marriage) of the gods—the High Kommanz
Ahrappan—Kommanzanu, berserk
Akribhan—Zak, an endearment
Almerkun—northern of the two continents on the west shore of the Lannic Ocean
Aykkuka—sergeant
Baiwun—Kommanzanu, a god, Baiwun Thunderer
Baihrna—a southern sea island
Byeliy-skayishka—Zak, white-lock
Cayspec—a river and bay
Celik Kizkardaz—Zak, “There is steel between us”
Dhaik’tz—Kommanzanu, shaman, wise person, scholar
Dhilmaan—loving-twin, a two-stage poison
D’waah—a country just northeast of Fehinna
Ekafrek—Kommanzanu, slave, contemptible, scum
Eassho—eastern principality on the snores of the
Kayspec
Eh, Ka, Sh’ra—Kommanzanu, one, two, three
Eh’mex—Kommanzanu—the god Baiwun’s hammer
Eh’mex mekagro nai—Kommanzanu, “Eh’mex be far from me”
Fa’hir—Kommanzanu, respect
Fangaz’i whul pukkut—Kommanzanu, “a sheep-bitten wolf,” unbelievable
Fehinna—a country on the east coast of Almerkun, on the Lannic Sea
Freyat Kiskar—Zak, friend of kin
Gaaimun—the highest class
Gawhud—a northern god
Glitch—Kommanzanu, godlet of fuckups, trickster figure
Granfor—Kommanzanu, as in “the fortress of
Granfor”
Haaichedew—goddess
Haytin—southern islanders
Iamz—the river where Illizbuah is located
Illizbuah—capital of Fehinna
Jayskri—a northern god
Kaahlicks—a distance
Kaailun—a southern country
Kaina—a country across the Palach mountains in the west
Kommanz—a people living in the far northwest (see
Ztrateke ah’Komman and Zekz Kommanza)
Kommanza—a native of the tribe, Shkai’ra’s people
Kommanzanu—the language
Kouritz h’rokatsk—Zak, “Conceived on a leprous corpse”
Kyuba—an island in the Southern Sea
Laaitun—small military unit, 20-30
Lakaz—a northern country
Lannic—the sea between continents of Almerkun and
Hirop
Lawkup—admire
Maailun—a country north of Fehinna
Maanticell—a Fehinnan wine
Minztan—forest-dwelling people of the northwest, near the Kommanza
Mitch’mi—Kommanzanu, “Be with me”
Mo’kta moi-trutka azhyt—Kommanzanu, “Well, dip me in dune”
Mofoar—Feninnan for slave, slavish
NaZak—Zak, foreigner
Naiglun—northeastern coasts of Almerkun
Newfai—a northern country
Olsaytn—a northern god
Payalach—a pale-skinned tribes of the western mountains, barbarians
Paancah—a goblin or devil
Penza—a northern people divided into many city-states
Poquay—fortified slave trading post
Raisak Staaiun—the compound where the God-King is renewed
Rauquai—Zak, an exclamation of either mild pain or pleasure
Ribbidib—Illizbuah, the gull-headed, six armed god of luck
Rokatzk—Zak, a curse (see Kouritz h’rokotzk)
Rozhum—Zak, so be it
Saahvyts—a goblin
Sainclem—a paradise in the uttermost west
Shaahayds—an archaic term for shaaid (five hundred years or so)
Shaaid—lowest free class
Shaarlosvayl—a small city in Fehinna
Tabana—a flower arrangement
Tecktahate—kingdom, state (lit. “overlordship”)
Tecktahs—nobles, lords
Tuk—Kommanzanu, take, sieze
T’hiait—Kommanzanu, that, those objects
Uraccano—hurricane
Ussay—a northern god
Versht za—Zak, “Do you understand”
Waybecs—a goblin
Whulzhaitz—Kommanzanu, sheepshit
Yawac—a northern country
Zailo—Kommanzanu, a god, Zailo Unseen
Zaik—Kommanzanu, the supreme god
Zak—a country east of the Lannic and the Mitvald sea, Megan’s people
Zekz Kommanz—the six realms that make up the country of the Kommanza
Zh’airzfurd—a town in the Zekz Kommanza
Zh’uldaz—Kommanzanu, warrior (or killer, murderer)
Zoweitz—Kommanzanu, a curse
Zteafakaz—Kommanzanu, steerfucker
Ztrateke a’Kommahn—full name of the Kommanza pantheon, the gods
Appendix B:
Fifth Millennium Notes
(with files from Karen Wehrstein)
Languages
General Note: The spoken languages of the Fifth Millennium generally arose from small groups— often only a few hundred people—of post-Fire survivors who remained isolated for man
y generations after the fall of global civilization in the 2040s. The population of Earth remained below 100 million total for nearly a thousand years after the disaster, and by the end of the Fifth Millennium (c. 5000 AD) had risen to no more than approximately 600 million.
Languages Of Almerkun (N. America)
General Note: The area between the Arctic and (very roughly) the old U.S.-Mexican border spoke languages derived from pre-Fire English. By 5000 AD, this could mean little more than the present-day common origin of, say, English, Hindi, and Armenian in Proto-Indo-European of 2500 BC.
Kommanzanu
Origin: English, some influence from Lakotah, Cree. Earliest written form: runic syllabic script in use for ritual purposes from c. 3200 AD.
History:
Proto-Kommanzanu was formed in the 2044—2800 AD period. Linguistic change was rapid, as the core group of speakers moved repeatedly into new environments and underwent very rapid cultural change. Characteristics were loss of vocabulary items (e.g., literate and technological terms) and radical simplification of word-stems.
Old Kommanzanu arose 2800-3000 AD, once the original speakers settled in the central Red River valley. An inflectional grammar using both prefix and suf-fixional modifiers developed. Vocabulary developed several specializations, e.g., many words for different states of grass, and a very extensive set of terms for combat and war.
Modern Kommanzanu—a fairly arbitrary term— dates from the period of expansion, as the Kommanz peoples gradually pushed north and west through the tall-grass prairie zone between the High Plains and the boreal forests, eventually (c. 4200 ad) reaching the Westwall (Rocky) mountains. Significant developments included the development of a positional syntax requiring both inflection and position with the sentence to agree; also a glottal stop and a “click” sound similar to that of the ancient and unrelated Khoisan languages of southern Africa. Tone also became more important.
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