by David Bell
“The road is difficult and dangerous but not as dangerous as the sea now is. You destroyed the pirates off Gaiduros all those years ago Koreta. Now they are coming back, not so many, it is true, but they will grow in numbers unless we can deal with them as you did then.”
“In my despatches to the Palace I plead for the restoration of the naval patrols against pirates but the authorities think only of the expense and have sent out only one ship. They even talk of its being unwise to offend certain powers. I do not think they mean the Labarna, who shows little interest in sea power. I have suggested that what they call piracy may be someone’s policy for weakening us, and not simply robbery on the high seas. Gaiduros, where we destroyed the raiders, was a settlement with houses and flocks, not just a cove where pirate ships gathered before their next foray. But my words go unheeded. I can make no headway there.”
“Governor, without its trade Keftiu cannot survive. Without bronze the craftsmen cannot work, and the commanders cannot equip their men. We must convince them that a plentiful and regular supply of tin is possible if they are willing to finance a proving expedition. Keftiu, and, of course, the Palace, would prosper greatly and the commanders’ power be assured. They might even feel inclined to confront the pirates, of whatever kind, once more and gain new glory.”
“You would do better to argue in simple terms of national and, more importantly, commercial interest and omit the irony. You have not finished making your case, I am sure, but first you should know that Merida has told me of the new ship and shown me the plans. What he has not told me is where these new tin mines are to be found.”
“The man Merida swamped with drink in Gubal had sailed on Kinaani ships for years, out of Tzudon, Bothros, Beryt. He got to know the settlements and trading posts all along the Deshret coast beyond the Black Land towards the setting sun. He rose to be helmsman on a cargo ship working the grain and ivory trade between the Libun settlements, and Shardana where they loaded obsidian and metal for Sikelia, the island where the mountain burns, then back to Libun with pottery, tools, oil, wine. Too much wine: he was drunk one night and ran them aground on one of the reefs off Shardana and wreckers looted the whole cargo. He escaped and lived in the wild for a year. One day he came across a watering party from a Kinaani ship. He was filthy and half-starved but they took him on board when they heard him speak their tongue. He nearly jumped ship when they told him where they were heading but they were under-crewed and kept him fast because they needed all the hands they could get. There was no wonder they found it hard to find a full crew. The skipper told him they were bound for a trading post in Sapanim where they would take on trade goods and supplies for the next stage of the voyage. At this trading post he found out it was three days sail to the strait that opens into the Endless Ocean, and that was where the ship was going. It was the enterprise of a group of Tzudon merchants, gamblers might be a better name for them, to follow up something they had picked up about some longhaired slaves with tattooed faces who had been on sale in the market at Gubal. These slaves had been heard talking about their village in the Tin Islands. An agent sent from Tzudon was lucky enough to find one of the slaves working for a tavern owner and managed to buy him. It cost him double the price the tavern owner had paid but it was worth it because, when he searched the slave, he found a piece of black stone that he wore on a leather thong round his neck as some sort of charm. When they showed it to a smith in Tzudon he said it was tinstone, and as good as any he had ever seen.”
Kanesh sat back in his chair. The brazier glowed as the evening breeze blew softly through the open window. The lamp flames flickered, casting slowly dancing shadows on the walls and making the painted figures seem to move in rhythm. At his master’s silent signal the steward came forward, re-filled the goblets a second time and placed a dish of olives beside them.
“Go on.”
“They questioned the slave. He knew enough of the Kinaani tongue by then – slaves have to learn quickly if they are going to survive, and he was glad to be out of the hands of the tavern keeper – to tell them he had worked on barges that carried tinstone from the mines and beaches to an island offshore he called Crakluz where it was loaded into ships that worked along the coast selling it to smiths who had their forges in the forests.”
“How did he come to be sold in the market at Gubal?”
“This is important, Koreta. He had joined the crew of a seagoing ship bound for a port across the water, as he called it, with a cargo of tinstone and ingots. He said they reached a land that looked much like his own after two days’ sail and then worked along a rocky coast towards the midday sun for two days more. They stopped for water at some islands but had to up anchor and leave quickly when the people found out what they were carrying. They followed the coast for a few more days then came to the mouth of a great river called Kharron and rowed up it to a settlement and trading post where they unloaded their cargo. There are no smiths at work there but the tin is sent in donkey loads or on the backs of porters to forges further up river, and some, mark this, some over the mountains and down a long trail to another sea.”
“Let me understand this, Kanesh. You are saying that tin is being sent by sea and land from the Tin Islands to the distant trading posts of our own ocean. Why are our merchants not dealing in this trade?”
“Because most of it is bought or stolen on the overland passage and what does make its way to what you call our ocean is sold to smiths in Shardana or Sapanim or other lands nearby.”
“How can we be sure that what the slave has said is true?”
“His ship was attacked by pirates soon after it sailed for home and most of the crew were killed. The survivors were sold as slaves and set to work carrying loads on the very same trail that we have been talking about. How they got to Gubal I do not know, possibly sold on to a ship’s master: that is not important. What is important is that he was put on the ship fitted out by the Tzudon merchants to be pilot and interpreter when they reached the Tin Islands. They gambled on taking the sea route all the way to avoid the dangers and delays of the land journey and bring back the much bigger cargo that only a ship can carry. The skipper they hired, probably a pirate himself in harder times, got the job because he told them he had been helmsman on a Kinaani ship that had passed through the Strait into the Endless Ocean, but was forced back by storms.”
“Back to our drunk in Gubal, not so drunk, I suppose, that he concocted the whole story to keep Merida pouring the wine?”
“The story rings true in enough detail. An agent of Merida has seen the Tzudon harbourmaster’s tablets which mark the sailing of the ship, and the skipper’s name.”
“What do we have now? A drunk with a tale that may or may not be true about a ship bound for the Tin Islands which lie somewhere in the Endless Ocean. Why is he now in Gubal telling his tale in the taverns and not on the ship? And where is the ship?”
“He had no stomach for the voyage. He slipped away at night and hid in the hills. They sailed without him. They have never returned. Pirates, storms, mutiny, anything could have put paid to them. They may still be sailing the Endless Ocean. The Tzudos merchants have gambled and lost. But the chance is still there for us, and worth the seizing.”
“How can you be sure?”
“We have this,” said Kanesh and he held up a thin leather thong from which swung a glittering stone, dark brown, almost black in colour.
Koreta watched the many smooth surfaces of the stone catch the light from the lamps as it turned slowly before his gaze. He took it in his hand. It was very heavy. Tin Islands in the Endless Ocean where the sun goes down, he whispered, savouring the sound of the words. If only he were young again.
“The ship must be strong and fast for such a voyage and the crew sure of themselves. And we shall need another of those longhaired men with tattooed faces who know the sea ways and speak the language of the Tin Islands.”
“There is talk that one of the Palace ladies keeps such a man in her household
. Her husband has been told he is one of the gardeners, and particularly skilled at sowing seed.”
“I see. The lady will need to be abundantly recompensed if she is to release such a gifted assistant. Perhaps you could undertake that task, my friend. Now, let us look at the plans for the ship again while you eat supper. I am condemned to gruel and a little wine, but Apigoron has succulent things to offer you.”
Dawn was washing the night from the sky behind the distant Mountain when there was a discreet knock at the door and the steward padded quietly into the room. He respectfully suggested that the Lord Koreta might now rest a little before the business of the day began. Two kilted young men stood ready in the doorway, one carrying towels and a large copper basin, and the other a tall copper ewer from which rose wisps of perfumed vapour.
“He cossets me,” said Koreta to Kanesh. “But I suppose I must. I have an early meeting with the Town Guardian this morning about the Festival. I have to be fresh to make sure he doesn’t over-complicate things with all his new ideas of protocol, and who should be allowed to decorate his house or his ship with what, and making sure a merchant doesn’t offer better beasts for the sacrifice than a commander. He thinks too much of show and impressing our visitors and not enough of making sure the Watch keeps an eye out for thieves who go through houses while the owners are paying their respects to the Lady and the High Priestess during the Procession. On Kallista the Festival has always been a simple and not too devout celebration of life and its renewal. Keftiu and the Palace are the places for elaborate ritual. But times are changing, Dorejo says.”
Kanesh gave a short laugh. “I have met him. His kind seems to be everywhere these days.”
“He says I should be wary of you.”
“He is right to say so. I am asking much of you and…”
“It might be too much for me, now? Not so. Our talk through the night had everything that gives me strength. A new ship, Kanesh, a new kind of ship, new lands, new dangers, new prizes to be had: it must be done. My despatches will be ready before your ship leaves for Keftiv. They will include letters for those who understand such things as we have discussed. It will be your task to see that they are delivered into the right hands.”
The steward hovered closer, casting nervous but meaningful glances at Kanesh who nodded at him and rose to take his leave. The young men carried the articles for the Governor’s toilet over to the table beside the window. The steward helped his master to his feet and stood back as Kanesh took the outstretched hand. It held no warmth but the grip had a nervous strength.
“Until this morning all I had left of the sea was the smell of the salt on the breeze when it blows through this window, and memories. Now, I see a new voyage so clearly I feel I am next to the helmsman with a sweet wind from astern filling the sail and driving us on. I thank you for that.”
Kanesh bowed his head briefly and turned towards the door. In his own mind was the scene off Gaiduros: sails aflame, the crash and screech of timbers as ship ground against ship, the frantic choking screams of men drowning in the swirling waves, and the lithe, long-haired figure leaping, sword in hand, onto the stern deck of the pirate captain’s ship.
“I am to have another visitor today; a matron servant of the Lady Mother, the Lady Akusha. I understand that you know her. Her husband is a very worthy man. She is to convey the High Priestess’s wishes concerning the Festival. We may also talk of other matters. I felt you should know this.”
Kanesh stopped in the doorway and turned to look back at the tall wasted figure now standing beside the window. The lines round the single bright eye with its piercing look were crinkled as if in a faint smile, and the eyebrow was arched quizzically. Kanesh looked down at the marble floor apparently considering a reply, then he looked up, smiled in return, and walked out of the room. Was there anything that Koreta did not know? He had picked up on Kanesh’s mention of chariots and questioned him so subtly on details of design and tactics that Kanesh realised he was being probed by someone who knew of the maryannu chariot squadrons that had been such a thorn in the flesh of the Labarna in his early campaigns. Did he suspect that Kanesh’s knowledge came from personal experience?
The empty halls echoed to Kanesh’s footsteps as he made his way, limping only slightly now, towards the great doorway which opened onto the square. The lamps burned low in the cool air of morning and the life and colour which had made the painted scenes and symbols on the walls glow so real the night before now seemed faded and flat. But soon the rooms would resound again with the ancient chants and prayers, and shimmer in response to the complex and stately movements of the richly gowned priestesses and acolytes as they unfolded the ritual of life’s re-awakening, the gift of the Lady Mother. The tousled, yawning doorman leapt upright and struggled to salute as Kanesh passed him and stepped out into the open air, glad to leave the painted world and all its symbols behind him. He stood on the steps and breathed in deeply. The square smelled good this early in the morning. The sewers had been washed through during the night and the slaves and prisoners from the lock-up had carried away the previous day’s rubbish, at least from the main streets. Later in the day, under a hot sun and with every human activity and bodily need at work, it would be different. Kanesh walked along Ship Street and down to the harbour. There was much to tell to Potyr, and the trial sailing into the Lagoon would be an ideal occasion for the telling.
***
Nodding solemnly from time to time so as to give the impression that he was listening to the Town Guardian, Koreta was in fact formulating in his mind the despatches that Kanesh was to carry to Keftiu. There would be the customary formal report for the Palace, introducing Kanesh and requesting assistance and protection for him and his companions during their visit. A second despatch, to be handed personally to the deputy commander of the garrison, would contain Koreta’s confidential assessment of Kanesh and the importance of the information and proposals he carried, and the Governor’s personal support. The deputy commander had once served under Koreta and had learned to respect his judgment. Koreta knew that he would interrogate Kanesh himself before making up his own mind, but if he were convinced, he would move quickly to persuade the other commanders. Koreta would include certain information in code in his despatch, using certain significant words and numbers, which would be meaningless to the scribe who read out the tablets to the deputy commander. ‘Winged horses’ and an ‘inlaid brand’ would alert him to the Governor’s deductions about Kanesh’s military experience and probable rank; a reference to a phase of the moon twelve years past would suggest some discreet enquiry be started about the Lady Akusha’s connections in Keftiu. He was wondering how to recommend a watch be kept on longhaired slaves with tattooed faces when he became aware that silence had fallen, and that Dorejo was looking at him with a look of puzzled enquiry on his face. He smiled and said smoothly:
“I need a little more time to think about that. My steward Apigoron will bring you my decision this evening. Was there anything else? I expect you will leave a list of your observations: so useful for checking.”
“The numbers, my Lord, always more in the crowds every year, and more of them drunk and given to indecencies. You will think of recruiting extra men for the Watch?”
“I have said I will reflect further, master Guardian; we have to think of the extra cost, as you know.”
“And the record of all that was recovered from the shipwreck, my Lord, I trust I have your authority to proceed? We think it was a Kinaani vessel but as for the stranger who survived, my efforts to discover more about him have been, I have to say, frustrated. All I can say is that he did not have the look of one from that land. It is rumoured that he has had meetings with the merchant Merida. You may, my Lord, have information of your own which might assist…”
The steward, who had been standing silently behind his master’s chair throughout the meeting, made a slight noise in his throat and leaned forward respectfully to whisper in the Governor’s ear.
“Apparently the Lady Akusha is here with an important communication from the High Priestess. I thank you for all your advice. I am aware of how much time you devote to these matters. My steward will see you out. You may leave your tablets with him.”
When the steward returned, Koreta nodded to him and then listened attentively as the man gave a detailed account of all that Dorejo had said during the meeting about arrangements for the forthcoming festival. The Governor thought for a while and then gave his decisions for passing on to the Town Guardian.
Dorejo was standing outside the entrance to the Residence with his two Men of the Watch, letting his eyes adjust to the bright sunlight, when he saw Akusha approaching the steps accompanied by two Temple novices, one carrying a basket filled with flowers and the other a frond of palm to shield her mistress from the sun. Akusha was dressed formally in a long gown of fine yellow cloth caught at the waist with a blue girdle. A veil of sheer silk covered the lower part of her face and her hair was brushed carefully back from her brow and ears to fall in wavy coils far down her back. As she came up the steps, Dorejo moved forward and opened his mouth to speak, but she passed him without a glance and, preceeded by the steward, disappeared through the doorway into the darkness of the hall beyond. Dorejo bowed instinctively after her and then, annoyed with himself for doing so, turned on his men, accused them of untidiness unbecoming the town Watch, and strode away in the direction of the harbour. He wanted to speak again to a particular man who worked in Merida’s warehouse.
The door closed noiselessly behind the steward and Koreta and Akusha exchanged the formalities of greeting and deference. They were now alone, he seated in his high chair to one side of the window, and she standing on the other. She lowered her veil. When Koreta had first been appointed Governor he had tactfully but firmly insisted on these meetings between himself and the High Priestess’s senior Temple lady, reasoning that the town had a duty to see that the solemnities of the religious festivals were afforded the respect and propriety that they deserved, and if that were to be assured he would need to discuss the arrangements in detail. After all, he had an official role to play, too, as representative of the Palace, and it would be shameful, would it not, were he, in ignorance, to offend against ancient protocol? Koreta and Akusha had quickly learned how to work together, each appreciating the other’s shrewdness and skill when, routine agreements settled, negotiations began. She looked at him calmly, trying to picture the ravaged face behind its mask, and marvelling as ever, at his quiet dignity and charm. He had respect for her beliefs, she knew, but she was less sure that he shared them. It was enough; there were others of like mind who were close to her. He returned her gaze, still intrigued after all their meetings by the pragmatism and skein of worldly experience woven into her devotion to the Lady Mother which gave her such strength and decisiveness. Surely, these qualities belonged to someone highborn but for some reason made to suffer early in her life and, afterwards, forced to fend for herself?