by David Bell
“A little thing, Sharesh, against what you will do. Have you my sealstone?”
“I have it safe, my Lord. It will make the voyage with me.”
“And with a companion?”
Sharesh drew a sharp breath. How could he know that Pasipha’s sealstone lay in the same alabaster box, eye of fire touching almond eye?
“Com… companion, my Lord?” he stammered.
“A pebble picked up from Kallista’s beach? There are many in the lagoon that would make pretty keepsakes, reminders of home, and friends.”
“The quarryman, Kerma, who is sailing with us, has a little carving of a god holding a staff hanging round his neck.”
“Ptah, a powerful god, they say, in the Black Land. When we are far from home, lonely or in danger, Sharesh, we seek protection from the things we carry that remind us of it. And yet,” he paused and turned his head to look at Sharesh, “there can be weakness there, as well as strength.”
“I will remember that, my Lord.”
“It is time, Sharesh. Calm seas and a fair wind, shipmate.”
Sharesh walked slowly away from the Residence, wondering as before whether he had understood everything the Governor had said to him. What was that about weakness as well as strength? Was it the same thing as Kanesh saying keep thoughts of home locked away? He did understand about the poetry. He would remember the songs to sing; he knew that for sure. He felt in his pouch for the little round stone striped red and black that Kallia had picked up from the beach in the Lagoon and given to him. It was there. The one he had given her, she said, would hang on a pendant round her neck until he came back to Kallista.
Dareka secured the warehouse door, gave his instructions to the night watchman squatting outside, and walked along the jetty towards the harbour gate. The ship was closed down for the night with a single lantern glowing at the stern. Most of the crew were sleeping on board. The few given leave to spend a last night with wife and family would be roused by Typhis and Namun long before the dawn sailing time. Sharesh should be on his way to the harbour by now. A voice he knew spoke quietly from the shadows of the stern cabin.
“May the Lady Mother grant you a peaceful night, Master Overseer.”
“And to you, Captain.”
Dareka walked along the quiet streets, trying to clear his mind of the thought of Sharesh sailing into the Endless Ocean, never to return. The boy was strong. He had grown. He knew the ship: even Potyr had said that. He had learned so many things and seen so many places for one still so young. Kanesh had taught him well, done all he had promised and he would be with him on this voyage. But this voyage was different. Was there such a place as the Tin Islands, or was it just another sailor’s tale like all the others, of cities beneath the sea or rivers running with gold or islands that sank and rose again, spitting fire? He should never have agreed to let the boy be part of such a dangerous quest. He could stop it now. Surely Akusha would understand. His mind was made up. When he entered their bedroom, she was standing by the window murmuring words in the language he had never been able to understand. She turned and looked at him without her usual smile of welcome.
“There is something I must tell you,” she said.
The sounds made by the ship at night that normally lulled Sharesh to sleep now jangled his nerves as impatience to be away fought with desire to stay, and be with Kallia again. Yet he must have slept, if only for a moment, because Namun, who had lain breathing peacefully beside him, was now gone. He would be in the town with Typhis, rousing seamen from their beds with his knocking, peering into windows and seeing things he shouldn’t see and loftily telling the Men of the Watch not to interfere with the urgent work Captain Potyr had given him to do. He had told Sharesh all of this before. It was time to go on deck. Inland, the sky was black and still speckled with stars but, beyond the harbour mouth, the dark curtain was lifting as the first pale glow of dawn seeped up from the horizon. Crewmen were moving purposefully through the ship, yawning and rubbing their eyes, but all knowing exactly what they were about. Sharesh stepped onto the jetty and went to his place at the bow line. The air had a chill to it and he wished he had put on the goat’s woollen cloak his mother had given him when he left the hold. Dark figures moved along the quay towards him: Typhis and Namun herding in the lie-abeds. A donkey cart clattered across the harbour yard and came to a stop near the ship’s bow. Three figures got down and Sharesh recognised Merida who started stamping his feet and slapping his arms against the chill. The two others wore hooded cloaks but the one helped down by the groom must be the Lady Tuwea and the other, her maid. Dareka and the harbour master arrived with a group of labourers carrying sacks and baskets of fresh food for the passage. The sky out to sea was now much lighter and Sharesh could recognise all the faces that were not shadowed by hoods. A silence fell over the ship and the onlookers standing on the jetty. All that remained was to await the first glimpse of the sun and the order to cast off.
Merida stepped forward. He had planned to make a speech about brave seamen and far-sighted merchants and how this voyage would spread the name of Kallista far and wide but when the moment came, he felt a catch in his throat and all the fine words flew out of his head. A look from his wife stiffened his resolve.
“The Lord Potheidan’s horse graces the bow of this ship,” he announced, and stopped. The Lady Tuwea glared at him.
“Yes, and we pray the Lady Mother of the Seas to protect all who sail in her.”
There was a short silence followed by low murmurs of devotion from the onlookers. Afterwards, some of them said it was a good sign that the sun’s edge lifted above the horizon at that very moment. Sharesh heard none of this. The figure beside Lady Tuwea had thrown back her hood and he saw Kallia looking at him with shining eyes.
“Cast off, bowline! Cast off stern line!”
Still dazed by the appearance of Kallia, he had not seen the lady in the richly embroidered cloak step onto the ship. She drew back her hood and looked towards him.
“Mother!”
“I am coming with you,” she said. “It is time I returned to Keftiu.”
Kanesh handed her towards the ladder that led up to the cabin on the stern deck as the Davina slipped away from the jetty and turned her bow towards the risen sun.
LINEAGE
The servant withdrew, bearing away Akusha’s rich red-embroidered blue cloak, and leaving the two ladies regarding each other. Akusha was wearing a yellow gown with flounced skirts and the silver crescent at her throat. The High Priestess was all in white. The high roof of the Ruler’s Sanctuary with its parapet of gilded sacred horns shielded them from the brightness of the midday sun.
“Do you recall the times when we stood here, you and I, looking out over the roofs of the Palace, as we do now, and beyond, to the fields and vineyards of Setujia and the summer residence? Do you recall how we held out our arms in silent dedication to the Lady Mother on her sacred mountain?”
“As clearly as I see it all now.”
“Tell me how many years it is, Lady Akusha, since you left the Lady Mother’s sanctuary that gave you refuge.”
“I have never left her sanctuary, my lady. As you know, her sanctuary extends wherever there are those who serve her. I am her servant on Kallista.”
“Her Matron Servant, that is. With your lineage you may have become high priestess of the sanctuary of most sacred Jaduktas, had it not been for your indiscretion.”
“It is my indiscretion, as you put it, which brings me into your presence. I am grateful for the audience.”
“Lady Akusha, let us speak plainly, as I acknowledge your rank warrants. You are here because you think that your son has been selected by the Lady Mother as successor to my Consort. You are correct in thinking this. Your son has the requisite lineage. It is his destiny.”
“My son is young and has other plans.”
“His youth is to everyone’s advantage and any other plans are irrelevant.”
“I see we speak plainly. Then let
me say that neither I, nor his father, nor the commanders here on Keftiu will allow the enterprise of which he is part to fail and the ship will not sail without my son on board.”
“Then it will not sail.”
“Another power is concerned, my lady. A treaty was recently concluded between the Palace and the Labarna. The Labarna expects this enterprise to proceed. It is unwise to be seen to thwart such a power.”
“You seem to be remarkably well-informed but I know the source of your information. No matter. Now tell me: why might the Labarna blame the Palace were the ship not to sail?”
“My family is ancient nobility loyal to the Labarna. He regarded me as worthy to become wife to one of his sons. He would listen to me.”
“I know that you were a fugitive from the Labarna’s wrath. Are you now saying that you would risk standing before him again to accuse the Palace of flouting the treaty?”
“If the need be, yes.”
“You would deny your son his destiny as the Chosen One of the Lady Mother, chosen to continue the line of service to her, the Palace and the people, and consign him to the sea and trade?”
“The sea and trade sustain this land. That is where I, and his father, see his destiny and it will be longer and of no less service to the Lady Mother, and the people.”
“It is not your choice. The Lady Mother has woven the cloth and will not unpick the threads.”
Kanesh was greeted by Ektan as he dismounted from the gelding outside Sekara’s quarters. “Hot, sir and hardly noon time yet. Surprised you’ve got that thick black cloak on. When I’ve cooled him down and watered him, he’ll be in the stable when you want him, with the mare the lady rode up here. Never seen anybody sit a horse better than her, sir. Captain of Archers rode up with her and he’ll have to look to himself now. M’Lord Sekara says you’re to go straight to the Palace, sir. Everything’s arranged for you to be admitted to the Presence. This man will take you to the royal anteroom. Good to see you again, sir.”
The same silent hooded steward led him through the same high doorways and across the same smooth cool floors of countless rooms and dark corridors to the font where he dipped his hands, and eventually into the hall of shields and axes where, as before, he was left alone. The door of the final great dark hall was open. He stepped over the threshold, took three paces forwards and stood waiting. The voice that came at last from the shadowy form behind the shimmering screen at the far end of the hall was more hoarse and much weaker than before.
“I recognise the sound of the limp. Come closer. Soldier, scourge of pirates, bull tamer, adept in the mystery of metals, negotiator of treaties and restless wanderer and searcher: what more is there to know of you? You are silent, and perceptive. No one will disturb us, but I fear there is too little time left to me to hear your tale.”
The voice faded away into long, dragging breaths. Kanesh waited. Eventually, barely a whisper now, it began again.
“I know why you are here but there is only one thing I can do to help. It is fortunate that it needs no strength at all for me to do it, leaving me enough to say only, succeed.”
The voice died away. Kanesh waited for the speaker to go on but there was now no sound at all. He stepped round the screen and approached the white-robed figure seated on the high-backed throne. The head in its horned bull’s mask had fallen forward to rest on the thin, still chest. Kanesh lifted one of the emaciated hands and placed his fingertip on the wrist. He could feel no throb of life. Again he stood silent, listening. There was no rustle of silk from the gallery above this time. Succeed: with the enterprise? Or was there some other meaning behind the word?
Palace officials and courtiers took little notice of them as they paced slowly across the great courtyard, deep in conversation.
“The High Priestess will not be persuaded,” said Akusha. “She knows she speaks with the Lady Mother’s voice.”
“Then we must follow the plan we have decided,” said Kanesh. “It is even more urgent now than it would have been: the Consort is dead.” Akusha stood still and almost staggered. He thought she would fall and took her arm to steady her. Her face was haggard with dismay for a moment then she drew her breath in deeply and turned on him with a look of fierce resolve.
“We will leave now!”
“That would be hasty and haste would arouse suspicion. We have a little time yet. With almost his last breath the Consort told me we would not be disturbed. The horses will be waiting outside Sekara’s quarters at dusk. We need darkness for the plan to succeed, so to wait and trust that the Consort’s order will be obeyed is all we can do now.”
“Perhaps we should walk in the gardens,” she said. “The sight of the most sacred Jaduktas may bring me patience.”
“I will leave you there and return when I have fitted the last piece into the plan.”
“Pasipha: I, too, shall see her some time later, if we succeed,” said Akusha.
“I have to tell her about Kallia,” said Sharesh.
“You don’t have to tell her anything,” scoffed Namun. “I know why you want to go up there and it’s nothing to do with Kallia. Be honest with yourself. You can’t keep away.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve got my orders from the lord. You’ll have to go by yourself, if you’re going. The man who delivered the oil jars is going back up the hill soon. You might get a ride on his cart for part of the way if you hurry.”
The trees lining the last stretch of the paved road that led up to the Palace were not yet in full leaf and the hot sun, shining through the branches, set the sweat trickling down Sharesh’s back long before he reached the gateway to the mansion. He hesitated outside, half minded to turn back but unable to resist being drawn in. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself in a garden ablaze with spring flowers in full bloom and tamarisks trailing their pink-dusted branches along the ground like the trains of elegant ladies. The heavy air was full of the drowsy hum of insects searching for petal-hidden sweetness. Two gaudy peacocks spread their glowing tails beneath an almond tree, as still as ships becalmed. The colours and scents of the garden blended in his senses, sending a delicious languor seeping through his body. He sank down among the blue and yellow flowers and closed his eyes. Through the pink-veined veil of his eyelids, the sun’s brightness was blurred and softened. Shimmering orbs drifted across his sight, deep blue centres, merging outwards into glittering green, then bronze, with fringes of gold. Peacocks’ tails, he thought dreamily… Lady Mother’s peacocks… Kanesh says not colours… drifting… says many things… bronze feathery tendrils… light weaving through feather threads… Kanesh says… peacock tail eyes… painted eyes on prows of ships… almond eyes… looking… saying… a long way away… a voice saying….
“Why have you come here, Sharesh? Is it to finish the game?”
The silk sheets were not as smooth as her skin and peacock eyes never glowed as bright as those looking up at him.
“Slowly, Sharesh, slowly, this is not a race to be first. You and I must reach the winning post together. Yes, now this way.”
Later, sitting up, she said, “Why, Sharesh, you surprised me. I have been preceded by a rival I was told I might have. I shall not ask you her name; I think I know who she is. But you are here now.” She stood up, stretching her slim arms wide like the wings of a golden bird. She smiled down at him. “Do you think the picture looks like me?” she said. “Does it make me look too old? No? Do you mean that? I think he has made my nose too long. Is that a little frown? You must not be jealous of the painter. He painted your mother, you know. Hand me my gown. Now the girdle, if you please. You may tie it for me, if you like. Your hands have become hard, Sharesh, but they keep their gentle touch. We women love that. No, no, now we must go to my pool.”
“It is the water of the pool, cool but not cold,” she said, “and the lilies, perhaps, but mostly this place itself. Long ago a very old disgraceful woodland god was worshipped here. Look, there is a statue of him. His spirit
must still linger and be whispering to you, as I can see. Such wicked, insistent, sweet whispers, are they not? It is the same with Luzar. No, Sharesh, wait, wait. I hear voices. I know who it is and he must not see us. Take your clothes and go, there, through the trees, you will find a gate. Hurry. Come back another time.”
The noonday sun was hot and it was some relief to walk slowly along the shaded path that led through the garden towards the almond trees, now thickly dappled with the palest pink blossom.
“Lady is by her pool,” said Luzar, seeming to rise from the earth. “You cannot go there.”
“Gather together what you need and wait until you are told you may join the ship,” said Kanesh. Luzar stepped aside.
When Kanesh found her, Pasipha was sitting on a carved stone bench, dabbling the end of a stick in the pool. She looked composed and wistful like a young girl wondering about a lover and writing his name in the water. She looked up as he stood beside her.
“Lord Kanesh, have you come to say goodbye as well?”
“That, and more, lady.”
“My lady, Lord Kanesh, that is only polite. Please sit here, beside me. I do not like being looked down on. We know each other too well now for that.”
“Forgive me, my lady. Have I interrupted you, some private ceremony at your pool, perhaps?”
“A little harmless play, my Lord. With my stick, as you see. The fish are inquisitive and that amuses me. What have you to say to me? Is it that Luzar must go with you? I know that. Fortunately, Dissias will be here while he is gone and there is always Thyras, of course, although neither possesses Luzar’s unusual qualities.”
“I am relieved to know you will not lack the service you need, my lady. I have spoken with Luzar. I am here for a different reason.”
“In spite of your words so far, my Lord, I see that you are now serious.”
“The Consort is dead.”
“Poor man. At last his suffering is at an end. Is it widely known?”
“I was alone with him when the last breath left his body and I came directly here.”