by David Bell
“Very few will be allowed to know of this birth and those that are will be too afraid to tell. It will be said that the child is the result of an indiscretion by the daughter of a person of high rank and has been taken into the care of the Palace to avoid embarrassment to the family. It may even be arranged for some young woman to give the impression that she is responsible. Whispers that this adoption meets with the desire of the Lady Mother, who cares for all little children, will spread and in time become accepted as fact. It is a short step from that to acknowledgment of the newcomer as divinely delegated successor either to High Priestess or Consort.”
The priestess looked down in the direction of the Palace, holding one withered hand up to shade her eyes from the dazzling light. Akusha wondered if she could actually see that far. At last the old woman turned and taking Akusha by the arm with one hand, pointed at the altar and then at the crevices in the rock on each side. Her grip was firm and her finger unwavering.
“For as long as the Lady Mother has been worshipped in this sanctuary the people have come to place their offerings and voice their pleas for her help and mercy here, deep in these rocks, knowing her presence is in the very earth and they have done, and do, this because they have trust in her and in her servants, such as we. What you have told me I should not believe had the words not come from your mouth. That the servant closest to the Lady Mother should act in a way that would endanger that trust strikes me to the heart. That such a time might come! You are here to ask for my advice but I think you know what must be done. Nothing. Nothing at present that will give rise to doubt. We must have patience and wait for the Lady Mother’s will to be asserted. She will determine how this matter is to be resolved and it may be in ways that we cannot conceive.”
Akusha looked at the aged face that had always seemed so calm and benign and was now strained with dismay. This was not the time to burden the priestess further with knowledge of the shameful attempted sacrifice of Kallia’s innocence, but that was not to be forgotten. The priestess straightened her thin shoulders and gave Akusha a tired smile.
“It warms my heart to hear that your son’s voyage is proceeding so far without mishap. May it continue.” She looked shrewdly at Akusha.
“He could have no better and closer company than the one who sails with him. Is that not so? I recall the time of his birth. Your pain and sense of loss were so great that your mind was less with you than with your memories, and you said many things I resolved not to remember. The good man who stood by you and had become your husband we kept apart from you at that time, the priestess of Eileithya and I, yet we knew he heard. It took all our arts to wipe those words of places and names from his mind. You look troubled. I understand. The Lady Mother understands.”
It was some time before Akusha could reply.
“My husband is the best of men. What I fear most is the time that will come when he will be faced with what he may not understand. I owe him so much, my life perhaps and that of my son.”
“What you are not saying, but what you feel, is that it is your duty to return to him. You have my leave to go but you will need to persuade the Palace that your place, for a while, is back on Kallista. May the Lady Mother keep you always in her favour.”
“I have not seen you as often as I wished. You have confined yourself to the sanctuary of Jaduktas for reasons I do not quite understand. Your presence here would have been most useful, Lady Akusha.”
“I received no request from you to appear, my lady. Had I done so, I should have hastened to the Presence.”
“Well, let that be. I cannot be in an ill humour. My spirits these days are contented. You were given news of your son and his ship?”
“I was and I am grateful to you, my lady, for your thoughtfulness and, I am sure, your concern.”
“You may be sure of that, Lady Akusha. Your son is always in my thoughts.”
“I will not forget that, my lady.”
“But I cannot understand why you wish to leave all you have here, and all you could have, and return to your small island.”
“It is my husband, my lady. He is a good and patient man and I have left him alone for too long. I feel I should return to my duties there, and my attendance on the priestess in the Temple on the Hill. You will understand, I am sure.”
“I see your mind is made up and I approve of your sense of duty. However, I give my permission on the understanding that you will return here when I feel your presence is needed. And it is, this evening. There is a ceremony I wish you to attend. There is no need to return to the sanctuary. Your robes will be brought and a chamber for you to dress and maids to help you prepare have been arranged.”
It was a ceremony that mingled solemnity with gaiety, almost an entertainment but with, Akusha knew, a serious purpose intended especially for her. A procession of young girls in white gowns and with leaves of green myrtle in their hair preceded the entry of a veiled and splendidly robed woman who stood silent and waiting by an altar of white alabaster. The sound of pipes announced the arrival of a man, young and strong to judge from his muscular legs and arms although from the shoulders up he was hidden by a mask in the form of a great bull’s head with curving gilded horns. A simple form of marriage was enacted with the exchange of flowers and seeds, at the end of which the woman’s veil was lifted to reveal the rapt face of the High Priestess. The bull’s mask was not removed at any time. A great deal of dancing followed, much of it wild, until the High Priestess and her consort performed a slow and stately measure while all the other dancers looked on. The ceremony closed with the extinguishing of all the lights save those of two scented oil lamps that drifted slowly through the darkness and out of the chamber as the marriage partners departed.
“Charming and rather dignified, do you not think?” said Pasipha to Akusha.
Akusha had to admit that it had that appearance. What she could not get out of her mind, however, was that all that they had seen was contrived, expedient for the time being, and that the set of pipes hanging from the belt of the young man, who made no attempt to play them, was meant as a message for her not to forget what was still planned for the future.
ENDLESS OCEAN
The Davina sailed for three days along a coast that seemed to be nothing but low hills of yellow sand. Near the end of the second day the lookout sighted a gap in the hills that proved to be an inlet leading into a wide shallow bay that Potyr decided would be a safe anchorage for the night. It was a land of Deshret with no sign of life except for flocks of white seabirds that rode the blue water or lazily circled above the ship, fearless of the intruders. Landing unconcerned on the roof of the stern cabin, they offered no resistance when Kerma seized a brace of them. He smoothed down their feathers for a few moments and then let them fly away.
“Look at that,” he said. “Nobody ever comes here so they think there’s no reason to be frightened. They’re not worth eating, anyway. If something tastes like fish I want it to be fish. Hey, Leptos, get your lines out and see if you can catch anything better.”
The inland side of the bay had a narrow strip of sand forming the shore that passed into a flat wilderness of bare sandbanks and stretches of marsh dotted with pools of dank salt water. It was futile to search there for fuel for the cooking fires, so Sharesh and Namun, accompanied by two archers, struggled up the loose slopes of the sand hills that bordered the sea in the faint a hope of finding driftwood on the shore.
The sun was near the horizon, sending a long glittering ray of light across the nearly calm sea towards the beach.
“Down there,” said one of the archers, pointing to where the shimmering band was lost in the little waves that lapped onto the sand. Namun and Sharesh leaped ahead of the other two, slipping, tumbling and rolling down the soft slope, laughing as they went. They fell silent when they found what the archer had seen.
“Another one, eh?” said the archer, looking down at the frayed and splintered end of the plank sticking up from the sand. “There was that one ne
ar that cape where we nearly foundered in the gale, the one with the cliffs and islands, and now this one, first one on this stretch of coast.”
“There’ll be others,” said his mate. “Things always come in threes.”
Sharesh was still looking at the white, sea-scoured, flat piece of wood and wondering what part of the ship it came from, indeed what ship it came from, and where the crew were now. Namun read his thoughts.
“Near the bow,” he said, “it’s curved a bit and there’s some specks of blue paint stuck in the grain there.”
“Well, dig it out, lad. Beggars can’t be choosers and there might be a lot more under the sand.”
There was more. When they dug down they found the plank was dowelled into a length of thick post with planed sides, clearly part of a stem post.
“There you are,” said the archer, “plenty for the fire when it dries a bit. Hard luck on them that were in the ship, but good luck for us, eh?”
Lying on his back on the soft sand and looking up at the stars, Sharesh said to Namun, “Does it feel different to you, the air, and the smell of the sea and the sand and this place?”
“Everywhere’s different from everywhere else.”
“No, I mean different different, the feel of everything is different. Look at the stars.”
“They’re the same stars: there’s the Charioteer and there’s the Sailors’ Star. You know we’ve been following that for three nights.”
“The Hunter’s gone.”
“He always goes down into the ocean after winter, away from the Scorpion. You know that. Then he comes up again in time for harvest.”
“The Endless Ocean: that’s what makes it all feel different. The stars are bright but not bright in the same way they are over our sea.”
“I’ll tell you what is different and that’s Luzar. I’ve been watching him. He keeps sniffing the air like a dog. I think he knows this place. Remember what he was like when we saw all those stones, the long ones set up in lines and circles? I heard him talking, to himself, not out loud, and I think he was talking to the stones. You couldn’t understand a thing he was saying but he was standing as stiff and still as if he was one of those stones himself.”
“Kanesh would know what he was saying. He knows the ancient words.”
“He should keep an eye on Luzar. He’s up to something. Look, nobody can hear: how about a little song?”
Sharesh sat up and took the pipes from his belt. What could he play? He thought of the places they had seen in their long voyage along the shores of Sapanim. He was sure it was Sapanim because they had been in sight of land all the way after they passed through the Strait. He remembered the fear that struck every heart on board when, during that first night after they entered the Endless Ocean, the sea went away and left the ship stranded in the mud, and the joy when they saw it come creeping back again in the morning and the Davina floated once more. He thought of the great rivers they had seen especially the one with red water. He remembered the rough weather when they had to strain with all their strength to hold the Davina out to sea and keep her clear of the cliffs and jagged rocks. He thought of the fog that lasted for days when everyone spoke in whispers in case the monsters that lurked in the grey gloom would hear them and hunt them down. He saw again the gulf with the great stone tower in the sea at its tip where the sun blazed redder than he had ever seen as it rushed down to the ocean. The end of the world, some awestruck crewman had said. He thought of the dark standing stones on the hilltop when they had gone ashore in search of water and of Luzar who had found the spring. He raised the pipes to his lips and began to play softly. Luzar sat down beside them and his lips moved in time to the music.
The Captain of Archers climbed up to the stern deck and looked at the other two standing there. He gave a great yawn and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.
“I can never get to sleep when the moon is as big as it is tonight,” he said. “How many days now since we passed the Strait?”
Kanesh knew the answer. Sharesh had to show him the tablet each day once the marks had been made.
“The tablets show this to be the eighteenth day since we entered this sea.”
“Three days steering towards the setting sun then seven towards the Sailor’s Star, six more towards the rising sun and the last two towards our star again,” said Potyr reflectively. “We might have saved a day but for the onshore wind that all but drove us aground near the cape of cliffs and islands, where the white birds dived and swam; but what is a day? We were forty-six days making the passage to the Strait, so we are now sixty-four days out of Keftiu.” He looked at the other two. “That is if my memory serves me right,” he added.
“With no knowledge of how many more days lie ahead of us, I suppose,” said the Captain of Archers.
“Luzar will know,” said Kanesh. “Remember, he made no move to stop the piece of wreckage from that ship being used for the cooking fire, but did you not notice that he refused to eat the food cooked over it and that he put a sliver aside to keep? He believes, he knows, the wood was from his ship that was taken by pirates. We cannot be far from the place. He has no marked tablets like those of Sharesh yet there will be marks just as clear in his mind.”
“Ask him.”
“I shall, but only when I know the time is right.”
“That should be soon,” said Potyr. “He is sitting with the two young men, listening to the pipes. The music may loosen his tongue.”
“The sea’s going out again,” said Sharesh. “The bay is nearly half empty. We might be able to walk back to the ship.”
“Kerma says there’s a thirsty god at the other side of the Endless Ocean and twice a day he swallows a great gulp of the sea and twice a day he has to piss it all back again.”
“He shouldn’t say things like that about gods,” said Namun. “They’ll make him pay for it one day. Anyway, if it’s the Endless Ocean, how can there be any side to it?”
“What do you think, Luzar? Does the sea go in and out like that where you come from?”
“More. In my land wise men say moon and sun call the sea to follow them. The stones know this. Music brings peace. In my land you will play and please all the people. Soldier captain asks how many days now before ship comes to my land.”
“How many, Luzar?” said Sharesh and Namun both together.
Luzar held up ten fingers, folded two down and raised them again. “Not many more!” cried Sharesh excitedly.
“But he’s not sure,” said Namun.
“First we find ship,” said Luzar but what ship he did not say.
“What were they shouting about over there?” said the Captain of Archers.
The sea was back again before dawn and the birds were awake and flying as soon as it was light. They had sighted a shoal of small fish being carried along by the swirling water surging through the narrow inlet and hovered above it shrieking and quarrelling over the prizes snatched from the waves. Leptos and Leptos slipped over the side carrying nets and wicker baskets and began half wading, half swimming towards the splashes. Potyr watched them go.
“Ten days, you say?”
“Ten days sail, or thereabouts,” said Kanesh.
“It will be more. The crew need rest and this is not the place. The land is harsh, nothing but sand and bitter marsh. They need shade and sweet water and time to sleep, oil their skin and wash and mend their clothes. The last days will be hard.”
“Luzar tells me that the mouth of the river named Kharron is a half-day sail, perhaps a little more, from this bay. The settlement and trading post we are told is on that river could be the place you seek. We need to know if ships are still coming in from the Tin Islands and if they get tin from other mines. We both know there may be tin in Sapanim. The traders at Taretissia near the big river we came to the day after we passed the Strait were happy enough to offer their copper and silver and even gold, but they shut up when asked about tin. Later on one of them let out the secret when I made him watch the tinst
one swinging in front of his eyes. He said there were people who knew where there was black sand in the river that held tin.”
“Tomorrow we shall make for the Kharron river. I want to arrive with plenty of light left to find a safe channel. Luzar must be our pilot.”
The scene burned again in Luzar’s brain. He had been sleeping in the hold when the boat came bumping alongside. They called out that they had fish to sell and sweet water. A ship that had come so far had need of food and drink, they shouted, and ours is cheap. There were two women with them. The voices woke him and he got up to go on deck. He was too late to stop what happened. While the men in the boat were laughing and joking and the women were throwing up fish to the crew crowding the side, others had swum under the ship and boarded her. Half of his shipmates had knives in their kidneys or cords round their necks before he had reached the deck. He dug out the eyes of two of the raiders with his fingers and broke the spine of a third with a kick before he was charged from behind and flung overboard. He landed on his feet in the boat but overbalanced and fell into the water, dragging two of them down with him by their hair. He held the man under and let the woman go. The current was running strongly in from the sea and carried him away. When he finally reached the shore, the ship was far distant. He saw another ship put out from a small bay near the mouth of the river and make for his own ship. He watched until it was almost dark as the two ships stood together while his cargo was looted and things were thrown overboard. The things floated away, bobbing in the stream. In the morning he found one of them washed ashore. The talisman he used to wear round his neck was missing and so were his hands and face, but Luzar knew it was his brother. He watched one ship, his own, moving easily with the current as it flowed towards the sea. The other, with the boat in tow, was heading towards the bay.
He turned at the sound but not soon enough and the weighted net pinned him to the ground. At the trading post he was not treated too badly. A strong young slave had value. Later, the only other member of his crew who still lived was pushed into the hut where he was held. One day, on the trail over the pass towards the other sea, a strap broke and the basket fell from the donkey’s back tipping its contents on the ground. He recognised the mark on the base of an ingot as that of a smith who shipped tin out of Crakluz.