by David Bell
“You bugger!” raved the rigger.
“Not me, shipmate, and there’s three ladies I met last night who’ll vouch for that. Listen, you made your wager against young Sharesh and you lost. You ought to thank us for not making you eat real pig shit.”
“What did he eat?” asked one of the Kallista oarsmen.
“Didn’t you have some? No? Well, when there’s been a special pig killing the women pull out the tripes and wash them and stuff them with chopped-up meat and herbs and boiled barley and stuff like that and then squeeze them and twist them round in lengths about as long as a good-sized pig turd and when they’ve been roasted black that’s just what they look like. They taste a lot better, though, and that’s what my old rope-ravelling shipmate here found out, though it almost choked him first.”
“I’ll get my own back on you, you bloody stone basher.”
“Come on now, lash your tiller. Can’t you take a joke? Listen, we’re all shipmates and we’re a long way from home, so let’s have some fun while we can. Here, I kept this jug over from the feast so get some of it down your neck. We’ve got the rest of the day to sleep it off. Besides, my back aches and I’m under orders to go to the mines with the lord and the carpenters tomorrow. I could do with a poultice of that white earth we dug out on the women’s island. Remember? I know the lord’s given a bag of it to the head lady here but I can’t ask her. So, will one of you strong lads give my back a rub?”
“Shouldn’t have given it so much exercise last night,” growled the rigger.
The hot sun made him feel drowsy. Was he dreaming again, and in the middle of the day? Surely this was the glade with its tiny lake, half-choked with reeds, and this was the stone, hunched over them as if peering into the water. Luzar had led him here, bade him lay his pipes at the foot of the stone. Why had they come here again?
“Luzar,” he said.
“Come here,” said Ariadana. “And see at whose feet you have placed those pipes of yours.”
It was an old grey stone, so old it was cracked and rotting away in places, but the hooves could still be seen, and the shaggy legs and beard and little horns.
“His own pipes crumbled into dust long ago, so he has need of yours for a while,” said Ariadana, smiling. “Don’t be afraid to go close: he sleeps at this time of day. The waters of his lake are cool. He will not concern himself with us while the sun is high.”
They lay close together on the soft grass and let the sun dry the lake water from their skin. “You are so like your brother,” he said. “That I sometimes cannot tell one from the other.”
“There is enough time before he wakes up for you to find out who I am.”
The sound of soft music filtered through his dreams. He woke to see Ariadana sitting in front of the ancient god and putting yellow flowers in her hair. She was singing in a low voice and turned to him when he came to sit beside her and took up the pipes to play. She pointed upwards. The god was awake now, or at least his bold eyes were open and looking down at them. She sang and he played, at first for the god and then for themselves.
As she led the way back to the village through the trees, he said,
“After the challenge, I was sure you were thinking of ways to punish me.” The smile she gave him was mischievous but tinged with sadness.
“The eye of fire held up dazzled my brother; it was cleverly done. Your punishment will be remembering what you and I did here while the god slept and knowing that if you never return it will never happen again.”
“Look here, Galdar,” said Kanesh. “The stone is firm and strong, so you have safe ground for driving a tunnel into the hillside. You take it in as far as you can, bracing the sides and roof as I showed you, and when the air gets bad, you lay the pipes the potters will make and you use the bellows to force in the clean air. Now, your tinstone line lies up there, so you head your tunnel towards it and upwards until you meet the lower end, and that will give you a drain for the whole set of diggings and deep enough to take the water away faster than you could empty any sump. Kerma, bring the stakes and the mallet. We will mark out the lines and levels. We must work fast and so must the carpenters in that pit. We have to be finished before dark. Galdar, go over there and make sure your men are learning how the carpenters brace the props and fasten the ties. When we have finished here I will come myself and watch while you mortise a joint. And do not forget: that bag of tailings from the pond is to be in the boat when we return to Crakluz.”
By the end of the day, they had done all they could do at the mines. It would be for Galdar and his men to finish the work and that would take time. The drainage tunnel itself would need a year’s work at least. Galdar had seen its value but would Anavar see it too, and would his patience last? These thoughts and many others passed through Kanesh’s mind as the boat slowly made its way back towards the setting sun and the bay where the Davina rode at anchor.
He climbed on board a ship that was unusually quiet, given that she was due to sail the next day. Typhis met him at the rail. He looked puzzled.
“She’s all provisioned, loaded and squared away,” he said. “We could set sail tonight, if we wanted. If we had a crew, that is.” He jerked his head in the direction of the stern. “Skipper’s given leave for anybody who wants to go ashore. Says he’s thinking of going as well. I don’t know what’s got into him. Changed his mind about the pigs and said he wanted salted meat and pig fat instead because we haven’t any oil until we get to Sapanim. Never known him like this before a voyage. Nor any other time,” he added.
“Who is left on board?”
“Only me, and the skipper. Somebody has to stay.”
“The carpenters need rest. They will stay. As for this fellow,” he said, indicating Kerma. “His back is troubling him. He would be well advised to rest it, too. On board ship.”
“I’ll stay, my Lord, if you say so,” sighed Kerma. “It’s not all that bad.”
“I think it wise,” said Kanesh, straight-faced. “Especially after that little brush with the miners last night.”
“‘Anything can change’, those were your words,” said Potyr. “Given time.”
“And the Lady Mother’s grace.”
“You know I am not with you in that thought, but I am with you. What is it you wish me to do?”
“Eluwena will come to the ship; you know that?”
“It would be for the best. It is quiet, here in the bay. Were you to go ashore…”
“I know what is in your mind and you are right. You have been where I am now.”
“Typhis will take me ashore and return with her. Kerma will guard ship.”
A large fire was burning brightly on the beach in the place where the wrestling matches had been held. Sailors and villagers mingled together round it, with the light of the flames shining on their faces. Typhis ran the boat ashore and Kanesh stepped out and stood, looking towards the crowd. Dogs prowled about, darting in to snatch fallen scraps, while everyone seemed to be talking at the same time, shouting to be heard, or laughing, or slurping from beakers and jars, or whispering promises or excuses; or bursting into song or dancing a few staggering steps, arm in arm, or hugging, or hiding; some boasting, some threatening, some jostling, some weeping and some sinking down on the sand to sleep or embrace; some quietly sidling away to find a more secluded place for what they had in mind.
“Great Diwonis,” said Typhis, “how am I going to get all that lot back on board in time tomorrow?”
“Has the captain given his orders?”
“He has.”
“Then they will be there, and ready. Take the boat along the shore, away from this rout and wait for your passenger near the causeway.”
He found her alone in the house, standing beside the hearth where logs were burning brightly and giving off a sweet scent. A low table nearby held a pitcher of water, another of the honey drink, and a dish full of soft blue berries gathered from the heath. Eluwena covered her head and face with the hood of her long grey cloak and followed Ka
nesh outside. He waited until they were near the causeway before he spoke.
“I will take Sharesh and Namun to the house as if for the courtesy of bidding farewell.”
“You will not be disturbed. Anavar has a mind only for the goods that you have brought. He will not leave the warehouse until dawn, at least.”
“Ariadana, Luzar?”
“They have their farewells to make; he to his father and they to each other.”
Moonlight was scattered in silver petals across the dark surface of the sea. Kanesh watched until long after the boat was lost in the darkness of the bay. He opened his hand and looked at the crescent she had pressed into his palm before they left the house. In the moonlight it glinted silver, but from its weight he knew it was gold. He turned it over and over between his fingers for a long time and then bent down and buried it in the sand.
Namun felt awkward inside the lady’s house. His home was the dark, creaking, salt-smelling hold of the ship and his bed a heap of sacks. Here was a high roof, soft light from lamps, a fire on the hearth, fine cloths and soft skins covering the walls and flowers and reeds strewn on the floor. She had been kind to him, the lady, at the place where Sharesh had fought the boar. She said she knew of the sadness he felt when he remembered the time he was forced to flee from his home long ago. How could she know that? He had told no one. Yet she knew, as the Lady Akusha had known. They were alike, these ladies, in so many ways. He felt better in her house now. He took some of the blue berries from the bowl and put them in his mouth. They were sweet. The lamplight showed the juice staining the tips of his fingers blue; blue like the tattooed marks on Luzar’s face. He squatted down near the hearth, next to Sharesh and told him his teeth had turned blue. Why had the lord brought them here, away from the fire? Were they waiting for somebody?
“When we stood outside the circle of stones,” said Sharesh. “And the full moon rose, they lit fires and after the women danced their moon dance the men started jumping over the fires and then everyone did. Tonight, they lit another fire and began drinking and dancing around it. Do they worship fire in this land?”
“In this land the winter is a time far colder than anything you have ever known, and their lives depend upon their fire. It is not difficult to see why their feeling is close to worship. For them it has the power to clean and to protect.”
“Fire burns as anyone knows, but how does it clean?”
“You have seen it do so in furnaces on Kallista and in Gubal. Fire cleaned away the dross by burning and left the metal free in the bottom of the crucible. You saw the fierce power of fire change things then. It has a gentle power also that changes things in a way you would not believe.”
He untied a soft leather bag from his belt and emptied its contents onto the table. A mixture of shining stones, black, yellow and white spread out in front of them.
“They come from the tailings in the pool where the miners paddle the tinstone washed down from the pits. Take this one,” he said to Namun who picked up a stone the shape and colour of a blade of straw from the table. “This will cut a groove in any other stone you find here. With it you can leave your mark wherever you please.” He picked out a similarly shaped black stone and handed it to Sharesh. “This will show you the gentle power of fire,” he said. “Stir the cold ashes with it. You see; it stays clean. Now place it closer to the fire, but not in it, and wait.”
They fixed their eyes on the shining black splinter and waited. Nothing happened. Nothing, as the moments passed, nothing, that is, until Sharesh whispered.
“It moves. The ash moves towards the stone. It moves.”
“Pick up the stone. Feel it.”
Sharesh gingerly picked up the black stone with the grey ash now clinging to one end. “The stone is warm,” he said. “Only warm.”
“Warm with the gentle power given it by the fire to hold the ash close.”
Namun hurriedly looked away from the hearth. He shuddered. He wished the lord would not do such things, not wake the devil in that stone and make him reach out. The lord knew things perhaps he should not know, or at least not show to others. Namun made the sign of contrition in case the terrible god Sutekh was angered by what had been revealed.
“You seem cold, Namun,” said Kanesh. “Warm yourself with some of this honey drink. Here, take one of the black stones with you. You can amuse the girls with it, now that you know what it can do.”
“Call for the boat, Captain. It is time for me to go ashore. You remember how I have said you should sail?
“From the island at midday, steer towards the sun. At night keep the Sailors’ Star astern and after five days…”
“You will make landfall on the coast of Sapanim. You left your land of palaces when night and day were equal and the year was young. You will see it again before night and day are equal again and the time comes for us to burn the heath, so that the new grass will show green when winter loosens its grip on us. I will remember you then, as the smoke drifts out to sea. Do not say more, my captain. We have said all that there is to say.”
“Only this: the Lady Mother look on you with grace.”
“Now, lads, put your backs into it,” bellowed Typhis. “We’re homeward bound! Let me hear you sing!”
The Davina drew past the island, slowed and turned her bow towards the midday sun. Few of the people of Crakluz came to the shore to see her sail. They had tinstone to dig or fish to catch. The ship had loaded their tin and a good price had been paid. One day it might return for more. Or not; no one could say. There would be other ships; one could be sure of that.
“Where’s our tattooed pilot?” said Kerma to Myrtias. “He pledged to come back with us. I heard him says so to the lord.”
“Can’t expect him to leave the comfort of his own home once he’s found it again. Would you?”
“Hold fast, helmsman,” said Potyr. “There is someone in the water astern of us.”
Sharesh and Namun took Luzar’s outstretched hands and hauled him aboard. He stood dripping on the deck and looked up at Kanesh who was regarding him from the stern.
“Welcome aboard, pilot,” said Kanesh. “Take us out, helmsman,” said Potyr.
“Fire onshore!” called Namun at lookout. A column of smoke was rising from the summit of the island.
“That Luzar,” said Kerma. “He waited right to the end to do that.”
Sharesh shook his head but held his tongue. He knew it was Ariadana who had set flame to the wood and that the fire was for all three of them: Luzar, Ariadana and himself.
FOUNTAINS IN THE SEA
The painter stepped back for a brief look at the work. It had to be brief because even in this cool room the lime plaster dried quickly. The background of rocks and lakeside had been drawn in freehand, but for the marsh plants, the sedges and the reeds, patterns cut into sheets of waxed wadij had been placed over the plaster and coloured powder blown through the cuts to mark the different outlines. It was a task that needed great care because the sheets had to be smoothed over the plaster without pressing in too hard. The monkey had been very difficult to do. He had to be shown pushing his way through the reed bed, plucking flowering reeds with both paws. A template had been made for drawing his shape. The parts of the reeds showing in front of him would be drawn on and coloured as a last detail. The design was one of many curves: the reeds bending in the breeze, the cusped edge of the marsh, the droop of the monkey’s tail and the bend of his arms. The lady said she liked monkeys and hers had died. She wanted a painting to remind her of him. Give him an impudent look, she had said, as if he cared for nothing but himself.
It was time to add colour, after using a soft sponge and clean water to dampen the plaster a little. The bowls of paint stood ready on the table: yellow earth for the flowers on the reeds and some of it mixed with bone charcoal to make brown for the path; some pure blue for the monkey’s pelt and some mixed with yellow to make green for the grass and the weeds at the water’s edge. Green and blue powders were made from di
fferent kinds of copper stone that jewellers also used. Both were expensive, but not as expensive as the blue stone that came from across the Deshret and mountains said to be as high as the stars and was so prized in the Black Land. The lady said that price did not concern her. She would have the Black Land blue for her monkey and, yes, for the clusters of flower stems at the top of the wadij reeds as well. There were the sedges to think about and a rock in the lower part of the picture, arched, like the curve of the monkey’s tail above it: perhaps they too should be blue.
The painter took a fresh sponge from a bowl of water, half squeezed it and dabbed it in the bowl of brown paint. With a few smooth strokes the path round the pond was coloured in. The grass and weeds were done next. The water’s edge would be marked out later and the water itself left as uncoloured plaster. The painter stepped back once more, sponge in each hand, looking for any part where the colour might be too thin. There was no need to add more. Now for the blue: the rounded rock would be the best place to start. If the colour tone there proved satisfactory, the monkey could be carefully sponged in, leaving his under parts white, except for the tail: that would need a brush. The painter dabbed her sponge into the bowl of blue.
She had been the master’s helper as long as she could remember. First, she had dipped the sponges and handed them to him and later had been shown how to mix the paints and bind the bristles of the brushes. The day had come when he said he was busy in another room and she had to sponge a wash onto some fresh plaster. The plasterers had left tufts of hair sticking out from the first rough wet clay coat and she had cut them out and mended the patch. The master had been pleased with that. He showed her how to draw the standard shapes, guiding her hand at first. One day he came in and found her drawing a swallow in flight and told her it was good, except the fork of the tail was too wide. The next day he gave her the task of painting the base of a wall and showed her how to make it look like expensive marble. She had been sketching out little compositions for a long time before she found out he had seen some of them. She was embarrassed but he said she could use one of an antelope for a painting in a house where he was working. She was allowed to do more after that, some work not long ago in a mansion being built on the cliffs above the Lagoon on Kallista. She met a girl there who told her about a ship that had sailed for the Endless Ocean to bring back a cargo of metal, but she was not sure if she could believe anyone could be so foolish as to do that. She had liked being on Kallista but not the voyage back to Keftiu; she had been sick all the way. Now, here she was in this grand mansion near the Palace, left alone to paint the picture that the great lady had ordered. The master was away in a land he told her was called Kinaani where he was painting the walls of a great merchant’s house. He had said she might go there too, one day, to help with the work. Remember, he said, no one must know she was his daughter. One of the young men holding sacred rhytons whom he had painted on the wall inside the entrance to the corridor in the Palace that led to the Great Courtyard, the young man with the three strands of hair hanging down his back: he knew. He was her lover.