The Silver City, page 39
‘Sea-going ships,’ Invan said, smiling at her. ‘And you have never seen the sea, have you, Halthris?’
Unobtrusively, she moved a little further along the rail. ‘No. Have you?’
‘Of course. I was in Lord Ansaryon’s entourage when he visited Toktel’yi, ten years ago, and I have always wanted to return.’
‘Return? To this?’ Her astonished gesture took in the murky, reeking water, the polluted haze above the workshops and paper mills upstream, the squalor and decay and poverty that had appalled the Tanathi all afternoon. ‘Why?’
‘It is the greatest city in the known world,’ Invan said patiently, as if explaining something very simple to a child. ‘The view from the river gives you no idea of the wonders here, the sights — and the sea is the crown of it all! Imagine a lake so vast that you cannot see any bank save the one on which you are standing — imagine gentle ripples become waves ten, twenty times larger — imagine the sands sweeping along the shore, so white you’re almost dazzled — and the creatures! Fish, dolphins, sea-serpents, whales — we went to Tekkt, which is the nearest island in the Archipelago, for a few days, and the dolphins led us all the way, leaping in the bow-wave and dancing in the water. Until you have seen the ocean, Halthris of the Tanathi, you are not complete.’
She resisted the temptation to tell him that she felt complete enough already. ‘Perhaps we shall see it, if the Imperial Palace is near.’
‘Undoubtedly we shall — and it will be my honour and privilege to show it to you,’ Invan said. ‘There is not far to go now — there is the Palace itself, look, that white building in the distance, surrounded by palm-trees.’
There was something different about it, Halthris thought, shading her eyes against the bright quivering air. In form it seemed to be just the same, though of course very much larger, as the other substantial houses they had already passed, with their high blank walls surrounding numerous courtyards, living quarters, store rooms, gardens, and elegant pavilions designed to be cool and airy on the hottest days. Rich Toktel’yans valued space and privacy, and their dwellings rambled over an area large enough to contain a small village. The poor, packed into their squalid rotting hovels and tenements, enjoyed no such luxury.
Word of their arrival had obviously gone ahead, for now the banks of the Kefirinn were lined with cheering, waving people. In the sluggish current, the flotilla had bunched together, and the Windswift was almost up level with Prosperity. Halthris, leaning on the rail between Inri and Invan, saw Ansaryon, wearing a long loose Toktel’yan robe, acknowledge the people’s greetings with a smile and a gracious sweep of his hand. Above him, the great silver pennant, with its lovely optimistic flower, stirred gently in the rising breeze.
The same evil stench still accompanied them, but it was now diluted by their distance — some five or six miles — from the poorest suburbs, and a new, fresh, salty tang touched Halthris’s nostrils. She inhaled deeply, relishing its savour, and the feel of the cooler air drifting past her sunburnt skin. She did not need Invan to tell her that this was the sign and smell of the sea.
As they drew close to the Palace, she saw that a channel had been dug to connect it to the river, the entrance marked by two tall stone pillars, intricately carved. Between them, barring the way, a huge chain hung suspended about a man’s height above the surface of the water, each massive link larger than her hand. The crowds stopped abruptly here, kept at bay by a row of soldiers wearing elongated, conical helmets glittering in the sun, their spears meshed to form a barrier at once decorative and menacing.
Halthris, looking at them, remembered Invan telling her about the Imperial Army, how each man was by law required to serve at least five years in it, and paid so well that many stayed much longer than that. Every town had its garrison, in addition to the numerous forts and outposts along the borders of the Empire, to keep the population quiet. For an able poor boy, army service offered one of the few means of advancement (there was also the navy, sorcery, the priesthood, and, inevitably, the bureaucracy). The Emperor’s General-in-Chief, a man possessing an enormous amount of power, prestige and wealth, had been born into a mill-worker’s family, and had risen to the top entirely on his own merits.
Invan had spoken of such customs with open admiration. In his view, the rigid separation of peasant, artisan, merchant and aristocrat in Zithirian, with all the top positions going to the wealthy as of right with no regard for competence, had greatly contributed to the overthrow of King Varathand. It was, however, one very small point in the Empire’s favour, as far as Halthris was concerned, and represented a tiny feather in the balance compared with the leaden weights of poverty, despair, squalor and brutal repression on the other side of the scale.
She watched as the chain was lowered with much clinking of unseen machinery, while a score of trumpets sounded a fanfare of welcome. One by one, the twelve beautiful river-boats glided gently between the pillars, and into the Imperial Canal.
The Palace was built of stone, she realized suddenly: and not just any stone, but white, glistening, neatly-dressed blocks from the heart of Annako. Unlike Zithirian, though, there were no towers, no pennants, just more high blank walls, blind to the world outside.
A broad quay opened out at the end of the channel, with several boats of widely varying sizes tied up, amongst them a fabulously ornate craft, glittering gold and with a striped awning over the stern. Invan told her that this was the Imperial Barge, used to transport the Emperor about the city, and rowed by twenty good-looking and muscular young men.
To the brazen blare of more trumpets, the flotilla docked. With so many boats mooring at once, there might have been considerable confusion, but the quayside swarmed with men wearing the skimpy short-sleeved tunics and sandals of Toktel’yan workers, all of whom seemed to know exactly what they were doing. Halthris watched fascinated as the Windswift’s prow was hooked by a docker wielding a long pole, brought gently against the wooden side of the quay, and swiftly secured by two more men who caught the ropes flung to them by the sailors. Almost immediately, the rail-gate was opened, the ridged gang-plank run out, and the inevitable official stepped aboard, escorted by a perspiring boy clutching writing implements and a huge sheaf of paper.
Only Ansaryon and half-a-dozen of his highest-ranking officers, Invan of course amongst them, were to enjoy the Emperor’s hospitality. The official told the rest that they were allowed the freedom of the city during the hours of daylight, but were strongly advised to return to the boats at dusk. Toktel’yi, he said, in thick, strangely-accented Zithiriani, was a dangerous place for the unwary after dark. The wealthier areas, of course, were quite safe, but there were some poorer parts of the city where no sane man would venture even in daylight, unless well-armed and escorted by a troop of soldiers. However, the strip of land between the Palace and the sea was regularly patrolled by the Imperial Guard, and any dubious characters instantly arrested, so Ansaryon’s men would be welcome to wander there. Food and drink would be supplied in generous quantity from the Palace kitchens, and in the Emperor’s name he hoped that their stay would be a pleasant one.
‘Impossible, in this heat,’ Halthris said later. The sun was sinking down behind the Palace, and the heavy air was cooling down a little at last, but it was still uncomfortably warm. ‘Isn’t it ever cold here?’
‘Doubt it.’ Inri was sprawled under the awning, fanning herself with one of the strange, stiff, giant leaves which all ordinary Toktel’yans apparently used for that purpose. ‘Shame Invan isn’t around,’ she added, with a sly glance at her friend. ‘I’m sure he’d tell us. It’s like being accompanied by a talking book.’
‘And what would you know about books?’
‘Even less than you,’ Inri said, grinning. ‘Well? As Sherren’s fast asleep, I’ll ask you now — and please don’t throw me overboard — are you going to let Invan unbind your hair for you?’
Halthris swallowed her annoyance, and shook her head. ‘No, definitely not. Oh, he’s a nice man, and very handsome, but I don’t want him as a lover. And can’t you just see him, in a year or two, boring some poor woman with all the details of Tanathi bed customs?’
Inri snorted with laughter. ‘You’re right — he’s just as bad as the Toktel’yans, but at least his knowledge can be useful — and it doesn’t waste any paper.’ She got up and walked over to the rail.
Halthris joined her, leaving Sherren sleeping peacefully in a heap of cushions. The quayside was quiet now, save for a scattering of soldiers, and a few Zithiriani strolling back from the city, where many had gone as soon as the boats docked. She said softly, ‘Inri, shall we go down to the sea? Now, before it gets dark? I’d like to see it for myself, not as Invan’s gift, if you see what I mean. And the official said it was quite safe.’
‘I hope so — I don’t speak a word of Toktel’yan.’
‘I do. Invan taught me. “Brek” — the most important word of all.’
‘It must mean “no”.’
‘It does.’ Halthris grinned. ‘And I’m sure he didn’t tell me just so that I could fend off small boys trying to sell me things. He’s altogether too possessive, is Invan. I like him, but I don’t like the way he wants to own me.’
‘Well, you can tell him “no” in three different languages now — Tanathi, Zithiriani and Toktel’yan.’
‘Could be useful.’ Halthris paused, and glanced back under the awning at Sherren’s recumbent figure. ‘Will he be all right?’
‘Oh, he’s not the sort to panic if he wakes up and we’re not there. Anyway, we can tell the guard where we’re going. Come on, Hal — I’m longing to see the sea, too.’
The two Tanathi women walked down the plank and onto dry land. At once, the nearest Toktel’yan soldier approached them. Like most of his countrymen, he was not particularly tall — perhaps that was why their helmets were so ridiculously high — but his brown face was young and pleasant. ‘Where you go?’ he demanded, in very bad Zithiriani.
‘We are going down to the sea,’ Halthris said, slowly and clearly.
The sound of her voice startled the soldier, who had evidently not realized that she was female. Inri gave him her most charming smile, and with a look of bewilderment he stood aside and waved them past, muttering, ‘Sea — that way.’
‘Can you swim in it?’ Inri asked hopefully, a little while later. A well-defined track led from the Palace towards a hummock of dunes and a long thin band of palm-trees, but the thick sand, still hot, made progress difficult, particularly as they had not walked further than a boat’s length since leaving Minassa. In consequence, both women were soaked in sweat, despite the increasing coolness and freshness of the air.
‘I don’t see why not — if it’s as Invan said, and just like a very big lake, we should be able to.’ Halthris thought longingly of the clear cold waters of the few steppe rivers in summer, and the wonderful sensation as the current rushed past her bare skin, washing away dust, grease and sweat. She quickened her stride eagerly, and Inri matched her.
At last they came to the end of the dunes. Ahead, the trees crowded across their path, black against the fading sky. And beyond them, something sighed and murmured rhythmically, like a vast living creature.
Without a word, Halthris and Inri began to run. They dodged through the palms, avoiding roots and fallen trunks purely by luck, and burst out into the open beyond them. There they stopped, staring in wonder.
The sun had set not long since, and the dark was coming down with the swiftness they were still not used to, so far south. But there was enough light yet to see the broad pale sweep of the beach, two hundred paces wide, receding into the distance on their right: the low bulk of land to their left, and the black, flame-topped shape of a beacon, presumably marking the mouth of the Kefirinn’s main channel: and ahead, the gentle white waves showing where sea met shore.
There was a fire, with people around it, some way off, but the Tanathi women paid it no attention: they stared at the huge, softly undulating mass of water before them. Dim and distant, but still unmistakable against the southern sky, was more land on the horizon: Tekkt, perhaps, the nearest island of the K’tali Archipelago, and of which In van had spoken in such lyrical terms.
‘There are lights — look, over there.’ Inri pointed, and Halthris peered through the gloom. Sure enough she could just make out two tiny sparks, somewhere ahead, almost lost in the immensity of sea and darkness.
‘A ship,’ she said, realizing that they were moving with infinitesimal speed. The Windswift and all the other river-boats carried lanterns at bow and stern, and sea-going craft doubtless did the same.
‘It must be very far away,’ Inri said softly, and the two were silent, both thinking of the strangeness of standing here, on the unseen edge of their world. Over the rim of that distant, dark horizon lay islands upon islands, ranging in size from rocks barely dry at high tide to huge chunks of land two hundred miles across. And beyond them — what? Invan had never said, and perhaps no one knew.
‘How about that swim?’ Inri said at last: and together, they walked across the smooth, firm sand to the water’s edge.
It was near complete darkness now, but the moon had already risen above the haze of Toktel’yi behind them, and it was full. They stripped off tunics, trousers and sandals, and stepped rather cautiously into the water.
It was warm, and soft, and the white foam ran sparkling over their feet and washed against their ankles. They waded in further, enjoying the novel sensation of the waves pushing against them, and then plunged full-length into the sea.
For the rest of her life, Halthris would remember that magical swim: lying drifting on her back in the ocean (no one had mentioned that it was salty, and so buoyant), looking up at the stars, some familiar, but in new locations, some altogether different, and all in a myriad profusion that she had never seen, even on the steppe: the distant voices, singing and laughter of the men around the fire, unaware of their presence: and above all the sensation of being temporarily a part of something vast, and immeasurable, and utterly mysterious.
At last even the warmth of the water began to seep away, and Halthris realized that she was cold, and very hungry. She called to Inri, and they began to swim back to the shore. And now, most wonderful of all, the water was somehow charged with sorcery, and glowed eerily in the dark where they splashed.
They dressed, and then by mutual consent walked down the beach to the fire, where some largish animal, a deer or a goat, was roasting aromatically over the flames.
As Halthris had guessed from the songs, these were Zithiriani soldiers, many of whom they knew by name or by sight. They were greeted with cheerful camaraderie and invitations to share the feast. Except for Invan, the Zithiriani seemed to think of Halthris and Inri as fellow-soldiers and good comrades, rather than as women. After all, they were not used to females wearing trousers (save under a dress for extra warmth in winter), or fighting, hunting and carrying weapons. The two Tanathi welcomed this, for it certainly made their lives much simpler to be treated like men. Fortunately, so far the Toktel’yans, despite their bewilderment, seemed to be doing the same. It was certainly easier to cope with such an attitude, than to be the subject of intolerant and indignant outrage, or open lechery.
They ate, and Halthris was asked to sing, and obliged with several lively tunes she had learned in Sar D’yenyi, accompanied by one of the men on an old but tuneful Sith. It was very late, and the ral was going round, by the time she and Inri tore themselves away, thinking rather guiltily of poor Sherren, left behind on the Windswift. They stumbled up through the palms by the inadequate light of the moon, found the track to the dock eventually, and plodded wearily along it.
From the Palace, only a short way off to their left, came the distant sounds of music, delicate and subtly elaborate shifts of tone and scale so that it seemed to be a tapestry rather than a thread of tune. Presumably, the rightful King of Zithirian was being feasted and entertained in lavish Imperial style.
There were lamps lit on poles along the quayside, and each vessel had coloured lanterns hung at stem, stern and masthead. Halthris looked for the Windswift’ s red and yellow awning and gilded, bird-shaped prow, hoping that Sherren would not mind that they had gone off on their own. Like Invan, he was a little too possessive, and she knew that Inri had rather enjoyed this brief respite from his attentions.
There was their boat, tied up next to Prosperity, and a small group of soldiers were standing by the gangplank. By the look of their sprouting white plumes and splendidly gilded armour, they were members of the Imperial Guard. Was there something wrong?
Sherren was with them. As they walked up the quayside, his face cleared with relief, and he pointed. ‘There you are! Thank Hegeden for it! Inri, where have you been? I was so worried — ’
‘Well, there wasn’t any need for it,’ said Halthris briskly, before Inri could apologize. ‘We told the guard where we’d gone — didn’t you ask him?’
‘I’ve only just woken up,’ Sherren said defensively. ‘Listen, Hal — there’s a summons for you, from the Palace. My Zithiriani isn’t as good as yours, and I can hardly understand theirs, but I think that’s what they said.’ He turned to the Guard Captain, a man rather taller than most Toktel’yans, with brown hair and blue eyes: presumably he had some northern blood. ‘Here is Halthris of the Tanathi,’ he said in Zithiriani.
