The Burning Tower

by Colin Glassey

  Finally, they reached Tokolas itself. The road was filled with carts and people of all descriptions going both to and from the city. A special escort of foot soldiers met them, and again their pass was inspected, but this was merely a formality. Word had gone ahead, and the ambassadors from Kelten were expected. They were escorted through the streets of the city with speed.

  The journey into the heart of the city was a blur of sights and sounds. A sea of faces looked at them as they traveled along a major thoroughfare toward the center of town. This was a mighty city with a huge population, that much was obvious. In other respects—architecture, street layout, and even markets—the city was different from every Kelten city Sandun had seen.

  He saw more wood than bricks and more walls than fences. They passed through a market that was a great square filled with tents and carts, instead of the wide streets that doubled as markets in Kelten. Most signs he saw were words, not pictures.

  The one thing that struck Sandun above all else was that very few houses were two-story buildings, and almost no building was any taller. Even past the market square, shops lined the thoroughfare. As he looked at the shops, noting the products they offered for sale, Sandun was amazed to see not one or two but at least fifteen booksellers, and one block contained five bookshops next to each other. In the whole of Seopolis, there were just two shops that sold books: one next to the Great Temple and the other near the Guild Hall.

  In Gipu, Sandun had been impressed by the large collection of books Ashala’s father had, but now he realized that he’d had no conception of how widespread books were in Serica. How many people knew how to read and write, he wondered. Most men in Kelten could barely write their own names. The priests, rich merchants, and many of the great lords all had their letters but beyond that, literate men were few.

  What would it mean to live in a country where literate men were common? He knew himself well enough to know that he took great pride in his ability to read and write. It was a rare talent in Kelten, but perhaps not rare at all in Serica. When had this change occurred? No reports of old told of any great numbers of books or learned men in Serica. Something had happened in the last three hundred years…but what?

  Lost his own thoughts, Sandun suddenly realized they had turned off the main street to one lined not with shops but with tall walls and large gates. Behind the walls, large and decorated rooftops could be seen. The noise of the city faded away. Big men with short spears stood beside some of the gates. Sandun was reminded of Dromo Thalas, where the houses of the great lords lined up along the way to Sita Elaf, the king’s palace. A few minutes later, they came to a tall gate. They dismounted and walked through to a courtyard, where they were greeted by a young man in a blue robe, clearly an official of the Tokolas government.

  The man introduced himself Scribe Renieth. He explained that the Lord of Kunhalvar was honored to have the embassy from Kelten come to his capital and that he hoped to meet with as soon as they had rested from their “journey of ten thousand tik.” Renieth said that this building had been set aside for their use as long as they stayed in Tokolas and that they could ask for anything and it would be provided. A cook and housekeeper were on staff, and they should not hesitate to make a request, as it would assuredly be speedily granted.

  Sandun expressed his thanks and appreciation for this generous hospitality. He said that they looked forward to meeting with the Lord of Kunhalvar at his earliest convenience. Sir Ako tried out his Serice, which he had been working on even in Gipu, and expressed his thanks as well. Valo Peli and Lathe stayed quietly in the background.

  Renieth showed them around the building. It was two stories tall, with numerous small but comfortable sleeping quarters on the second floor and a dining room, library, and kitchen on the first floor. All in all, more than enough space for the expedition. Sandun detected a musty air to some of the upstairs rooms, as though they had not been occupied for some months or years, and brick-lined rooms below the ground floor were still being cleaned as they toured the building. In the back, there was a stable with room for their Piksie rams and several horses. Finally, there was a small plot of land adjacent to the building, freshly hoed, a large pile of weeds lying to one side.

  That evening, at dinner, Sandun shared out the very last skin of Zeres wine that he had bought in Sirosfeld. He thanked each of the expedition members, praising each one individually.

  “Thanks to your heroic efforts, we have reached our destination. We have traveled more than three thousand miles from Seopolis to this great city of Tokolas. The divine blessing of Sho’Ash and his saints have protected us as we crossed the Tiralas, for which we are unworthy, but for which we give thanks. We have accomplished a feat that will live forever in the Annals of the Kingdom of Kelten. With the continued favor of Sho’Ash, the journey back will be shorter and safer. But let’s not worry about returning home just yet. For now, we can relax and enjoy a month or more of peace and rest.”

  In his lifetime, Sandun rarely made a prediction that was more mistaken.

  Part Seven

  Tokolas

  Sir Ako Bous Rosen, third son of the Earl of Agnefeld, knight of the realm of Kelten, commander of a company of Lord Arris’s light horse, was a free man. He walked down the main street of Tokolas just before noon, and no one needed him, and he had absolutely nothing to do. For more than a year, he had shepherded the Archives Expedition from Tebispoli all the way to this great city in Serica, which was apparently their final destination. Every day he had worried about the next day’s march, and the assignments, and the men, and the food, and the morale, and the threats, and on and on.

  But now he was a free man. For the moment, there were no orders to give. The guards outside the luxurious house assigned to them were big, capable men who kept a sharp eye on any suspicious people that approached. They were drawn from the household guards of the Lord of Kunhalvar—Ako had checked.

  Sandun was closeted with the Serice scholar, Valo Peli, going over protocol and the fine points of meeting a very high-level official without making a fool of oneself. Doubtless Ako would be required to attend the meeting, but he was confident that by staying silent and copying Sandun, all would go well. If there was something important he needed to know, he was sure Sandun would not hesitate to tell him. No one knew when they would actually meet with the Lord of Kunhalvar. The official who saw to their housing and food, Scribe Renieth, had assured them that his master “very much wanted to meet them,” but whether he would have time later this week was unknown.

  Sir Ako’s scouts were tired from the trip and more than a little overwhelmed by the size and crowds of the city. All of his men were from the countryside, most from the southern part of Kelten, and only a few had even visited Seopolis. Yet the capital of Kelten was smaller and much less imposing than Tokolas. Sir Ako had visited Seopolis often in his life; it was a normal city to him. Tokolas—big and busy as it was—still was just another city.

  But the crowds were intense. People by the thousands, or the tens of thousands, were out on the streets, going places, doing things, fixing the cobblestone roads, putting up new buildings, tearing down old ones, pulling small carts loaded with bags, or carrying great loads on their backs. In every direction, smoke from burning coal drifted up to the sky. The main street was lined with shops selling food, and the sellers often had people whose job was to cry out that they had food for sale. The cacophony of vendors yelling their wares and the general hubbub of people talking as they met on the street joined with the occasional shouts by guards. A few blocks in Seopolis could rival this for an hour or two around noon, but Tokolas was much the same all the way to the city gates.

  Ako had little difficulty in making his way through the crowd. He was taller than most of the people on the street—indeed, one of the largest men out walking, though he saw a few near giants working at a couple of the construction sites. He finally reached the city gates and stood there for a time,
examining the state of the defenses and the soldiers while chewing on some spicy roasted meat he’d bought from a street vendor.

  The walls were old, but he could see many signs of recent repair work. The sounds of stone being hammered told him that more repair work was going on nearby. The guards were busy checking the flood of people coming into the city from outside. Farmers with carts loaded with food came in with just a wave, as did the day laborers with tools in their hands or sacks on their backs.

  His professional curiosity at least partially satisfied, Ako turned around and headed back up the street. The midday heat, the dust and smoke, and the unrelenting bombardment of noise had created in Ako a powerful urge to find a quiet tea house like the one they’d stayed at in Hazeny. However, the ones he saw were right by the street and seemed to offer little more than a streetside location. So he went on.

  Close to the central government buildings, he saw a quiet street with some trees growing along the margin of the road. Trees were a welcome sight, and as he walked along the road he noticed that the people weren’t yelling. The few street vendors stood quietly beside their carts, which had Serice words painted on the wooden sides. A large gateway opened up on his left; beyond was a haven of grass and large trees with a collection of old buildings constructed in a different style from what he had seen thus far.

  This is either a temple grounds or a school, Ako thought to himself. So he walked in, and immediately the noise of the city trailed off like a flock of crows that were flying fast away; within seconds, the raucous cawing was replaced by the sound of water falling into pools. The people on the grounds were either writing on large pieces of paper or were walking in small groups, talking quietly.

  Following a path, he came to a circular pool of water set amid carved stones. Around the pool were marble benches with carved animals supporting the seat. On one bench was a woman—a young lady. He looked at her and found he could not look away. She was captivatingly beautiful with an oval face, unblemished skin, and long black hair that seemed to shimmer in the light. She was reading a book, and her posture, the way she held her hand, was like a painting. She looked up at him and smiled with a happy, open expression.

  Ako felt his heart pounding in his chest, and his face grew hot. The young woman shyly looked away and then looked back at him. So this is what it is like to be bewitched, he thought as he found himself walking closer to the woman. She wore an unusual dress that was different from the Serice dresses he had seen; it was made of white silk and hugged her body.

  He stood near her, feeling a bit foolish and hesitant to try his poor Serice. Instead, he bowed as though she was a noble; when he straightened up, she smiled again and then hid her face with her hands.

  “Are you one of the opmi from Kelten?” Her voice was music to his ears. It was low but precise. “A little bird told me there were opmi from Kelten nearby. And I thought to myself, how wonderful, I should like to meet one. And so I have waited hours, and now, here you are!” She smiled again at him, a smile that lit up her face. Ako thought that having this woman smile at him was one of the best things he could imagine. He felt a little dizzy, as though all the blood had left his head.

  Perceptively, she said, “You must be very tired. You have come such a long way, thousands of tik. I remember when I first came here from my home in Rakeved, I was so tired, I could hardly gather the strength to eat, and that is very unusual—my family used to say I never missed an opportunity to eat.”

  After saying this, her face fell, and she looked sad. Ako felt the sun had gone behind a cloud.

  “I am a bit tired, but I have been walking up and down the main road today. I went down the west gate and then returned. This spot is very…good,” he assured her.

  The woman smiled again. “That is not the right word to use, oh no. You would call this place gopash. The word you used would apply to a horse or a sword.” She looked at his sword. “Are you an opmi? I’ve always wanted to meet an opmi from Kelten.”

  Ako didn’t know what an opmi was. “I’m a knight of Kelten.” He drew his sword. “This was given to me by the king of Kelten.”

  The woman clapped her hands with delight. “Knight? That sounds like an opmi to me. And to think, all I had to do was sit here. Everyone comes to Tokolas, that’s what people say nowadays. But do they ever leave?” At this her smile faded away, and she was silent briefly.

  Although Ako missed quite a number of the words she used, he found her presence captivating. In more lucid moments he thought to himself: I’m flirting with this woman, and I’m married. But of course, he had lived with Eria, that pretty girl in Gipu, for months, and she was likely carrying his child. And his real wife was three thousand miles away and despised him. After an hour, he stopped worrying about it. He was happy, and she was a delight, smiling and holding her hand up to her mouth and laughing. She was everything he found desirable in a woman: beautiful, elegant in her dress and her manner, shy and yet open about her likes.

  For the rest of the afternoon, they sat together and walked about what he learned was the School of the Great Teacher. Ako also learned that her name was Russu Tuomi and that she had accompanied her father on a long trip from her home in Rakeved to Kunhalvar. Shortly after they arrived, her father had died quite unexpectedly. Since then she had been in mourning, living with a wealthy Rakeved merchant close by, an uncle named Atos Vepsailin. She had been in Tokolas for one year.

  “Since then, I’ve been waiting for a delegation or merchant caravan to come and take me home, but there has been no word. And it’s springtime, and I feel I can’t stay inside any longer. I want to go and explore and see the city. But I can’t, not on my own. And Uncle Atos’s servants are so dull, the Rakeved ones are scared of shadows, and the Serice ones are both holumzaty and pulbums.”

  Ako’s expression betrayed his lack of understanding.

  Russu took his hand and said in a conspiratorial voice, “They despise us. Oh, I shouldn’t say it, but it’s true. The Serice think of us as uneducated barbarians. We used to be part of the Gold Kingdom, but that was years and years in the past. We still study the same books, use the same words for writing. We haven’t changed…well, not much. But to the Serice, we are like…oh, I don’t know. Different, lesser.”

  She paused and looked at him seriously. “Those Serice men, they would never dream of talking to me like you do, as though I was a real person. No, they’d be standing there thinking, ‘There goes that barbarian princess, prattling nonsense.’”

  “You are a princess?”

  “Oh, not an important one. My touroushi father was king long ago. There are more than 150 women of my rank back home. The Tuomi family is very large.”

  This revelation simultaneously made Russu less approachable and more desirable.

  She noticed his reaction but seemed to misinterpret it. “Don’t worry. Rakeved is a small kingdom. I’m sure you are a much more important person in Kelten than I am in Rakeved.”

  Ako said nothing but nodded his head. I will be, when I return, he thought to himself.

  Finally, Russu said that she had to return to her uncle’s house, or he would worry and send out searchers. Ako offered to escort her back. She bit at her lower lip and then nodded. Walking close but a little behind him, Russu guided him to a large house just one block east of the school. Guards were at the gate; they looked different from the Serice soldiers—not as large, with darker skin, and with round ears, unlike Russu. They were visibly relieved when she walked up.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow? We can explore the city together?” Ako said hopefully.

  “Yes, if it doesn’t rain. You can protect me from the shadows my uncle is worried about.”

  I can do that, thought Ako. I can definitely do that. With Russu at his side, he felt confident of his chances against a dozen men.

  Ako floated back home, not seeing anything around him. The image of Russu in her white
silk dress occupied all his mind. He arrived late for the meal the expedition shared together. He was oblivious to the looks Basil and Sandun exchanged.

  After dinner, Sandun attempted to explain some of the fine points of Serice etiquette, but Ako could not force himself to pay attention. “Look, I’ll just stand there and do what you do unless you signal otherwise.”

  Sandun gave a heavy sigh but did not press the issue.

  The next day, Ako practiced combat in the morning with special effort. He had tossed and turned all night but was full of energy nonetheless.

  Around noon, clean and wearing his best clothes, Ako stood at the gate where Russu had left him the previous evening. Moments later, the young woman slipped out through the gate and stood facing him. Her hair was pinned up, although two strands hung down to her shoulders. She wore a yellow silk dress with a green sash. “I am ready. What shall we see?”

  Ako had a limited grasp of the city geography but said, “The east gate market.”

  Russu smiled. “The horses are sold in the east market. Let’s go! I like horses.”

  One of the guards said something to Russu with a concerned look, but she waved him off.

  Ako held his left arm out to her; she looked at him quizzically and then lightly touched it with her right hand, and so they walked down the street together. Ako had to control his emotions; no knight walked around a city with a stupid grin on his face.

  Russu pointed out a few of the buildings they passed, but the words she used to describe them meant nothing to Ako. The farther they walked, the smaller the walls and houses became. Gates become just doors in low walls. Then shops appeared on either side of the street, and the noise increased. Dust in the air mixed with smoke from dozens of fires cooking food for the midday meals. The street opened up into a plaza: this was the east gate market, bigger than any market Ako had ever seen.