The Gathering Storm

by Kate Elliott

  His army waited, restless as the geese, ready to be on the move again, to fight the next battle, but the discipline he had honed in them held fast. Even the dogs sat obediently, licking their bloody muzzles and paws.

  They were ready.

  “We are weak no longer,” he cried. “From this island we will launch a new ship, and we will call it Empire.”

  PART THREE

  CAUDA DRACONIS

  XXIII

  INTO THE PIT

  1

  THE ship lay at anchor beneath a cliff so high and sheer that it looked as if a giant had used a knife to slice through the island before carrying half of it away. To their right, the land dropped precipitously in ragged terraces and rock-strewn falls to the sea where it gave out in a curving line of islets and rocky outcrops thrust up to make of their harbor a sheltered bay. The water beneath them was, according to the shipmaster, too deep to sound. Gentle swells rocked the deck. Zacharias found the motion soothing after so many weeks beating before a stiff wind out of the north.

  The intensity of the light dazzled him. He shaded his eyes, peering up to a tangle of white houses perched along the top of the high cliff. What a view! It made him dizzy to think of living so high, staring each day out over the brilliant sea.

  Marcus stood beside him, hands gripping the rail as he watched a boat work its way between a pair of scrub-crowned islets before heading, true as an arrow flies, toward them. Four men worked the oars of the craft; she carried six passengers, one scarcely larger than a child. When the boat drew alongside, a sailor threw down a rope ladder.

  Wolfhere clambered aboard first, together with the Arethousan-speaking sailor who had gone with him to interpret. The old Eagle blew on his hands and examined them with a frown; the rowing had raised a pair of blisters. Next came a pair of servants, hardy looking souls, a man and a woman dressed simply but in the finest cloth. Below, the childlike figure was lifted into a sling tied around a third servant’s torso, a man with the muscular build of a soldier. In this way, hoisted like a pack, she was brought aboard. Marcus hastened to the rope ladder. He had an odd expression on his face, one Zacharias did not recognize until the cleric clasped the hands of the ancient woman seated in the sling.

  “You are looking well, Sister!”

  He cared about her.

  “Well enough for a woman who survived a shipwreck.” Though she was strikingly foreign in appearance, with black hair and dark skin, her accent sat lightly on her tongue. “Two months on this island has been efficacious for my lungs.”

  “I feared for you in Darre.”

  “The air in that city would fell the healthiest of bulls. Its stink nearly did me in, but the sea air has revived me.”

  Once she had been a beauty, black and lovely. Now her hair gleamed white, and her age-spotted hands trembled, but her gaze remained inquiring and keen. She caught Zacharias’ eye and nodded. “Who is this?”

  “A discipla,” said Marcus.

  “Ah.” Her bland expression made Zacharias twitch nervously. “I will speak to him later.”

  The servants unfolded a canvas chair, and as they transferred the old woman into this more comfortable seat, the last two passengers clambered onto the deck: a second female servant and a handsome girl no more than fourteen or sixteen years of age, strongly built and with a complexion darker than that of the Wendish servant’s, but not as dark as the old woman’s.

  “Grandmother, I will see that the cabin is made ready for you.” The old woman and Marcus had been speaking in Aostan, which Zacharias could understand better than he could speak, but the girl spoke Wendish.

  “Elene, I wish you to acknowledge my comrade, Brother Marcus, of the presbyter’s college. We will travel with him until we reach Qahirah.”

  “My lady,” said Marcus with the politesse of a man raised at his ease among the nobility.

  “Presbyter Marcus.” She inclined her head as between equals.

  Whose child was this, so grand, powerful, and proud? So Wendish, yet with a heathen’s looks?

  He dared not ask.

  “Will Brother Lupus stay with us, Grandmother?”

  “For a time, but his task will lead him down a different road than the one you and I must travel. Now go below and see that all is made comfortable.”

  As the sailors lifted several trunks on board, Elene allowed the ship-master to escort her to the tiny cabin in the stern that she would share with her grandmother.

  “I did not think you could force a man like that to give up one of his daughters,” said Marcus. At the railing, sailors gathered to haggle with the local boatmen, trading from their personal stores.

  “He is my son. He must do as I tell him.”

  “And sacrifice one? Is this the one he loved least?”

  “No. She is the one he loved most.” A flash of anger straightened Meriam’s frail shoulders. “You make light of a father’s love, Marcus, since you knew nothing of it yourself. My father wept sorely when I was taken to the temple of Astareos to become an acolyte there. That was before I was sent north by the khsháyathiya as a part of the gift to the barbarian king. My son loves both his daughters as a man should. ‘A father’s blood is made weak by sons but strengthened by daughters.’ They are both precious to him, since he will have no more by his beloved Eadgifu, may she rest at peace in God’s light. But he knows his duty to his mother. He gave me what I asked for.”

  “His duty to his mother, or to the church? What about his duty to humankind in their war against the forces that threaten us?”

  “When a man gives you the horse which will let you complete your journey, do not ask why he does so, in case the answer displeases you. Just be happy you got where you are going.”

  “Is that what your Jinna kinfolk say? The intention of your heart matters more than the action of your hands.”

  “Does the woman who gives grudgingly of a hundred loaves to the poor deserve less thanks than the man who gives only ten, but with a sincere heart? We may wish she gave out of a loving heart, but the bread feeds the hungry nonetheless.”

  “Argued like a Hessi sage. Will you rest, Sister?”

  “In truth, I would be glad to.”

  The spectacle of Marcus showing affection and consideration astonished Zacharias. He watched amazed as the presbyter assisted the old woman to her cabin.

  All the while, Wolfhere remained at the railing, silent, staring north over the sea.

  Because the weather remained fine, Zacharias took his lessons on deck.

  “How many hours are there in a week?”

  “One hundred and sixty-eight.”

  “How many points?”

  “Six hundred and seventy-two.”

  “How many minutes?”

  “One thousand six hundred and eighty.”

  “How many parts?”

  These drills often took up half a lesson, Marcus testing him on what he had memorized previously before teaching him something new. If at intervals Zacharias chafed at the repetition, he reminded himself that, as a man ascends a mountain, they were making progress toward the summit.

  “What is the period of ascent?”

  “On leap years, from winter solstice to summer solstice the period of ascent is equal to the one hundred eighty-three days of descent from summer to winter. But otherwise the period of descent is shorter than the period of ascent because the Sun moves through the four equal parts of the universe in unequal times. From the winter solstice to the vernal equinox, ninety and one eighth days. From the vernal equinox to the summer solstice, ninety-four and one half days. From the summer solstice to the autumn equinox, ninety-two and one half days. From the autumn equinox to the winter solstice, eighty-eight and one eighth days.”

  “An apt pupil.” Meriam reclined in a canvas sling rigged up near the stern so that she might take the air on deck. An awning shaded them, although its shelter offered barely enough room for four to sit together.

  “He memorizes well,” said Marcus. “Understand
ing has not yet taken hold. What are the zones of Earth?”

  “There are five. Two arctic zones, one at each pole. Two temperate zones, where humankind lives. And a single torrid zone along the equator, within which no creature can live.”

  “Yet some live there nevertheless,” remarked Meriam pleasantly. “Tribes of humankind roam there, living in tents. Once it was said that sphinxes, the lion queens of old, made their home in the great desert.”

  “They may have once,” retorted Marcus, “but they are legend now.”

  “Many things are called legend which may still exist unbeknownst to human sight.”

  Marcus laughed. “I am not as superstitious as you, Sister. I can only be sure a thing exists if I have seen it with my own eyes.”

  “Have you seen God, Marcus?”

  “God I must take on faith, but I would rather see Them with my own eyes, to be certain.”

  Meriam smiled in her sharp way. “So may we all hope to do when we die, but not while living. Do not let the others hear you speak so heretically. Men have been burned for less.”

  “You can be sure that I do not intend to be one of them.”

  Summer had come and gone; the autumn equinox had passed, and now the course of days uncoiled inexorably toward the winter solstice. They had escaped Sordaia somewhat after midsummer and sailed south along the shore of the Heretic’s Sea to the harbor of fabled Arethousa. Zacharias had not been allowed to disembark, but he had stood for two days at the railing and stared in wonder at the great city on its hills while the ship-master had supervised the unloading of timber, furs, and wheat from Sordaia’s market and taken up wine, cloth, and iron knives.

  In Arethousa, Wolfhere and Marcus had by unknown means received a desperate message that sent them southeast rather than west along the Dalmiakan coast toward Aosta. A strong wind called the halhim had delayed them along the Aeolian coast of the Middle Sea, forcing them to shelter for days at a time among its many pleasant islands until they had fetched up at an island the sailors called Tiriana, to rescue Meriam and her granddaughter.

  That Meriam was a mathematicus needed never to be said aloud. Marcus informed the ship-master that they would detour to the port of Qahirah before returning to Aosta. Offered a bonus, the man did not demur. Perhaps, in truth, he was wise enough to see he had no choice in the matter. In the end, he served the skopos, who was rich and powerful enough to command him despite the physical distance between his ship and her throne. What mattered the intention in his heart as long as he did what he was told?

  “Now,” said Marcus, “we will continue with the spheres. Earth lies at the center of the universe….”

  Bit by bit, the architecture of the cosmos took shape before Zacharias, yet at times he wondered if it really matched that awesome vision he had seen years ago in the palace of coils. Remembering it, he still trembled, but he did not speak of the vision to Marcus, who cared nothing for the experience of others. Marcus knew what he knew, and that was enough for him.

  Elene never joined them. She took her lessons, if she had any, privately with her grandmother. Otherwise, she stayed in her cabin or stood on deck, staring north and east toward the lands she had left behind. Often she had tears on her cheeks, but she never cried out loud.

  “Is she always this sullen?” Zacharias asked Wolfhere one afternoon as he watched the sailors changing tack as the wind shifted.

  “Have you heard her speak a cross word to any soul on this ship?” Wolfhere spent as much time as Elene staring out to sea, but not in any fixed direction. Zacharias was as likely to find him staring south as north, east as west.

  “I’ve not heard her speak more than ten words altogether.”

  “Well,” said Wolfhere, as if that settled the matter.

  But it did not, for Zacharias wondered how any soul could not rejoice in the company of such learned mathematici. Yet when he asked Marcus the same question as he settled down for his next lesson, he got a very different answer.

  “Ten words? Why should the daughter of a duke and the granddaughter of a queen speak even one word to you, Zacharias? You are of no account to an illustrious noblewoman born into such a distinguished lineage.”

  “Of course you are right, Brother Marcus. But as she is heir to a duke, and granddaughter to a queen on her mother’s side, I am amazed that she could be torn from such a high seat and thrown like a common wanderer onto such a path as this one.”

  “There is no path of greater consequence than the one we follow. Leave off these questions and attend.” Marcus stepped out from under the awning, shading his eyes as he gazed toward the cliffs, then shook his head impatiently and sat down again in the shade.

  Elene appeared at the stern and placed her hands on the railing as she stared toward the distant land. After a moment Wolfhere joined her, and bent his head to listen. Jealous, Zacharias wondered what they spoke about.

  “Pay attention, Zacharias!”

  He started and shifted his gaze to the cleric.

  Marcus had the most caustic smile imaginable, a curious way of turning up his lips and narrowing his eyes that made Zacharias squirm. “Are you done?” He did not wait for an answer. “To repeat. The ecliptic and the motion of the moon. Because the moon’s path wobbles at an incline to the ecliptic, the moon crosses south to north and north to south at regular intervals. The points on the ecliptic where it crosses are called the ascending node and the descending node, or caput draconis and cauda draconis—that is, the head and the tail of the dragon.”

  “Sail!” cried Wolfhere.

  The lookout echoed the cry.

  Sailors rushed to the railing. Elene leaned out until she seemed likely to pitch overboard, and her face was alight, as though she thought her father was coming for her at last. “Pirates!” she cried eagerly.

  A galley powered by oars cut through the water. There wasn’t enough wind to save them, and although they could row, too, their sturdy cog could not hope to outrun a swift warship.

  “It’s a Jinna ship!” shouted Wolfhere. “See the banner! They’ll take as slaves those they don’t kill”

  Zacharias rose but could barely keep his feet because his legs shook so much. He broke out in a sweat. The captain rushed up to Marcus and commenced gesticulating and shouting. Marcus merely looked annoyed as at an exasperating child who will not cease interrupting although he’s been told to sit still and keep quiet.

  “Enough!” he said, and the captain hushed. “Bring Sister Meriam,” he added, and a servant went to her cabin to rouse her from her afternoon nap. “Sit, Zacharias! You’re in my way.”

  Zacharias’ rump hit the deck hard; he trembled all over. Sailors grabbed spears and poles and readied their knives. Wolfhere did not move, not even to touch the hilt of his sword. He stared so fixedly at the approaching ship that Zacharias wondered if he had been ensorcelled. Marcus tapped his feet on the decking, a pit-pit-pat, pit-pit-pat rhythm that made the father want to scream.

  The male servant emerged from the tiny cabin, carrying Meriam in her sling. When the man stopped beside Marcus, she assessed the situation as distant oars rose and fell and a drumbeat rang over the smooth waters.

  “I see,” she said. “Yes, that’s a Jinna crew.”

  “Let me raise a wind to our sails, then, and if you can cast aught to lessen their fervor, it will be the better for us.”

  “Yes,” she agreed with such alacrity that Zacharias stared to see them work as with one mind, in no wise different than laborers who bend to the harvest in harmony to the songs they sang to make the work pass easily during long harvest days.

  Oars flashed as the galley sped toward them. The wind flagged. The sail slackened, although the sailors desperately tacked again and caught the last dying gasp of the breeze.

  “It’s too late,” Zacharias whimpered. “They’ll catch us. We’ll be slaves.”

  Again.

  “They’ve a conjurer on board,” commented Meriam. “Elene! Fetch my pouch.”

  Elene di
sappeared into the cabin.

  “See if you can learn something,” snapped Marcus as Zacharias struggled to repress his tears. The frater hated himself for his servile cowardice, but the sight of those implacable oar beats filled him with such fear that he could not speak. The drum of the oar master shuddered through his body, each rap sounding his doom.

  Marcus beckoned to the captain. “Seek any tangled rope on board, especially that which was coiled neatly beforetime.”

  The captain had not taken two steps away before an observant sailor shouted from the prow, and Marcus hurried forward to find the anchor rope so snarled and knotted that no man, surely, could have done the damage, and no sailor would treat rope so carelessly. Zacharias staggered after him, hard pressed to keep on his feet although the deck wasn’t rolling any more than it had been before Wolfhere sighted the pirate ship.

  The last breath of wind died, and the sail sagged and went slack. Becalmed, the ship creaked as waves lapped the hull. It was such a soothing sound but for the hammer of the drum that powered the Jinna galley, swooping in for the kill.

  Marcus knelt beside the rope and placed his hands over the coils. Zacharias collapsed beside him as, in a low voice, Marcus spoke words the frater neither understood nor recognized. Was his vision blurring, or did it seem that the rope began to slither in the manner of snakes?

  A song rose from the stern, and he glanced back, surprised to hear a strong alto of such beauty where death came rushing to meet them. Sister Meriam stood at the railing cupping something in her hands that she blew softly against while her granddaughter, beside her, sang with such piercing clarity that it hurt to hear her.