The Far Kingdoms

by Allan Cole

  It has changed much since then, so let me describe it thoroughly. Lycanth was built at the end of a peninsula, a peninsula whose tip hooks like a crooked finger. In that crook is one of the greatest deep water harbors known. I heard a sage say the peninsula once had a volcano at its end; when it erupted, eons before Man broke his chains and escaped from Godhome to settle the Earth, fire fought with water; but the sea, as always, was the victor. The harbor is the crater of that volcano, a volcano many Orissans wish would return to life, because Lycanth has been the cause of many deaths and sorrow for our city. The crater is steeply cliffed, and there is but one way down from the peninsula to the harbor - a gently shelving passage that might be a lava slide that solidified. The passage has been smoothed by man and time until it is as regular as a sculpted ramp. Around the harbor, and down the peninsula's neck, the men who became known as Lycanthians built their city.

  The peninsula is narrow, so where we built Orissa as a sprawl across rolling hills, the Lycanthians built upward; and tall buildings stretched toward the sky - buildings that looked to have been carved from a single stone by a dark giant. The sun would shine for only a few moments each day in the streets below the buildings. Janos had told me these buildings were warrens, crowded with apartments and work places. The higher the floor, the more expensive the dwelling. But the eye barely noted these stone towers at first. It was drawn to the brooding sea castle at the tip of the peninsula. From here the two Priest-Kings of Lycanth, the Archons, ruled - together with their council of sorcerers. In that castle were their treasure vaults and, far below, Lycanth's dripping dungeons and torture chambers.

  The castle appeared impregnable. But it had been taken once, a battle that began in treachery and at night, and ended in fire and sword. It had fallen to Orissa twenty years before I was born in the final battle of the Second War of the Cities, when we regained our freedom from the occupiers whose heavy heel had been at our throats for five generations. Once the victory was in hand, however, instead of obliterating Lycanth and all Lycanthians from this world, we made an honorable peace. Our Magistrates reasoned that were there no Lycanth, another power could well rise up; one just as likely to be hostile. Or else, if unoccupied, the cursed land could provide a footing for anarchy. We were also unwilling to hold Lycanth as a vassal state - there is little profit in a garrisoned and hostile land. That was why the sea castle still loomed on its promontory. If the city was to be allowed to stand, common humanity and dignity before the gods required Lycanth to be able to defend itself against the pirates that swarmed the Narrow Sea.

  All we required was reparations for the damage done to Orissa; sacrifices to the ghosts of those killed during the two wars; and death gifts made to their survivors. There was one other requirement: a permanent reminder of their error in considering Orissa a city of fat merchants and powerless gods. So we ordered the destruction of the immense wall they'd built across the neck of the peninsula. We forced the secrets of the wall's protective spells from the sorcerers, and our mightiest Evocators combined powers in a massive enchantment of dissolution and decay. Their purification before undertaking the ritual filled more than a year, and the Spell Saying itself occupied a month. Three Evocators died in the enchanting, and even when it was finished legions of Lycanthian war-prisoners were required to clear the rubble, and in some cases topple still-standing stones.

  As we drew closer to Lycanth, Eanes beckoned to me. I cantered back to him. Eanes, along with Sergeant Maeen and the ten guardsmen who'd volunteered to accompany Janos on my Finding, rode in a great ox-drawn charabanc, together with our baggage and the chests that contained our gold and silver. Janos, Cassini and I were on horseback.

  "Why," Eanes wondered, pointing at the still-blasted barrens where the wall had stood, "don't the Lycanthians build out here, now that their great battlement's been turned into anchor weights? Or are they afraid of forest spirits?"

  "A good question, my friend," Janos said. "And there is a reason. Lycanth thinks it a great shame that their wall was torn down and I have heard men growl that one day the wall will be rise once more. So the statute limitations go no farther than this barrenness and no Lycanthian will build beyond, for fear he might be thought to approve of their defeat."

  "We should have sold their men to the Ifora," Cassini said, "taken their women for our pleasure, turned the city stone from stone, and sowed the ground with salt. My skills do not extend far into prognostication as yet, but I feel in my bones, that we shall be troubled by Lycanth again."

  "Harsh words," Janos said. "I am not sure I agree with you as to whether Lycanth should have been blotted out. Across the Narrow Sea, in Valaroi, what you suggest is the way wars are fought, and I have seen the results. But you are correct that Lycanth wishes to regain her old powers. When I was in their service I heard such talk constantly. And if they do, once again they will strike at Orissa. The Lycanthians have long memories for anything they consider a wrong. I found it necessary to guard my tongue closely - just as we must from this point forward.

  All of us may be Orissan, or in Orissan service, but stressing those facts will make us few new friends. Not here in Lycanth, nor, most likely, across the Narrow Sea in Valaroi. I do not know how long a reach Lycanth has in those parts, although I helped garrison many of those watchtowers we've seen for the last two days. We shall travel as anonymous traders, appearing to owe no allegiance to anyone. It is far safer."

  He stopped himself and grinned, a bit shamefaced. "My apologies, Lord Amalric," he said, quite formal. "I meant, of course, that I would recommend such an appearance of neutrality to you... but the decision is certainly yours."

  I laughed, taking no offense. Cassini might disapprove, but I refused to run my Finding as if it were as rank-bedazzled as any army. "Any one of us who thinks he knows a better way had better speak up, or else we stand no chance of reaching the Far Kingdoms. We will travel without banners or bugles, as you advise." Janos nodded, still looking a bit shamefaced.

  Eanes chuckled and said very quietly, for my ears only, "I have heard that no lion eats carrion happily."

  * * *

  We had made a quick, if cautious journey. The caution was especially necessary, because of the amount of coinage I was required to carry. If my Finding had been a commonplace one, we would have had need for little cash, and whatever was necessary for trading and expenses could be drawn from local banks on my father's letter of credit. But since our voyage was to begin in Lycanth, this was not possible. The city was not only a long time military foe, but a bitter trading rival as well. My father's most hated enemy, a clan named Symeon - now headed by its youngest, and my father swore most evil, son, Nisou - was Lycanthian. They had not only betrayed us in private third-party trading agreements, but, he was sure, used their knowledge of our trading practices to hire local raiders and ambush several of our caravans. He'd advised me to be most cautious when we were in Lycanth.

  The journey had been without incident - except for the witch. The road was narrow and rutted, running under huge gnarled-branch trees. We were all nervous, since this would be a perfect place to be raided. Suddenly there was a woman in the middle of the road, blocking the way.

  She was naked, but no man would feel lust stir his loins, not without a potion distilled ten times beyond the one I'd given Melina. I thought she was fairly young; but I was not sure, since she was filthy, as if her last bath had been the fluid in her mother's womb. Her blond hair scraggled around her face. Before the drivers could pull at their reins, she lifted one hand, palm toward us, and the oxen stopped as if they'd been slammed between the eyes with the butcher's hammer. I could hear the whispers from the soldiers, silenced by a mutter from Sergeant Maeen. She lifted her other hand: from it dangled a bit of rope. "A tribute... a love gift," she chanted.

  "We pay no one, mother," the driver said.

  She waved the rope. "Tribute... or this rope... this string... this yarn... dangling loose, dangling limp... brave soldiers... dangling limp, dangling loo
se, and none of you will be able to honor your women... dangling loose... dangling limp..." The soldiers stirred and their protests were audible, in spite of a barked command from Maeen.

  Cassini slid from his horse and walked forward. He glanced up at where the sun shone through branches... then, smiling gently... at the witch: "Ah woman, ah woman, you see that tree... you see that shadow... the shadow of that tree is that tree... that tree's roots reach deep, deep into the soil..." he chanted. "Like that tree you shall stand, you will stand, stand you must... and you will not be seen by any traveler... and the next by shall be an axe to that tree, as an axe to your tree."

  The woman was a stark statue. I could see her lips try to move.

  Cassini made a cruel laugh, and said: "You may speak, you may speak, you have my blessing, Oh tree."

  "Your pardon, your pardon," the words came. "I knew not that there was one with Power among you. I beg forgiveness."

  "Not from me, Oh tree," Cassini said. "Beg pardon from these men you called brave soldiers."

  "Men of iron, men of iron, you are like iron when you love, the rope is gone, the string is gone, the yarn is gone, it was never woven... you are iron, you are steel."

  "We thank you, woman," Cassini said. He walked back to his horse and remounted. "Amalric," he asked. "Is there a reason we cannot leave her to her fate?" A wail keened from her lips.

  "You are tree, Oh tree," the Evocator snapped, and there was silence. I looked at the petrified woman. No. There was no reason. I took three gold coins from my purse and dropped them in the road.

  "She can go free," I said.

  "You have heard, oh tree," Cassini said, reluctant. "You shall be free, but you shall stand, you will stand, stand you must, until the shadow of that tree you became no longer touches you."

  I nodded to the drivers and they tapped reins against the back of the oxen. They guided the charabanc around the witch and we continued on. I turned as we rounded a bend and looked for the last time back at the woman, standing in the middle of the road as if she were one of the figures of doomed men in a frieze along the Street of Gods.

  Janos rode up beside Cassini. "An interesting spell."

  "It is," he agreed. "A simple one... and it helps immensely if there is a simple mind for it to work upon."

  I puzzled: Cassini did not make sense; spells worked the same on all, Magistrate to Peasant, Lord to Slave... Did they not? My thoughts came back to the present as the wheels of the charabanc clattered and my horses' shoes rang.

  We were no longer on the dirt track, but on a stone-paved road. There was a log barrier across the road, and, beside it, a low building. Out of the building ran five soldiers. They stopped beside the road and stood to attention. They were smartly dressed, clean, and handled their weapons as if they were familiar with their use. One of them, I guessed their officer or sergeant, shouted for us to stop. Customs.

  "Who are your passengers?" the man asked.

  "Lord Amalric Antero. A merchant of Orissa. And his retinue."

  A scowl flickered on the man's face. "Pass... wait." He walked to Janos and looked at him carefully. He started to say something, then stopped, and stepped back. "Pass. Welcome to Lycanth," he said, his tone as welcoming as the one used to the tax collector.

  The charabanc moved on and I kicked my horse forward until I rode close to Janos. "What was that all about?"

  "The fellow recognized me," he said. "He was about to question me as to what a Lycanthian officer was doing in the retinue of an Orissa slimeworm. Then he thought better - perhaps I'm a spy, returning from an assignment."

  "So he would not have heard that you left the Lycanthian Army."

  "Sometimes Lycanthian soldiers are discharged or even drummed out dishonorably to begin a secret assignment."

  Now I blush at my naiveté, but on that day I actually gaped, and asked: "Lycanth does things like that?" To Janos credit he merely nodded soberly, instead of showing any scorn for someone so innocent. Buildings rose up around us. We were in Lycanth.

  * * *

  We found an inn and began our final preparations. The soldiers were told nothing about our direction of travel and certainly not of our dreamed goal of the Far Kingdoms. Their duties would be to guard our gold and give any assistance needed. Eanes was to be our major domo and Cassini would be charged with gathering charms and other magickal supplies, such as our wind spirits. I was to secure a ship to carry us across the Narrow Sea to the most distant Valaroian port Janos was familiar with. Examining his chart, I was once more shocked by how little was known about this region: our intended destination, the port of Redond, was but two finger-breadths east of Lycanth across the sea; just east of the port was the Pepper Coast, of evil rumor.

  All else was a mystery: there were no markings on that portion of the map; no cities, no demarcations for tribes or nations; and beyond the Pepper Coast was a great mountain range that Janos had sketched on the map. It was a mountain range known but to him, since his homeland of Kostroma lay somewhere in its fasts.

  "There are stories I heard in Lycanth," he'd told me, "that claim the Archons have secretly sent explorers east, beyond Redond, beyond even the Pepper Coast. But I never found a man who truthfully laid claim to having been on such an expedition, so I discounted the tales."

  Sergeant Maeen was in charge of securing our weaponry, guided by Janos, so that we would not appear ostentatiously Orissan. The rest of our supplies - horses or mules, provisions, tenting and the like we would buy or have made in Redond.

  Janos told me privately he had other matters to arrange, so I was not to take alarm at his irregular comings and goings, or some of the people he might be doing business with. It was well he warned me; if he hadn't, I would have bellowed for Maeen and the Lycanthian watch when I first saw the man shamble into the inn's courtyard. I have learned over the years that the man or woman to be wariest of may have the features of a god or goddess and the benevolent manners of a holy one; whereas the real saint may have the outward semblance of a monster. But Greif looked the villain he was. Eanes was the first to notice him. He whistled softly and asked me to take note of the man below us. "Surely," Eanes said, "he is rich. Mothers must reserve his services months in advance to frighten their babes into good behavior."

  Greif was but an inch or so taller than me, but twice the mass. He had the solid, heavily-built body of a porter or brewer. But if he'd worked either trade, the reasons for his discharge were obvious: Greif's ears had been cropped - a sign here, as in Orissa, of a thrice-convicted thief. His arms were misshapen, bent. At first I thought he'd been crippled, then I saw, below the rolled sleeves of his soiled silk finery, the seared scars that came from the rack's bindings.

  I shouted down, asking him his business. He said he was seeking a Captain Janos Greycloak, a man who once served Lycanth. His voice was a mellow bass that might have served a prayer caller well. Eanes asked his name.

  "Greif."

  "Well chosen," my bodyslave murmured. "And your business?"

  "Private... with the Captain," the man said.

  Janos came out of his chambers onto the balcony. "I am Greycloak. Who sent you?" The man did not answer - at least not verbally. Instead his hand moved in front of him, secretively, in three fast motions.

  "Up here, fellow," Janos said. "Eanes. We'll have wine." The villain may have seen the torture chamber - but he was hardly a cripple. He went up the stairs like I'd seen great apes from the north scramble up their cages in Orissa's gardens. His tunic flipped up momentarily, and I saw the sheath of some hidden weapon. Janos called him into his chamber, where they stayed for two hours. Then Janos came out and asked me for a double measure of gold coins. He did not tell me, as he'd always done before, what they were intended to purchase. I hesitated, liking little any business with this Greif, but realized I was being foolish.

  Possibly I was just being irritable, because what I'd thought to be a simple matter of hiring a ship was turning into an elaborate negotiation. It was a long, sleek
ship, fitted with what a dockside idler told me was a lateen sail, which was now furled around a yard that had been lowered to the deck. The large sweeping two-man rudder was mounted on the ship's side, and its bow curved up to a gull's beak, surely a good omen for something I wished to cleave the seas smoothly and rapidly. It was partially decked at the bow and stern, although the quarters would be cramped. The ship was either new, or exceptionally well-kept. Of greatest interest to me, since I feared my stomach would be tender on my first sea passage, it had an outrigger along its left side, hung from two graceful curving beams. I found my way from deck to deck across the three ships between it and the dock. A man was waiting for me. He looked as I imagined all sailors to be - bare-foot and -headed, wearing a shapeless wool waistcoat and knee-breeches.

  He noted my dress and nodded respectfully. "My lord. You wish passage?"

  The man introduced himself as L'ur, master and owner of the Kittiwake. Before he even addressed himself to my opening bid, he insisted on showing me around his ship. I knew little about ships then; but now I know a great deal, strictly perforce, about the damnable inventions, owning far more of them than a man could count in a day. I frankly think it quite adequate to call a ship a boat, the bow the pointy end and the stern the arse and have done with all of the nonsensical labels seamen use. Finally we returned to the rear of the ship, what he called the quarter deck, and he sent for vile wine. I watered mine heavily. He said he'd considered my wishes and that he would be honored to convey us to Redond. He named the price... in gold... in advance. I hope I kept from sputtering his resinous swill over his deck and told him I merely wanted to charter his little plaything, not purchase it outright. He smiled as if I were jesting, and mournfully spoke of the dangers of the Pepper Coast.