by Allan Cole
After we had refreshed ourselves Utorian called Janos and me to his cabin where we chatted over mugs of hot brandy that had a tangy, soothing aftertaste that lessened the horror we had just experienced. His cabin was sparse, but artistically so, with cozy seats touched with just a little color on the soft fabric coverings and a table that remained steady in any sea. The wood that enclosed the cabin was rich with strongly knitted grain that formed interesting patterns a man could ponder for days. On the broadest wall was the cabin's only decoration: a silk banner, bearing the blue, coiled serpent, set upon a golden sunburst, that was the crest we had sought for so long. Utorian wore a similar crest on his white uniform. Besides his small bunk in the corner with a coverlet that matched the seats, the only other furnishings were an empty chart table and the locked cabinet that held his instruments and maps. There was one other thing: a golden rope dangled through a hole in the ceiling. Utorian said it led to the bellhouse; it operated the enchanted instrument that caused Mortacious and his horde to flee.
Before we deluged him with questions Utorian begged our indulgence, and explained his presence. He told us King Domas and his younger brother, Prince Raveline, had followed our progress with great interest. He made no secret of how this was done, but said - besides a few sorcerous devices beyond his small abilities - the information came from a few well-placed spies, and from the mysterious riders we called the Watchers. He said the Watchers were not subjects of the king, but a nomadic tribe of wizards who spurned mortal company, and restlessly roamed the land for purposes of their own. The Kingdom had made a pact with them long ago, trading magick goods they needed for whatever information required to guard Vacaan of unwanted visitors.
Then he said: "You must know, that until I received orders to retrieve you, all visitors have been considered unwelcome. To the best of my knowledge, you and your men will be the first outsiders to visit our land since we raised it out of the ruins of the Old Ones. I cannot say why our king has had a change of heart; but as a free and loyal subject, I can assure you without fear of contradiction his intentions are honorable, and once you have spoken to him no one will bar you from returning safely home. Although I was not told his reasons, I can guess them. It is no great court secret King Domas has been pondering that perhaps we have begun to grow stale after all these years of shunning contact with the outside. And I believe your thirst for knowledge and single-minded pursuit has further sparked his thinking."
The captain said we would have complete freedom of the ship until we arrived in Vacaan. We could ask anything of anyone, and go anywhere we chose. The only exception, he said, was we would be required to remain in our quarters when he took sightings. He apologized most profusely for this, and said he was forbidden to let us see his charts or instruments, nodding nodded at the locked cabinet, because their nature was a closely guarded secret. He said, however, once we met the king he suspected many of those secrets would be revealed.
Utorian refilled our mugs and the three of us toasted the promise of a bright future for our peoples. But I could tell by his manner he believed if change was to come, it would be Orissa that would benefit most. This was a belief shared with nearly all the people we met in the Far Kingdoms. They had little curiosity about the world we hailed from. The only thing that stoked excitement was the journey we undertook to reach them, and they were always pressing us for details of our adventures. But then their curiosity stopped. The reason became obvious: Vacaan was a land of more marvels than I have linen pages to number.
The people were blessed with bountiful harvests; there were few ills their Evocators could not cure; they had a seemingly endless variety of pleasures and possessions. In fact, they considered themselves so superior to all other people it was impossible for them to imagine those people had anything of value to offer. If I remarked on a feat, original thought, or artistic accomplishment that was a source of pride to Orissa, they hastened to mention something from their own land they believed made ours pale by comparison. I thought it minor at the time; a small irritation, or source of amusement. Later I could see it was a more serious flaw than I had imagined. Having said that, I cannot deny that as we sailed upriver the wonders I witnessed outshone nearly all I had ever encountered. One of the wonders was the river itself. I have compared it to a great serpent and that description is apt, since that is what the snake signified on the Far Kingdom's crest; while the sunburst stood for the sorcerous wisdom that guarded the land.
Imagine that serpent, with its lustrous blue coils close together - not quite touching - with only the head and neck extending from the twists. Now make that serpent a river again, its head the mountain we travelled toward, and you will see that although the distance was great for the ship, a bird would make short work of it. But I would not have bargained our sails for speedy wings, because as we tacked first in one direction, then doubled back to the other the river let us see close up the nearly all the marvels of the Far Kingdoms.
The river rose tamely through Vacaan. When we moved to a new height there was no lock to compel the difference. There was only a shimmer in our path, then we moved on serene waters to the higher level. Utorian said their wizards had mastered the river long before and bent it to common purpose. He showed us the amazing absence of flood marks on the banks and said they had mastered the weather as well: requiring the storms to replenish the river, but no more. They could also command the river to fold in and out at any point, making it easy for the farmers to irrigate, and ensure bountiful harvests. The crops that made up those harvests, he added, came from blessed seed that always bore fruit, and repelled disease and insects. I thought of our own hard-laboring farmers as we blew past unimaginably rich fields and orchards; I remembered with pain the ruinous flood and famine we had just suffered. I prayed our journey might ease that labor, and rout suffering from our hearts.
We saw forests thick with game; hills laden with veins of malleable metal and valuable gems; and pastures bleating and lowing with fat herds and flocks. We saw people of every variety: from farmer, to laborer, to merchant, to Lord and Lady. They were a calm, graceful people given to easy laughter, which we heard floating across the water. The men were handsome even to great age; and the women were pleasing to look upon, with time only touching their features with wisdom and dignity. Their children seemed the happiest of all: they appeared to run and roam at will; and it was their shrill laughter we heard most frequently.
Utorian said all their children had some schooling, and the ones with the best minds or talents were picked out for special attention. No avenue was closed to them after that; they could rise to nearly any level of society. When he said it, I thought of Halab and mourned he hadn't been born in such a land.
We gazed on the many cities that nestled against the river. All of them were a marvel to behold. Some delighted the eye with variety, such as the port we sailed by on the first day of the river voyage. Some were all of a kind: made of carved white marble; or richly painted timbers; or of strong, gleaming metal. Their design ranged from low-built structures blending with the forests that framed them; or swooping towers connected by delicate spans; or cozy domiciles, with high-peaked roofs, and cheery fires glowing through the windows at night. Each city we viewed dazzled us in some way; and just as we thought there could be nothing more to amaze us, a new marvel would be revealed as we rounded the bend. Then at last we came to Irayas: it was the most glorious city of all.
We came upon it without warning. The channel spilled east - away from the mountain for the final time - and suddenly flared; the banks retreated before our eyes into distant ribbons of greens. The river made a lake, and out of the lake floated Irayas. Our senses quivered in the spell it cast, willing strings under the hands of a master harpist. Irayas was a place of light and water. The setting sun was at its back and the city was ablaze in full glory. Color shimmered through crystal towers and leaped off golden domes. The river flowed beneath, a molten mirror in the sun's dying light. The air was musical with chimes and bird song; scented
with dusk's blooms. Small boats wisped through that beauty, timid supplicants of a goddess queen.
Visions such as this make a wanderer's wine: once he has tasted it, there is little he will not suffer to drink from that vine once more. We sipped until we were drunk, then night fell and we were left groaning in darkness. But Irayas had a trick for that thief and we gasped in renewed amazement as light sprang up over the city. The glass towers became bright fountains; the gold domes glowed from within. The canals that served as thoroughfares were illuminated by long strings of small, lighted globes. The sounds of a busy city continued, and I realized the Evocators of Irayas had extended productive hours long past the close of day.
We slept aboard the ship that night. My thoughts were so fired I believed rest would be impossible; but exhaustion took all of us early. I was awakened once by wild music and tavern shouts. Isn't it a wonder, I mused, that wherever there is a waterfront, no matter how grand the city it services, you can always find a place for strong drink and raucous play? Then I fell back into dreamless sleep.
The next day Utorian took us to meet the king. His palace spread over more than half the ten islands that formed the center of the river sprawl that was Irayas. The grounds were a marvel of well-tended lawn, trees, and beds of flowers, or exotic plants. There were gentle animals and songful birds to please the heart; artistic statuary to delight the spirit. The palace was a many-domed wonder, all cast from precious gold. The columns and arches were of gold alloy; and the exterior walls were a kind of glass that could be darkened for privacy or to shade the sun's glare.
Soldiers in gold and white tunics and breeches guarded the corridors of the vast palace; but Janos noted their spears and sidearms were clumsy, gaudy and seemed mostly ceremonial in function. We entered a courtroom so immense it shrunk all purpose other than the king's. It was made to seem even larger by the vaulting glass walls. Some were clear and emitted a plenitude of light; others were mirrored, reflecting the multitude who had gathered to seek the king's attention or tend his business.
It was a curved, three-tiered chamber, with many steps leading to each level. The bottom tier where we entered was the most crowded, and the dress was that of common folk; the second held a smaller group, with costumes and manners superior to the first; the last was nearly empty, reserved for wizards, and other men of high authority. They strolled the edges in wise conference. Rising above all this busy splendor of state was a broad platform, bearing a great golden throne, with a high arched back that displayed carrying an immense royal crest.
King Domas sprawled across that throne in easy boredom. Even from a distance, he was a man who was not diminished by size of chamber, or throne. He idly twirled his crown - a plain, gold band I saw later in closer view - about his finger as listened to advisors; and where their speech was smothered by the noisy crowd, his tones rumbled over all of it. Then I lost sight of him as Utorian hurried the twenty of us forward. His importance was apparent by the way the throng stepped respectfully aside. Mildly curious stares tracked us until we came against the rail that marked the edge of the third level. He told us to wait, and craned his head this way and that as if looking for assistance. We pressed against the railing, gawping like farmers fresh from field to city. But our gawping was downward as a yawning, golden-throated pit seized our eyes before they could rise and marvel at the throne.
The depression filled most of the third level; there was a path around it for strolling officials, and another that wound to the bottom. Floating there, like a huge eye, was a enchanted simulacrum of the Far Kingdoms. Every detail - from snaking blue river, to city, farm, and field - was revealed in exact, living scale. You could see boats on the river, and I imagined little moving dots of people and animals. Even more amazing was the sky itself had been duplicated and brought to life; I conceived flights of birds slipping in and out of the clouds I saw floating in the winds. As we watched, wizards and officials walked down the curving path, discussing and observing the simulacrum. Several wizards fixed their attention on a cloudbank, swollen and black with storm, and commanded it to move to a different place, where lightning suddenly flashed and rain fell. I had no doubt real-life subjects of that parched area were being blessed by the storm that raged before us in miniature.
A kingly bark of disagreement broke through and I raised my eyes to see Domas up close for the first time. His advisors were knotted about him in heated debate. Whatever had tested the king's patience must have been resolved, or no longer held his interest, for I saw him politely cover a yawn and resume twirling his crown about his finger. The King was big - a head at least over Janos - and his plain white tunic stretched over a body quarried of stone blocks. His hair and features were fair. So plainly was he dressed, that other than the crown there was no indication this fellow ruled such a powerful realm.
There was another man to the side of the throne. He was as big as Domas, and in fact, looked quite like him in features and blocky form; but where the king was fair he was dark. His costume was of richly embroidered gold, with a princely emblem on the breast. He seemed to favor heavy, ornate jewelry and rings, and his long black hair was held by an emerald band that shouted he was royalty as well.
"Prince Raveline," Janos whispered. I had guessed the same. Janos leaned closer; his whisper edged with excitement: "He's a wizard. A most powerful wizard." I had guessed that too: his dark eyes held the inner gleam of an Evocator and my skin prickled unpleasantly. I studied him closer, seeing despite the glitter of Raveline's appearance, his manner lacked Domas's self-possession, and if you stood them together there would be no mistaking who was king, and who was a merely noble brother.
There was a stir along the rail, and I saw a little man with a most unremarkable appearance, slipping toward Utorian. His breeches were a badly washed white, and his tunic was worn. Dangling absently from the tunic was a tarnished gold crest. However, there was no mistaking the little man's importance: the captain bent quickly, but with stiffened back to hear his whispers. The little man had to rise on his toes to make his lips reach, and showed no concern some might think his posture clownish. As he spoke, and Utorian nodded, his eyes flicked to us; then made quick jabs at Janos and me as he guessed our identity from among the twenty. This may be a mouse, I thought, but it is a bold little mouse with quick wit and no fear of kitchen cats, because this mouse dines with the king. The little man dropped off his toes, ducked under the rail and scurried around the pit and up the steps to the throne. Utorian motioned frantically for us to make ready. We did so, and as the king swiveled to smile greetings to his little favorite, there was much clothes tugging and hair smoothing among us.
Domas waved, sweeping back the clump of advisors, and the little man repeated his whispered performance, except this time he clutched the king's robes for balance. The king's features lit, boredom falling away as he listened. He boomed reaction: "You don't say? How long have they been here?" The voice was big as the man, easily reaching us, and beyond. He frowned as the little man's whispering continued. Then: "Why didn't you tell me before, Beemus?"
I was taking his measure quickly as I could, sniffing that big voice for clues. Domas formed his words heartily, strung them on short necklaces, and carelessly flung them to the crowd for anyone to catch. Beemus whispered reply to the king's question; he accompanied the answer with a shrug I am sure made some incompetent a sorry man for ignoring us. If he was watching, he would have been sadder still when he saw Domas's brow furrow in anger and his fair skin redden. But this king was bored with anger just now, and the incompetent would have sighed in relief as excited interest cleared his features again.
Domas smiled hugely and gave Beemus a pat, saying: "Never mind, that. I'll get to the bottom of it later. You just go fetch them for me, Beemus. Quickly, now. We've been rude enough." Beemus jumped down and made the long scurry to do his bidding.
The king turned to his advisors, saying: "Enough! We've tracked through this mud before. It's time for new business, sirs. New business, i
ndeed." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Prince Raveline moved lazily to join him, at some pains, I thought, to avoid an appearance of haste. I switched my attention back to Domas, taking a last measurement before we were called to such confusing splendor. He was a forthright man, I theorized; blunt in purpose and deed as well as word. He had no care what anyone thought of him: I am King Domas, his bluff manner said, and I can be who, or what I please. My trader's instincts were chiming as Beemus reached us. Such confidence, I thought, was the mark of a man who would at least listen if the bargain was presented logically and without decoration. Then we were being hurried to him and in a moment the twenty of us were drawing up in formation before the king. We started to bow low, as we thought proper, but he stopped it with a wave. "None of that bowing business," he said. "A good rigid and respectful posture will do." He turned to his brother. "There's all too much ceremony in this court," he said. "All that bowing makes me dizzy."
Raveline laughed, hearty and full; but it was heavy with mockery. "Just order us all to stop," he said, "and then you'll see how much you miss it."
Domas gave him a mild look. "You're being clever again," he said. Then he sighed, as Raveline answered with more mockery by bowing, very slowly, and very low. "I don't feel clever today," the king said. He looked at Beemus. "Think of something clever for me, Beemus. Something that'll cut him good. You're good at that." Beemus whispered a promise and Domas turned his attention back to us. "So these are the fellows who have caused such a fuss," he rumbled. But he said it with a smile. Then he studied us thoroughly, the smile growing broader still. "A fine-looking lot," he said to his brother. "Don't you agree?"
Raveline was doing his own bit of studying: his wizard's eyes roaming here and there; finding me, where they paused; then Janos, where they lingered for a much longer moment. "I do indeed," the prince said. His voice was nearly as loud as the king's. He was smiling as well, but his lips stretched thinly over his teeth. Like a hunting dog's, I thought, when he returns with the scent of his prey.
