by Allan Cole
"Good," Janos said. "So, you see it was only an exchange of sorts. The gold of Irayas is a different matter. They actually manipulate the sand, somehow. Actually, they manipulate what makes the sand, sand."
"Why, the smallest thing that goes into making sand," I said, "is a grain of the same material."
"Not at all," Janos said. Then he stopped himself. "I shouldn't sound so certain when I am not. It is a new theory I have. It came to me when I considered what they had accomplished, and how it could be done. I think, now, that all we see about us - the table we sit at; the balcony it rests upon; that mountain we view; even our own bodies - is made of particles so small the very grain of sand we consider is a mountain itself in comparison. And I think they somehow move those particles about, rearranging them, if you will, until they have the same form as gold. In fact, it is gold, and no longer whatever the material they chose to make it from."
I blew out a long breath. "I have followed you as far as I can, my friend," I said. "But I fear you lost me where a single grain of sand was revealed to be not one, but many grains, and those so small I have not vision enough to see them."
"If you understand only that," Janos said with a smile, "you understand all. Right now that makes you as wise as me." Gloom returned to darken his features and make him worry at his beard. "Do not misunderstand my scoffings at these folk," he said. "I did not mean to diminish their accomplishments. I was only putting them into perspective. There are many secrets worth having here. Many, indeed. And I am sure there are many clever fellows about, if only they would let me meet them."
I exploded laughter as that fearful If raised its head again. Janos caught it and joined in. Then he looked past me and I heard footsteps pad out onto the balcony. I turned to see one of my servants, a message fluttering in his hand. "What is it?" I asked, reaching for it.
The servant shook his head, saying: "Pardon, my lord, but it is not for you. It is for Sir Greycloak."
Janos frowned as he grasped the message, absently muttering thanks. The frown turned to glee as he read the message. "Who is it from?" I asked.
Janos waved the paper at me, victorious. "Prince Raveline," he cried. "And he wants to see me immediately!" He jumped up and gave me a hug. "At last. One of those clever fellows. Now we shall see, what we shall see."
He made a hasty good-bye and rushed out, hurling promises over his shoulder that he would tell all when he was done. I sat, moody, watching as Janos ran out of the palace and rushed across the sprawling grounds to his gondola tied to my palace's main dock. My mood was laced with jealousy as well as suspicion of Raveline's intentions. I saw no humor when I resumed that bitter roundelay: If only the king would see me. And if he should see me: if only he would-"
The circle broke abruptly as I saw Janos's boat cross paths with another. This boat was smoothing toward the docks he had just left. It carried the royal crest on its sides. When it stopped, a man hopped off before it had been properly tied to a bollard. I leaned over the rail anxious for a better view. I saw a little man, with a most unremarkable appearance; and as he scampered to my palace door, I knew he was Beemus: coming to fetch me to the king.
* * *
I was taken directly to the king's private chambers. I noticed little grandeur on the way; my mind was too full of speeches quickly devised, and just as quickly discarded. The long wait, coupled with suspense, had scattered my previous plans into confusion. I barely noticed the huge doors we stopped before, or the absence of guards. I only saw the doors as an obstacle, and raised a hand to push them open. A whisper from Beemus stayed that presumptuous hand. He put his finger to his lips for silence; then cupped his ear, bidding me to listen. As we stood there I heard the strains of the most wonderful music wafting through the closed doors. The notes were faint, but still formed the body that makes melody; and the ghostly snatches I heard made me yearn to hear more. Beemus motioned to follow him away from the doors, and down a long, narrow corridor that circled the king's chambers. We came to a small door, which we entered and I found myself in a curtained vestibule. The music swelled louder; more wondrous than before. Beemus parted the curtains and led me through. The chamber was dim, but in front of me I could see a hulking presence that could only be the king. He was seated, and his back was turned, but there was no mistaking that big head resting on a brawny arm. Beemus pushed me forward and I stumbled against a chair beside Domas. The king didn't seem to notice the stumble, the scrape that followed, nor the sigh of the soft pillow when I sat next to him. Beemus's shadow flittered to the other side, and flowed up into the vacant seat on the king's left. I was tense in Domas's silent presence, then I saw his eyes were closed in soft concentration and there was a small, delighted smile on his features. Then the music teased tension from its nest, and I turned to listen and see who could make such lovely sounds.
I saw her shadow first: cast large on the wavering curtain that framed her. She was turned to the side, arms uplifted in a piper's classic stance. The shadow arms were long and slender; the wrists gracefully tilted; the fingers arched in dance on the pipes. A smooth brow bent low, but I could see the flutter of lashes, and the quiver of upper lip as she kissed the notes and blew them through the pipes. Then I looked down and saw the shadow's mistress, small in the light that bathed the platform where she sat. She wore a simple white robe, belted with a gold sash. Her arms were bare to the shoulder and the robe cut a modest circle about her slender neck. Her features were sharply defined, as if chiseled by a sculptor; but softened and blended to a more artistic whole, as if that sculptor had spent the remainder of her life polishing the work. Her hair was dark in the light, but when she shifted to form another stream of notes, I saw a gleam of red tresses; red like my own.
I heard the king whisper: "Isn't she lovely?" His whisper seemed to snatch my own thoughts; but his eyes were still closed. The question had been directed inward; and it meant the music, not its maker. I turned back to open myself more fully and let the music wash over me. I had always loved music over all the arts, but this was music that turned boy's love to mature worship. The piper dusted the air I breathed with precious notes; then made them a gale that swept me away. I was a ship of the sky in that melodious storm, and peered over the rail to see wonders that made all others hollow. I had never felt so free with that fresh wind beating at my back, and I wanted to stay on this ship forever.
The music smoothly shifted and I was back in the chamber, listening to the pipes make a different song. A strange feeling caught me, then: as if I knew what was about to happen next. Somehow I knew the piper would lift her head, and as I saw her do so - her lips never leaving the pipes - I also knew her eyes would search for mine. The thrill I experienced when they met was even greater for having known it would come. I believed I saw a similar shock hit her, and then I was bending forward as her music made a question. The notes were eager, but there was a shyness as well: trepidation that comes with past hurts. The music must have found an answer in me, for it was suddenly very glad. Gladness swelled in me in return, and I saw her eyes glisten; and I felt the caress of love's familiar fingers.
Then Deoce's image jumped up and the fingers burned with guilt's sting. I fled that musical joining as if it were a fanged demon and retreated to the numb loneliness of the cave where I had dwelt so long. The woman's eyes showed shocked injury and her body sagged as if she had suffered a heavy blow. Then she steadied and the pipe's notes lifted, grasping for angry stones to hurl at the woman's betrayer. But as I forced my eyes away I saw her give a sudden nod, and the anger turned to a sweet completion of the song.
Silence draped the chamber for many long moments; a silence that honored great artistry. I heard the king whisper appreciation. The piper rose, bowed thanks, and vanished behind the curtain. But just as the lights bloomed up, the woman gave me one last look; regret stabbed, then she was gone. I turned to the king, shaken, but determined to regain strength of purpose. He was looking at me, a bit oddly, I thought; then the look shifted as he grin
ned.
"That was Omerye," Domas said.
I pretended idle interest, but felt the thrill of recognition once more. "Thank you, Your Majesty," I said, "Now I know whose name to praise when I tell my friends of that wonderful music."
Domas laughed and struck my knee. "Come now, you were more taken than that. And it wasn't just the music, I warrant." I stuttered denial, but it only gave Domas greater delight. "Never mind," he said. "I won't press further. But I shall tell you this, as one good man to another: Omerye is no courtesan, as you might be thinking. She's one of my kingdom's finest artists; and can choose, or reject as she likes." More stuttering as I thanked him for information I really didn't need. But the king was bored with matchmaking, and turned quickly to his reasons for the meeting.
"You want to open trade," Domas said, blunt as usual. "And I will tell you straight - without hints of this and that and the other - I am considering approval."
"I am honored and greatly pleased, Your Majesty," I said. "But what can I tell you to turn that consideration into a contract?"
Domas nudged Beemus. "This fellow keeps growing in my estimation," he said, jabbing a thumb at me. "If he weren't a merchant I'd make him an advisor. Did you notice how he tossed that right back in my lap? Causing no offense, in doing so?" Beemus whispered that, yes, he'd noticed. The king returned to me: "My advice," he said, "would be for you to answer that question you asked me, when we first met. I asked Beemus to recall the words exactly."
Beemus knelt in his chair and whispered in the king's ear. Domas was his trumpet, sounding my own speech back to me: " "That we have much to gain from this experience is obvious. But, I wonder, sir: what benefit are we to you?"
The king pulled away from Beemus. He said: "Answer that. And answer it well."
I had to laugh, for the king had done what he'd accused me of doing; and so there I sat, my own lap full to overflowing with what I had hoped to heap in his. The laugh came without thought of the king's presence; the grin that was his appreciate reply made me glad I hadn't. Then I said: "Very well, Your Majesty, I shall attempt just that. I won't dress up our needs by extolling my city's abilities as traders, with a wider area of commerce than any other land. Nor will I boast of my family's achievements, and its reputation for honesty.
"You know these things, or I would not be here; and even if I were, you would not involve yourself in such a discussion." The king nodded. Encouraged, I pressed on. "Profit is not my motive, sir. And profit was not the motive of my people when they sent me to seek your favor. Here is what I want, sir. And I will put it plainly to you as I know how."
I told him about Orissa, and the good people who made it a city, rather than mere structures scattered by a river. I told him of our dreams, and hopes, and our evils, as well. I retraced our recent suffering; lingering as honesty demanded, on my own losses, and sorrows. Then I confessed how I had viewed all the wonders of Vacaan as I travelled up the river to his court, and coveted them to enlighten and protect my own people. I spilled it out, never hesitating to check the flow; praying the king was not viewing me as a young fool for my honesty. When I was done with this preamble, I sat back for breath, and to take measure of what effect, if any, my words had worked.
Domas was silent for a long moment, and I believed he might even have been moved. He said: "Now I truly understand why you came, Amalric Antero. Why you were willing to chance your life, and more. And your reasons do not shame my kingdoms as a goal. They touch on my feelings for my own people. Although sometimes I think they forget all that I do, I do for them." He rumbled self-mocking laughter. "Of course, I am not so altruistic as I'm making out. I'm a king. Kings are selfish by nature. We also must do cruel things, which is why my brother's about, Instead of locked up in some tower. He's my hell hound. He makes certain my selfish nature, which wants all my people to praise my name, is kept reined in when there are troublemakers among us."
He stopped, as Beemus whispered in his ear. He nodded, muttering: "Yes. Yes. I was coming to that." He turned back to say: "Beemus reminds me your speech, while pretty, is shy of the main point. I admit I feel sorry for your people, and their troubles. But, Amalric Antero, what is any of that to me?"
"It is everything to do with you, Your Majesty," I replied, "for without our desires, you would have little of value to entice the trade I seek."
"Show me your goods, then, trader."
So I rolled out my blanket of imagination, and set all manner of things upon it. I told him of the porous stone from the north that the people there carve into singular idols that weep perfume just before it rains. I told him of the lovely, painted cloth the women of the south weave; and how each bolt is different from all the others in design and feel, and flow on your body when it is made into a costume. I told him about the great variety of fruit, and grain, and drink that flowed to us from all the lands bordering our sea. And I said, although I had seen great bounty in the Far Kingdoms, I noted there was a gray sameness to it as well; which is why, I supposed, his cooks went to so much trouble to disguise that sameness with rich sauces and gravies. I talked at length, and he never wearied as I spun my trader's tale of exotic kingdoms and peoples, and odd wonders as distant to him as his land was to mine.
As I rolled my imaginary carpet back up, I closed with this: "I claim no talent as a seer, Your Majesty, when I say that believe you have become bored with your protected land of plenty. And I have heard you yourself say you fear your people have lost spirit, and are growing stale. The goods I have offered in trade have three qualities of singular value: the excitement of strangeness; the stir of wonder at the unknown; and the spice of adventure renewed." I sat back, charged with the excitement of my own sales talk. "That, Your Majesty, is why I believe you have just as much to gain in this bargain as we have. That is why I am certain, that once struck the contract will be of such immeasurable value to us all."
King Domas's eyes reflected my own excitement. He nodded to himself, once, twice. I believed I had won the day. Then a king's caution took hold; the excited glitter dulled. "The trading could not take place in Vacaan," he said. "Outside influences, as my brother continually warns, can make our people discontent."
"We could easily choose a neutral port," I said. "A place convenient to both of us."
"Yes, we could," Domas said, but his tones were sailing for neutrality as well.
So I spread my hands wide, helpless, saying: "What else can I say to convince you, Your Majesty? I have run out of what little wit my father knocked into my thick head."
Laughter returned to the king. He hurt my ears with his bellow; but I didn't mind: I saw reborn excitement in his eyes. "Nothing more, my good fellow," he finally said. "You've done a good job for your city, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. I like your proposal. I like it enough to accept on the spot. However..." He stopped as Beemus whispered, then went on. "However, as Beemus says, we must consider the details closely before we put seal to agreement."
"I think that is the wisest course, myself, Your Majesty," I said, rising; for I knew without prodding it was time to depart. "As my father said: `all bargains glow when first struck; but most become cold lumps by the time you put them in your pocket.'"
"A wise man," the king said.
"Thank you, sir. He was. Now, if you will permit me, Your Majesty... " I began to withdraw. Domas hastened it with a gentle wave of his hand, and Beemus jumped down to lead me away.
"How did I do?" I asked when we reached the corridor. Beemus whispered I had done very well, indeed. With that reply I also knew I had the little man's support: it was easily big enough to carry the day.
* * *
I told Janos every detail of the meeting, only holding back the music and... Omerye. When I was done I saw he had noted some omission: Janos had the twin of that odd look the king gave me. Normally Greycloak would have pressed, and I would have confessed; although to what, I was not certain; he had news of his own to convey and the moment passed. But first he had to examine my effo
rts for flaws. Finding none, he praised them and said I was sure to bring the work to a happy conclusion.
When I asked him how his own meeting had gone, be became so charged with enthusiasm his words kept stumbling on confusion as he tried to describe all the wonders Prince Raveline had revealed. He stopped after his last effort: a spell from the scrolls of the Old Ones that caused water to crystallize into ice.
"It was manipulation again," he cried. "Like sand to gold, but not near as complex, because water is... is..." Light dawned and struck his head a great blow. "By the gods, now I see it!" he shouted. His mind raced, grasping for an elusive prey. Then he shook his head in frustration as it escaped. "Gone, now, dammit!" He looked and saw an ox's ignorance in my eyes, and laughed. "Never mind," he said. "It will come." He poured us more drink. "Raveline has invited me back tomorrow, and the morrow after that. So there will be much more."
"Did he show you his demons?" I joked.
But the jest went awry and Janos flushed dark. "No... He didn't." The flush was of disappointment, and it made me glad. I worry for nothing, I thought. The king forbids it. Even his brother would not dare to defy him. Then I thought: Especially, his brother would not dare.
Janos raised his cup in nostalgic toast: "To the Far Kingdoms."
And I raised mine in that old echo of reply: "To the Far Kingdoms."
* * *
All was good for a time as we plunged into the life that was Irayas. The meetings with Domas and Raveline opened a flood of invitations: we ate and drank at noble tables; we learned new dances in grand ballrooms; and an embarrassment of honors and gifts were showered on us. At night we sailed the silvery lanes of that great lighted city, roaring songs with new friends clutching our shoulders. By day we strolled through wonderful gardens and even more wonderful galleries where the arts of Vacaan were displayed. I saw Omerye once: she was studying the statue of a great harpist. The mysterious bond between us tugged hard, and she began to turn her head in my direction; but the wound Deoce's death had caused gave a sudden ache, and I quickly backed away before she saw me.
