“That night, under cover of darkness, Falan the Vainglorious leading a force of handpicked Men came slipping through the shadows to steal back the gold. Yet, lo! the temple was deserted, the Women and treasure gone, including the silver throne.
“Enraged, Falan and his Men destroyed the temple crashing it down unto the ground.
“And on the night tide, the flotilla sailed….
“Yet just ere dawn, the earth trembled mightily, and the Mountain of Telos was destroyed. And in the wake of its devastation a great wave rushed o’er the sea, crashing headlong into Falan’s mighty fleet, shattering the boats and drowning all, carrying every Man jack down into the depths below—Falan, his advisors, and minions all…as well as three priceless scrolls.
“Falan the Vainglorious had at last received his answer from the gods of Telos, now gone.”
* * *
On the fourth day after setting sail, the rain stopped, the skies cleared, and a fair wind abeam pressed them across the water. All were glad to see the Sun, and they promenaded on the deck, or lay about in the warm light. Only minor corrections needed to be made to the course.
For two more days and nights they sailed thus, the wind slowly diminishing…and the seventh day found them in irons, becalmed on a glassy sea.
Captain Legori set Men in dinghies rowing, towing the Bèllo Vènto after, the oars plashing in pellucid water, leaving widening ringlets behind, the hulls cleaving elongated vees, the slow wedges outspreading as well.
Aravan stood aft with Gwylly, watching the mingling of patterns, the Elf seemingly entranced by the glistering ripples extending o’er the mirror.
In Sylva, at last Aravan said, [“She has a thousand faces…nay, more.”]
Also speaking the Elven tongue, Gwylly responded, [“The ocean: a fickle lover, I hear.”]
[“Aye. Mistress of many, yet mastered by none.”]
They stood quietly for a moment more, only the chant of the rowers breaking the silence. At last Aravan spoke: [“She is too tempestuous to be tamed by any, and always will remain wild and free…though there are those who would make her their own.”]
Gwylly shook his head. [“Who would ever think she could be owned?”]
Aravan barked a laugh. [“Ha! Now I know that thou art becoming Elven in thy heart, Gwylly, for thou dost speak as would a Lian…or as a Hidden One….”]
The buccan glanced up at Aravan, questions unspoken. Aravan’s eyes were lost in reflection, and it was as if his heart remembered the words of another…another from an elden time. Who can own the sky? echoed his mind.
Tarquin sat before the Elf, the Fox Rider no more than a foot tall, his voice soft, speaking in the tongue of the Hidden Ones. [“Mankind is not like the People, for he seeks to lay claim to all he touches, to all he sees and feels
“Yet who can own the sky? Who can own the wind or the rainbows? Who can own the rain or the waters of the world, the laughing of brooks or the roar of thunder? Or stones and mountains, the very bones of the earth? And who can own the grass and the trees, the forests, the plains? Who can own the birds of the air and the creatures of the land, the fish that swim in the waters? Who can own any of these songs of earth?
“Man would say, ‘I. I own all. I have dominion. It is mine! To do with as I will!’
“But the People say, Nay! None owns the world…or it is owned by all, for all is sacred. Every shining leaf every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every humming insect. All are to be revered.
“We are part of the earth and it is part of us. And it is to be cherished and loved and nurtured, for it is precious. It is our mother and father, and all things upon it are our brothers and sisters. The Bear, the Deer, the Eagle, the Fox, these are our kindred, even the flowers. The air that breathes over us, the shining waters that flow in the streams and rivers and lap the ocean shores, this is our lifeblood.
“The earth does not belong to anyone; instead, we belong to the earth. All things are entwined in the great web of life, and whatever is done to the web in one place will cause tremors felt throughout.
“Who owns the world? Might as well ask, Who owns the wind?…”]
[“Why, none owns the wind, Aravan.”] Gwylly’s voice cut through Aravan’s consciousness, and the Elf realizel that he’d been reminiscing aloud…
Aravan laughed. [“Aye, Gwylly. None owns the wind. For if we did, then would we whistle it up to remove us from these irons.”]
The buccan turned and looked forward. [“Legori rows to find it, though. I think I’ll go forward and watch. Care to come?”]
[“Nay, wee one. I think I’ll stay here yet awhile.”]
The buccan shrugged, then started toward the bow.
And while Men in dinghies rowed upon the mirrorsmooth sea, haling the Bèllo Vènto onward, seeking the wind, Aravan leaned upon the stern taffrail gazing at the waters, his mind lost in memories….
…And still the glistering patterns continued to ripple and widen.
* * *
A full day and a night was the Arbalina vessel trapped on a glassy sea, Men slowly drawing her southerly. But on the next morn a slight belling of the slack sails showed that the air had begun to stir. And by mid-morn a light breeze came upon them, and the dinghies were shipped aboard, the Men canting a chantey, and once again was the Bèllo Vènto under way.
As they took their noon meal, the wind picked up and the ship heeled over, cutting through the waters at a goodly pace. Faeril smiled. “At one point I thought the Men might have to row all the way to the Sabra. I’m glad that didn’t come true.”
“I’m glad that we’re on the hunt again,” added Gwylly.
“Hunting, yes; finding, no,” responded Faeril. “At least not finding yet. It may take some time.”
Aravan glanced at Riatha and then Urus and finally back at the buccan and damman. “The search might be a long one, indeed, wee ones. Yet for Elves a decades- or e’en centuries long hunt is of no moment, but for Waerlinga?…Do ye have the time? It may take untold years.”
Faeril reached out for her buccaran’s hand. “As long as I am with my Gwylly…”
From the corner of his eye Gwylly saw Riatha reach out for Urus’s hand.
* * *
On the ninth day of the voyage a school of porpoises raced before the bow of the ship, cleaving the crystal blue waters in glee. Faeril and Gwylly were delighted, lauging at the agile play. Urus and Riatha, too, stood hand in hand joyously watching. Halíd said, “My village elders tell that the jeenja aid the shipwrecked, yet I hope we never need discover the truth of the tale.”
Aravan leaned on the bow wale and watched as well. “Aye, Halíd, they do indeed aid those whose ships have foundered, helping swimmers to keep afloat, guiding them to land, yet I deem that others aid as well—dwellers of the deep.”
“Lord Aravan”—Halíd’s eyes were wide with wonder—“speak you of the Children of the Sea? Ai, many are the Gjeenian tales of beings half seen in the glittering depths and under the rolling waves.”
At Halíd’s words, Reigo snorted. “Children of the Sea? Bah! My own sire swears that they are not real…and he should know, for he was a sailor for thirty years.”
Aravan smiled. “Thirty years? Perhaps if he’d had more time…”
Halíd looked at the Elf. “How long did you sail?”
Aravan glanced at Riatha, as if seeking aid, then he said, “Some five thousand years.”
Halíd’s mouth fell open and Reigo gasped, “Five thousand—”
“Oh, look! Look!” called Faeril, pointing. The porpoises had formed up in a long diagonal chain, the last in the line had begun leaping uptrain over the others, and as soon as it was past, the next to the last began leaping upchain as well…and so it continued, porpoise after porpoise leaping and plunging, leaping and plunging.
“Leapfrog!” shouted Gwylly.
But even a marvelous thing such as this did not take away the cast of wonderment from Reigo’s and Halíd’s eyes whenever they looke
d at Aravan…
…and at Riatha as well…
…for they were of a Kind.
* * *
In mid-afternoon sixteen days after putting out to sea from Pendwyr, the sleek Arbalinian vessel Bèllo Vènto, crewed by Men and captained by Legori and sailing under the High King’s commission, haled into the broad harbor of Sabra, dropping anchor in the glittering bay, the arc of the city before them baking in the overhead Sun.
Among others on deck stood two Warrows, two Elves, a Baeran, and two Realmsmen, all dressed as K’affeyah, wearing light blue turbans—with their face-covering cloths wrapped ’round and fastened—and cloaked in light blue as well, shirts, girdles, pantaloons, soft boots, and othe such beneath.
Too, they bore weapons, but not those of the tribesmen. Instead from the north came these arms, straight swords morning stars, long-knives, throwing daggers, and such. Only were two of the weapons like those of the desert: one was a spear, the other a sling.
On the deck stood these seven, staring over the bay. On the horizon beyond the port city, in shimmering heat waves afar, could be seen their next goal: the sands of the vast Karoo.
CHAPTER 29
Karoo
Autumn, 5E989
[The Present]
The seven came ashore and pressed through the throngs in the streets, heading for the Inn of the Blue Crescent, quarters highly recommended by Captain Legori. As they passed through the city, a babble swirled around them and then raced ahead, for when hawkers and merchants crowded forward to sell their wares, they saw tilted eyes of silver and sapphire on the two graceful strangers, and jewellike, tilted eyes of amber and emerald on the small ones, and one of the outlanders was a giant, and the merchants drew back in fear. Djinn, they whispered of the first two, and zrîr Djinn of the small ones, and Afrit of the huge stranger…. Yet how can this be, for they wear blue, the holiest of colors? Perhaps they are Seraphim instead.
Aravan laughed and said in Sylva, [“They think we are either agents of the demons or messengers of the gods.”]
Gwylly repeated Aravan’s words to Urus, speaking in the Baeron tongue. [“Good!”] replied Urus in kind. [“Mayhap it will work to our advantage when purchasing camels, for who would try to cheat an angel or a devil, eh?”]
At last the seven came to the inn, Aravan translating the ornate, filigreed letters on the signboard, though the cerulean quarter Moon depicted thereon announced the name to all those who could not read the serpentine swirls.
That evening, after a meal of bread and shishkebabbed oxen meat and vegetables, with hardtack and goat-milk cheese on the side, and dates and oranges following, they sat in the common room and from tiny cups discreetly sipped khla’a, a dark brown, somewhat bitter, bracing desert drink.
Again they looked at the map, and Urus cleared his throat. “Captain Legori will sail on the tide tonight, and return in a month, and wait…for another month, if need be. With twelve days to travel down to where we think Dodona lies, and another twelve days returning, that will give us at most five weeks to search for the oracle. Mayhap Fortune will smile upon us and we will find the ring the day we arrive on site, though I deem it unlikely. Mayha Fortune will also smile upon us and the Oracle of Dodona will immediately tell us the answer as to Stoke’s where abouts, though I deem such unlikely as well. Hence, given the best of Fortune’s favor, we could be back here within as few as twenty-five or so days…but regardless, we must be back within sixty days, else Legori and the Bèllo Vènto will sail to Pendwyr without us.”
The others sipped their khla’a and nodded, for Urus merely reviewed what they had gone over time and again yet it seemed necessary to all that his words be spoken once more. Silence fell on the group, but at last Reigo turned to the huge Baeran. “My heart nags me with a quetion, and has done so since we left Caer Pendwyr, and it is this: Even now, has word of Baron Stoke come to Commander Rori from a Realmsman in some distant Land? Has Stoke been found, even as we seek to know where he is? I have this—this fear that we are here on a wild loon hunt, while the real quarry, Stoke, escapes.”
Each looked at the others, the same fear lurking behind all eyes—all, that is, but Halíd’s, who merely shrugged in Gjeenian fatalism. “If such be the case, it is the will of Rualla, Mistress of the Wind.”
* * *
The next morning, they passed by stables of high-stepping horses, sleek and hot-blooded and swift, and went beyond the city walls and out to the camel markets, for by law camels were not permitted within the bounds of the city except to deliver or pick up goods. Why there was such an edict governing the whereabouts of camels became obvious to Gwylly and Faeril and Riatha and Urus when they came to the camel grounds: the odor was horrific. “Whew,” hissed Gwylly, his eyes crinkling and watering, denoting that the rest of his face, hidden beneath his fastened turban scarf, was screwed into a grimace of distaste. “No wonder the place is downwind of town.” The others nodded in agreement, and it was with some reluctance that they stepped in among the noisome beasts.
Mouths moving side to side as they chewed cud, the camels grunted and groaned, as if perpetually complaining, whether or not they were working or resting, standing or lying, immobile, walking, or trotting. And as the seven strode past, camels rolled their eyes and contorted their faces into hideous masks, and some spat malodorous gobs at the strangers.
Reigo laughed. “I had forgotten!”
Faeril looked up at the Realmsman. “Forgotten what, Reigo?”
“An ancient tale, little one. It seems that the prophet Shat’weh, riding his favorite camel, Onkha, fled across the desert, ahead of pursuing enemies. Urged on by Shat’weh, Onkha galloped most swiftly and outran the pursuers and bore his master into exile and safety. As a reward, Shat’weh whispered the true name of God into faithful Onkha’s ear. From that time to this, the Secret of Secrets has been handed down from one camel to another. And now, whenever any camel looks at a person who lacks its knowledge, the animal feels superior and its face twists into a supercilious sneer.”
Reigo burst into laughter, and Faeril began giggling. Soon all seven were striding and laughing among hideously grimacing dromedaries, and that’s how they came mirthfully into the company of the camel merchants.
Although the merchants clearly were unnerved by Elven and Warrow eyes and by Urus’s towering height, still they haggled long and loudly. Yet Halíd and Reigo were highly skilled in the art of camel bargaining: examining the humps for firmness, gauging how well the animals had been fed; looking at yellow-stained teeth and even smelling each proffered beast’s foul breath, both signs of ageing; having the complaining, groaning creatures stand and lie, judging their docility and response to command; looking at height and length of leg and condition of coat and other such indicators of health and endurance and speed.
In the end, they purchased five swift hajun, dromedaries for riding, and six jamâl, pack camels for haling supplies. All were females but for a gelded male, and that one war a huge dromedary to bear Urus.
Too, they acquired the needed tack, obtaining as well two special double saddles, ones that allowed a K’affeyah tribesman to ride with a child, the youngling sitting down and forward of the rider.
After a long discourse among themselves, casting many fearful glances at those who were perhaps Djinn, zrîr Djinn and Afrit, cautiously the camel dealers approached the Human pair—Halíd and Reigo—and asked if they wished for the decorative blue tassels to be removed from the tack for after all, everyone knew that blue was the holy color used to ward off imps and demons.
Reigo laughed so hard that he could not answer, but speaking in Kabla, Halíd fixed a cool eye on the merchants and said, “The blue tassels must remain, for they will serve to enhance the powers of our masters.”
Awed, the camel merchants turned to Riatha and Aravan, to Faeril and Gwylly, and lastly to Urus, and salaamed reverently and deeply.
Reigo laughed even harder.
All was obtained at a fair price, for it may have been as Ur
us had asked: “Who would try to cheat an angel or a devil?”
* * *
Early the next morning, camels sneering and grumbling and complaining, the seven departed Sabra, heading southerly into the Karoo. Being the most experienced camel riders. Reigo and Halíd each rode with a Warrow mounted down and before them on the lower seat of the double saddle—Faeril with Reigo, Gwylly with Halíd. Riatha, Aravan, and Urus each rode on individual dromedaries, Urus’s animal protesting loudly. Too, Reigo, Halíd, and Aravan each had two pack camels in tow, laden with goatskins of water food, grain, light tent cloths, cooking gear, firecoke, and the like, all purchased in the suq. Although most of the water and other supplies were laden on the pack camels the riding dromedaries also bore a goatskin of water apiece and a minor amount of other goods as well, for as Halíd had said, “If the pack camels manage to run away, we would not wish to lose all things needed to survive.”
As they purchased their goods in the bazaar, Reigo and Halíd had asked about waterholes and pasturages and other such along their intended route. They had received some valuable information. But for the most part, the caravaneers had warned them of the whirling demons and haunted oases and the black camel and the vile spirits living under the sand and down in the wells and of the jackals of fire and had warned them of the evil nature of the place where they were headed; they had cited tales of caravans vanished and of travellers disappearing and even of the lost expedition of the Prince from Vancha who searched for fabled Dodona, the tale yet remembered to this day. And they had shaken their heads in disbelief when Reigo had laughed over these tales of desert truth, calling them but mere superstition, though Halíd had seemed to take them more seriously. Regardless of the heartfelt warnings, Halíd and Reigo, along with their Djinnain and zrâr Djinnain and Afrit had seemed determined to go into this evil part of the Erg, and so the caravaneers had given them amulets of blue to ward off the wraiths and liches and ghosts and other such. Perhaps, the Sabrinians would later speculate, perhaps they truly were Seraphim and Cherubim and a Throne, here on earth as God’s messengers, with their lowly Human servants to attend to them. For only the Lord of Wisdom would know why they went into the cursed zone, that part of the Erg all sensible Men avoided. On the other hand, if they were demons— Mahbûl! How could they be demons? They wore blue and took the blue amulets and asked for blue tassels for their camels.…The debates were loud and tumultuous, and even the imamîn knew not the answers, though they often prevented hotheads from slitting one another’s throats with their drawn curved knives. Long were the arguments and they continued throughout the following months, and in some quarters lasted for years.
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