Beyond The Gate of Worlds

by Robert Silverberg (Ed. )

“We all look exhausted,” Akando said. He rose to get more coffee for himself. 4 ‘ At least we’ve kept most of the coffee plantations in our lands. The False Inca may have the Flatlands, but we have the coffee trees.” “Do you think we might be able to export it to anyone but the False Inca of the Green Banner? His merchants buy it through the False Inca and the countries to the north, or so the records say.” Sathale watched Pathoain fill his glass. “The Chinese export their tea throughout the Western Ocean. ’ ’

  “True enough,” Dyami said, coming to get the True Inca’s glass and fill it. “But coffee is a sacred drink. Would the High Gods approve if we sold it?”

  “Ask the Cranes,” suggested Akando. “If they decide we can, then we know the High Gods won’t object.” He leaned back in his chair. “If I don’t sleep soon, I won’t be able think clearly.”

  Pathoain glared at Akando. But Dyami endorsed the remark. “With the coffee I will be able to stay awake, but my mind is becoming numb and I am not prepared to listen for the voice of the High Gods. If you will give us time to rest. True Inca, what we tell you will have more merit.”

  Sathale smiled. “I will call you at noon and will give my decision. And I will send word to the Crane clan.” He accepted his glass of coffee. “My First Wife will be pleased.”

  “All our First Wives will be pleased,” said Dyami, as much because the amusement was welcome as because it was true.

  Iyestu was the last to take formal leave of Ilatha; the others had already shared the ritual cups of beer and given the token gifts. Ilatha’s First and Second Wives were permitted to come to the quay for the departure, and both marveled at the two Japanese ships that were being refitted with lines and could not depart for several weeks.

  “They have been messengers of the High Gods,” said Ilatha, not wholly in jest. “If we had not known—” “The High Gods guide us,” said Hataya, who was feeling embarrassed at being left behind. “Each of us.” Ilatha looked at his sons in their uniforms and could not contain his pride. “There have been no sons of this

  family who have brought so much honor to the Spiders as you have.” He put his hands on the shoulders of his twins. “You are to listen to what the Whale captains say and you are to follow their orders for the safety of the men on the ships and the honor of the True Inca. ’ ’ Apenimon looked at his brother. “Well, Tblapa, does this seem real to you now?”

  “What does that mean?” Ilatha demanded.

  “Oh, my twin has said he thought this was all a game, that we would not be going anywhere. Now it is about to happen.”

  TYilapa chuckled. “And the only one who is prepared is Iyestu, if having those two new kites can be called prepared. ’ ’

  “My new kites are better and safer than yours,” said Iyestu with some heat. “I know. I’ll stay higher and do better than the rest of you.” His cheeks were flushed and his eyes grew bright with anger.

  “Peace, peace,” Ilatha said. “Tilapa always needles you, Iyestu.” He patted his third son affectionately. Then he looked at his daughter, feeling confused, for there were no rituals for the departure of girls. “What shall I say to you, Etenyi?”

  “Wish me a safe voyage, I guess.” She stared down at her shoes, so recently supplied by the Whale clan. “I will emulate my brothers, I promise on the High Gods and the afterlife. I will say your name every sunrise and every sunset.”

  “And we will place salt with your portraits every day you are gone,’ said Hataya, looking quickly from the First to the Second Wife. “Every day.”

  “You are a good brother,” Etenyi said. “This takes so long.”

  All the crew were waiting on the quay while the Rats finished loading the three ships. The food had already been stowed, as had the ships’ supplies and extra fuel for the small engines. Now the Rats were engaged in more delicate and complex matters: the proper stowing of the formal gifts to the leaders of the Maori clans. Every gift to be presented had been reviewed by the Four High Priests and the leaders of the Crane clan, and each assessed for its appropriateness and merit. In all, sixty-seven gifts were approved and blessed, and now were handled as if they were as precious as the person of the True Inca himself.

  Iyestu recalled the many questions from the Crane clan about his new design of kite, doubting a boy could i mprove the traditional design. Eventually other Spiders spoke on its behalf, and three leaders of the Condor clan, who kept the forts at the high passes, defended it too. It was the Condor endorsement that made the difference. TWo new kites were stowed for the voyage.

  “You will leave on the evening tide,’’ said Ilatha. He felt an odd distress. The evening tide came so soon! “The True Inca has given his order.”

  “Tell the Rats and the Cranes to hurry,” said Thlapa, who found it hard to stand still. He wanted to be on the ocean, to ride his kite high into the air, his spectacles strapped around his head, his eyes fixed on the western horizon. All that waiting could do was take the keen edge off his preparedness. “How much longer?”

  One of the Rats carrying a chest aboard tripped. There was tremendous consternation until it was established that the chest had not touched the quay or the gangplank, but had only grazed the rail of the ship. Dyami pronounced another protective spell over the chest, just in case, and the loading was resumed. “Have they taken our things onto the ship yet?”

  Etenyi asked. “Which ship will I sail on? I want to put another vial of scent in my things. ’ ’

  “The Whale clan only permitted you the three vials, remember?” her mother said. “If you need more, there are sure to be perfumes in the lands of the Maoris. ’ ’ “You don’t need perfume, Etenyi. No one will notice how you smell on the ship in any case,” Apenimon said. “Everything smells of the ocean.”

  Etenyi drew an impatient breath. “You can say that, and it means nothing to you. But ...” She could not find words to express her expectations and her fears.

  Ilatha’s First Wife put her arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “Everyone says that being on the ocean is difficult at the beginning, but that you quickly accustom yourself. Your sister will be given your gift on her wedding day, if you haven’t yet returned.”

  “Good,” said Etenyi, remembering how put out her sister had been when it was suggested that her brothers and sister might not be back in time for her wedding. “I want her to have my necklaces, too, and my combs if I . . . if I don’t come back.” She squared her shoulders as she said that, secretly liking the sound of it. “Etenyi,” said the First Wife.

  “Just tell me you’ll do it,” said Etenyi in a soft, tense voice.

  “Whatever you want,” said her mother. She looked up as the Fourth High Priest and the leader of the Rat clan for the navy approached.

  “Well,” said Akando, making a ritual greeting. He looked at the four youngsters who were leaving. “You have a little more time for private farewells, and then it’s my task to escort you to the True Inca for the Mandate. You, Etenyi, will travel on the Whale's Breath. And you boys will be one to each ship, with your kites as well: Apenimon to the Whale Road and Tilapa to the Black Dolphin. Iyestu will go with his sister, being the youngest.” He nodded to Ilatha. “It’s almost time.”

  Apenimon took the pectoral of the Spider clan given him by his father. “We’re ready,” he said for his twin, his younger brother and his sister.

  Only Iblapa looked back once, and that was to wave at his mother.

  One day after the departure of the expedition to the lands of the Maoris, another messenger reached the capital of the True Inca, and desperately demanded an audience with Sathale at once. The True Inca, just returned from Algoma, had not yet visited with his three wives and their children, nor sat down to a meal, but he sighed and told his Crane guards that he would receive the messenger in his private council chamber.

  The messenger was ragged and weary, his eyes sunk into his head from the rigors of his travel. “I wanted to arrive sooner,” he said. “If there had not been obstruction, I would h
ave been here seven, eight days ago.”

  “Obstruction" Sathale, indicating the messenger could sit, clapped his hands and ordered glasses of coffee and beer from his guard.

  “I’m not deserving of your courtesy,” said the messenger. “I have not fulfilled the oath I took to you and to the Fox clan when I went down to the lands of the False Inca.”

  “Through no fault of yours, or so I suppose,” said the True Inca. “But tell me: What happened to you?”

  “Coming back, there was fever along the Mother River,” the messenger said slowly, “and great numbers of ants, devouring all in their path. They came one after the other, fever, then the ants when most of us were too ill to stop them.”

  “My Spiders in untethered kites have seen something of this,” said the True Inca.

  The messenger stared up at the lavishly painted ceiling showing the positions of the clans in the night sky. “It was worse than fire, worse than illness. Helaoku ordered troops into the interior to keep order and to do something about the ants if they could, but they had not yet arrived, and it was hard to find a safe path.”

  “How unfortunate for the people of the False Inca.” The messenger looked up as a Rat servant brought two glasses of coffee into the chamber. “I’ve missed coffee. This is a drink only for the noble and the rich in the lands of the False Inca.”

  “My merchants won’t sell to the False Inca, or not directly,” Sathale said, making a show of taking a lavish sip of the hot, dark liquid.

  “The Turks are very fond of it—the followers of the False Inca of the Green Banner.” The Fox clan messenger contemplated his hands, clean but with ragged nails and bruised knuckles. “The authorities in remote places are like men awaiting a siege. They give as little as they can to travelers, and charge prices that only those with gold can meet.”

  “That has been true for some time,” said Sathale. His patience was starting to wear thin. “Recently I have learned that there has been trouble in Russia. The Tlirks are in trouble there.”

  “The markets of the Flatlands are filled with more rumors than flies. It is said that the leader of the Tlirks is going to mount an expedition into China, to extend his territory now that Russia has lost hold of it. They

  have said that the soldiers will be from Urop, to avoid

  ambition. So far from home, none of the soldiers will seek to take holdings for themselves, or so it is thought. Some of the garrison soldiers say it is to keep the soldiers from getting too friendly with the local people. One man I spoke to, from Bilbao, said that the Bey— the local officer of the False Inca of the Green Banner— was giving notice to all merchant and artisan families to ready their sons for the army. ’ ’

  “Interesting. Do you think it’s true?”

  “I don’t know. I believe some of it is true, but I can’t be certain. Though I fear someone is planning war.” The messenger finished his glass of coffee. “I saw soldiers from the False Inca of the Green Banner who wore striped trousers and who were said to be the fiercest warriors. They disdain the steam wagons the other soldiers use and fight the traditional way on horses. Everyone regarded them with fear. ’ ’

  “How many were there?” asked the True Inca, remembering the report of the Spider guard who had seen men in striped trousers on horseback conquer a fort.

  “The squad I saw was fifty, but I was told that the False Inca ol the Green Banner has sent over two thousand of them to assist the False Inca, so that Helaoku will have sufficient fighters to come into the mountains.” He stared at his empty glass so that he would not have to look at the True Inca. “As a Fox, I am willing to do all you order me, but I do not believe it would be wise for me to return to the Flatlands now. There are those who have come to suspect me, and if I were back in the lands of the False Inca, there is a chance I would be caught before I could end my life. They have done that to three men from Urop who were looking for others from the region of Italy to aid in a rebellion against the False Inca of the Green Banner.

  When they were through with them, they hung all that was left over the market square in the capital, where the Mother River joins the Eastern Ocean. ’ ’

  “A rebellion in the region of Italy, you say?”

  “That was what they whispered in the marketplace when the men were taken. They were men of Urop, true enough, and they spoke the tongue of the region of Italy, so it is not difficult to believe.” He stifled a yawn. “You pardon, True Inca.”

  “You’re tired,” said Sathale. “Yet I need a little more of your time.” He clapped again and asked for more coffee. “Do you know if the False Inca of the Green Banner is trying to make common cause with the lands to the north?”

  The messenger was startled. “No,” he said. “I have seen merchants from the lands to the north; one of them from the far north of the lands ... of Mexico . . . said that the merchants of Urop did not buy as much whale-oil in recent years as they had before.”

  “Do you know why that is?”

  “The merchant from . . . the lands to the north”— he did not wish to give offense again—“said that he thought that the regions of Urop were buying their oil from China and Russia, and bringing it in by the steam rail system, but that might have been his discontent speaking. ’ ’

  “So it might, said Sathale, as the Rat servant returned with more coffee. He looked at the messenger closely. “Is there anything more you wish to tell me?” The messenger drank again. “There is one thing I do not understand. I will put it in my report and I will tell you, though I cannot fathom what it means. There is a factory in the capital of the False Inca at the mouth of the Mother River where the machines are run on lightning, or so the workers there have said. No other factory uses such fuel, and no other factory works so fast or shines so brightly as this one. They say that in the lands on the other side of the Eastern Ocean this fuel is used more commonly, though most of the workers here distrust it, for if it is not properly contained, there is fire like the fire of the High Gods that blasts the life away.” He paused. “An officer of the False Inca said that there were such factories in the lands to the north, and that they were seeking to build more. He also said that the fuel could be used to make lamps that do not need oil to bum, and that the lamps could be placed anywhere. But what fuel can do that?”

  Sathale stared at his undrunk coffee. “Yes; what fuel can do that.”

  On the high prow of the Whales ’ Breath, Etenyi could just barely see her brother Iyestu aloft in his tethered kite. The cable holding him was anchored a little aft of the central mast; it angled away into the sky, showing the direction of the wind as much as the sails did. She shaded her eyes, studying the clouds and envying Iyestu his place among them.

  “Are you afraid for him?” asked Pallatu, as he strolled up to Etenyi with the ease of one accustomed to the roll of a ship.

  “No; he has been riding the kites since he was eight years old,” she said. “But I was wondering what it feels like, to be part of the wind that way, and to follow a ship as he is doing.”

  “When the tether has been played out all the way, you won’t be able to see him, you know, even if the sky is clear.”

  “Yes. I nol ced that while he was up yesterday.”

  “He’s a very capable fellow, your young brother,” Pallatu said. He gazed over the ocean ahead of them. “That’s nothing against the other two; they’re good at what they do and they are brave Spiders. But this one”— he indicated the speck at the end of the tether—“he is more than the others. He is alert to the whispers of the High Gods, and for that, he sees beyond the limits.” “You mean Iyestu has been touched by the High Gods?” Etenyi shook her head. “Iyestu’s not a priest. He’s dedicated to the kites. He’s a real Spider.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Pallatu at once. “More Spider than most, I suspect. He knows the tether for what it is: a leash, something he disdains because he soars, and wishes to be free, like the birds.”

  “Well, he is very good with the untethered kites.
He has done Condor patrol over the Spine of the World, and the Condor leaders praised him for his skills. He was one of the youngest Spiders sent on that task.” “Left alone, he can do more than that. Left alone, he could amaze us all.” Pallatu regarded Etenyi with curiosity. “How is it for you, being here on the ocean when women of the Spider clan are not supposed to travel? Does it trouble you?”

  “You were there when the Mandate was read, and you know how I was charged. It doesn’t matter that women of the Spider clan don’t travel, because of the True Inca’s Mandate.” She was defensive now, for as much as she knew the Mandate of the True Inca overbore all objections of clan and tradition, she could not rid herself of the sense that she had gone too far beyond the limits of Spiders ever to return to them. As she turned her head the wind whipped the ends of the ribbons confining her hair across her face.

  “But think when you return: you’ll have been over

  the Western Ocean of the lands of the Maoris, and it won’t be correct for you to speak of it among Spider women. Won’t that bother you?”

  “I have told my father that I will uphold the traditions of Spider women, and if that prohibits me from speaking of this voyage, then I will not bring disgrace on my clan when the True Inca has shown me such honor.” She tossed her head. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I have seen women who travel, and few of them can keep what they have seen to themselves. Few men, either. They can’t wait for the chance to talk of the places they have been and the things they have seen. The lands of the Maoris aren’t like the Spine of the World, and the way they live there is not as we do. How will it be, to tell only the True Inca and no one else of what you saw and heard?” He indicated the steps down into the main cabin of the ship. “Ouninu can tell other Rats about what he has done on this voyage, and that is proper. Your brothers are not sworn to keep silent for fear of causing unworthy thoughts in others. You alone are forbidden to tell of your adventure.” He offered her a sympathetic smile.

  “Whales are used to speaking of voyages, and you would miss it. No Spider woman can feel that way.” She moved away from him and stared out over the crinkled ocean. “In any case, I am asked to write it down, and so I will have the opportunity to tell it, but in a different manner than you Whales do.”