by Stas Borodin
I felt myself blushing.
“Nonsense.” Ash winked at me. “Don’t listen to the old man! You should move forward, away from the likes of us. Trust me, brother, pretty soon your own life will be the stuff of legends!”
Mash sneered. “There are legends to be told about us too.” He poked Ash in the ribs. “Poetry is your calling. What do you say?”
“No.” Ash sank his teeth into a juicy apple. “There is no room for the rhymes in my head. They were all scorched by the sun and shaken off by the fast ride.”
We laughed together, imagining the rhymes spilling from his ears.
“Moreover, legends are written about dead heroes mostly. If you have no objections, I intend to stay alive a little bit longer!”
✽✽✽
Great Paara hid from our prying eyes behind huge stone walls. Tall and powerful, they descended straight to the sea-line, protecting the vast port and new paved road.
“I don’t get it.” Ash scratched his head. “Why not to build the city right on the shore? It would be much cheaper and much more convenient for everyone.”
Mash raised his eyebrows. “In ancient times, these waters were infested by pirates. They robbed the passing ships and often plundered the unprotected settlers. If you ask me, it was a pretty smart move to build the city on a well-fortified hill. As you can see, Paara has survived many centuries, while hundreds of other cities that decided to skimp on fortifications are long gone.”
The walls of Paara were much higher than Insana’s bastions. Huge square towers, topped with fluttering scarlet flags, ascended straight to the heavens.
Everything I’d read about the city had not given even a remote impression of its real grandeur. In those days, Lieh seemed to be huge, with its city walls rising higher than the heavens themselves. Only now did I realize how small my home town was, and how tiny and insignificant our kingdom.
The local harbour was considered to be one of the best among the Thousand Islands. It could shelter thousands of ships of all shapes and sizes at a time.
Spellbound, I was staring at the forest of tall swaying masts. This forest was even thicker than the one around Lemnark. Hulking ships with strange diagonal sails bobbed up and down at their moorings, stately galleys glided gracefully over the still waters, pulling the unwieldy merchants to the dry docks and unloading wharves.
On the shore, life was bustling too. The long creaking arms of cranes, like the hands of some fairy-tale giants, were lifting heavy nets filled with all sorts of cargo high in the air, unloading the ships bearing colourful flags. Thousands of tanned carriers, busy like ants, were scurrying up and down the wharves, hauling goods to the warehouses.
At the docks there were dozens of brand-new and old sea-beaten ships standing on slipways. Endless caravans of carts were trading local timber for overseas goods. Hammers pounded, saws screeched, fires smoked.
I admired a huge majestic ship. It was standing close to the entrance to the harbour, as if guarding it from unbidden guests. Three rows of long thin oars moved lazily, fighting the weak current and keeping the ship in place. Its steep high sides were painted blue, and there was an eye painted on the bow, just above the massive ram. Above the deck I saw a jagged tower and some strange devices designed, apparently, for naval warfare.
“That beauty is a trireme.” Mash pointed his finger. “One of the fastest ships in these waters. Perfectly suited to protect the harbour against pirates.”
I’d once read about such a ship, but I never expected to see one with my own eyes. To see how the three rows of oars hit the water in sync, and the ship flew like an arrow above the water’s surface.
“How beautiful it is!” I exclaimed, unable to contain my feelings.
The scouts laughed. For them, I was sure, it was a familiar sight.
“Well, it’s certainly worth a look,” Mash chuckled. “But from a safe distance, if possible.”
“You know,” Ash grinned, “the old man’s ass is rooted to his saddle!”
“Enough, you jester!” Mash grunted with displeasure. “It’s just so damn unnerving when you have only a thin layer of boards separating you from the dark abyss down below. Who knows what monsters lurk there, in wait for the right moment to drag your sorry ass to the bottom of the sea. No, thank you! I’ll leave that kind of fun to the young and stupid!”
“I’m young and stupid,” I said wistfully. “And I want to see the monsters!”
Mash shrugged. “I would expect it from a sailor. They’re all half-mad. But I didn’t expect it from my fellow scout.”
We watched the huge trireme gracefully slice the mirror-like water surface. Her oars flew high, flapping like the wings of some enormous exotic bird.
“And what kind of ships are they?” I pointed to a number of huge rams sticking out from behind the stone pier. The slick elegant trireme looked like a toy compared to those monsters.
“That is a pentera, my friend,” Ash said. “A man-made sea-beast, more fearsome than any mythical kraken or leviathan!”
Mash sneered; no man-made beast could scare him. “The kraken could drag your pentera to the bottom of the sea in the blink of an eye! It has a dozen tentacles as thick as a tree trunk.”
“Bullshit!” Ash grinned. “I thought you were smarter than that, old man.”
Mash flushed, but did not rise to the bait.
“That is amazing…” I sighed, already imagining myself fighting krakens, penteras and leviathans.
✽✽✽
We passed through the open gates and found ourselves at the fish market. The stench hit us like a heavy fist. I coughed and held my breath for a moment. On all sides we were surrounded by endless trays, baskets, and boxes stuffed with smelly seafood. Fish of all shapes and sizes, prickly crayfish, mossy crabs and other unimaginable sea creatures were staring at us intently with their bulging dead eyes.
“Look, Mash, it’s your kraken!” Ash yelled, pointing at a basket filled with hideous writhing tentacles.
The old scout staggered back in surprise. “Stupid boy,” he snorted angrily, “and your stupid kraken!”
“Look at them!” a fat salesman in a dirty smelly apron laughed. “What country bumpkins!”
“It’s priceless!” another roared with laughter. “Damn! Scared of octopus! Hey, Jost, show them a jellyfish! I want to savour the look on their pig faces!”
The traders laughed; they obviously liked to make fun of customers.
“I bet they are no strangers to fleas and lice,” a big man selling seashells guffawed. “I heard that they grow so big in them steppes they even hunt them for meat and hide.”
“Moreover,” another trader picked up, “they even ride them!”
The scouts could not tolerate these insults addressed to their horses.
“My flea could kick you in the guts, you arseface,” Ash muttered. “You’ll need all the octopuses in the market to seal the holes!”
The merchants shut up at once.
Ash snarled, fingering the handle of his sabre. “Let’s go. It stinks in here.”
We spurred our horses and left the market in a hurry.
“Filthy fish-eaters!” Ash snorted. “Who do they think they are?”
Mash looked smug; I smiled too, wondering how they ate the octopus and what it tasted like.
✽✽✽
Up close, the walls of Paara were even more impressive. I tilted my head back, looking up. No battering ram could ever breach them; I touched the smooth mirror-like surface with my fingertips. Who knows, they could probably withstand even magic.
I shared these observations with my friends, recalling how our stonemasons mended Lieh’s city walls. Our masters knew well how to build houses and fences out of soft white sandstone; but these black stones were an entirely different matter.
“There is no such material in these parts,” said Ash. “It must be shipped from somewhere overseas. Pretty expensive venture, I imagine. Just think about the cost of this monstrosity!”
> I nodded. Only an incredibly rich city could afford such defences.
The city streets surprised me too. They were not much different from Insana’s. The same throng, the same dirt and stench. Even the layout of the cities was alike. Wide avenues, squares, parks, fountains, pools, as if Insana was a scaled-down version of Paara. Here everything was on a larger scale. The avenues were much wider, the parks were bigger; the fountains, illuminated by multicoloured lights, spouted shimmering water arcs high into the skies.
“Only the people are the same,” said Mash. “Even in godforsaken Zenor!”
“But only at home can you be yourself,” Ash agreed. “Only at home you don’t have to prove that you are no worse than the others.”
“But I don’t have to,” I protested. “I am proud of my origins and don’t have to prove a thing.”
“Better keep it secret,” Ash chuckled. “I have lived at the courts of kings, and have seen many things.”
“Listen carefully, laddie,” Mash warned. “He knows what he’s talking about.”
Ash merely smiled. “Wait till you meet the local nobles, bro; they have no equal in arrogance! You’ll have to prove that even provincial Lieh can give birth to a real knight.”
“I’ll try,” I assured him. “You can rest assured.”
“It’ll be no easy feat,” continued Ash. “Like it or not, here you’ll have to play by their rules.”
We drove through the crowded streets, stopping now and then to gawk at a passing carriage followed by a hundred horsemen, to watch a procession of orange-robed monks, or to gaze at the occasional street fight.
Ash, meanwhile, studied the signs hanging over the nearby shops. “That’s not right!” he swore. “Everything has changed so much. It’s like a completely new place.”
He pointed to a sign. “Aha, I knew it! Here it is! Mercuro – the best tailor in all of Paara. He’ll turn the scruffy scout-boy into a decent-looking young man in no time.”
The bell above the door jingled as we entered and we saw a short fat man holding an enormous pair of scissors. His hands were smeared with chalk and his forearm sported a small cushion studded with needles and pins. The shop smelled of leather – I always liked that smell. The tall mannequins lining the walls were smartly dressed in elegant suede jackets, waistcoats and doublets made of purple velvet with golden trim and shiny glass buttons.
“It looks like you entered through the wrong door, gentlemen.” The tailor sounded harsh. “The ale house is located right across the street, and the hardware store just around the corner.”
“See, I told you.” Ash winked at me. “This city judges you by the cover.”
“Exactly!” the fat tailor beamed. “Good-day, gentlemen.”
The sudden uncomfortable silence was disrupted by the rattle of the scout’s sabre.
“I can shave your balls,” grunted Mash, “for a modest fee.”
Mercuro almost fainted, but Ash caught the fat man by the front of his shirt. “Hey, man! Don’t you recognize an old friend?” Ash gently slapped his fat cheeks. “Have I changed so much?”
The tailor shook his head.
“Who wrote the poem for your daughter’s wedding?”
The tailor’s jaw dropped and his eyes bulged. “Anesh Amash!” He grabbed Ash by the hand. “This cannot be! How you’ve changed!”
“I hope for the better?” the scout grinned.
“Probably …” He inspected the scout from head to toe. “But your clothes! Oh, gods! This is terrible! And your measurements are completely different!”
“Well, it’s not so bad,” Mash chuckled. “We like to wear loose clothes.”
“Loose clothes?” The tailor threw up his hands in horror.
“I’m not going to dress up like a court dandy,” Ash said, slapping his old friend on the shoulder. “I truly hope that that part of my life is left behind forever. But this young gentleman here is in need of a new set of clothes. Modest, but ridiculously expensive. Something that can pinpoint his immaculate and refined taste.”
The tailor looked at me, and his face immediately brightened. “Ridiculously expensive,” he chuckled. “That’s exactly the way he used to dress in the past.”
I could not help but smile, imagining Ash dressed up to the nines.
“The first time I met him, he was dressed like a damn peacock,” grunted Mash. “The only thing that was missing was a bunch of feathers up his arse.”
“Don’t forget that I was young, and I was the most popular poet in the whole kingdom,” retorted Ash calmly.
“In all the fourteen kingdoms!” The tailor threw up his hands. “For us it was a real shock when you went missing.”
“He had to run from angry creditors and some angrier husbands,” Mash grinned. “This is when Master Dante hid him under his wing. He appreciated his talent greatly and wanted to save a poor sod.”
And that’s how I learned the details of Ash’s biography; he was the one once called Anesh Amash.
Master Mercuro set to work immediately.
“In ten years the fashion has changed, my son,” he said. “No feathers! No wigs! Now we wear hunting suits, gloves to the elbow and suede-buttoned boots.”
The tailor deftly took my measurements and disappeared into the depths of the shop. A moment later we heard the rattle of a sewing machine and the clanking of the tailor’s scissors.
Ash winked at me and went to examine the waistcoats on the mannequins.
Before we began to get bored, Master Mercuro appeared again, this time with a heap of clothes.
“Come here, my boy, just behind the screen,” he gestured.
“Don’t bother.” I stopped him. “Just give it to me.”
A few minutes later I was standing in front of a mirror dressed in the latest Paarian fashion. This hunting suit wasn’t designed for hunting. The trousers were too narrow and the jacket too close-fitting. Compared to the scouts’ attire, any clothes would feel uncomfortable. I turned in front of the mirror and shrugged. “So you call this ridiculously expensive?”
The tailor’s jaw dropped once again. “Excuse me!” His fat cheeks were trembling. “Everything I make is ridiculously expensive! This jacket is made of swamp lizard’s skin. There are only five like it in all of Paara!”
“Not bad,” Ash approved. “But you forgot one last thing – a hat of Amrus skin!”
“Well, I have one! Quite by chance!” Mercuro smiled, rubbing his palms. “Do you have enough money, my lord?”
“You dare to ask?” the scout snapped.
Mercuro bowed and disappeared behind the curtain.
“Are you mad?” whispered Mash. “Do you know how much it will cost?”
Mash was right. It was ridiculously expensive. Back home, that kind of money could easily equip three heavy cavalrymen. The scout looked pleased.
“We still have a lot of gold,” I comforted the old scout, who kept squinting suspiciously at my Amrus hat.
“Enough to buy a good horse,” Ash said. “A ridiculously expensive one!”
Mash only moaned in reply.
✽✽✽
The attitude of the townspeople towards us changed markedly. Pretty girls smiled at me, covering their blushing faces with fans, and young men stepped aside, making way. They kept staring at my horse in bewilderment, but one look at the Amrus hat made them tremble with admiration.
“I got to admit that I was wrong about the hat,” Mash whispered respectfully. “For these folks it’s like a victor’s golden crown.”
“It’s better than a crown.” Ash nodded casually. “It’s a passport to high society.”
The stables looked more like a palace, with marble columns, polished floors made of green stone, and a porter with a magnificent moustache and lace cuffs.
“Are you sure we’re at the right place?” Mash was surprised. “Somehow I don’t feel the smell of the stables and I see no horse shit on the floor.”
The porter took us to a luxuriously furnished office, w
here the owner of the establishment was already waiting. “My lord,” he bowed. “To what do we owe this honour?”
“Is he bowing to me or my hat?” I asked Ash.
“To you both, my lord,” the owner of the stables grinned. “As well as to your fat purse.”
Mash winced and spat on the polished floor. The owner didn’t even blink.
“I need a big horse,” I said. “I’m tired of hearing that I’m riding a flea.”
The owner laughed, covering his mouth with his hand.
“Well, I saw your horses, gentlemen.” He paused. “And I must admit that I have nothing better to offer you.”
The scouts were pleased; the owner knew he was right.
“But as far as I understand, you don’t need a better horse”—he looked at my expensive doublet—“you need a horse that would look good with your hat?”
I nodded. This merchant was quite insightful.
“Well, then you’ve come to the right place.”
The stables were decorated with gold and marble. A personal groom in an expensive suit stood next to each horse.
“We sell only luxury horses. For hunting, for racing, for the tournament, but not for war or travel.”
“You already saw our war beasts.” Ash went straight to the stables. “We need a steed able to conquer a woman’s heart!” He walked to the end of the stables and stopped in front of one of the stalls. “What about this one?”
Mash quickly caught up with his friend and clicked his tongue in admiration.
“Excellent choice, my lords.” The merchant bowed low. “Andar is the pride of our stables.”
I hurried to join my awestruck friends, who were still glued to the stall, as if enchanted by some magic.
True, the steed was a real beauty. He was snow-white, with a black star on his forehead. Powerful muscles rolled on his broad chest, his mane flowed soft as silk, and his eyes glimmered like the eyes of a beautiful girl.
“Turgor breed,” approved Mash. “They are excellent runners, and they have a good temper.”
