The Tears of Sisme

by Peter Hutchinson

  The mate was quick and strong enough to wield his heavy blade easily, but it gave him no advantage. Rasscu had learned stick-fighting from his cradle, and once the first flurry of Bogoss’ assault had slowed down, he began to drive the mate back. Without warning the ship slewed across the line of the wind and began to turn broadside once again to the raging seas. The fight became a series of awkward lunges as the vessel rolled madly and the waves began to sweep over the decks.

  Sense would have made them abandon the encounter, but sense had nothing to do with it; instead they edged out ever further onto the open deck, until the inevitable happened. The ship floundered in a deeper trough than usual and moments later a wall of green water rushed over the bulwarks and carried both contestants overboard as lightly as wood chips on a stream. Just as lightly a freak backwash flipped the Tesserit back onto the deck, where he lay retching.

  For the next few minutes he was helpless. The pole still clutched tightly in his hand would have been no defence against a child. His luck held and no one came near him. When at last he felt human again, he realised that the ship was back on course, running before the wind. He could also see that the whole deck was empty. No Caldar and no seamen. Had they all been carried overboard? He climbed to his feet and staggered across to the door leading to the captain's quarters.

  His first glance inside revealed fresh blood on the floor and no people. He sagged dejectedly against the doorframe. Had he found Caldar only to lose him again the same day? Then he noticed a slight movement in the rumpled heap of blankets on the captain's bunk. In two quick steps he was across the cabin pulling back the bedclothes to uncover the face of his friend.

  Rasscu sat down abruptly, engulfed by his weariness. Bogoss gone, Caldar found and the ship on course. Maybe all was not well elsewhere on board, but for now things looked fine. He'd just sit here on guard for a while, until….

  **

  A rich aroma of hot stew woke him. Sunlight streamed in through an open port-hole, moving slightly to the gentle swing of the ship. He was covered with a blanket and felt pleasantly warm and comfortable. Then the scent of food drifted to him again, and he sat up as his stomach contracted with hunger.

  "Good day, Mister S’Bissi. A rare good day in truth, and I am happy indeed to see that you appear to be unscathed after yesterday - which was not a good day, in fact the worst I’ve endured for many a long year."

  The captain and his passenger smiled widely at each other, until the former went on, "Would you care to join me in my midday meal? Everyone went hungry in the storm, so we are eating heartily today."

  The Tesserit did not need inviting twice. Checking that Caldar was sound asleep in the bunk, he sat at the table with the captain and devoured every scrap of stew that remained in the pot. Only when he had finished, did he sit back contentedly and ask Dazzak what had happened.

  "You know better than I how it began. Bogoss' cronies were on their way to toss your friend overboard, when Madathi and Kommaneer stopped them. The crew were split about doing the mate's dirty work and they were arguing when you appeared on the scene. That blackguard probably intended to use the storm to take over the ship anyway. He would have concocted some story about the captain being washed overboard. With my reputation for drinking, he would have been believed readily enough."

  Dazzak gave a rueful laugh. "Ah well. Whatever his plans, he acted as soon as he saw you come on deck. One party were sent off to overpower the men at the helm and the others to capture me."

  "So that's why the ship went out of control."

  "Yes, it was a nasty business on the rear deck. Three of them approached in friendly fashion, and then without warning stabbed the helmsman and his standby whom they knew to be loyal to me. The two other crewmen on the rear deck fought back and they all got into a confused struggle for the wheel. That was when the ship broached and our friend went swimming. Or did you kill him first?"

  "No. The sea took him." Rasscu's voice held a faint tinge of regret.

  "Well, he was doing his best to drown us all. It seems just that he should go that way himself."

  "And you? How did you escape?"

  "Let’s say that the men who came to do the job were not whole-hearted about it. I had virtually persuaded them to abandon the idea when the door burst open again and Madathi and Kommaneer carried your friend in. That put an end to that, so I took Madathi with me and we were on our way up to the rear deck, when she broached. That made fighting more difficult, but we were in a hurry. Staying broadside to those seas was making me very nervous."

  The captain stood up and walked to the porthole. "As you can see, we have clear skies and a light breeze. We’re a little short-handed now, but if we get no more foul weather, we’ll raise Sikoon in five or six days. After all," he smiled, "we have only one mast to man now."

  "Don't you ever carry a spare mast for times like this?" the landsman queried.

  "No, it takes up too much space and I don’t have enough crew to step a new mast easily." Dazzak swung back to face his questioner, a slight crease of worry in his brow. "There’s a large harbour, where we could refit, much closer, only two days to the south of us. But it’s a bold man who would venture in there, especially with a ship full of cargo."

  Seeing Rasscu's quizzical look, he explained. "It’s a chain of islands. The people who live there have no love for the Empire and help themselves to any goods which pass through their waters."

  "That has a familiar ring to it," the Tesserit broke in. "We met some self-appointed tax collectors in the desert last year."

  Dazzak grimaced. "They collect more than taxes, I’m afraid. When they feel like it, they have a custom of collecting hands as well. Severed hands. I’m told they decorate their houses with them. What their victims do after that, the islanders don’t care. Of course without hands they can’t sail their ships and most of them die."

  Rasscu, who had seen his fair share of cruel customs, was repelled by the casual barbarity the captain was describing.

  "They keep mostly to themselves. We’re unlikely to sight any of their ships, even though the storm has driven us a long way west of the normal trade routes. No, I’m more concerned that we’re now on the wrong side of the Great Tarifarui Reef, which stretches right across our route from here to Sikoon. It’s only a few miles wide, but nearly five hundred miles in length, with few passages."

  He looked gloomily down at the table. Then he turned to his passenger with a rueful smile. "You will have to forgive me, Mister S’Bissi. Sailors are like farmers, always complaining, always on the lookout for what could go wrong. Here we are, with a following breeze and a quiet sea; you saved my ship twice over and we’ve just weathered one of the fiercest little storms I can recall these last ten years. And all I do is worry. Come, my friend, share a toast with me."

  He poured two glasses of wine. "I have no need to drink now to escape from Bogoss, but I think a little celebration is permissible. To you and your friend, a safe journey home, however far it be."

  "It will be long indeed before we see our homeland again," Rasscu replied. "And we have much to do before we return. Tell me, captain, from this Sikoon, how long is the journey to Karkor?"

  Dazzak frowned in thought. "I don’t travel much ashore, and that’s a journey I have never made. It must be all of two hundred leagues by my reckoning. Though how good the roads are, I’ve no idea."

  At that moment the bunk creaked and both men turned to find the occupant raised on one elbow, regarding them. Caldar had done little but sleep since his release from the hold. He was as gaunt as before, but at least he looked rested now.

  "The iron collar. It's gone." Rasscu exclaimed.

  "We went through Bogoss' things early this morning and came on the key." It was the captain who spoke. "The blackguard had all kinds of stuff in his keeping, including my daughter's jewellery and a duplicate key to the strongbox here in my cabin. Well, it's good riddance. How about you, young man? Are you hungry? Mister S’Bissi here has cleaned up ev
ery last morsel in the stew-pot, but I dare say we can find you some more."

  He was as good as his word. Before long Caldar was seated at the table, devouring the hot food like a starving dog. To his surprise he couldn't eat much. His stomach had shrunk with near starvation and he was soon full almost to the point of being sick. Left alone when the captain went on deck, the two friends exchanged news for hours, until the youth began to droop again. He was still weak and sleep was definitely the best therapy. He surfaced in the evening just long enough to eat again.

  By the next morning he had enough strength to go on deck and have a much needed wash in the sunshine. When he had finished, Rasscu returned his amulet with a flourish, explaining how he had recovered it from the footpads in Razimir and remarking that Caldar was now clean enough to wear it again. The rest of the day was a delight. The breeze was fresh enough to keep them cool, the ship pushed through the small waves with a soothing rhythm, and the empty seas were a brilliant green on every side.

  The crew, Madathi in particular, took pleasure in pointing out anything of interest. A shoal of thousands of bright silvery fish that skimmed and skipped at tremendous speed over the water. A speck flying far overhead, which they said was a passing Branky, a huge seabird which never came to land, not even to nest; its eggs were laid in warm shallow lagoons. The great black humps of a Gerlin Monster, which drifted by close enough for the ring of watchful eyes on its central hump to be visible.

  The following day was even better. The westerly breeze picked up and sent them scudding into shallower waters, where the brilliant coloured fish fed among waving forests of yellow seaweed and seabirds dived and called on every side. Only Dazzak seemed unaffected by the general feeling of relaxation and well-being aboard. In fact his face grew gloomier by the hour.

  When he came to stand beside his passengers at midday, Caldar could not help questioning him about it. "What’s bothering you so much, Dazzak? Are the reefs ahead really so bad?"

  "Yes, Mister Caldar they are." They had been quite unable to persuade him to drop the 'Mister' from either of their names. "I’ve only been in these waters once before in my life and I was shipwrecked then. A month and a half four of us spent on a little pimple of an island without seeing so much as a sail, with shellfish and rainwater to keep us alive. All the time we were hoping that the first ship to come by would not be full of Havasomai islanders."

  "And then you were rescued." Caldar prompted.

  "The first ship was Havasomai. They had come to the island to dig for turtle's eggs. We hid, but our signs were everywhere and they soon flushed us out. For some reason they decided they only wanted one pair of hands. They chose a young seaman on his first voyage. I think they were fascinated by his palms being so white and soft." Dazzak shuddered. "They chattered away ceaselessly, examining us all. Then they suddenly cut his hands off, tossed them in with a pile of turtle's eggs and departed. We did our best to keep him alive, but he died next day. A week later we were rescued."

  The captain studied the horizon in silence for a while. "He was my son. On that voyage I lost my first ship and my son. It was a long time ago, but I have no happy memories of this place."

  In the mid-afternoon the lookout called down that there were islands in sight, and by the time they could see the line of low lying atolls from the deck he had reported breakers a couple of miles ahead. They turned south then, coasting slowly along a mile from the unbroken line of the reef, with two men aloft and two more in the bows. Dazzak was taking no chances.

  The next cry from above brought unwelcome news. Two ships had been sighted to the north, running down on a converging course with their own.

  "They’re gaining on us," the captain paused to explain to the two landsmen an hour later. "But whoever they are, they’re no great threat just yet. They can’t come up with us before dark, and if we’ve found no passage through the reef by then, I’ll simply circle out westward under cover of night and sail north again. It would be a most unlucky chance if they’re still in sight at dawn."

  As the chase continued, the sails of their pursuers became visible to those on deck also. Everyone knew that the night would bring refuge, but there was something unnerving about the silent unswerving approach of what they assumed to be a deadly foe. The seamen went about their business easily enough, but there was a subdued tension and a quietness that grew hour by hour. No feasible passage showed itself through the reefs to the east. Ragged lines of breakers overlapped, one behind the other, showing clearly the lurking danger.

  The sun grew red, dipping towards the western horizon and turning the sails of the oncoming ships a rosy pink. They were passing a string of bigger islands now, indented with little sandy coves and large enough to carry stands of trees. Then abruptly a great black beetle came out from behind the largest island in the chain and shot out to westward, where it hovered and waited for them.

  "A Havasomai galley," Dazzak exclaimed, even as he shouted orders to the crew and brought the ship round to head north. The galley leapt into movement behind and the two ships in front seemed to rush towards them as they fled back up the reef.

  "They will be up to us before it’s full dark," Dazzak growled. "I would head west to give us sea-room away from this cursed reef, but we would be so slow tacking upwind, that galley would be on us in no time. We’re not a fighting ship, Mr S’Bissi. I have always reckoned I could run away from trouble, but with only one mast and the enemy on both sides of us the chances of escape today are thin."

  "Can't you just sail past the two in front and keep on going into the night?" Rasscu queried.

  "Those ships will be full of men, enough to swamp our little crew. They’ll lay alongside with grapples and board us. If we were under full sail, we might just slip by and make a run for it; but without our foremast, they’re faster than we are. They can come at us from any direction. So prepare yourselves for a fight, gentlemen. We’ve less than half an hour left. Then we must do the best we can."

  As Dazzak turned away, every detail of the approaching ships stood clear in the last glow of the sun. They were separating, to stoop on their quarry from both sides. There was a haunted silence aboard the cargo vessel, as men stared in dreadful fascination at their approaching doom.

  For the last hour Caldar had not said a word. He had been wrestling with a problem of his own. Chained up in the lightless hold, he had fought a long lonely battle, struggling to heed Idressin's words and to stop himself from trying to reach for power to save himself. He still did not understand the distinctions the tutor made, how to know when it was right and when not. But he was certain that the anger he felt at the humiliation and pain inflicted by Bogoss was not the right starting point. So he had held back, forcing himself to fight and win a small victory every day. In the end he knew the dark pain-filled episode had changed him: he had lost something and been enlarged at the same time.

  Now he was faced with the same problem again, the need to escape from danger, but this time many others were involved and they might suffer needlessly, if he was able to help and chose not to. But this was not what the power was for, was it? And what had it got to do with serving the Talisman? So many questions he could not answer. In captivity in the hold he had been full of certainty, now he was in a fog of doubt. He glanced at the ships swooping towards them in the fading light. Only a few minutes to go. Decide. Decide.

  "Come," he said simply to Rasscu, and set off to the stern deck to find Dazzak by the wheel.

  "Captain, listen to me," Caldar began, realising that he sounded a lot more confident than he felt. "Sometimes I can see things that other people can’t. Sometimes things far away, sometimes in the dark. It may work so I can see what’s under the water too and guide you through the reef. You’ll have to handle the ship: all I’ll be able to tell you is where the passage is clear. Do you want me to try?"

  Dazzak gaped at him in consternation, open-mouthed. He looked helplessly at Rasscu, who contrived to keep his own surprise off his face.


  "It's true, Dazzak," the Tesserit confirmed, remembering Caldar rescuing the children in the desert and keeping his doubts firmly to himself. "Caldar has the gift. At least it’s a better bet than letting these islanders catch us.”

  The captain still hesitated. It was against every instinct to turn his ship in towards the reef. Just then a savage exultant cry was borne over the water from the nearest of their attackers. At less than a mile even in the half-light the dark mass of figures lining the bulwarks and the yards were visible.

  Dazzak shouted orders to his men who were already aloft and put the rudder hard over. Another angrier cry erupted behind them, but they were too busy to worry now about their pursuers. The danger lay ahead. They were running straight in on the reef.

  The sailors were frantically furling all but a single sail to take the way off the vessel. Meanwhile Caldar, his eyes closed, sought to clear the confused images in his mind. The captain's quivering tension beside him, the increasing thunder of the breakers ahead, even his own continuing doubts about what he was doing, he put them all away and reached inward for the vision which had guided him and Tariska through the storm.

  There was nothing there. Utter fool that he was! He saw now with total clarity, it was Tariska’s touch which had brought him the special ‘sight’. He was alone here. What had made him think……He put away this fear too, the frantic self-accusation. If he was going to save these people around him, he only knew one place to start. He had to ‘find himself’ inside his body, ‘touch the ground’, as the Tinker had called it up in the mountains. Going back down the line of memory, suddenly he was there. He entered a place of complete silence and at the same instant he felt the lightest touch on his ear. Pain flashed through his body and lit his vision, showing him the whole reef. The first barrier straight ahead of them was an unbroken wall of rocks just under the surface, which shredded and churned the waves to a seething cauldron of foam.