by Hugh Cook
'Yen Olass,' said Resbit.
Yen Olass started. She had been drifting away, allowing her own thoughts to take her away from the world, bearing her away like a river.
'What is it?' said Yen Olass.
Resbit had a snail on her hand. Very delicately, it eased its tiny speck-black eyes out to the limits of their tubes. Fascinating. Yen Olass watched as it began to migrate across cold wet female skin.
It didn't get very far.
Yen Olass reached out, pinched the snail between thumb and finger, crackled its shell, picked away the pieces then bit the snail in half. She chewed it with determination rather than enjoyment, giving the remaining half to Resbit, who accepted this love offering with a smile.
Then they sat together in the forest, shoulder to shoulder. Yen Olass let her head lean against Resbit. She closed her eyes. She wondered about the Rovac warrior, Elkor Alish, who had coupled with Resbit. By day or by night? Had he tasted her? Had he touched her . .. there? Or there?
That was strange to think about. A man and a woman. Yet it happened. Thousands and thousands of times. Entire tribes and nations peopled that way. And for every moment of swordslaughtering glory, nine months of myth and darkness, years learning to crawl, to walk, to talk . . .
Did men ever think about that when they hacked each other with swords, making themselves heroes? Somehow, Yen Olass doubted it. She wondeed what it was like to be a man. She found it hard to imagine. Men had no sense of proportion.
Yen Olass remembered Lonth Denesk and Tonaganuk killing each other in the Enskandalon Square in Gendormargensis. Two old men hacking each other to death with axes when they should have been at home keeping themselves warm under featherdown quilts. With cats. And bread. Spread with honey from honeycombs -- very thick honey with bits of wax in it which you could chew.
Men were always fighting, and for what purpose?
Tick,' said Resbit.
'A spider?' said Yen Olass, who was not afraid of them, but did not favour them.
But it was not a spider, but a dung-drab caterpillar which haci fallen from the trees onto Resbit's knee. Yen Olass wondered if caterpillars were edible, and decided not. She had squished a few in her time, finding them green or yellow inside. This caterpillar, unaware that it was in danger of immediate demolition, was elongating and contracting, sliding its body forward. Yen Olass intercepted it with a stick; it climbed aboard, and she lofted it into the air then set it down on the ground.
There.
She had known the caterpillar would climb aboard the stick. She knew how to manipulate it, but that took her no closer to understanding what it was like to be a caterpillar. Similarly with men. As an oracle, she had learnt how to teach reason to men who were proud, vain, arrogant and unreasonable, but she had never understood why men were the way they were. She knew a man hates to take advice from a woman. That was why the Sisterhood had developed the apparatus of Casting Board and Indicators -- so that an oracle would appear to be only a mouthpiece for the apparatus, rather than a voice in her own right. But why did men hate women to be their equals?
Yen Olass knew she could be much more interesting as a person in her own right than as a slave, a thing, an object. Yet she knew most men would prefer her as a slave. She understood that the drive for power and mastery was responsible. Yet she could not understand what made power so attractive.
Maybe it was ...
'Time to move,' said Haveros.
'Must we?' said Quenerain.
That complaint did not deserve an answer, and did not get one. They set off again, with Yen Olass still thinking about her problem.
Maybe fear was the answer. Maybe men struggled for power because they were afraid. Afraid of losing. Afraid of being conquered. Afraid of other men. But then, what about the Lord Emperor Khmar? He was a man. And it was hard to believe he had ever been afraid of anything. He was not afraid of death. Was not even afraid of the sickness that was killing him.
Yen Olass was still thinking when she was distracted by a vaporous sun which briefly emerged between the clouds, shining down briefly on the abrupt geography of jagged pinnacles and sheer-faced bluffs they were now traversing. Then the clouds closed in again.
They began to encounter strange trees with shining green bark and variegated leaves of orange and grey. Yen Olass, standing knee-deep in the river, plucked an overhanging twig. Yellow sap came out, reminding her of caterpillar guts; there was a sharp, bitter smell which clung to her hands. The strange trees clustered together in their own encampments by the river; the rest of the forest was the same monotonous evergreen as ever.
While she was still wondering about the trees -- did they ever bear fruit, and, if so, could you eat it? -- a rivercastle came in sight. Haveros called a halt, and signed them into the trees. They perched precariously on ground too steep to walk on. They waited. Watching. Listening.
The river was piped through the castle, spilling out through culverts on the downstream side. The castle was a low, squat building with one open doorway facing downriver. It seemed to be made of polished grass-green jade. It showed no sign of wear, but the low-lying roof, which was flat, was littered with dead leaves and branches.
'It's empty,' said Draven to Haveros, in Ordhar; Yen Olass saw the suspicious looks his fellow-pirates gave him when he used this language which they could not understand.
'All right then,' said Haveros. 'Let's move in.’
The others had soon decided the castle was abandoned, but Haveros -- a good hunter, and a dangerous quarry -- had allowed himself plenty of time to make his mind up. The pirate Mellicks, eager to see if there was any loot, pushed on ahead. Haveros let him go, happy enough to see someone else brave the way into what might well be a potential deathtrap.
Mellicks had scrambled up to the doorway and disappeared through it by the time the others drew near.
'Stay back,' said Haveros quietly, advancing. 'What's inside, Mellicks?’
There was no answer. Peering inside, Haveros saw a low-roofed chamber. Up close, he could see the castle rock was filled with stars, just like the phallic mushrooms they had encountered earlier in the day. The glow of multicoloured starlight illuminated the chamber, where Mellicks stood, looking round disconsolately.
'Nothing,' said Mellicks, giving a belated answer to the question Haveros had asked.
'We can go in then,' said Haveros.
That was all there was to the castle -- this one vast room above the river, with the one doorway leading into it. And, in the centre of the room, horse-length oval strips of metal spreading out from a grey metal disk.
'What's that?' said Draven.
Haveros tried to pick up one of the strips of metal. It refused to budge by so much as a shadow-width. There were strange characters graved on the metal: the smooth-flowing cursive characters of a language of abstractions created without reference to birth, death, flesh, bones,
blood, buildings, cities, war, horses, ploughing, barley, rice, tin, gold, sunlight, coal, flowers, grass, trees.
The strange writing reminded Yen Olass of the characters written on the ceramic map she had stolen from the War Archives complex, Karling Drask, to satisfy the scholarly lusts of the text-master Eldegen Terzanagel. That writing, she knew, had been in the High Speech of wizards. Was this the same? She tried to picture the map and the writing that had been on it. The general outlines came to her -- and the shape of some of the pieces that had been missing after the map got damaged -- but beyond that, nothing.
'We could stay here,' said Quenerain, looking around.
'Where will the servants' quarters be?' said Yen Olass.
'Right by where the whores are quartered,' said Quenerain, stabbing her finger in Resbit's direction.
Toyd saw where she was pointing, and looked at Resbit significantly. Resbit shrank into shelter behind Yen Olass, who did her I-killed-my-first-man-at-the-age-of-twelve routine; Toyd, who had never heard it before, was suitably impressed. Then Haveros shut them all up: he had had eno
ugh.
'We can't stay here,' said Haveros. 'Chonjara won't be far behind.’
'You don't really think that,' said Quenerain. 'Otherwise you'd be driving us on much faster.’
'You're none of you fit to go much faster,' said Haveros. 'In any case, Chonjara can't travel too quickly. He'll be held up a long time at that gorge, putting scouts on top of those rocks to find out if we're waiting up there.’
'Why?’
'In case we drop stones on his head.' 'And why didn't we?’
'Because it's just the thing he'd expect me to do.' 'And instead . . .’
'We're going up the river, then we'll double back and slip past him. Of course, he expects me to do that, too.
There's lots of things he expects me to do. Split our party in half and try for east and west. Leave a rearguard to try and hold him up. Wait myself, to try for his head when he camps at night. He's right, too. I might try any of those things. Whatever I do, I won't disappoint him.’
Yen Olass was disgusted at this kind of talk. She knew Chonjara as a violent, hot-headed man capable of immense amounts of rage and hate. If he was a dog, you would put him down and think yourself well rid of him. Yet here was Haveros, speaking of his enemy as if there was some special understanding between them. Almost as if they were friends.
'Who says he's chasing you?' said Yen Olass. 'He might only be after the pirates. He might have turned round and gone back home.’
'He came up the Hollern River hunting me,' said Haveros. 'And it's me he's after now. He knows I'm here. The Melski never caught him, so we can guarantee he caught some Melski. He'll have found out where we went. He's good.’
Haveros seemed positively proud of his enemy.
'A pity we don't have more people on our side,' said Mellicks, trying to shift the grey disk at the centre of the oval strips, in case it was a trapdoor to a treasure dungeon.
'We've got Lord Alagrace on our side,' said Haveros. 'When he gets back from Skua, he'll bring Chonjara to heel. You can't go whoring through the forest with a thousand men, not to settle a personal feud -- not when you've got a siege to fight. With any luck, Alagrace will take his head.’
'From what I've heard,' said Mellicks, 'your Lord Alagrace doesn't sound like the world's greatest gift to leadership.’
'He'll get reinforcements from Skua who haven't been tainted by mutiny,' said Haveros, watching Mellicks kicking the grey disk in disgust. 'Officers, too. By now, Chonjara's people will be finding out the fun's over. Not many women up in this neck of the woods -- unless you fancy a Melski bitch.’
'It's been known,' said Mellicks, sagely.
He stepped onto the grey metal disk, and the oval horse-length metal strips folded up into a flower-bud, trapping him before he could scream.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
'Mellicks!' shouted Toyd.
Draven swore, Haveros drew his sword and Quenerain screamed. Everyone crowded round the metal bud. Except for Yen Olass, who fled to the doorway, terrified, thinking that any moment the stars would go out and some drop-door or sliding stone would block all chance of escape.
To her relief, she reached the open air safely. She squatted down just outside the doorway, while the others thumped on the steel bud, hacked at it, tried to pry the metal petals open, and shouted words of hope and encouragement in case Mellicks could hear them. Then, slowly, they gave up, and drifted outside: Resbit first, then Jalamex, the boys Shant and Mation, the deserter Saquarius, then the pirates Toyd and Draven.
Only Haveros, with Quenerain kneeling at his feet, remained to watch the steel bud.
'We're not going to get him out,' said Draven. 'We'll have to leave him.’
'Leave all of them, that's what I think,' said Toyd. 'We can travel faster on our own.’
'We'll do better with Haveros.’
'What? Mucking through the jungle till we fiddle our way through to his darling Lord Alagrace? What kind of law will they give us then? A close shave with the knife, that's my bet.’
'Haveros guarantees our safety,' said Draven.
'Ay, so you say.’
'I've lived with these people.’
'Yes, when your shipmates died. How did that happen?' 'As I've told you,' said Draven.
'Ay. As you've told. As I've heard. Wait till we get to the Greater Teeth. You'll be telling some more then.’
'The truth makes the best story,' said Draven. 'That's why I'm sticking to it.’
Yen Olass, listening, wondered exactly what Draven had told his comrades. She remembered the interview with Khmar: one pirate dying at the hands of the Lord Emperor himself, a second killed by bodyguards, then a third knifed by Draven.
Toyd seemed in a mood to start a quarrel. And no wonder. They were all hungry, on edge and short-tempered. Tramping up this river on the shortest of all possible rations, with pursuit behind and no certain prospect of escape, they were not the happiest of travelling companions.
But before Toyd and Draven could fray each other's tempers further, Haveros called them all inside.
The bud was beginning to open.
None of them would have been surprised if a dead man had been inside. Instead, there stood Mellicks. He blinked, then yawned. The central disk he was standing on glowed bright yellow. As the metal petals folded flat against the floor, the disk turned grey again. Mellicks stepped clear.
'What happened?' said Haveros.
'A . . . call it a dream,' said Mellicks. 'But
'But what?’
'I can see. As clearly as anything!’
The pirate was positively radiant. Joyful. Since Orfus pirates were not by nature the happiest bunch of people you could hope to meet, Haveros was suspicious.
'What do you mean, you can see?’
'You. Her. Everything. Polished. Sharp. I've always . . . I've always wanted to see properly.’
'What is this?' said Draven. 'Miracle magic?’
'I suppose you could call it that,' said Mellicks.
'A wish machine!' said Quenerain. 'You could wish for--’
'Your eyes are yellow,' said Haveros abruptly. 'Mine?' said the princess.
'Mellicks! Your eyes are yellow.' 'Are they?' said Mellicks. They were.’
Everyone stared at these bright yellow eyes. They were a yellow as bright and glossy as buttercups.
'What of it?' said Mellicks. 'I can see. The voices told me.’
'Voices?' said Haveros.
'Try it for yourself,' said Mellicks, a little truculent now, because he did not like the way the others were reacting to his excellent eyes.
Haveros persisted.
'What kind of voices?’
'Faint,' said Mellicks. 'And very far away.’
'How did you understand them? You've got no truch-man's skills yourself.’
'They spoke as I speak,' said Mellicks. 'If you want to know more, ask them yourself.’
'I wouldn't go near anything so dangerous,' said Draven.
'I'm alive,' said Mellicks.
'Yes,' said Draven. 'And the shark doesn't always bite the first time.’
'I don't think it's a shark,' said Quenerain, touching Haveros lightly on the shoulder. 'I think it's here to grant .. . what we desire. You're not afraid, are you, dear?’
'No,' said Haveros. 'I'm not.’
And, deciding suddenly, he laid down his sword and stepped onto the grey metal disk. The bud closed around him; when the petals eventually opened again, he stood there holding a sword, and smiling. He had what he had wanted for a long time; a blade of the fabled firelight steel from the distant southern island kingdom of Stokos.
'Your face!' said .the Princess Quenerain.
'What about it?' said Haveros, stepping forward.
A yellow stain, like a birthmark, sprawled down one side of his face, but he could not see it. He listened impassively as they told him about it.
'I'll live,' said Haveros.
And while the others were still wondering over the sword and the yellow stain, Yen Olass Ampadar
a, who knew exactly what she wanted, stepped onto the grey metal disk.
