by John Norman
“What does a stranger, an insignificant merchant from Brundisium, perhaps a dealer in contraband, know of these things, of espionage and intrigue, of war at sea, of Bosk of Port Kar? Has he been cleared by the harbor authorities in Telnus? Is he authorized to trade in these waters?”
“Patience, dear Nicomachos,” said Archelaos. “The Farther Islands would be much deprived if all mercantile traffic must first be routed through the corrupt, grasping bureaucracy of Telnus.”
“Rumors have it,” said Nicomachos, “that some in Sybaris profit from spurious arrangements of local licensing, even issuing documentation purportedly of Telnus.”
“At discounted prices, I have heard,” I added.
“And I have heard rumors,” said Archelaos, unpleasantly, “that even the First Captain of Sybaris, Nicomachos, High Officer of Cos, Admiral of the Fleet of the Farther Islands, has profited from such clandestine emoluments.”
“I have paid mooring fees, four times,” I said.
“But,” said Archelaos, “let us dismiss false rumors as the wretched canards they are, while, in all justice, acknowledging that it is not inappropriate for worthy folk posted far from civilization to seek to compensate in some manner, however minimal, for their isolation and remoteness. How is one to occupy one’s time? Has not many an administrator, a general, and even an occasional Admiral, returned wealthy from the wilderness?”
“There is the matter of The Living Island, of piracy, and the safety of the seas, to be dealt with,” I said.
“I yield to the governor of Thera,” said Nicomachos. “Let him, if he wishes, concern himself with idle inquiries, to assuage the suspicions of an unimportant stranger, a possible merchant from Brundisium. I will have nothing to do with it.”
“You need not,” said Archelaos. “Investigative subtleties need not concern you. It is your concern, rather, to encounter the enemy and do battle.”
“The pirate fleet appears from nowhere,” said Nicomachos, “strikes, and vanishes.”
“Sadly, true,” said Archelaos.
“Find it for me, and I will act.”
“We shall hope to do so,” said Archelaos. “In the meantime, we must thank the noble Kenneth Statercounter for his concern and assistance.”
“It is nothing,” I said.
“It is nothing,” said Nicomachos.
“Dear Statercounter,” said Archelaos, “please ignore the discouragement, the lack of enthusiasm, the disinterest, and even the pessimism, on the part of my esteemed colleague, Admiral Nicomachos. He is a splendid officer, and a fine scion of Cos. But he has had many disappointments in this matter, and he anticipates another. But I, on the other hand, I, Archelaos, governor of Thera, am not only intrigued, but persuaded, and I assure you that I shall personally implement your suggestions. I shall relay your conjectures and recommendations to my friend Glaukos, proprietor of The Living Island, soliciting his scrutiny and cooperation. He will prove our most valuable ally. I doubt that The Living Island is somehow involved in these dark matters but we shall see. Our investigation will be impartial and thorough.”
“I can ask for no more, your excellency,” I said, rising.
Archelaos, governor of Thera, and Nicomachos, First Captain of Sybaris, Admiral of the Fleet of the Farther Islands, rose, too, to their feet.
“I wish you well, noble officers,” I said.
“And we, too, wish you well,” said Archelaos.
I then approached the door, to leave the chamber. It occurred to me that no slaves or servants had been present at our meeting, even to serve a glass of ka-la-na, an expected civility. But I supposed that that was just as well, given the nature of the proceedings. I was, of course, disappointed in the lack of responsiveness on the part of the Admiral. Why should my suggestions be ignored? Why should The Living Island not be investigated and placed under surveillance? On the other hand, the governor, Archelaos, governor of Thera herself, if his interest was not feigned, would act, and with dispatch. This relieved much anxiety. I had no wish to pit my two ships, with their crews, against an enemy far superior in ships and men. How much better for us that the authorities of Thera, or Cos, whose legal charge it was, utilizing the weapon of the Fleet of the Farther Islands, some twenty ships or so, should locate, engage, and destroy the corsair fleet. Accordingly, I permitted myself to be hopeful.
“Captain,” called Archelaos.
I turned back, at the door.
“We must keep you apprised,” said Archelaos. “Where are you and your men housed?”
“At the inn of Kahlir,” I said.
I then left.
Chapter Eight
I Receive Notice of an Occurrence in Sybaris; We Will Depart from the Cove of Harpalos
“You have heard, surely,” said Clitus, brushing aside the flap of the mottled tent, high and inconspicuous amongst the rocks and ledges below which lay the sheltering Cove of Harpalos, with its small cluster of huts and sheds. Both the Dorna and Tesephone were beached, prows waterward, near an inlet below, not noticeable from the sea itself. From the height of the camp, one could scan the sea for pasangs around. A watch had been posted. Both ships, even at low tide, shallow drafted, could be brought quickly into the water. The Cove of Harpalos was not heavily trafficked, but it was, in effect, the port by means of which several inland villages, bartering the produce of their gardens and orchards, could reach the sea. Several local families made their living by fishing in the nearby waters, families amongst whom Clitus, master of the trident and net himself, had sought to make friends and cultivate informants. Its wells, too, were known to grateful mariners who would put in for water. The Cove of Harpalos was not a hub of trade nor a metropolis, but its existence was not negligible; it was not likely to be ignored or overlooked. It had been included in the map table in the receiving chamber of Archelaos, governor of Thera.
“What?” I asked.
I was somewhat surprised to note the seeming agitation on the part of my friend. I had supposed, given the observation of the sea, and the occasional coming and going of ships, that I was already likely to be apprised of what slender news might have come recently to the Cove of Harpalos.
“I have this from a caste brother,” said Clitus.
“What?” I asked.
“A peasant, from overland, below, returned from marketing olives, brings news heard of Sybaris,” said Clitus.
“What news?” I asked.
“It is hearsay,” said Clitus. “It may be false.”
“Even rumors may be informative,” I said. “Why would they start, why would they spread? Even lies can be informative. They have purposes.”
“The very night we withdrew from the harbor of Sybaris,” said Clitus, “an unconscionable event took place, a riot, a drunken mob, with torches, axes, and clubs, rushed blindly, meaninglessly, pointlessly, inexplicably, upon a large, well-known inn in Sybaris, looting it, tearing it to pieces, putting it to flames, burning it to the ground, robbing its patrons, scattering and beating its clientele.”
“The mob was not drunk, nor the event inexplicable,” I said.
“I do not understand,” said Clitus.
“The inn was that of Kahlir,” I said.
“Then you have heard the story,” said Clitus.
“Only now,” I said.
“How could you know?” asked Clitus.
“I did not know,” I said. “I only feared it might be so.”
“You took precautions?”
“Of a sort,” I said.
“The mob slew no one,” said Clitus.
“That is because they could not find those whom they sought,” I said.
“Whom did they seek?” asked Clitus, uncertainly.
“I feared this would happen,” I said. “That is why we left Sybaris that night.”
“Secretly, in the darkness,” said Clitus.
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p; “Of course,” I said.
“They sought us?” said Clitus.
“Yes,” I said.
“We are in danger,” said Clitus.
“Extremely so,” I said. “A search for us is even now doubtless underway.”
“But,” said Clitus, grimly, “I think others are now in danger, as well.”
“We will make sure of it,” I said.
“It seems our cause is advanced,” said Clitus.
“A thousandfold,” I said. “We now know our foe is centered in Sybaris. We now know that one or the other, or both, of the High Officers of Sybaris, either the governor of Thera or the Admiral of the Fleet of the Farther Islands, or both, command the foe or are high in the command of he who does so. Too, with this advancement, we have now solved the mystery of the vanishing corsair fleet. It is harbored in or near the harbor of Sybaris. It departs the harbor singly, one by one, and groups at sea. When it has done its work, it separates into its component vessels and returns, unremarked, one by one, to the harbor. And all this, if noted, at all, is doubtless ignored or concealed by the harbor authorities, authorities doubtless responsive to the governor or Admiral, or both.”
At this point there was a cry from Aktis, who had been set high amongst the rocks, with a glass of the Builders. “Ships, ho!” he cried. “Ships! Ships! I make out four, no, five, no, six!”
“The corsair fleet!” said Clitus. “Four large, two smaller!”
“Likely,” I said, rising, and leaving the tent. In a few moments I, followed by Clitus, had clambered up the rocks to join Aktis, who handed me the glass of the Builders.
“The corsairs?” asked Clitus.
“Yes,” I said, returning the glass to Aktis.
“We are betrayed,” said Clitus.
“I do not think so,” I said. “I think the fleet, over the past few days, has been perusing nearby settlements, for it would have been supposed we would not be far from Sybaris. The Cove of Harpalos would be on any list of nearby suspect ports.”
“Your orders, Captain,” said Clitus.
“Break camp, strike tents, extinguish fires, gather the men, get the Dorna and Tesephone into the water, masts and sails down. We take our leave, quietly, not easily seen, flat in the water.”
Surely it would be unwise to risk being trapped in port, blockaded by superior forces.
Clitus scrambled down the rocky slope, toward the inlet. I could see Thurnock, looking up, standing on the beach below.
“Is there time?” asked Aktis.
“Yes,” I said.
“We could flee inland,” said Aktis. “I can speak in ways the villages can understand.”
“I am counting on that, later, but not now,” I said. The caste of Peasants, usually ensconced in remote, isolated settlements, tends to be wary and suspicious of other castes, commonly suspecting them of an impressive variety of ill doings, ranging from subtle deceit to outright chicanery, particularly in the spheres of fraudulent bookkeeping and dishonest weights. I always found this ironic as the average peasant, like the average Tuchuk, is commonly a bargainer whose sense of business shrewdness is not far removed from that of a practiced, marauding pirate. On the other hand, interestingly, a peasant is likely to trust another peasant, even from a remote village. That has something to do with the codes.
“I fear there is little time,” said Aktis. “May I hurry to my oar?”
“We will soon be at sea,” I said.
“I trust so,” said Aktis.
“Are you not curious as to our destination?” I asked.
“If we do not soon depart,” said Aktis, “I fear any destination will be unreached.”
“Nicosia,” I said.
“You have planned that?” said Aktis.
“For days,” I said, “should I hear that woe has befallen the inn of Kahlir.”
“Why Nicosia?” asked Aktis.
“For four reasons,” I said. “First, given its desolation and destruction, I do not think they will look for us there, certainly not soon. This will give us days to plan and prepare. Second, it is far, but not too far. It lies within range of the corsair fleet. Third, I have at hand a guide who knows its land. His name is Aktis. It is easy to conceal oneself within, and strike from, familiar terrain. Fourth, and lastly, I am curious as to an island which seemed to appear from nowhere, shortly after which we came upon a seeming wreck, patent bait in a trap well laid at sea.”
“What will we do in Nicosia?” inquired Aktis.
“Mount rams and shearing blades,” I said.
“It seems you contemplate war,” said Aktis.
“Cover your quiver and keep your bowstring dry,” I said.
“I am truly eager to return to my oar,” said Aktis.
“Do not permit me to detain you,” I said.
Aktis turned about, and began, running, half sliding, to descend the slope.
“Oarsman!” I called after him.
He turned about, wildly, several yards down the slope, slipping.
“Captain?” he cried, catching his balance.
“You did well in sounding the alarm,” I said. “Perhaps now you would care to join me, in quaffing a celebratory goblet of paga?”
He howled with misery, turned about, and, half falling, continued to make his way down the slope.
I smiled, and lifted the glass of the Builders. Yes, there was time, but not really, I surmised, enough for a cup of paga.
I must remember to tell Thurnock my joke.
He would think it rich, laughing like thunder, though I was not at all that sure of it myself. But sometimes it is hard to resist such things.
I considered the rhythm of the oars in the corsair fleet. It was steady, but unhurried. Presumably they had been searching for some time. I do not think they had any clear expectation of finding us in the Cove of Harpalos, no more than in any other place, not yet examined.
The Dorna and Tesephone were already in the water.
Chapter Nine
A Conversation Takes Place, Amongst Three Friends
“The raiders,” said Thurnock, “have been quiescent.”
“They have been active,” I said, “but not in the business of looting and death.”
I moved aside to let a metal worker pass, coils of chain looped about his shoulder.
“They have been searching for Kenneth Statercounter,” said Clitus.
“I had hoped it would be so,” I said. “That would give us time to gather further intelligence.”
“An endeavor in which we have not been muchly successful,” said Thurnock.
“We know much, but not enough,” I said.
We passed a stall where a confectioner, a subclass of the Bakers, was vending tastas.
“Let them search forever,” said Clitus. “Each day they search is a day free of blood and fire.”
“I think that they, by now, will be muchly done with their inquiries,” I said. “I fear any moment may mark a renewal of depredations.”
“Would that they divide their ships, to speed and widen their search,” said Clitus.
“I do not think they will do so,” I said. “They would lose the advantage of numbers. A single vessel, and perhaps even two, would be unlikely to engage the Dorna and Tesephone.”
“It is crowded today in Sybaris,” said Clitus. “Perhaps it is a holiday.”
“I do not think so,” I said. “I think it is generally like this.”
“The nights, too, are busy,” said Thurnock.
We continued to press through the crowd, occasionally remaining in place, or going to the side.
“There are hundreds of villages on the Farther Islands,” said Thurnock. “How can one know where the raiders will strike next?”
“And,” said Clitus, “even if we knew, what could we do?”
“Warn the village,” I said.
“It is hopeless,” said Thurnock.
“Not as hopeless as it might seem,” I said. “The raiders need the sea. It is their avenue of escape and their route to markets. Thus, unwilling to be long separated from their ships, I do not think they would care to venture more than a few pasangs inland. Thus we must think of villages on or near the coast.”
“How many such villages are there?” asked Thurnock. “You consult maps.”
“Perhaps two hundred,” I said. “Much depends on how far the riders are willing to expend resources.”
“Many villages,” said Clitus, “are situated on or near the coast, or on rivers leading to the coast.”
“It is hopeless,” said Thurnock.
“Not completely,” I said. “Few attacks have taken place on Thera herself. Let us thus, in our speculations, eliminate Thera.”
“Too, an attack on Thera might reflect adversely on the governor, Archelaos,” said Clitus.
“I think that is highly likely,” I said.
“So,” said Thurnock, “if we put aside Thera, how many plausible villages are left, on Chios and Daphna?”
“Something like a hundred and twenty,” I said.
“It is obviously hopeless,” said Thurnock.
“Possibly, but not necessarily,” I said. “There is something in the nature of a pattern here. Attacks are less frequent on Thera than on Chios and Daphna, and, for the most part, though there are exceptions, attacks alternate between Chios and Daphna. The last attack was on Nicosia, on Chios. Thus, I would expect the next to be on Daphna.”
“That narrows things down muchly,” said Thurnock, eyes blazing.
“How many villages do we now speak of?” asked Clitus.
“By my count, given the map, and limiting myself to villages within ten pasangs of the coast,” I said, “sixty-three.”
“It is more hopeless than ever,” groaned Thurnock.
“Hopeless perhaps, but not more hopeless than ever,” I said.
“Yet,” said Thurnock, “someone here in Sybaris knows where they intend to strike next.”
“Perhaps several,” I said.
