by David Bell
Namun hauled himself out of the water onto a flat slab of rock and stood for a while shaking himself dry while he looked for a way through the bushes and up the cliffs. Along one level below overhanging crags the cliff face was a mass of caves, nearly all with straight sides, like doorways. At last he spotted what he thought would be the easiest way up, past the end of the lines of caves, to a slope on the skyline which led to the top. One part was difficult, over piles of loose fallen rocks, some of which he sent bouncing down into the sea as he scrambled over them. Above this part he passed close to the open black mouth of one of the caves. He spent a few moments looking inside but did not go in. There was nothing to see but some broken pieces of pot like the ones they had in the village. He carried on to the top and stood there, letting the warm breeze dry the sweat off him as he looked out to sea. The sun was up and the light was good. The blue ocean spread away to the horizon, so far off that he felt he was looking at the other side of the world. But he could see land, the smallest dark speck out there where the sun would lead them. He whistled as hard as he could and waved at the ship that looked so small down there, afloat on the calm waters of the cove.
Elated by his sighting, he half fell, half ran down the slope, dived from the flat rock slab and thrashed his way through the clear blue water back to the ship. Potyr questioned him closely. Was he certain? Yes. Was it real land and not the kind that looked like land but always stayed far off no matter how you far you sailed to close on it? Real land; he was certain. Where away? Namun flung out his arm. Potyr gave the order to up anchor and raise the sail. They would follow the sun.
Namun told Sharesh about the caves. He had never before seen so many in caves in one cliff face, and they were empty, or at least the one he passed on his way to the top was empty. Somebody must have been there because of the broken pots but there was nothing else.
“All full of dead people,” said Luzar. “In Old Time people put dead in the ground in caves. I have seen the places, sacred places, where priests go.”
Namun felt his flesh creep. Always dead people, wherever you go. They were there near the village, under the mounds with the little doorways that Tessias had pointed out on their way up the path last night and, not long ago, he had been on the point of blundering into one of their tombs.
“Let’s move over there and sit in the sun,” he said to Sharesh. “It’s cold here.”
They made landfall at dusk and the lookout saw the opening of a wide bay broad on the starboard bow and not far off, but Potyr ordered a change of course to larboard that took the ship at slow speed along the coast. There had been enough excitement for one day and this coast was sheltered, should the wind get up again. It stayed calm throughout the night and when the sun rose again the Davina kept on, leaving a land of grey cliffs and green mountains in its wake and making for a speck of white on the horizon. In the early afternoon she dropped anchor in a small bay alive with squealing seabirds that swooped across the waves or dived headlong into them. If the sea and the air were full of life, the island was not. It was a dry, barren place of sand and white rock with stunted shrubs crouching in hollows and crevices and thin sere grasses dead from lack of rain. It would serve Potyr’s purpose: a haven for the crew to rest and regain their strength. They were left free to go ashore if they wished. There should be no danger. This was not a place where people lived, or ships called in for water. There was none to be had. The Leptos brothers were already at work, one with a net and the other searching the shallows for seashells. Sharesh and Namun stood at the foot of the cliffs, looking upwards and trying to decide which ledges might be reached and how many eggs might be found.
Kanesh rested his forearms on the stem post’s top and looked towards the shore where the cooking fire was burning low. Sparks rose from it as someone threw on another branch and the faint crackling of flames dancing on the dry, salty wood came across the still waters of the cove.
“A calm, clear night, Captain,” he said quietly. “Always a good time for thinking.”
Potyr was scanning the sky. He watched a thin streak of light slide across the stars and die away.
“No wind, not a ripple on the sea. The moon might have its twin down there in the water, it is so clear.”
“The Hunter has gone ahead of us,” said Potyr. “By my reckoning we are near halfway between the time when the night is as long as the day and the day when the sun stands longest in the sky.”
“I know what you are thinking. Time is passing and we have yet to sight the shores of Sapanim.”
“Sapanim lies ahead of us, I am sure, but how far ahead, I am not sure.”
“The boys told me that when they found the birds’ eggs at the top of those cliffs, they saw other birds flying this way, leaving the sun behind. It may be they had flown from Sapanim.”
“Or other islands over the horizon.”
“Islands that may lead the way?”
“We will sail on at dawn, trusting in the Lady Mother to lead us.”
“Or her birds, or even the Lord Potheidan, or should I say his horse?” Kanesh leaned over and slapped the horse head carving with his hand.
A burst of laughter came from the beach, The fire was burning brightly. A pipe began to play and soon a second joined in. A few dark figures rose up, linked hands and lurched about in a clumsy dance, circling the fire. They soon collapsed in a heap and more laughter rang out. When it died away, the pipes played on.
“We cannot turn back,” said Kanesh. “We both know that. When the longest day dawns, the sun will find our sail on the Endless Ocean.”
Potyr looked at him. “I never doubted it,” he said.
“Follow the sun, always follow the sun,” muttered Typhis to himself. “I’ll find myself still trying to do that on the way back if I’m not careful.” He looked back over his shoulder to make sure he had the sun dead astern. High above, lines of birds were flying over the Davina, heading to larboard. Potyr had seen them, too. He ordered Typhis to change course and follow the one taken by the birds.
Midday passed and the sun began his descent. The lookout stayed silent. The sea was empty, the horizon a straight sharp line. Mid-afternoon came and water was taken round. Potyr began to think another night at sea was ahead of them. He must take the height of the star as soon as it shone brightly enough. More time passed. Were they on course for Sapanim, or the Libun shore? There was no water there. He remembered Kanesh saying that.
“Land!” shouted the lookout on the bow. “Fine to starboard.”
The sun went down with a last burst of fiery light. Before it died away, Sharesh saw the land ahead quite clearly. He thought there was more land, another island, to larboard of the first. Then dusk closed in: time for him to stand down. When Namun came up Sharesh went aft to tell the captain what he had seen. It was a calm night and there was nothing else to do but keep on course and see what the morning might bring.
There was a big island with high hills, separated by a strait from one much smaller and almost flat. From off shore it looked as dry and rocky as the last place, and so it proved to be when the scouting party with Kanesh and Luzar went ashore. There was water, the men said, when they reported back to the Davina, but none that could be drunk. Past the dunes, not far inland there was a green lake and further on a lagoon with an opening to the sea. Both of them had water that was only knee-deep and both were salty. There was a big mound near the lagoon, with a doorway made of stone. They had not gone near it because they thought it might be a sacred place, but the lord had gone in and when he came out he said there was nothing there but broken bits of pots. There was nobody there, or anywhere else they looked. They had never seen so many birds, on the sea and flying about. The lake and the lagoon were nearly covered with them. The lord and Luzar had stayed onshore. They said they were going to the other end of the island where it was a bit more hilly so there was a better chance of finding some water. They would wait there for the ship to come round. They said to tell the captain he would find a go
od, sheltered anchorage.
A rampart of high cliffs frayed into points and coves faced out to sea. One inlet, wider than the rest, offered the only anchorage and the Davina was slowly and gingerly eased in, with oars on each side fending her off the rocky walls. When the time came she would have to be moved out stern first, but inside the cove the water was dead calm. A line of rough steps, each chipped out of solid rock, slanted from the cliff top down to a narrow platform near sea level. A landing party with Sharesh at the head was sent up to search for Kanesh and Luzar.
They had to climb over boulders and slabs of rock piled up to form a wall that ran along the cliff edge. On the other side they found many houses, some large and boat-shaped but most small and round, all with roofs of branches covered with dry turf and flat stones. Set away from the houses were some animal enclosures like roofless round hovels. No animal bleated from its pen. No child ran out of a house to stare and squint at them. No dog came up snarling, or fawning. No curl of smoke rose from a roof. No smell of bread baking on the hearth wafted from a doorway. The only sounds came from their own hushed voices and the wind sighing through the dead grass on the broken roofs.
They went from house to house. Dust blown from the thin red soil that scarcely covered the dry rocks outside lay over everything: cold hearths, broken dishes and beakers, a blackened stone lamp, a cage of woven twigs where a bird once fluttered and sang, a flat brown dish half-filled with brittle fish bones and empty sea shells. At one end of the settlement beside the encircling wall they found the place where a smith had worked: fragments of fire-hardened clay and broken crucibles, scattered heaps of charcoal and slag speckled green where the copper still hid. They looked for tools but found nothing except a hammer for crushing stone. Kanesh and Luzar appeared on the other side of the wall.
“Where is everybody?” said Sharesh.
“Gone,” said Kanesh. “When? Not so long ago; two, three summers, perhaps. Where? Who knows?”
“Were they attacked, taken off as slaves, raided by pirates?”
“Come with me,” said Kanesh.
Near a clump of dead tamarisk were some low mounds of earth covered with spikes of dry grass. Each mound had an opening lined with stone that faced towards the rising sun. Large flat slabs of stone that had once closed the openings lay scattered on the ground.
“This is where they buried their dead,” said Kanesh. “There is no use looking inside. The grave robbers have left nothing of any value.”
A little further on the ground fell away towards a dry watercourse that led down to the sea. Part of the valley side had been dug back to the bare rock, leaving a flat space on which a stone wall had been built to form a large deep cistern. When they reached it and looked inside they found it half filled with red sand. The skull of a goat bleached as white as ivory lay near the wall among its other scattered bones.
“Here you have the reason why the people abandoned their village,” said Kanesh. “The winter rains filled it and when the summer came, the spring was enough to meet their needs if they covered it with branches to keep off the sun. If the rains failed one year, they might just survive, but not their animals. If the drought lasted two years, the spring would fail and they could live here no longer.”
“And now there is no water for us,” said Sharesh. “Let us hope we find water in Sapanim.”
***
Typhis knew what his orders would be, once the Davina had been eased from her narrow berth. But out at sea a dry wind blew strong from starboard and following the sun was easier said that done. Mid morning came and Potyr ordered half sail and trimmed to take the wind and the Davina leaped forward like an eager hound. The first sight of land came with the sun halfway down the sky, a small dark speck on the horizon that grew and lengthened to each side as the Davina drove on towards it. In the final light of day it seemed to spread out great dark arms to gather them in, ship and crew. Potyr knew that when the sun rose again they would be off the shores of Sapanim. He gave thanks to the Lady Mother of Oceans and measured the height of the star standing high above off the starboard beam.
Brown mountain peaks rose above flat banks of haze that hid the shore. Potyr changed course to larboard and with the sail half-furled and the oars working no more than was enough to give her steerage way, the Davina coasted along outside the mist while the lookouts peered into it for any glimpse of land. It was close to midday before the vague outline of a low headland could be made out, fine on the starboard bow.
“Double the lookout; slow ahead; take us in close as you can,” said Potyr. Typhis cautiously swung the tiller to starboard.
“Waves breaking, dead ahead!” sang out Namun from the bow. “Stop oars. Paddle back. Hold her clear,” said Potyr.
The Davina slowed to a stop and lay rocking gently with the oars holding her steady about two ship lengths away from the wave-washed rocks of a low jagged point of land. Potyr went forward to look for himself. A line of sand dunes stretched far away from the point until they were lost in the haze. To landward of this long strip of sand that in places was barely a ship length wide, lay the still blue waters of a great lagoon, its far shore hidden in the haze. Seabirds flew low over the surface or stalked through the shallows, long beaks jabbing for prey. Potyr had seen enough and went back to the stern deck.
“This is no place for us,” he said to Kanesh. “Barren rock, sand dunes and salt lakes. This could be the Libun shore.”
“Very like,” said Kanesh, “yet, if I recall it right, the Libun shore lies along the track followed by the sun and this shore runs across it.”
“Then we will follow it. Helmsman, set us back on course.”
For the rest of the day and the night that followed and all through the next day, the Davina followed the shore, closing in when the mist cleared as the sun rose, and standing out before dawn when it gathered again. Not once did the lookouts sight the flash of water or the patch of green onshore that would be a sign of it. Yellow beaches, brown rocky cliffs and scrub-patched hills seamed with dry ravines were all they saw. The sun was sinking behind the peaks of distant arid mountains as the Davina rounded a cape and dropped anchor in the calm waters of a sheltered bay.
“Lord Potheidan, what sort of a land is this,” said Kerma. “Dry as a dead mule’s arse, drier even than the last place; when are we ever going to find water again?”
“The skipper’s let the lads have enough to boil the fish Leptos, I mean both of them, caught,” said Mirtias. “Come on, it ought to be ready now.”
“I only hope I can get some down before I fall asleep. All I want to do is stretch out on that sand and dream of rainstorms.”
“And that widow in Alefisia,” laughed the rigger.
“Too tired, even for that, mate. But not for this.” He picked the rigger up and threw him overboard.
When he saw the fire on the beach had died down and all was quiet, Potyr let fall a copper ring into the sea and gazed up at the great apricot-coloured moon. He made the gesture of supplication and prayed to the Lady Mother of Mountains and Streams that they would find water soon.
“We are all here now,” said Potyr. “The others should hear what you have told me.”
“The man in Gubal who told Merida about the Kinaani ship that sailed for the Tin Islands spoke of a trading post in Sapanim where he jumped ship. He said it was near the mouth of a dry river in a bay where the sun rose over a cape.”
“Could be anywhere on this coast,” said Typhis. “We’ve seen plenty of dry rivers and capes in the past few days.”
“He said two other interesting things. He was told of a lost city of the dead and at night he could smell the Deshret of Libun two days’ sail away.”
“Two days’ sail,” scoffed the Captain of Archers. “How could he know that? You did say he was a drunk, didn’t you?”
“I did. But remember, even for a drunk the smell of a place brings back the memory of it more sharply than sight or sound or taste.”
“Yes, but two days’ sail
: are you asking me to believe that a man can gauge distance by smell?”
“A seaman can,” said Potyr mildly.
Kanesh laughed. “Captain, your eye can gauge to a whisker the distance to the mark your shaft must reach. Our drunk had made the passage to the Libun shore year after year. I have no doubt he could smell how far away it was. I was there many years ago. It is a smell not easily forgotten.”
“Do you smell it now?”
“No. The air is too still and thick. If the Deshret wind comes to clear it, then I will tell you.”
“What was that he said about a lost city of the dead?”
“Perhaps that was the wine talking,” said Kanesh.
“Well,” said Typhis, “if that’s all settled, what do we now?”
“Now that the sun has risen over that cape we rounded last night,” said Potyr, “we follow the coast and look for a dry river.”
There must have been a time when the river flowed full because banks of sand and shingle were still visible offshore where floods had once poured into the bay. Now, the riverbed as far as they could see was choked with gravel and boulders and as dry as the parched and treeless slopes of the valley through which it wound its course. They searched for signs of the trading post but found nothing. A flight of birds swept over their heads, shrieking alarm calls.
“Something’s scared them,” said Kerma, shading his eyes to look upriver.
“It cannot have been Luzar,” said Kanesh. “Birds would not have known he was passing by. He will have seen what it was but he has other things to do. Captain, take your scouts upstream as far as the first bend. We will take this side and meet you near those crags when you come back down. Namun, go to the beach and signal the ship we are going inland. Then follow us.”
It was hard going up the steep slope in the midday sun but when they reached the ledge at the foot of the crags the haze had thinned and there was a fine view across the bay and along the valley where anything that moved was bound to be seen.
