by David Bell
“She may wake after sunset, pilot,” said Kanesh. “Ladies of the Palace often leave their rising until then. I will wait here in the garden. The Davina sails at midnight for Kallista.”
“I am Luzar.”
“Pilot is a title of honour signifying one who knows a great mystery. Accept it with pride. There are very few who can guide a ship safely to Pherethan.”
“Midnight, you say.”
“Midnight.” Kanesh leaned back on the bench under the almond trees and closed his eyes.
He was aware of her approaching and looking down at him before he opened his eyes again but he let her stand there a little longer until she spoke. Her perfume was sweeter than the scent of flowers at evening.
“Why are you here, Lord Kanesh?”
“My lady,” he said, rising to his feet and giving her a polite bow. “I could say that I wished to walk in your almond grove again, perhaps for the last time, and see whether you had followed my suggestion for protecting the health of your trees. Judging from the heaviness of the crop, I think you may have done.”
“More pretty words, Lord Kanesh and I will not gainsay them but now, sir, recite your real reason for giving me the pleasure of your presence.”
“Presence, yes; how effortlessly you spy into my thoughts and unerringly seize upon the very word I was about to utter. I stood in the Presence not so many moons ago and told of the death and destruction on Jaduktas. It was made plain to me then that there was more than one presence before me, although only one that spoke. You take my meaning?”
Her almond eyes continued to regard him but Pasipha kept silent.
“I see that you do. I know the priestess of Eileitheiya was summoned to the Presence. Is there more that I should know?”
Her brows lifted and her lips parted into a smile suggesting slight amusement at the presumption of such a question. But her breast, he saw, was rising and falling a little too quickly for one who was completely calm and sure of what she should reply. They watched each other in silence until at last he said, “Your silence convinces me that something of the greatest importance has happened. Sekara has his spies everywhere in the Palace. Be assured it will not be long before he discovers what it is you hesitate to tell me and when he does it will be too late for you, for us, to frustrate his plans.”
The smile left her face and the tone of her voice when she replied was low, almost flat, of a kind he had not heard from her before.
“You were there when the Consort breathed his last tortured breath. I was there when the life of the High Priestess, his sister, flowed out from her wounded body. That Presence we both knew and I served is no more.”
“And the other presence, what of that? Though a woman die her child may survive.”
“There is no child, or nothing that may be called a child. There is a being that must be kept confined, seeing no one and seen by none. There is no High Priestess. There is nothing.”
He was shocked by her haggard look and the near despair in her voice. He took her hands in his.
“Look at me. There must be a High Priestess and there is a High Priestess whom the people will revere.”
Her face changed. She gave him a sharp, incredulous look. Before she could speak the name he knew was on her lips, he pressed her hands between his and said:
“The Priestess of Jaduktas, wise, pious, devoted to the belief and follower of the ancient pathway, as all know. Who better to serve than she?”
“What you say is true. I was once, if you can believe it,” said Pasipha. “An acolyte to the Lady Mother under the instruction of the Priestess, as was the Lady Akusha. That, too, I am sure you know. Our lives took different directions, mine becoming rather less confined in its pursuits than hers, yet, strangely, we seem to be drawn to each other from time to time. Why, I cannot think,” she added, innocently. “But the Priestess,” she went on, doubtfully. “Is old and infirm and stricken by the loss and ruin on Jaduktas. Has she the strength for such a duty?”
“Through duty she will find the strength demanded of her. She would, at least for a while, ensure what her predecessor constantly sought: continuity. She is of that kind, I am told.”
“I can imagine who told you,” said Pasipha. “Lady Akusha devoted herself to the rites on Jaduktas while you and her son were on the high seas. Does she also have in mind a successor for the High Priestess at the shrine on Jaduktas?”
“Contain your disappointment when I say it is not yourself.” Pasipha came close to giggling at this shaft. “There is an acolyte there, Seftria by name, one of the Chosen Children in her time, who knows the ways of the sanctuary.”
“Seftria,” said Pasipha slowly as if searching her memory. “Seftria, yes, a gifted dancer as I recall. I had some part in teaching her the steps. It is sad to think she must leave the delights of dancing in her past when she assumes her greater responsibilities on Jaduktas. Then again, perhaps it need not be so. The rites do not forbid dancing; indeed it is not so long ago that dancing was at the very heart of their celebration.”
“May I take it that we have forged a pact?”
“You may, Lord Kanesh, but you are not in a position to ensure its acceptance.”
“Who, then?”
“Why, myself, of course. My husband will see to it. He is, after all, Commander and hence superior to Lord Sekara.”
Kanesh suppressed a smile. All had fallen into place as he had hoped.
“As you say, my lady. How could I have thought otherwise? I can now return to Kallista with news that will gladden the heart of Lord Koreta.”
“Koreta? That old fox and most charming man: we knew each other well, you know, very well in fact, when we were both somewhat younger.”
Kanesh looked into the almond eyes that held the light of the moon and so many secrets and surprises.
“Why do you keep hold of my hands, my Lord?” she said softly. “Must you go so soon? Midnight is yet some time away and hard riding, I know, is one of your many skills.”
Though it was summer and the night had been warm, snow had fallen over Korus, and the blue seas about the island had turned cloudy where the pale grey flakes had settled in the water. Morning haze over the Lagoon was unusually dense. The Governor must be told of this strange happening. Sharesh woke Kallia and told her to run, run faster than she had ever done before.
Koreta took in what she said and in a voice that betrayed none of the puzzlement and disquiet that he felt, thanked her and told her to return to Lagoon House and resume her watch. Alaron would come too and he and Sharesh would take boat to Korus and bring back some of the snow, if any still existed, for him to see. When she had left, he asked again whether sails that might be those of ships from Kallista had been sighted and again Apigoron said the lookouts had reported nothing so far. Koreta gave orders that he was to be told immediately the first sail was seen, then settled himself to wait until Sharesh and Alaron brought him their harvest from the island in the Lagoon.
They paddled cautiously through the haze that hung like a gauzy shroud over Korus and spread across the waters of the Lagoon. The air had a dry acrid smell and the grey waves swirled sluggishly at the stroke of the paddle blades. Bedraggled feathered corpses turned, lifted and sank back in the ripples that spread across water as thick as curdled milk. There was no sound but the harsh hiss of their laboured breath. They had no need to press inland once they had reached the shore. They scraped what they came for from the narrow beach, filled the box they had brought and fled the place as fast as they could force paddle through wave.
Koreta looked carefully into the box, sniffing the faintly sour smell it gave off. It was filled with tiny pale grey grains smaller than sesame seed, some with sparkling points where the light struck, some pale yellow like saffron and others black and glossy. Dry to the touch, it was curiously soft yet gritty when rubbed between the fingers.
“It covers the whole of Korus, you say?”
“Everywhere we could see, my Lord, very thinly, like a veil
,” said Sharesh.
“And in the water round about,” said Alaron. “Clouding it like when you stir up mud.”
“Not snow, of course,” said Koreta. “Although looking like it from afar; sand perhaps, with a little white and yellow dust such as falls from the pumice stone when the carpenter smoothes his plank.”
“I remember the storms of yellow sand coming from the Deshret beyond the Libun shore,” said Sharesh. “This could have been borne on some such wind.”
The three men stood silent, looking from face to face. Each knew there had been no wind that summer night.
Apigoron entered the room, a smile on his usually impassive face.
“Sails, my Lord, four sails sighted a little before dusk fell; one some distance in the lead and all coming from the direction of Keftiu.”
KORUS AWAKES
“Look at him,” said Kerma to the rigger. They were standing at the sheets ready to furl sail at Typhis’s order as the Davina closed on the coast of Kallista. “He’s seen something.”
“More like he’s smelled it. Look at his nose up in the air, sniffing like a dog catching the scent.”
Kanesh was also watching Luzar from the stern deck. The sun was up, beginning to melt away the morning haze and sending its light dancing across the wave tops. One side of Luzar’s face was in shadow, the other tinged red gold in the sun’s fresh glow. He stood intensely still and silent, his lips slightly parted, but Kanesh could tell that his every sense was alert as if he were feeling something he had felt before, something that disquieted him. Luzar turned and looked directly into Kanesh’s eyes. Kanesh edged his way past the oarsmen and climbed up to the bow deck. The ship was now close enough in for him to make out the dark patches of windows in the close packed mass of houses rising up the slope away from the harbour mouth. Luzar was looking higher, past the town towards the skyline. He turned back to Kanesh.
“This land burns,” he said.
“I do not see smoke.”
“Burning under ground, under sea,” said Luzar.
“I know,” said Kanesh. “I have felt its heat.”
“Fire climbs; always climbs.”
When the ship tied up Alaron was waiting on the jetty with a request from the Governor that the Captain and Lord Kanesh attend him at the Residence as soon as possible. They were surprised to find Koreta not seated in his usual chair but standing with Dareka and Sharesh beside a table covered with clay tablets marked with what to Kanesh looked like lists of stores. Koreta greeted them warmly then invited Sharesh to speak. Kanesh and Potyr listened intently as Sharesh recounted what he and Alaron had found when they went to investigate the false snow covering of Korus. Koreta showed them the box containing the speckled grey powder they had brought back from the island in the Lagoon. Kanesh looked at Potyr.
“The mountain near the island of the bronzesmiths,” he said. “The one Sharesh said had the shape of the sacred horns: you recall what the women said?”
“They heard the same great noise we heard that night after we left the Pelos cape astern; greater by far than any thunderclap, they said and it was a warning…”
“A sign of the storm to come that rose out of their mountain. It rolled down in great clouds of dust that turned to warm mud when the rains fell.
“And the sand in this box is very like some we saw on that mountain,” said Potyr.
“You are saying there is such a storm to come here, on Kallista,” said Koreta. “But when will that be?”
“We cannot say but neither can we wait,” said Kanesh forcefully. “Consider these things: there has been the earth-shaking, fire in the ocean off the far shores of Kallista, as seen by the fisherman here, newly risen hills and livid open scars on Korus with the sea boiling like a pot on the hearth and foul air that scorched our throats. Korus itself rises up bigger, and now this: the earth heated to powder and blown across the Lagoon. Are these not signs enough?”
“Enough, my friend,” said Koreta quietly. “To convince me that we should prepare our ships without further delay. With the four that arrived this morning we now have nine seagoing vessels in harbour, five already cleared of inessentials to provide room for passengers. The others, including yours, Captain, must be readied likewise before the day is out. There are also many smaller boats that can be put to use. As to provisioning, what would you say to ten days water, barley loaves, milled grain in watertight containers, dried fish, beans, olives, salt and oil?”
The others nodded approval. Koreta went on.
“There will be little room for more. The people may bring enough clothing, bedding, baskets for the very young, tools and weapons, valuables, cooking pots and kitchen ware but no large storage jars or furniture; perhaps coops for fowl that can be secured on deck, and the like. The skippers will decide what more may be had, but for sure there will be little room for animals.”
“They could be shipped over to Tholos within a day and the vessel back by nightfall,” said Dareka.
“Better sent to Pathera,” said Potyr. “Some men from Kallista have kin there and have had leave to run goats on its hills for many years. It is hardly farther away than Tholos and it is bigger and has water.”
“And unlike Tholos, would need no armed guards, only one or two herdsmen and boys,” put in Kanesh. “So, follow the star to Pathera, eh, Captain?”
“Ten days’ supplies is ample for the crossing to Telchina,” said Potyr.
“Some may prefer to go there,” agreed Koreta. “And I would not argue against them if they have kin in that land. However, I should advise all to make for Keftiu. I still may have some influence there,” he added with a wry smile. “After all, we may not stay long. When the storm is past, we shall wish to return here and continue our work of rebuilding. And who knows, it may never strike: dark clouds do not always bring rain.”
“When will the people be told to come to the ships, my Lord?” said Dareka. “I have kept my ears open in the harbour and in the streets and there are many strange rumours being spread. We are not the only ones who know of the grey covering of Korus or the boiling water and dead fish in the Lagoon. Many still complain of the bad air and say their children’s eyes are sore and they cough and suffer. The townspeople are waiting to be told, nor should we forget those who live in other places on Kallista. One further matter concerns me: the prisoners. Some will be of help but others may be difficult.”
“You remind us of important concerns, master Dareka. The Town Guardian, Dorejo, has been drilling his men and they will spread the word across Kallista that all are to assemble at the Residence where Lord Kanesh and myself will address the people. He needs to be told about the transport of the flocks. Please see to that. The Lady Akusha is privy to the plans and her word will have great sway with the womenfolk. As to the prisoners, I know that Lord Kanesh and certain chosen men have plans to deal with them should the occasion arise. However, I am sure all here know that to prepare ships is a simple task compared with that of convincing people they must leave their homes and take passage in those ships. What might convince them, and make our task that much easier, would be another sign that all would recognise as indisputable.”
“You are Luzar, Victor of the Games,” said Kallia.
“Pilot,” said Luzar. “I am Pilot.”
“Luzar with the tattooed face, hair the colour of copper and eyes the colour of wine. Luzar of Pherethan: I have been told of you.”
“Pilot and Luzar of Crakluz. Kallia: he told of you. Kallia the beautiful, he said.”
“Did he speak true?”
“True. Yes.”
“Why do you look at me like that?”
“He did not say how beautiful but I see now.”
“Come into the house, Luzar. I know of a cool quiet room where we may talk and you can tell me of Pherethan and of your sister.”
“Ariadana.”
“Yes, Ariadana, who is so like you, but not with tattooed face. Afterwards I will come with you to look for what you came here to see.
”
“Luzar came to see Kallia the Beautiful.”
“We have time for that.”
“You shake when I touch.”
“I am afraid, a little afraid.”
“Not fear Luzar, you fear to think Ariadana.”
“Ariadana, yes, yes.”
“Think then, not fear. Luzar is Ariadana. Look, feel Ariadana.” Her trembling stopped and she was no longer afraid.
It was mid-afternoon when they walked out onto the terrace from where they could see the whole of the Lagoon. Kallia stared at Korus as she had stared so many times during the past days. She could see no new change save that the grey-white dusting had almost disappeared, wafted away by the wind, perhaps. She turned to speak to Luzar and found that he was looking, not at Korus but along the clifftop where it sloped away towards a lower grassy part where a herd of goats, or sheep – she was unsure which at that distance – were grazing under the eyes of a boy and his dog. She saw Luzar’s back and shoulders suddenly stiffen and felt his warm hand take hers. She felt the trembling again but this time it came from Luzar, she thought; then it seemed to come from under her feet. Luzar lifted his arm to point towards the grazing flock and the sound of a distant shout, frantic bleating and a dog’s barking came floating up the hill. The flock scattered, running madly in all directions and then, as one, rushed to the edge of the cliffs and leaped over, to fall silently, like the white petals of almond blossom drifting down, onto the rocks below.
Luzar released Kallia’s hand and ran, faster by far than the last time, towards the town.
The cup-bearer was sitting up on the bed when he saw Kallia fly past the open window. He hesitated for a moment and then decided to leave telling the Lady Tuwea about her companion’s sudden departure and the interesting stranger on the terrace until she awoke.
Apigoron was touching flame to the wick of the first oil lamp against the fading light when Kallia burst into the room and gasped out her news of the earth trembling beneath her feet and the death plunge of the terror-stricken flock. The tense silence that followed her words was broken at last by Koreta.
