by Philip Hamm
There was a centipede, three metres long, clipping an ornamental hedge outside the large octagonal gazebo that sheltered the lift-shaft from the nightly rains. It was using its formidable mandibles to delicately remove stray leaves and twigs and place them a wicker trug by its multitude of feet. Fengtai paused to bow to the gardener and the centipede dipped his antennae in return. The boys hid behind the big Penti.
As they were going down in the lift, Fratris asked, “Why do you always bow to the Lithobians?”
“I fought beside their king on the planet Larret; we struggled together to over-come a latrodectus-spider. It was an epic fight and I bow to his kinfolk to honour my comrade.”
“They frighten me,” said Crotal. “Nothing that big should have so many legs.”
“You would have liked the latrodectus even less; fewer legs but even bigger.”
Fratris said, “You’ve fought against mantids too, haven’t you?”
“Three times: I was with the Kyzyl Kum on the planet Sarillon when I first encountered them, then planet Esperus with the Sagan warrior, Mysellius, and again on Larret after we had defeated the spider.”
“Which was worse, the spider or the insects?”
“The mantids were faster and there was always more of them.”
They stepped out of the lift and into the enormous refectory that stretched across the whole width and breadth of the academy’s island. The four walls, twenty-metres high, showed the view beneath the surface of the canals, a world of ultra-alien fish and beasts with kaleidoscope eyes. Across the floor of the room there were hundreds of tables and chairs and even though it was lunchtime, with hundreds of students and lecturers present, it never looked crowded.
The three companions walked over to one of the many booths and looked at the long list of the menu. Crotal chose a heavily spiced dish of meat in a thick cream gravy in the Saronese style; Fratris wanted chicken with pasta and Fengtai always asked for rice and fish with a sauce that Fratris said smelt like his armpit. Because they were students, their meals were free. When they had their food, they sat down at a table near the closest wall and while they ate, they watched a six-legged otter chase after a shoal of multi-coloured fish.
The boys loved to hear Fengtai’s stories and when they had finished eating, they pressed him to tell them more about his fights with the mantids. He was never boastful but he took pride in being able to say he had killed his share and defended his Shogun without losing his nerve. “And there were plenty of times I would have liked to just run away,” he added. “Pray you never have to fight in a battle – it’s not as much fun as it sounds. Though we were victorious, I saw good comrades die and the memory still haunts me at night.”
The boys were quiet for a moment. Crotal understood what it was like to lose friends and family; he had witnessed their deaths in his palace on a Granadilla. Fratris had lost his father to war. But that didn’t stop them admiring Fengtai and wishing they had seen him fight.
“It must be difficult,” said Fratris. “To go from being a great warrior to sitting with us, doing nothing but talking and listening to the Professor...?”
Fengtai shrugged, “Ignorance is an enemy too. But I admit, she uses many words that I don’t understand and I keep forgetting the little details.”
“I’m sure the Professor won’t mind if you ask more questions,” said Crotal, who was also struggling with Faam’s vocabulary. “That is her role after all.”
“She is a good teacher,” Fengtai agreed. “But if I ask too many, I will have forgotten where we are in her story and she’ll have to start again.”
They stayed in the refectory for the rest of the hour, talking about what they had seen and heard. When it was time to go back to the lawn and continue their lesson, they took their empty plates and trays to the booth and headed towards the lift.
*
The University of Panadawn had been in existence for less than two years and the first cohort of students was yet to finish their degrees. But as Panadawn spread its influence across the Third Sphere of Evigone, more and more people were joining. With the exceptions of Ulupan and Rickoby (and even the latter sent representatives anonymously), there were now students from every empire mixing together.
The university had a simple ethos; knowledge should be for everyone. Unlike the Cissoid Corindon, which had been exclusive to women, or the colleges of Rhyton that were for men, or the University of Urbino that only took the rich from Zamut, Panadawn accepted people from any background, race or culture.
As Faam stretched her legs while she waited for Fengtai and the boys to return from lunch, she saw every colour of clothing being worn by the students sitting or playing on the lawn. There was the purple of Tun, the red of Zamut, orange for Xramarsis, gold for Xramaria, the plum colour of Penti, the dark blue of Saron, and even the light blue of Quill. And most of them were mixing together.
The teaching staff was equally diverse. There was a core from the Cissoid Corindon who had gladly accepted a job after the famous ship was destroyed but many others, like Fratris’s Uncle Frim, who had left their old institutions to become part of the new. There were also guest lecturers from other universities too; there were philosophers from Whekau, musicians from Veleta, poets from Parsing, architects from Foyer and even specialists in accounts and tax laws from Megaron. Where there was a gap in the human or quasi-human ranks, it was filled by Panadawn’s avatars, creations of its vast and mysterious Tower that did the thinking for the Empire.
The University of Rhyton sent batches of graduates to further their research among the books of the great library but most of the students had come to Panadawn with nothing more than certificates awarded by provincial schools and colleges. There was an entrance examination but anyone who failed was enrolled on an access course to bring them up to a basic level. Nobody was turned away.
All the courses were free but the students had to pay for their accommodation. The majority, including Fratris and his Uncle Frim, lived in the quadrangles on the other side of the government buildings, across the canals to where the waterfalls fell from the plain above. The richer ones rented apartments and the poorer ones lived in halls. Some, like Fengtai and Crotal, came to the university by train. Fengtai lived with the Shogun in the Palace of the Horseshoe Waterfalls, eighty kilometres away. Crotal lived in the Emperor’s Winter Palace with the women of his Secretariat. Other students travelled the five hundred kilometres from the cities on the rim of the plain outside the dome, where they had family working in the harbours or among the octagonal towers.
The courses ranged from degrees taking years to seminars lasting a few days. Most of the teaching took place on the floors below the refectory level but there were also lecture theatres in the great library at the front of the seat and in the senate building on the other side of the central avenue, opposite where Faam was waiting.
Students came to study the arts, architecture, the sciences, engineering, the history of Evigone’s civilisations and the different fields of communications; six academies but one mission: to bring people together to build a better future for Evigone.
There were also concerts, poetry, literature recitals and new exhibitions every week. Crotal loved music (he could play a number of instruments very well) and was always asking his guardians at the Winter Palace to take him to one of the large halls at the Academy of Arts to listen to the latest offering. Fratris liked the Ship Museum in the Academy of Engineering, with its holographic warships and models of yachts. Fengtai loved everything equally, from the dioramas of the palace complexes in the Academy of Architecture to the Globe Room in the Academy of Civilisations that showed all 338 worlds of the Third Sphere, each one in minute detail.
Many came to Panadawn just to marvel at the architecture and to visit the museums. Some of these visitors were obviously spies from the other empires, either looking for opportunities to undermine Panadawn’s security, and therefore its reputation, or for observing the content of the lectures. The Tun Empire ha
d a strong and prejudiced religious caste that came to look for evidence of heresy. Some of their more zealous members made speeches in the plaza at the foot of the steps to the Great Palace, denouncing Panadawn as a place of sin. But apart from ethical and religious concerns, there was nothing for the spies to report except seeing students getting along.
There were occasional disputes but they were usually dealt with by discussion rather than expulsion. Every empire had a history with its neighbours; Tun and Zamut, Zamut and Quill, Quill and Saron, Saron and Tun; they had all been at war with each other at one time or another. Some grievances went back centuries and it was impossible to avoid issues resurfacing during the debates and through daily contact with each other. There had been a fierce argument that had come to blows between students of Tun and Saron over who was the rightful owner of the planet Sagitta. And there were accusations of complicity with the Zarktek made against both Tun and Quill by Zamut. There had even been a petty dispute over poetry (whether Hiraethus in the Zamut Empire or Neanthe in Penti had the finer tradition) that had lasted for over a month.
Panadawn’s security-avatars always stepped in before anyone came to harm. Then the matter would be taken to the University’s senate and the students involved would have to answer to their peers. In the case of intractable problems, the belligerents would have to sign a promise to avoid contact if they couldn’t compromise. But most of the time, there was an apology and a handshake at the end.
Above everything, the students recognised the University of Panadawn was fostering a fresh start; whether it was on a personal level with courses unprejudiced by the past or generally between races who had once been enemies; everyone was expected to come with an open mind. In the Emperor’s opinion, people who studied together were less likely to fight each other later and after eighteen months, though there were still many issues to be resolved, nobody felt the academies were not doing their best to bring the kind of harmony that was still so absent across the distant constellation of Evigone.
*
Faam waited for Fengtai and the boys to settle down in their chairs again. Behind her, some of the other young men from the academy were playing a final round of whirlpool before they went back to their lectures. They had made a circle with their shirts, divided into two teams and one side was trying to get the ball (a boot) past the other and into the middle. It was a rough game and she didn’t entirely understand why people played it. ‘Fun’ didn’t seem to be a good enough reason to justify the bruises and the occasional broken bone.
But Fengtai was watching them with a look of longing. She had seen him play against her husband’s team of Sagan bodyguards and knew he was very good; his size gave him an obvious advantage but he was also quick and intuitive. When he threw the ball to another member of his team, he always seemed to find his target.
Taylia was one of the few women who also played with the men. She was fast and fearless and even Fengtai respected her skill. She had taken the baby to watch the game and Faam could hear her offering advice to the players, pointing with one arm with the child cradled in the other. Faam had no fears for her little boy’s safety; even holding him, Taylia could have kicked the life out of anyone offering harm.
Faam asked the boys, “Did you enjoy your lunch?”
They were not good at small-talk and just nodded. They could ask questions about their lessons because Faam had made it clear this was expected of them but when it came to the ordinary stuff of their lives, they became shy and wouldn’t speak.
“We were wondering if there’s going to be a test on the history of the Quill Empire,” said Fratris.
“I’ll set you an essay at the end,” she confirmed.
“Will it be timed?” said Crotal.
“It will but I shall want you to read Rimmon’s account in the archive first.”
“Is it long?” asked Fengtai.
“No,” she said, although what ‘long’ meant to her was probably different for them.
“What will the title of the essay be?” said Fratris.
“If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a test.” In truth, she hadn’t thought that far ahead.
Fengtai and the boys looked worried. Writing was not a strongpoint for any of them, especially the Penti who knew he would have to write his essay in Evigonese.
“But don’t worry,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. “It will be about your opinions and I know you have plenty of those. All you’ll have to know is the facts to back them up.”
They still looked appalled and glanced at each other with the beginnings of despair. Fengtai asked, “How long will you expect our essays to be?”
“Whatever you can write in a couple of hours,” she smiled.
This didn’t help and she knew from their previous efforts that it might not be much. Fratris tended to try and cram everything into as few sentences as he could. Crotal would start well and then drift off, like a cloud, so the end would be rushed and bear no relation to the beginning. Fengtai just struggled, full stop. From her point of view, at least they wouldn’t take long to mark. And if her husband (as Crotal’s guardian), Uncle Frim or Shogun Penti asked for a report on their progress, at least she could to say that verbally they displayed understanding and perception – which was true. They were just incredibly undisciplined when it came to putting their thoughts on paper.
The young men finished their last round of whirlpool and started to drift back to their classrooms in the academy. Some paused to speak to Taylia and to admire the baby. Everyone knew who he was. As the son of the Emperor of Panadawn and the Principal of the University, he was an object of curiosity for some and of reverence for others. These students were from Cromorna, part of the Panadawn Commonwealth, therefore they showed respect.
Taylia replied to their questions as politely as she could but they didn’t stay for long; she had way of dissuading people from paying too much attention without needing to make any actual threats. Afterwards, she took the baby for a walk down by the canal. For somebody who claimed not to be maternal, Faam thought, she would have made an excellent mother.
When the lawn was quiet, she took a sip of water from a bottle and said, “Now, where had we got to?”
“Quill was arming its navy with Ulupan weapons,” said Fratris.
“Nacyon was popular again,” said Crotal.
“Rimmon was deceiving them,” said Fengtai.
“Good,” said Faam. “None of that might have made any difference to the Quill Empire if things had stayed as they were. Nobody was threatening them, not even Zamut, so the weapons could have remained unused. Nacyon’s new popularity was nice for him but he was no longer as ambitious as he’d once been; he had his family on the Apus and he didn’t really care about Sapadilla or being a Rao anymore, despite what he’d been thinking when the weapons arrived on the ship.
“Rimmon’s plan would never have come to fruition if King Tragacanth had remained in power for the next ten or twenty years. But as you can probably guess, that’s not how the next stage of Quill’s history progressed...”
12 - The death of the King
Nobody knows exactly how the King died; his body was too mangled to tell. He had been hunting on Prince Quirinal’s estates on Kvike with other members of the family when the accident (if it was an accident) had occurred. The King had been alone at the time and when they found his body, it was being consumed by a Poa-bird. There was no evidence of bullets or arrows in what was left of him so it was assumed he had been killed by the bird before he could raise his rifle.
According to the official report, the King had set out from the hunting lodge early in the morning with his brothers, Rao Quern and Rao Tragus, his nephews, Admiral Filemot and Admiral Quipus, and three of his sons, Rhatany, Tragopan and their host, Prince Quirinal. They had driven in a convoy to the northern edge of great grass plain where the Poa-birds were penned-in by a five hundred miles of wire fences. At around seven o’clock, they entered the reserve and travelled for another hour t
o reach one of the spotting-towers. They had taken breakfast while the scouts searched for signs of the birds from the top of the tower. In all, they spotted three moving through the long grass; one less than a mile away and the other two heading away from them.
At just after nine o’clock, they had set out along the nearest track but after a mile, the King had ordered them to stop and he had set-off on foot, alone, to track the quarry. This was not unusual; he was an experienced hunter and often went out alone to shoot the first bird of the day. The rest of the party stayed with the vehicles.
Half-an-hour later, at about eleven o’clock, they heard a terrible scream.
Branta and Crex, the King’s bodyguards, were first to find him. They shot and killed the Poa-bird that was tearing at his flesh but he was already dead. There was nothing they could do to save him.
When the rest of the hunters arrived, they searched for any sign that it hadn’t been the bird that had killed him but could find no footprints or other evidence that anyone else had been nearby. They checked the King’s rifle and found it was in working order; it hadn’t jammed and there was a bullet in the chamber. They tried to determine how the bird had been able to approach so silently and could form no firm conclusion; the grass was particularly thick but that would have given the King ample warning if the monster had tried to rush towards him. However, the bird could have been standing still, waiting for the King to walk into the range of its massive beak. Or, it was possible the King had been distracted by something else in the grass, like a snake or a wild pig that might have been the bird’s original prey. Whatever the cause, the effect had been lethal.
