No Present Like Time (16 page)

“Typical Jant, always thinking about sex,” Mist smiled, looking into the distance. A crosswind tangled her fine hair. The waves were reflected on the ships’ sides as a moving mesh of light.

I
returned to the
Melowne
in time to hear Fulmer complaining. The billows tossed the caravel every direction but forward. She ran headlong down a steep wave and pitched into the next rising roller. Puffs of spray burst off her keel and splattered back. We went up and down, up and down vertically on an irregular seesaw. Wrenn and I retreated to the poop deck.

Fulmer leaned against the wheel’s kicks. He was having a lot of trouble steering.
Melowne
jerked sideways every time she struck and wrenched the wheel from his hands. The broad ship had a massive drag; he couldn’t keep her from sliding aslant into the troughs of the swell. “Damn it,” he wheezed. “Mist will just have to slow down for us, yes? Shit, she makes it look effortless. Get the flying sails in. Sea anchor back there and see if I can keep her prow half as straight as
Petrel.
”

From the poop deck we could see the back of Fulmer’s head. Not a brown hair was out of place. As usual, and against all the odds, he looked pristine, still a court dandy three thousand, eight hundred kilometers from Queen Eleonora’s entourage. Fulmer’s genteel manner impressed me until I remembered that he had known about the Insect even before we set sail, and it was he who had been feeding it bones all this time.

Wrenn scrutinized the horizon. “I can see it! I can see a tiny island!”

“In the next couple of hours you’ll find it is huge.”

Up to the deck came barrels of wine, and bar silver was stacked in quadrilaterals. A forest of colorful pennants unfurled. As Tris filled our vision, the evergreen and pumice shore proceeding past, unbridled excitement overcame the crews. Mist and Fulmer found it difficult to keep the sailors working; men stared and pointed at houses, vineyards, the palace on the crag. They waved at tanned Capharnai fishermen in the first canoes.

M
ist brought the ships in. She yelled commands to her crew, keeping them moving. I heard her from the
Melowne
three ship lengths behind; the tension in her voice made me nervous. In contrast, Fulmer gave his orders in a quiet, assured style, politely addressing the hands. They copied every movement of the
Petrel
’s men, furling the sails in completely synchronized maneuvers. Fulmer’s ship sailed slick as fiddly clockwork in the
Stormy Petrel
’s wake.

The harbor walls pincered together on our left and right and formed a strait about five hundred meters wide. Dead center of the channel was a flat-topped rock with a lighthouse on it. It towered above us, one hundred meters high, built on a square base half the
Petrel
’s length. As we glided past, the sailors became even more frantic. At first I assumed they were shocked by the lighthouse’s great height, which was certainly surprising considering that the Trisians only have canoes. Then I realized they were pointing at the fire reflector: it was made of polished gold. The fittings of the beacon were all solid gold.

Fulmer called, “Jant, do you see?”

“Yes, I do!”

“It’s the most glorious thing I’ve ever seen.”

I muttered to Wrenn, “What I don’t like is the fact Mist never mentioned it before.”

I wore my purple scarf wrapped around my waist as a cummerbund, stripy black and white leggings under cut-off denim shorts. A black kerchief kept back all my locks and albatross feathers. The swell was making Wrenn look green but he was determined to watch the tumult on the main deck. He clung onto a network of ropes. “It’s all right to lean on the deadeyes. Sailors before the mast are going to reef the mainsail now, look.”

“Fascinating…”

“And lower it on parr—”

“Oh, shut up!”

He stared forward at the bow, which pointed like a pike at the town. “Do you think there are ladies in Capharnaum?” he asked.

I glanced at him. “Well, obviously.”

“No. Whores, I mean.”

“Oh. That kind of lady. They’re human, well, they look it to me,” I regarded my fingernails in a secretarial gesture. “So they’ll have wine, women and song.”

A
s we crossed the harbor our ships fell under the lee of the mountain. The lagoon’s surface was mirror-still; it reflected
Petrel
and
Melowne
’s images from waterline to masthead. Their sails went slack and they coasted in very slowly indeed, on the last of their momentum. Fulmer ordered the last sails furled and I looked up to see clear blue sky between the masts for the first time in three months.

Trisian men, women and children poured out of the town’s façade and rushed to form a crowd on the sea wall and all along the corniche. The men’s clothes looked quite plain—white or beige linen or silk tunics with colored borders, and loose trousers underneath. Some of the girls wore pastel-dyed stoles over their double-layer dresses but none of their garments looked embroidered or rich.

Men pushed out dark wood canoes and jumped in, paddling toward us. The canoes had outriggers; blue and white eyes were painted on their prows. They moved very swiftly and were soon clustered around our hull. The Trisians shouted and pointed, held up all kinds of food and objects. Dozens of hands reached to the portholes, waving spiny fruit, enormous seeds, stoppered jars, dead fish on skewers, silver flasks. Our sailors hung over the railings eagerly offering anything to hand on the deck. They passed or threw down belaying pins, hatchets and belt buckles, the plumb line from the bow.

Fulmer’s composure broke. He yelled, “No trading! Stop it, fools, before you give them your vests and pants! No barter, till Mist gives the word! Hacilith law and punishment applies from now on.”

He glanced at me. “The rash bastards will swap anything for curios. They’d pull the nails from the futtocks and even trade our instruments away if I don’t watch them. We must beware of thieves, yes/no? Even a fishhook from Tris is a novelty that will fetch money in the Fourlands now. Still, at least Capharnai are friendly.”

T
he
Petrel,
in front of us, glided through the reflections of Capharnaum’s first houses, came alongside the harbor wall and docked. Our ship’s salt-stained prow stopped just a meter behind the ornate windows of
Petrel
’s stern. Then two gangways slipped down and simultaneously locked into place. Wrenn immediately ran to the quay, where he stood smiling and waving, the first of our company to set foot on Tris. Native men and women approached him, asking questions that of course he couldn’t understand so he just kept nodding in cheerful agreement.

There were no mooring loops on the wharf so Mist made her crew unload the stern and bow anchors of both ships and place them on the pavement with the ropes drawn taut.

Mist and Fulmer descended the gangways of their respective ships and met on the quayside. They shook hands politely in front of the astonished townspeople. “We did it!” she said.

“I had every confidence in you, Eszai,” said Fulmer. He smoothed a couple of invisible wrinkles out of his suit sleeve with a spotless hand. The breeze opened his jacket and I saw a dagger swinging from his belt.

I descended to dry land at the same time as Lightning disembarked from the
Petrel.
He carried his strung longbow over his shoulder; arrow nocks protruded from the quiver at his waist. He glanced at the windows of every villa fronting the quay.

Wrenn bounded to a halt, panted, “Have you noticed that none of the Capharnai have any weapons? Some of the fishermen have knives in their sashes but they look a bit odd.”

“It’s true,” said Lightning. “Jant, do you see?”

I said, “I think the blades are bronze.”

Lightning said, “But obviously there’s no reason for Capharnai to know of swords. The Fourlands had no swords before the Insects arrived.”

“And then they were invented pretty quickly!” I grinned. I was loving the attention.

Mist gave me an expectant look. “Make your introductions, Jant.”

I spread my arms and began to address the townspeople with a speech I had carefully prepared: “Governors, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for receiving us from the Fourlands. We have brought some gifts as a sign of goodwill: casks of wine and silver ingots—”

The large crowd of people giggled as if I was mad. Mist and I glanced at each other. “Keep going,” she said.

“We would like to meet the governors of Capharnaum to tell them of the Em—”

The crowd parted to let a man through. He walked forward until he faced us alone. I assumed he was the Capharnai’s own representative. He was a tall old man, every aspect of his comportment upright and efficient. His eyes were the same dark brown as beer-bottle glass, hair every shade of gray, once so windblown it would never lie flat. He was dry as a ship’s rib. His face was pinched; his mouth slotted in under his cheekbones. It looked like he was smiling wryly all the time, with a wicked grin that enticed me to smile with him, like a collaborator.

He wore a short cloak over a tunic with a deep hem border. His laced boots with open toes were so unusual Fulmer especially couldn’t stop staring at them. No doubt Fulmer was wondering if he could start a fashion in the Fourlands for toeless boots.

The Trisian spoke slowly, giving me time to translate. The terms that I could not decipher, I left as he gave them. “My name is Vendace. I was a fisherman, now elected to the Senate. They have sent me to thank you for coming here. Are you the same as the boat that appeared nine months ago?”

“Yes, from the Fourlands. Call me Jant. I can speak Trisian but please talk slowly; I don’t know many words. My friends can’t speak it at all; I’ll translate for them.”

“What’s he saying?” asked Mist, who was becoming very frustrated.

“He’s welcoming us,” I said in Awian.

“Tell him I’m in charge and ask him to give his word that my ships will be safe here tonight,” said Mist.

I told Vendace, and added, “We’re here on peaceful terms.”

Vendace said, “We saw your sails this morning—the Senate has convened in an emergency session to discuss our course of action. The Senate is still in progress and they have asked me to bring you to the House. Our constitution warns against contact with another land; our constitution is important to us.”

Mist tugged my arm. “What’s he saying?”

“I’ve no idea. He seems to be going on about their fitness.” I paused for a second to stop my mind whirling. “He’s offered to take us to the governors’ house.”

Mist said, “Well, at least ask a guarantee for our safety on land. I see some victuals being brought out. Thank him for giving me the opportunity to buy provisions and offer to pay with the bar silver.”

I stumbled over a translation to Vendace. The Trisians surrounding us all began laughing again. Even the fisherman couldn’t keep a straight face—he smirked.

“Why are they sniggering?” Lightning inquired.

Mist asked, “Are you actually saying what I tell you to say?”

I wished that she would stop hassling me. I hadn’t had any chance to practice. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Well, I think so! Or I could have asked him to serve us a warm dog.”

Lightning said, “They laugh when you speak of—of what?”

“The wine and silver,” I said.

Lightning said, “Hmm. I should think they have wine of their own. And more than enough gold, if you remember the priceless lighthouse mirrors.”

I looked more closely at the crowd. “You know, none of the Capharnai are wearing jewelry. But gold’s available here; in fact it’s abundant. Do you think it could be that Capharnai don’t care for it?”

Lightning indicated a small girl who was sucking her thumb. A gold band held back her dark hair. “That puts us on a level with their children. And I will wager that her crown is pure, refined gold.” He removed the circlet from his head.

Mist rubbed her eyes. “But…Well, if precious metals are worthless we’ve no valuables to trade with. This island seems to lack nothing; what do we have that they could possibly want?”

“Steel,” said Wrenn.

Fulmer said, “You clever, clever man! Yes, we can give them nails, tacks and chain links. Knife blades and hatchets were in demand; I saw the canoeists admiring them. How about halberds from the
Melowne
? The Trisians must use axes so they’ll recognize halberds that are superior to bronze. They should be willing to accept what is better, yes?”

“It’s possible,” Mist said guardedly.

Vendace remained unflappable but kept glancing at my eyes. He showed us a stone cistern on the quayside and Mist organized two squads of sailors to fill barrels with fresh water. She arranged another team to buy fruit, meat and vegetables from Capharnai merchants who were already approaching us out of the town, but she forbade them to barter for any other goods, or to buy items for their own keeping. Then she turned to her second-in-command. “Viridian, tell
Melowne
’s bosun to obey my orders and follow them yourselves if you love me and your place in my fleet. Don’t leave the ships unprotected. Move them only if you’re threatened…And if we don’t come back tonight, you know what to do.”

“Certainly, Mist,” she said. “And good luck, Mum.”

Mist was dissatisfied with Vendace’s appearance. She said, “The Circle doesn’t need a fisherman.”

“I was unaware we have the authority to recruit for the Circle,” Lightning commented.

Mist gave him a venomous look. I suppose she was right; it would be a stroke of luck if a leader of Tris excelled at some occupation and could join the Circle. She said quietly, “This man is elderly enough to be very grateful for immortality.”

“Wisdom comes with age,” said Wrenn, vaguely.

“Maybe it does, here,” said Lightning.

“Aye, well no matter what venerable age he has reached, he’s still a baby compared to us.”

Vendace had listened to their exchange without understanding a word. He smiled and pointed a direction through the crowd; we followed him.

T
he heat was like a barrier, and every rare midday gust of wind just blew hot air at us, into our skin, and offered no relief. It seemed to come in waves, each more stifling and cloying than the last. I unlaced my shirtsleeves, slipped them off and tucked them in my belt. The heat made the five of us walk slowly, with smooth, languid movements.

Fulmer said, “I could quite happily live here. See the promenade, it’s splendid, yes?”

“Yeah,” said Wrenn. “I’ve never seen such sexy girls. Check out that honey with the short skirt.”

Fulmer selected a cigarette from a whale’s-tooth ivory case and screwed it into a holder. He rubbed his short beard. “I plan to come back and never leave at all, at all. I have no ties and our huntress Queen will gladly grant me permission. This is much better than Awia, which copies the Castle. We turn everything into a bloody competition, from maths to pottery, and we wear ourselves out. Here no one’s the best and no one cares. See how happy they are?”

We were led from the harbor into a long, straight main boulevard bordered by white marble columns. Steles stood at regular intervals, topped with statues of men and women draped in cloth. I counted them, and noticed that after every ten statues an archway spanned the street. Smaller alleys led into the road-grid on either side of us, between the two-story buildings. Small shops opened onto the pavement, with striped canvas porticoes: a confectioner selling pasties and pastries; sausages hung above smoked viands and a mess of octopus in a butcher’s; a barber swept his shop.

Everybody was pointing things out and bursting with questions, far too many for me to translate. “Look at the vines,” Mist said, enthralled. They twined up a trellis on the last quayside house, heavy with black grapes, tendrils reaching to the terracotta chimney.

I surreptitiously peered over the green window boxes as we passed, seeing that the furniture in the lower room was slight and elegant. A small dog lay curled on a chair cushion. The cool walls were painted with a stylized frieze of pearl divers in an underwater garden. Trisian art seemed to cover everyday items rather than being framed.

“The knives,” Wrenn said. “Ask him about the bronze daggers.”

“I certainly will not!”

Fulmer indicated a workshop where a canoe was being carved. Vendace said, “We travel for hundreds of kilometers around Tris and the unoccupied islands.”

“Hundreds?” I asked.

Vendace nodded with enthusiasm for his profession. “Easily, past the Motley Isles into the open ocean! Why do you question it? I’ll speak slower if you want.”

Next we saw a large paved piazza surrounded by colonnades. Mist said, “This must be a marketplace. Isn’t it cute?”

A restaurant occupied the open, airy ground floor of the nearest block. About twenty Capharnai tumbled out and joined those lining the street to stare at us. A stout café proprietor wore a loose tunic, a single piece of material gathered at the waist by a sash. He beckoned. “Come in, come and dine.”

Vendace raised his brown hands apologetically. “Excuse me, Derbio, I must take our visitors to the Amarot.”

The round man giggled. “Of course, but they’re invited to drink tea with us afterward.”

I was thrilled that I could understand a dialogue between two native speakers; my ear for the language was improving. I said, “It would be a pleasure. What’s tea?”

He seemed staggered. “By Alyss, you are in for a treat!”

I listened to my friends’ conversation. Mist was enthusing, “The shops are so clean. No smoke, no grime…”

“No litter,” said Fulmer approvingly. “You don’t get that in Hacilith.”

I agreed: “I thought something was wrong. No one’s standing at street corners or porches. When I lived in Hacilith I never wanted to walk past threatening groups of lads.”

I translated for Vendace, who said, “Youths don’t wish to loiter. They are occupied learning the trade of their choice.”

“Not all the time, surely.”

Vendace said, “In the evenings they discourse in the tea shops.”