The Warrior's Tale (13 page)

When I saw Phocas's chart, I immediately forgot the little battle of wills. The quest we were upon seemed unreal when you noted the map's scale. From Orissa and the Lycanthian peninsula, the map sprawled west more miles than I could have imagined. At the moment it seemed like the kind of distance star-seekers must attempt to fathom when they ponder our fates. I'd seen maps like this before in my father's and Amalric's studies. But I'd never had to actually place myself on one of them, if you understand my meaning. I saw the familiar ports and cities where my family and others traded. But those ports and cities became smaller marks, until they disappeared into cartographer's speculation - little pictures of fiends to warn of savages, or demons to mark places of supposed ill luck and black magic. But it was the sea itself that took my breath away. It was so enormous that it seemed as if it were ready to swallow the slim slices of land that dared mar its majesty, or the islands that perched so precariously on its brow. The sea stretched west to the edge of the map. There was no land to show the end of it. This was merely as far as anyone - even in handed-down traveller tales - had sailed. The distance was frightening.

Phocas scratched a mark on the linen - only a finger or so west of Lycanth. No one had to tell me, this is where we were - near the easternmost edge of the map.

'They've had nearly two days' start on us,' Cholla Yi said, 'and favourable seas and wind. But still, they can't have gone much more than this
...'

He laid two fingers against our position. Phocas marked it, then the admiral stepped aside as he inscribed a circle. Somewhere inside that circle was our enemy. But we didn't know if we were sailing in
exactly
the right direction. If we weren't, the Archon could have changed course and be pulling away from us with every minute that passed.

'I believe we are safe to say that he's still fleeing westward, fo
r the moment,' Gamelan said. 'All
the spells I've cast to increase our speed, or slow his, have been countered by spells that can only come from our old friend. And it is from that direction that the ethers are troubled.'

'Then it's only logical we continue west,' I said. Phocas laughed. 'West takes in a lot,' he leered. He gestured across the map. 'Most everything you're lookin' at's west.' 'Mind your manners,' Choila Yi snapped.

Phocas paled. The admiral was in an angry mood. In the meeting with Jinnah I'd made certain - with the support of Gamelan and the officers sympathetic to me - that Jinnah laid the blame for the Archon's escape squarely on Cholla Yi. He should have had the harbour mouth blockaded. What's more, Jinnah had informed him the agreed victory bonus would not be paid until the expedition was completed. Even worse, he and his crew would not be eligible for any shares of the loot from Lycanth until our return. I'd expected him to explode when he heard the last, but he and Jinnah exchanged odd glances, and it seemed Cholla Yi had bit back his temper. I wondered if some private arrangement had been made. The most likely, it seemed at the time, was that Jinnah had said he'd compensate him for shouldering the full blame of the failure to capture the Archon. By rights, Jinnah - as the commander of us all - deserved the greatest black mark for the failure.

Gamelan broke through the tension: 'We shall let our enemy resolve our dilemma,' he said.

He took out the black box that contained the talisman of the Archon's heart.

Cholla Yi and Phocas stared at the box, nervous. They'd heard rumours of the talisman, but actually seeing a thing of such magical power was more intimidating than whispered speculation.

'I'll only require a compass from you,' Gamelan said.

'Pardon?' Cholla Yi gaped like he was just rising from deep waters.

'A compass, if you please,' Gamelan repeated.

Hastily, one was found. Gamelan placed the box on the circle Phocas had inscribed, and the compass on top of that. Then he waved for silence - as if there were need of warning for these dumbstruck pirates. There was no prelude to the spell. No chanting - at least not aloud; no calling on the gods for assistance.

Gamelan stared at the box, his concentration total. His yellow eyes glowed like the sun, and the whole room seemed to be lit by the inner light spilling out. I heard gasps as a low humming noise began to vibrate the box. Then the box itself glowed. The compass needle jolted. It spun wildly about, once, twice, then as it whirled for the third time, it froze in mid-gyration, as if a hand had stopped it.

Gamelan drew back. The light faded from his eyes until they were merely that odd yellow. He wiped sweat from his brow, then pointed at the compass's arrow. It was quivering, as if ready to move on.

'Follow that,' Gamelan said, 'and we will find our enemy.' The compass pointed due west.

I'm not certain what transpired next. Cholla Yi spoke to me, and I answered whatever question he asked. But everything seemed very dim to me - far away. I found myself staring at the compass needle and vast expanse of the map.

I could see all the familiar places. Here was Tros, a rich city my family had traded with for generations; then Savia, renowned for its wines; Thurgan, masters of fine blades;
and Luangu, with its famous cattl
e-pens that ladder the shore for miles. Beyond was Jeypur, a barbaric coastal port, where caravans spill in daily, carrying silks and spices and magical rarities from places that would only exist in legend, if we did not know them from their goods; next was Laosia, where the J'hana family controls the market in ivory and that beautiful black wood that's so hard it can turn aside steel.

On the opposite coast, I saw Redond, and then the nearly impassable mountains of the kingdom of Valaroi that girdle the shore; across those mountains is the great desert where wild tribes of horsemen rage. We know them only for their rich carpets and sweet-smelling oils that we burn in our lamps on festive occasions. Still further west was Tiger Bay, named not for the beasts, but for the colour and markings of the gems of the shellfish that dwell there and are collected to make the finest fire beads. I knew all those places well, as does any Orissan schoolchild. But past that point, beyond the Jasmine Islands, the Coral Sea, the Ginger River, and the Lemon Coast - all was unknown.

There is an exhilarating moment, my brother has often said, when all journeys begin in earnest. Before that moment all is foolish speculation; afterwards, the journey lapses into mere progress to be marked each day. My brother is a man to be listened to about such things, for there is no one in our history who has travelled farther; although now I may rival him.

It was that day in Cholla Yi's stateroom when my adventures truly began. At that instant I knew for certain that before I was through I would see for myself the places on that map. My eyes were drawn to the edge, where all beyond was unknown. And it came to me I would see
those
places as well. I was not frightened by this vision, Scribe. And as I have promised absolute truth, I must confess that for a short time I had no thought of the Archon and the threat he represented. Instead,

I was filled with a great yearning. I wanted to know, I
had
to know the answer to the riddle the map posed - which was,
what lies beyond?

For the first time I understood the blessing - and the curse - of seekers like Janos Greycloak, and yes, my brother, although he will not as yet admit it.

Confused by the realization of a new side of me - a side I had never expected to exist -
I
looked at Gamelan. I could not see him clearly for a moment: a shadow seemed to fall between us. It was a familiar shadow, and I smelled a familiar scent. I thought I heard a woman whisper. I shook my head and my vision cleared as the shadow was swept away. I saw that Cholla Yi and Phocas were absorbed in planning. But the old wizard was watching me intently.

'You had a vision?' Gamelan asked.

I shook my head, no. But there was a smell of sandalwood in the room, and I knew I'd lied.

We sailed after the Archon, always keeping close watch on the magical compass. When it veered, we changed course. When it came back to the heading, we aped the motion. We didn't know if the changes were made because our enemy knew we were on his heel, or if it was only the vagaries of his flight. But none doubted the chase was for real. The Archon was out there - that was certain; a few leagues, or a few days ahead.

The excitement of the chase waned as one day bled into the next, and we got down to the routine of our new lives at sea.

As time passed, I slowly realized these ships were to be our new battlefield and I knew as little about them as I would, say, about fighting on ice. I set out to become expert, then to see to it my women became the same. Any hour or day - if Te-Date pleases - we might sight the Archon's ships. I found the most boring man aboard ship, who carried the title of master's mate, which I soon found meant he was a seagoing version of a quartermaster. Except where a quartermaster could send you to sleep prattling about tent ropes and kettles, this man had the opportunity to natter about anything, from ropes to cudasses, everything, in fact, except the salt water around us.

For those who wish to know a bit about the world we found ourselves in, the world we would spend far too long in, some of us the remainder of our lives in fact, here are some details:

Our galleys were of the type known as 'long runners', and were

intended, the mate told me pridefully, for anything from going up a river to harrying and conquering a merchant vessel, to raiding a seaport, to making long sea passages out of sight of land. 'Course,' he confessed, which we'd already found out, 'bein' shallow draft the ship rolls a bit in any sort of wind or seaway. Matter of fact, a long runner'll pitch some tied up to a dock, which is why any good galleyman had best have a solid-cast stomach. Or else not
need to hold vittl
es down longer'n the next wave.' For some reason, men seem to find the cramps of seasickness hilariously funny, but only if it's shown by someone else. Corais wondered if they'd find the sensation so risible if they underwent something much the same every twenty-eight days as we did. But I made no response to the mate's chortles.

Each galley was about one hundred feet long, and twenty feet wide. It drew only about three feet of water, which accounted for what the mate called its liveliness. There were three officers to each ship, the master, sailing master and rowing master. Under them were other men, also called mates, but they were not considered officers, but rather like our
sergeants. Mate was also the titl
e given the ship's artisans, such as carpenter, sailmaker and so on. Each galley was crewed by fifty rowers, who also doubled as seamen when the captain shouted for all hands to turn to. There were, in addition, fifteen able seamen, who considered themselves elite, and wouldn't touch an oar if the ship was being driven onto the rocks. Almost any number of soldiers could be carried for a day or so, but under normal peacetime conditions (which I knew meant for Cholla Yi piracy) some twenty-five marines - soldiers with a modicum of sailor's training - would be on board as a shock force.

Each galley had a weather, or main-deck, which was open, and a deck below for sleeping and for bad weather. It took
very
rough seas to go below, since this deck was dark and cramped. Anyone over five feet walked in a stoop, or rang her skull against the deck overhead like it was a bell. We slept in hammocks, which were taken down each day and stowed, then hung each night wherever we chose, which was on deck for the most part. The upper deck could be shaded in hot weather under canvas awnings, and it was most pleasant to loll under such a brighdy striped tent when the sea breezes blew, and required real effort to get up and go through yet another set of exercises or sword- or spear-drill.

Up forward, above the knife-bow, was a raised deck, from which an
attack would be launched in battle. In the stowage spaces under it were weapons, spare sails, ropes, barrels of water and rations, and the like.

At the stern was another raised deck, the quarterdeck. From here the galley was commanded and steered with a long tiller, connected to the rudder along one side. Under this deck was the one bit of luxury the galley had - separate cabins for the ship's officers.

A-long, narrow deck, about three feet wide ran just above the weather deck fore and aft and connected the two raised decks. This was called a storming bridge, and served not only as a passageway when seas broke over the main deck, but to strengthen the hull.

Each galley had two masts and a lateen sail on each, which was how the ship normally moved. In the face of a wind, or when speed was required, the sails would be lowered and the oars manned.

For cooking, there was a sanded built-up area on the lower deck. One man cooked, in great kettles, whatever was to be eaten, then these roughly cooked viands were handed out to 'messes', for further distribution. Each mess comprised ten sailors, whose utensils and plates were kept in a chest, along with whatever condiments they'd chosen to purchase from their own pockets. A sailor was free to join -or quit - a mess, just as his messmates had equal freedom to accept or reject him.

For a jakes, there was a framework pushed out over the stern when someone had the need. For bathing-well, as the mate said, 'A sharp bow means speed, but you'll think you're swimming half the time.'