I stood looking after him. A most unusual man, especially for a king. A ruler of great nations, but a man who was still capable of making mistakes, and being embarrassed for making them.
That night, deep in the dogwatches, I snapped awake. Nothing had happened to wake me, but I was as alert as if I'd had more than the normal four or five hours I require and a sharp round of calisthenics and a m
ile run as well. I dressed quietl
y, and went out into the village street. I stood indecisive for a moment, then started away from the waterfront towards the long stairs that led to the plateau. I came to the picket-line, and easily slipped past the sentry. She was alert, but the day I, or any of my sergeants or officers can't be more cunning than our soldiers is the day we'd best consider sheathing our blades and retiring to a room lined with thick batting. I was breaking my own orders, but felt quite safe with my sword on my hip and my dagger sheathed at the small of my back.
I went up the vast stairs leading to The Sarzana's plateau as far as the second landing, where the stairs opened again to the sky. The landing's railing faced south, and I went to it and gazed out into the night. The moon was only quartered, but there was more than enough starlight to see clearly. Down there, to the left, was the harbour, and the black dots of our ships. Over there were the headlands we'd sail beyond in the next few days, headed away from the pole star. My gaze turned in that direction. At first, there was nothing but the darkness of the ocean, and perhaps a line where the horizon marked the sky and the stars began.
Perhaps what I saw was nothing more t
han nightfi
res, or phosphorescent seas. Perhaps it was a vision. I don't know to this day and think it best to let the reader, or even you, Scribe, judge what it meant, and I'll restrict myself to what I witnessed with my own eyes. Fires began, low and spattered across the horizon, as if we were travel
ling across a desert, and brightl
y lit cities were no more than a journey of a day or so further on. But then there were more and more of them, and I imagined them to be the lights of the Konyan islands, and knew the archipelago was vaster than I could imagine. Bright, and even brighter they shone, until it was as if I were on a height far greater than I was, looking over a valley.
The lights flamed, and then, from behind me, from above the plateau, came a darkness, far more Stygian than the night, swooping like a monstrous bat towards those sea fires. It swirled and dove, and then, and this was the strangest of all, that darkness was joined by an even more greater gloom, one coming from above. The two joined and dropped, and it was as if a water-soaked cloak was cast across spattered kindling, because all went quite black. No, my memory plays me false, for three or four lights flared, as if fighting that darkness, and then they, too, were gone.
I stood there for long moments, but saw nothing else. Then I noticed a sea breeze. It was chill, and I wondered why I'd not felt it before.
I went back down the stairs, past the guard, and to my bed, but slept no more, thinking about what I'd seen, without knowing what made it to be marked. I thought of asking Gamelan what he thought, but didn't. Perhaps my mind whispered that something, once spoken, is known to all, but what is in your heart can remain safely a mystery.
Cholla Yi decided we were ready to sail. The ships were fully provisioned, and both the sailors and my Guardswomen as fit as they'd ever be. Finally we did hold a conference about The Sarzana, if something s
o short can be called that. Mostl
y the discussion was about which ship he'd sail on. Cholla Yi, naturally, wanted the honours. It didn't matter to me, other than I felt a slight niggling discomfort
at this great lord (whom honestl
y I could hardly say I knew well, even though my guts told me I was a worrywart) and the mercenary admiral being partnered. When the meeting was over, we went to The Sarzana's mansion and formally offered ourselves as his escort, volunteering to return him to his homelands.
He was effusive to the point of tears, and behaved as if he were surprised. He swore we'd made a magnificent decision, and would be known in history as the saviours of Konya. As for himself, he could hardly find the words, and he knew that his descendants, and indeed, people who loved freedom everywhere
...
At this point, my ears closed, and I exchanged looks with Corais. At least there was one thing familiar about these lands - rulers still emoted noble speeches, full of grand words and magnificent gestures, speeches that went on and on and on. There were many ideas of what brave deeds qualified one for the Guard. Not the least was my own private one - an ability to listen to the biggest fool drone on for hours about the most empty things, while never moving a muscle from rigid attention and keeping your face bright and interested.
But at last he ran out of kingly things to say, and made a most surprising request: Would it be possible for him to sail on the same vessel as Gamelan? A look of anger flashed over Cholla Yi's face, and The Sarzana hastened to explain that he felt it his duty to attempt to restore Gamelan's powers, and wished to be close to him so their hearts could feel as one. Also, he felt it best if Gamelan was also on familiar ground, the ship he'd been travelling aboard since leaving his homeland. After that, there wasn't anything Cholla Yi could say, and so it was agreed.
I expected The Sarzana to enship trunks and bales and cases full of everything from jewels to furs to magical volumes. There were but five boxes, and each of those could be lifted by one not terribly strong boy.
Evidentl
y The Sarzana noted my surprise, because he smiled, and said, 'When all the world's been yours, and taken away, you learn what matters and what does not. A man travels best who travels lightest.'
The night before we were to sail, Gamelan approached The Sarzana and inquired when he planned to fulfil his promise to free his subjects. I thought I saw a momentary- frown, but knew I must be wrong. The Sarzana smiled, and said, 'On the morrow. From the ship.'
And so it was. Our ships had upped anchor, and sat rolling in the slight harbour swell. The Sarzana had insisted the foredeck of our ship be set aside for him, and on it he'd put up eight torches, forming an octagon. He stood in the centre of them, and held his hands cupped, as if carrying something weighty. But there was nothing to be seen. He began chanting, but I couldn't make out his words, nor, when I asked later, could Gamelan or any of the oarsmen or sailors forward distinguish what he said.
I gasped, as I saw a torrent of creatures coming down the village streets from the plateau. At first I thought he'd invoked the ghosts of those slaughtered villagers, but then realized I was looking at his beast-men. None of us had realized how many of them he'd created, although we should've been able to, knowing how many servitors any palace requires. I couldn't say how many there were - Corais estimated five hundred, Polillo thought more, Ismet less. Most of them still wore the odd court clothing The Sarzana had made them wear.
The Sarzana kept chanting, and his arms moved further and further apart, as if what he held was growing. His chanting grew to a shout, and the torches flared and flashed myriad colours. Overhead, hawks, eagles and other birds swooped, and the calm sea frothed and dolphins and fish leapt high. He cast his invisible burden, the 'gift' of freedom, up and out, and the torches flashed and died without ever a wisp of smoke. Above us, the formations of birds shattered, and the sea in front of the village was calm and empty.
But there wasn't any calm in the village - the beast-men had gone into a frenzy. They were ripping, tearing, shredding their clothing, until they were naked, if beasts can ever be naked.
Polillo stood next to me, and said, under her breath, 'It looks as if The Sarzana's servants maybe weren't the cheerful volunteers we thought, hmm? They look pretty damn' ungrateful, if you ask me.'
I heard a snicker from Corais. 'Worse than a mustering-out party after a war,' she said.
I suppose I should've reprimanded them, but certainly didn't. I still remembered The Sarzana telling us about the spells he'd used to 'prepare the ground', and again when he'd told us how grateful these creatures were.
No one, beast or man, is grateful for chains, no matter how silken they are.
The wind came fresh from astern, and we had no need to row beyond the headlands. As our ships caught the first ocean rollers and bowed obeisance to the sea gods, and I smelt the clean salt air, we spied something odd. Sailing across our course, from headland to headland, was a flight of swans
. They swam swiftl
y, white curving amid whitecaps.
'Now, there's an omen a' good,' I heard a sailor say. 'Th' voyage's bound to bring us luck an' send us home.'
I found my fingers crossing, and felt some dark hesitations that had been growing the past few days vanish.
We sailed under fair skies with favouring winds for almost two weeks, bearing south by southwest. Not only were sailing conditions good, but all of us, freshened by our time on land, were more cheerful and willing to work together, sailor as well as Guardswoman.
On the fifteenth day after leaving Tristan, we sighted the first land. I was shouted on deck just after I'd finished dinner, and was teaching some of the newer soldiers how to redo the serving on crossbow strings, and heard the halloo. Without waiting on ceremony, all of us pelted on deck, eager to see what awaited us. I'd made sure
all of my Guardswomen were quietl
y warned of what Gamelan had been told by The Sarzana - we were sailing into hostile seas, and must be prepared for anything.
An island rose from the water ahead of us. There'd been heavy mist all that day, and we'd sailed close before the fog lifted and we saw it. The Sarzana was already on deck, on the quarterdeck with Stryker. I joined him there.
'This is one of three islands,' he told me. 'I'm not sure which, precisely, but it doesn't matter. All of them are garrisoned by the barons' forces, and their own natives are evil-natured. Our course is just as I wished.'
Then he said, 'Captain Stryker, if you will send signals to the other ships for them to assemble?'
Flags fluttered, and the other "ships pulled close to hear The Sarzana's wishes. His voice was magnified magically, but it didn't have the echoing, trumpet-sound to it that such sorcery usually produces. Instead it was calm and soothing and as personal as if he stood near every man and woman. His instructions were we must bend on all sail, and pray we were not seen by anyone, least of all another ship.
I went to the taffrail and watched that humped island sink out of sight as we sailed on. Grey-green, ominous, and jungled, it did indeed look menacing.
For the next three days we sailed as if we were pursued. The Sarzana had cast wind spells to help our passage, but, or so I was told by Captain Stryker, was afraid of casting a foul weather incantation to cover our passage for fear his sorcery would be 'heard' by some of the baron's magicians.
The Sarzana had changed his habits. Now he kept to himself in the cabin Stryker had given up, and when he appeared on deck made it very clear by his manners that he wished no company that wasn't most important.
Islands rose in front of us, and fell away. Some were mountainous, like that first. Others were bare rocks jutting out of the crashing surf. Still others were the brightest green and, at night, we could see the sparkle of lights from villages. I wondered how long it would be before we were discovered. But we weren't.
I attempted to distract myself by studying the notes I'd taken of Gamelan's teachings. But whenever I tried to concentrate on magic, attention seemed to wane and I'd find myself yawning and losing interest. Similarly, when I tried to continue our lessons, it always seemed inconvenient either for me or for Gamelan.
I kept myself busy with exercise, and with not letting my women get as slack. I'd ordered the sergeants and officers on the other ship to keep a similar regime. The problem was finding a way to keep exercise from becoming screamingly monotonous. I set up for myself, and for anyone else interested, a midday workout climaxed with swarming up a line, knotted at intervals, that led from the deck all the way up to where the yard crossed the foremast. From there, you were supposed to swing over to a different line leading back to the deck, this one with loops every two feet, and come down it, using only your hands. Five times around that circuit, and you hurt too much to be bored.
I was slumped against the mast, panting, after my second turn on this horrible invention of mine, watching a party of sailors just below me, on the main-deck. They had a harpoon tied to a line, and were hoping to spe
ar one of the fish that frequentl
y surfaced just off our bows.
I saw that The Sarzana was on deck, and also had become curious and walked forward.
Sailors, I've noted, don't have much respect for anything other than each other, particularly not for landsmen, and most particularly not for landsmen of great rank, no matter how powerful they may be.
One such sailor tapped his forehead with a knuckle in as casual a salute as I'd ever seen and said, 'Lord, we're a-fishin', an' th' beasties aren't cooperatin'. They say you were a fisherman, once. Or anyways a fishin' lord an' magic-man. Would y' mind spinnin' y'r hands some and sayin' some words that'd send a few finny ones our way?'
The Sarzana looked at the sailor, and his expression was hard and cold. 'I have no time for such as that. Nor you.' Then he walked back towards the stern.