He rose, somewhat unsteadily, and groped for his hat.
“I will tell him what I think politic, Dak, as you know. I think I shall embroider a little. By Zair! I think I shall enjoy something for the first time since— Well, he will be working himself into a rage. I must go. I thank you for the wine.”
“Take a few bottles with you. See my Palinter. I have work to do — and when I call on you, Nath Zavarin, I shall expect a prompt and purposeful answer.”
“Aye, Dak of Nowhere. I think you will.”
The crafty old devil went out. He didn’t commit himself. In his position, of course, no man would.
The suns beat down on deck with soothing warmth. The day would be fine. Men worked about the ship and some slaves had been released to haul up buckets of seawater and hurl them down over their fellow-sufferers on the oar tiers. Everything appeared normal, for Fazhan ran a taut ship. I looked at the four other vessels and saw nothing that appeared amiss. Well, I was going to alter all that. I shouted at Zavarin as he walked along the gangway bearing two bottles clasped to his pudgy chest.
“Wait a moment, Zavarin.” To Duhrra I said, “Bring out that fine golden mixing bowl we took from that Grodnim broad ship — the one with a captain like a vosk.”
“He pulls with the thalamites now,” said Duhrra, and ran back to the treasure storehouse by my cabin. When he reappeared the golden krater winked and gleamed magnificently under the suns. I held it out to Zavarin.
“Give this to the king with my compliments. Your man will handle it with care, for it is of great value. Tell him we can discuss the disposal of the mergem as soon as he wishes.”
Zavarin’s jaw did not drop. But he looked at me as though I had been stricken with lunacy before his eyes.
“I do not understand, Dak.”
“There are reasons. Three hundred, you said? A fair force to keep order.”
He shuffled his feet as his men took the wine and the krater away to his boat. He lifted that bulbous face of his and looked at me straight. In a low voice, he said, “We have had news, secret and sure, that Prince Glycas intends a fresh assault on the day after tomorrow. We have spies. The day will be hard for the soldiers. That might be a time of opportunity.”
I said, “I cannot wait all that long.”
He looked bewildered.
Then, “The people believe Zenno, for I have told them he is the true king, after Zinna. This I was forced to do. They will fight well against the cramphs of Grodnim.”
‘They had best do so, for the sake of Zair. Take this fool Ztrom Nalgre with you, him and his men. I do not want them fouling my ship.”
By the time the Ztrom and his party were over the side, and Zavarin with much wheezing and puffing had been manipulated down the ladder and into his boat, I had prepared. Dolan the Bow had said, simply, that he would follow me. He knew Zandikar. It was his home. Duhrra and Nath the Slinger would not be dissuaded. So I told Fazhan to take over. He would consult with Pur Naghan and the other skippers. They were to do nothing until they heard from me. With that the four of us went down into a boat with half a dozen sacks of mergem and pulled gently across to an inconspicuous wharf that Dolan said was used to ship in animals’ intestines used in tanning.
The city appeared to slumber in the warmth. The gray-white stone and the red roofs glittered with a soft brightness, many points of light combining into a brilliant yet gentle haze. Towers and domes floated over the golden mist of colored rooftops. On one of the arms of land embracing the outer harbor the massy pile of the seaward fortress, the Helmet of Buzro, glowered down, and yet for all its vastness and grimness appearing only a fairy-story castle, flaunting its red banners against the blue radiant sky.
“He said she lived in a place called the Ivory Pavilion,” said Duhrra. “And her name is Miam.”
“The Ivory Pavilion,” said Dolan as the boat touched the stones and I leaped out. “Yes, I know it. A palace on a hill, grand and beautiful. Of course, I have never been inside.”
“You will today,” I said.
I felt the hurt in me. My son could tell these things to Duhrra, who was his oar-comrade, things he had not cared to tell me. Why should he? I was a comrade and his captain. Had he known I was his father he’d no doubt have told me with a sword.
We had been through adventures together and I knew, from what Duhrra told me, that Vax regarded me as a good captain and a good warrior. He had, so Duhrra said, a high regard for me and my prowess. As to affection, that remained an imponderable. Duhrra suggested that Vax went in some awe of me, which thought I heartily disliked. Yet he copied my ways, I knew, and that must mean something.
The look Nath Zavarin had given me as I lifted and handed the golden krater across had apprised me that he recognized my strength. Duhrra had strained a trifle to lift the golden mixing bowl. Perhaps Vax merely envied my strength. Well, if he was his father’s son he’d inherit that, particularly after his stint as an oar-slave. I tried not to think of Delia, for I had harsh and unpleasant duties to perform. The little girl we had taken from the sacrifice to the Beast of Time remained fast shut in the ship, a source of temptation to lecherous sailormen. I had barely spoken to her, save to learn her name was Lena, and that she came from a dusty and forgotten little village called Fairmont and that she was truly a virgin and thus fit for the sacrifice. I had told her that so long as she remained in my care she would preserve her virginity. She was illiterate, as so many poor folk are on Kregen, and was dizzied by her experiences, having been snatched away from home and stripped and loaded with gold and gems and lashed to a sacrificial stone block.
I must think only of the fate of my son Vax. The streets and alleys of Zandikar wound and wended in the usual haphazard way of most Zairian cities. Dolan led on, carrying one sack of mergem. Duhrra and I carried two each, and Nath the last. The houses showed evidence of the siege, many having been pulled down to provide stones for the catapults and varters. A dim murmur like bees in summer rose from the inland walls where the siege went on. Nothing much would happen until the onslaught of the day after tomorrow. The suns burned down and we padded swiftly along the cobbles, mounting between tall gray-white walls to the hill on which stood the Ivory Pavilion.
No one paid us much attention. We looked desperate enough, Zair knows, and the mergem we had earlier landed was now being mixed and cooked and eaten.
Parties of soldiers were rarely to be seen; they would be moving between their billets and the walls. A fire began past the hill and we could see only the ugly waft of black smoke.
Presently, panting, Dolan said, “The gate ahead.”
A long gray-white wall flanked the top of the hill. Much vegetation grew beyond, and flowers depended over the walls. The gate was barred by iron, and inside a man carrying a spear stood guard. To him I said: “Llahal, dom. We have food. Let us in.”
“Who are you?” He squinted, and turned his head in the bronze helmet from side to side to get us in his sights.
“Friends of the lady Miam.”
He sniffed at this; but Duhrra let his two sacks down and extended his left hand with a golden zo-piece glittering on his palm. “We come in friendship with food. Do you think your mistress would be pleased if you sent us away?”
“You are from the king?”
Duhrra opened his mouth and I said, harshly, “No. Open up.”
As I had chanced the throw, so that remark reassured him and the iron gate swung open. We were escorted by three guards, men who all looked unfit for fighting on the walls, up to the palace. Whatever happened, I was prepared to wait until I saw Vax. What happened then would depend on how he had fared.
A considerable bustle had just subsided as we entered the porticoed way and marched into the antechamber. The place was a palace right enough, with quantities of marble and statuary, a fine balcony, tall windows, and with intricate mosaic pavements cool beneath the feet. I dumped my mergem down as a tall, elegant middle-aged man stepped toward us. He bore the stamp of authority; but he bore it as though he understood the responsibilities as well as the perquisites of power. His robes were of white, dazzlingly clean, trimmed with red, and at his side he bore a scabbarded, golden-hilted sword of the solaik variety.
[7]
He looked to be a man I could talk to.
He said, “What do you here? We have naught left—”
I said, “I have brought food for the lady Miam. I would like to see her. I am Dak. There is not much time.”
He bristled; but he was intrigued. At his side a shadow moved and a man stepped out. He was a dwarf. He had a finely shaped head; his body was stunted but strong. He held a crossbow and the quarrel centered on my heart. His clothes were an incongruous mixture of reds and golds and mail.
I looked at him. I did not smile. He was deadly.
“No one comes here for the lady Miam without a ready explanation.”
“Send for her and you will have your explanation.”
He hesitated and the dwarf cocked an eye up at him.
“You say you have food for her? You are from the ships in the outer harbor?”
“Yes and yes. Now — whoever you are — send for the lady Miam, or I shall have to penetrate the women’s quarters myself.”
A nasty scene was spared by the entrance of the lady herself.
I have seen many beautiful women. I have seen many women lovely in the sight of men. There have never been any women to match in beauty my Delia — and, at this time, my dear dead Velia — yet this Miam bore herself with beauty and with demureness, her color high, her long braided brown hair glowing in the lights through the tall windows. Her white dress moved over her bosom with an agitation I did not connect with my arrival. The young devil! Mind you, I was wrong. . .
“I am here, Uncle — if this fierce warrior is Dak—”
“He is, niece.”
“Then all is well. I have had news — such strange news — that Zeg wishes to be remembered to me. That is all.”
I gaped. Zeg! Zeg was the Krozair name my son Segnik had taken, and he would fight anyone who added the “nik” to his name. I looked at Miam and I burst out — I, cunning, canny, cynical old Dray Prescot — I burst out like any callow youth, “But I thought it was Vax—”
She laughed. The tinkling, refreshing, superbly rational sound drove all the cobwebs away. Naught of evil could live in the sound of that laugh.
“Vax brings me news of his brother and assures himself I am safe. He does not love me.”
“In that, my lady Miam,” said Vax’s voice as he stepped into the room, “you wound me sore. You do me an injustice.”
“Oh, yes, Vax, I know! But you know what I mean.”
“I do.” He looked at me and had the grace to look suddenly confused and to look away sharply.
I said, “If you do anything stupid like this again, I’ll tan your backside myself.”
He bridled. His hand whipped to his sword — to that superb Krozair brand I had given him. His lips pouted into a sullen droop, and his head snapped erect, his eyes glaring.
“Do not think I would not, Vax, for all you are a great warrior now. Anyway, you did not think to bring any food for your friends.”
“Come, come,” said this Miam’s uncle, spreading his arms. “It seems we are all friends here. Let us have no more unpleasantness.” He turned to me. “Lahal, Dak. I am Janri Zunderhan, Roz of Thoth Zeresh. We have no wine fit to drink to offer; but we have a little tea left.”
“Tea is better than wine any day. I will have supplies brought up from my ships. I thank you for your hospitality. Lahal, Roz Janri.”
He looked quite pleased, no doubt expecting some uncouth paktunlike remark. We all went into an inner room and soon the confusion was sorted out. This lady Miam was the great-granddaughter of the dead king Zinna. She hadn’t even been a gleam in her father’s eye when last I’d been in the Eye of the World. She and Zeg, I gathered, had more or less decided to set up house together. He was off corsairing on the inner sea and she was shut up here under siege. I had an idea Zeg didn’t know that. And here was I, sitting with one son and talking about another son, and denied all the heartburning words I longed to speak!
I turned the conversation the way I wanted it to go and learned that Nath Zavarin was regarded not as a fat fool, or even a fat hulu, but as a man desirous of serving his city who was being forced into bad company and bad ways. He was regarded as being clever to have avoided being chopped by Starkey the Wersting. They had a finicky disability over calling Starkey King Zenno in this household. Miam could prove an embarrassment to the new king and she was being kept very quiet indeed. All the fit men were off fighting on the walls; but Roz Janri indicated that all here would fight to the death for the lady Miam and himself. Her relations were all dead, as were his. They had found good comradeship in each other’s company.
The dwarf, Roko, bustled about bossing the serving wenches, waddling along on his big flat feet, a cheery, cheeky little man, a man to be reckoned with. I thought the back of his neck must ache with the continual looking up he must do. Still, I supposed he was used to it.
It is not necessary for me to go into every tiny detail of my movements over the rest of that day, or of the plans I formulated almost bur by bur. Everything fell into place with an ease I would have regarded with great suspicion had the circumstances been other than they were. I wondered — true — if the veiled hand of Zena Iztar could be found in this. She could well be manipulating events. Zair knew, she, like the Star Lords, had power enough.
The upshot was that, as the Suns of Scorpio sank in floods of fire and the first stars began to shine out, my sea-leems quit the ships in silence, their weapons muffled. The very first star of Kregen was a huge blue fat beauty, shining with a calm refulgence, extraordinarily bright at this time of the approach of orbits. This is the planet Kregans call Soothe. Soothe is one of the more famous Goddesses of Love, and her voluptuous representation is found all over Kregen, in apim or numin, sylvie or Fristle form, in any of the shapes of females most admired by lecherous men. Soothe and Venus — if this was mere coincidence, I did not know.