Black Ships (24 page)

And the world went dark and light and dark again, my hips shaking against his hand, and then I lay in darkness, his head pillowed on my shoulder, his arm around my body.

Our breathing was loud, loud as the muttering of the river against the dock.

“I want this,” I whispered.

“So do I,” he said. One hand made a lazy circle on my stomach, gentle and quiet. “I didn’t know at first that you were so beautiful,” he said.

“I’m not,” I said, and ducked my face behind the curtain of his hair.

“You are to me,” he said. “Do you think your leg matters lying down?”

And suddenly I was laughing, though tears started in my eyes. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

I ran my hands through his long hair, as soft and as dark as mine. “You are beautiful, Xandros. You are everything that is good and true.”

I felt him smile against my skin. “Oh, praise me more.”

I bent my lips to his brow. “I’ve always thought you were handsome. Even the first day I met you. When you nearly killed Aren.”

“I didn’t think you were you the first day you met me,” he said.

“I was me and Her both,” I said.

He was very quiet and I thought he was dozing when he said, “I thought you were beautiful too. I hadn’t thought Death was beautiful before. I mean, it’s almost blasphemy, isn’t it? To see Death walking, Her feet soaked in men’s blood, and find something beautiful in Her.”

“The gods are beautiful,” I said. “Always.”

He kissed me, soft and deep. “But when I carried you onto
Dolphin
after you fainted, I realized you were a young woman too, younger than me, not a crone. A young woman with a face that could have been my sister’s, under the paint.”

“We are alike,” I said. I stopped. I had never spoken of this, since I was dedicated. “My grandfather was a boatbuilder in the Lower City,” I said quietly. “My mother was his only daughter, before she was taken. She grew up in the shadow of the Great Tower, in the sound of the sea.”

Xandros stroked my hair. “My father was a fisherman, and my grandfather before him.”

“Do you think...Do you think you could have loved a boatbuilder’s granddaughter?”

There was a smile in his voice, as though he told a secret too. “I could have loved a boatbuilder’s granddaughter. A girl who grew up with me in the Lower City, a beautiful smiling girl who loves to dance and really knows how to clean fish.” I pressed my face against his shoulder. “I might have married a boatbuilder’s granddaughter, my dear friend, the sister of my heart.”

Suddenly there were tears in my throat, and I tried to keep my voice from shaking, so I whispered instead. “I could have married a fisherman. If none of this had ever happened, and we were in Wilusa.”

He kissed me, so I didn’t need to say any more. The gods willed otherwise, my mother had said. But they had left us something still.

Xandros snuggled closer, as warm and as close as my shadow.

I lay half drowsing against his arm, ran my hand down his body to his manhood. “You know,” I said sleepily, “the only problem with all this shaving is the stubble.”

Xandros snorted. “It’s kind of a problem on my end too, you know.”

And we laughed and dozed and curled together under the blanket.

I
WOKE BEFORE DAWN
and knew from his breathing that he was awake. In a moment I heard him get up and go on deck, heard the stream as he made water over the side. Then he came back and lay beside me.

I shifted back against him.

“Are you awake?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I said. “But we don’t need to be.”

“No, not yet.” He burrowed his face into my hair.

Somewhere out over the river the first water bird called.

“Xandros?” I said.

“Yes?”

I laced my fingers with his. “Before I was Pythia, before I was Linnea, my name was Gull. My name is Gull.”

I felt his breath against me. “Gull,” he whispered, “is a beautiful name. You are Gull.”

And we fell asleep again in each other’s arms.

INUNDATION

I
woke in the morning to find Xandros watching me. Bright sunlight poured in through the chinks in the boards above, making little warm patterns on our skin, like the spots on a cheetah, only in reverse, bright on dark. I saw him and I smiled.

He relaxed a little, and I saw that he had been afraid that I would be angry. “Hello, Xandros,” I said, and stretched one cramped arm.

“Good morning,” he said. He looked down at my side, where the light made patterns. “You’re absolutely certain...”

“...that it’s not forbidden? Absolutely. Completely. I am very, very certain that it’s not forbidden. I would not have done it if it were.”

He raised one eyebrow. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

There wasn’t much to say to that other than the brutally honest—I would not break my vows for you—but I didn’t want to say that, so I said nothing. Instead I stretched against him. Skin on skin was tremendously sensual, stubble included. And it was quite some time before we got up.

W
HEN
I
FINALLY WENT
to help Tia and the other women clean up it was nearly noon. I held Kianna while Tia was scrubbing out one of the big pots, wishing my mouth didn’t taste like stale beer. Kianna made gurgling sounds on my shoulder and pushed at my lap with her little feet. Her legs were getting stronger. She didn’t crawl yet, but she could inch forward on her belly like an earthworm, making little hooting sounds as she did.

“Are you going to marry Bai?” I asked.

Tia didn’t look up from the big pot. “Yes,” she said. “I was afraid to even think about it at first because of Kianna. I mean, babies are a lot of trouble when they’re yours, and you know, expecting him to put up with everything when... I was worried that it wouldn’t work. And so I thought maybe I should wait to think about getting married to anybody until she’s three and goes to you. Kos says I don’t have to get married right now.”

“You could,” I said. “I promised you that Kianna would be my acolyte, and she will be.” I rubbed my cheek against Kianna’s soft face, her soft hair as she climbed against my shoulder. “I will take her when she is weaned and she will be a daughter to me.”

“Perhaps by then you will have a daughter of your own,” Tia said.

“I could have more than one daughter,” I said. I looked down, horrified to find myself blushing. “Are you surprised?” I asked.

“The only thing that surprises anyone is that it took you so long.” Tia grinned. “You and Xandros are well matched. Kos says they’ve been friends a long time, and that he’s always needed someone like you. And it’s been coming for months, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose,” I said. I had never really talked about a man, certainly not with a woman friend near my age. I wasn’t sure how to begin.

I was spared from finding something to say by Neas arriving. He ambled in through the gates looking well pleased with himself and came up to us. “Where’s Xandros?” he asked.

I colored again, but Tia answered before I could. “He and Kos went fishing,” she said. “In one of the little basket boats.”

Neas looked irritated. “I suppose they’ll be half the day, then. I wanted to show Xandros this.” He held out a sword.

It was longer than our swords by a hand span and more slender, with a leaf-shaped blade that curved gently. It was sharpened on both sides and the hilt was wrapped with stiff wool dyed dark reddish purple and fastened with gold wire. Other than that it was unadorned, and the sleek bright lines of the blade shone in the light, beautiful and lethal.

“Where did you get that?” I asked Neas.

“From one of the Nubians,” he said. “He gifted it to me. He had several that he took off prisoners from Byblos and the cities of the coast.”

“It’s lovely,” I said. “I’ve never seen one like it. Can I?” I asked.

Neas raised an eyebrow, but handed it to me. “I thought you were forbidden to shed blood?”

“I’m not planning to kill you with it,” I said. “I can hold it, can’t I?” It was heavy, solid as a full carry-measure of grain, but beautifully balanced so that I could hold it in my hand without strain. It was much thinner than our swords, and the point was sharp. You could slash with it or use the tip, and yet it was strong enough to block a spear thrust. And I said so to Neas.

His eyebrows went up even farther. “Our Sybil knows something of swords?”

“Neas,” I said, “I can see what is plain before my eyes. It’s better than anything we have. With it you could get inside a man’s guard while he still could not reach you, and against a spearman you would be able to block.”

“I could,” he said. “And if I had a shield I could withstand archers long enough to close.” He looked at me and his eyes were as bright as the blade. “Sybil, with swords like this a man could rule the world. There is nothing that can stand against them, not even chariots. And if you put together swords like this and men trained to fight in close order like the Nubians, rather than running as skirmishers as we do, not even chariots could break the formation. That’s the problem the Nubians have now. They can’t fight in close if the chariots come in. But with these swords you’d cut the horses to pieces and the drivers would be in too close for their javelins to work very well.”

“With swords like those and men trained to fight in close order, a small group of men could hold off much greater numbers,” I said slowly. “We could win, even though we are few.”

“Yes.” Neas looked down at the blade and he swallowed. “But no one is doing that. The Shardana have some of these, and the men of Tyre and Ugarit That Was, but they fight the same way we do, each man rushing in for honor. The Egyptians have the Nubians, and you have seen how they fight like one man, but they cannot stand against chariots.” He looked up at me. “Do you see? With swords like these, the day of chariots is over. These are the swords that destroyed Ugarit, and these are the swords that nothing can stand against.”

“Except,” I said, “a group of men with swords like those, and shields, who know how to fight in close order.”

“The enemy could run forward seeking honor even with swords like these and break off them like the sea off rocks.”

“We could stand against anyone,” I said.

“You see it,” Neas said, and clasped my hands. There was something light about him, something that reminded me suddenly of Mikel. “Sybil, you see it! The Egyptians do not!”

“You have brought this up to the Egyptians?” I said, taken aback.

“They have the swords already,” Neas said, “taken from prisoners or given as gifts in trade. And they don’t understand. They all just blink at me and say, ‘This is not the way it was done in our grandfathers’ day. This is not the Way of Maat.’ They have taken one of the best-balanced blades and gilded it for ceremony, but they don’t understand what it can do.”

“Perhaps they do understand,” I said. “But it doesn’t matter. Things must be done according to Maat, the Balance. Things that are well done should never be changed.”

“But the world is changing,” Neas said.

“I know that,” I said. “My prince, we are a young people with young gods. If there is a new way to do something we will try it. It might be silly, or there might be some advantage in it.”

“How can we know until we try it?” Neas asked.

“That is my point, Neas. You see every reason to try something, and they see no reason to. There’s a saying they have: Don’t fix it if it is not broken.”

Neas shrugged. “We have every reason to, all right. We’re on a knife’s edge, and anything that gives us an advantage may be the difference between our survival and the deaths of all the People.” He took the sword back and hefted it experimentally. “I’ve been looking for the thing. The gods know that I have been praying for the thing. This is it.”

“But not the sword alone,” I said. “The other piece is you. You must teach them to fight in close order like the Nubians. And no man has done this before.”

“Then we will learn,” he said. “That’s why I’m hunting for Xandros. He’ll see.”

“He will,” I said. “Of all the men here he will see.” Xandros had the quickest mind, and he saw straight through the how of things.

Neas looked out at the swollen Nile, dark with silt and life-giving soil. “We are not like them,” he said softly. “For them safety lies in the old ways, in things that are unchanging year after year.”

“And for us the world is changing,” I said.

Neas nodded. “If we had kept to the old ways, Citadel and Lower City, horse people and sea people, each caring for our own, bound only by ties of kinship, we would die. You did not grow up in the City, Sybil. You don’t know how far we’ve already come from our traditions. The fishing boat children with no kin are cared for by others.”

“There are so many women,” I said, “who have lost their children, so many with no bonds of kinship. Is it strange that they should take an orphaned child of the People?”

“It would be in the City,” Neas said.

“You learn differently in captivity,” I said gently. “It does not matter what your station was once when you are all slaves together, and it does not matter whose child it is if it is one of ours. You said it yourself on the Island of the Dead, Neas. Every life of the People is valuable. Even Kianna. Even Aren. Was it not so in the City?”

“No.” He shook his head. “We were like everyone else then. There were some with much more than others, and some children were wanted and some were exposed.” He looked me in the eye. “The child of a rape would have been left on the hillside for the beasts, and you would not be Sybil.”

“And Bai would not marry Tia,” I said.

“Tia would live all her life in Kos’ house, unmarriageable and pitied, eating from his charity.”

“That will not happen,” I said.

“No.” Neas smiled. “The women of the People are too few. There are three men for every woman, and a young woman who is pretty and well spoken, able to bear healthy children, can choose among her suitors, rape or no. If she picks Bai, it is he who has gained, not her.”

“We must take care,” I said slowly, “to keep the good that has come from this when we are in our new city, to keep the People we have become. Perhaps that is what the gods intended all along.”

Neas looked away. “Our new city. Do you really see it so, or was that encouragement spoken to me in a dark time?”

“It is true,” I said. “I know it as I know anything. We will not stay in Egypt, Neas. That is not your fate.”

I wasn’t sure if he looked troubled or relieved. “Where should we go? We can’t return to Byblos or the cities of the coast. Every hand there will be raised against us for the blood of their men lost in the great fleet. I see no choice besides staying in Egypt.” Neas looked at me sharply. “And besides, I thought you liked it here.”

“I do,” I said, and I meant it with all my heart. “But it is not your fate to die here. You will found a new city in a distant land. That is what I have seen.”

“And you, Sybil?” he asked. “Where will you die?”

“I do not know,” I said. “No more than any other mortal.”

I would that it were here, in this ancient land. I thought I would that it were here, when I had passed four score years in useful service. I would lie here, under this sun, in this quiet place that calls to me with deep voices of peace. I do not know why I loved the Black Land so, or why it filled me with a deep thrill like the sound of a great drum at a distance to know that I had played some little part in preserving that peace. I suspect, looking back. I imagine that I had loved this land before. Love is without end.

A
ND SO
our life fell into a peaceful rhythm, merging for a moment with the deep tides of the Black Land. The flood rose and descended. Tia married Bai, left the room she had shared with me for one with him.

The flood waters subsided, and the planting began, big sleepy black oxen in the fields working the rich soil. Somehow Xandros found his way into Tia’s place. Some nights we just lay quiet in the dark, listening to the soft sounds of the river, of the People sleeping. Other times I would turn to him and in the darkness discover unknown worlds. I would go to sleep with his hair against my face listening to the firm, steady beating of his heart.

In the fields of Egypt the first beans began to sprout, two green leaves unfolding to the sun. By day, Neas taught his men the skill of close-order fighting. As he had predicted, Xandros was the first to understand what Neas wanted. Day after day they sweated, shields made of bulls’ hide in their left hands, swords in their right. Not all of them had the new swords of course, but there were more and more among us. Many had been taken from captives or those slain in the great fleet, and as Egyptian soldiers learned that we would trade beer for them, they were glad to trade us their trophies.

I watched them in the courtyard. Neas shouted out the orders, like a captain to rowers, with Xandros and Maris to pass them on. Indeed, it was the rowers who did the best, accustomed as they were to moving in unison and answering chanted directions. They stood in lines three men deep, shields on their left arms, each man covering the right of the man next to him, each boat’s rowers forming up as a company. Xandros would shout to
Dolphin
’s men, and they would turn on Kos, the front man on the right, facing first one way and then another, advancing at the same pace, swords drawn. In the dust that rose from their moving feet I saw endless shadows. Standing by the cooking pots I thought I saw other feet moving, not bare and tanned as theirs, but shod in leather sandals studded with bronze, medallions stamped with eagles.