The Wanderers of the Water-Realm (37 page)

The wisewoman’s spirits fell and she began to wonder if her painful efforts to enter the east wing would finally prove to be a failure. Then her gaze fell upon the base of the door and she noticed that a swinging trapdoor was let into the ancient timbers.

A useful facility, she surmised, that had probably been intended to allow vermin hunting animals, to gain easy access to the storage cellars where preserved food had probably been stored.

The trapdoor had once swung from leather straps, but these had long since perished and Hetty easily lifted the door aside, thus revealing a narrow exit through which she could squeeze with some difficulty. The wisewoman removed her working dress and most of her underclothing and then wriggled her way through the mouth of the trapdoor. Once through, she clambered to her feet and found herself standing in a corridor that was illuminated by a small gas-jet mounted on the wall of the passage. She quickly donned her discarded clothing and checked that the poisoned hat-pin was still secure in the lapel of her garment, before continuing her search.

The corridor terminated at the bottom of a flight of stairs that appeared to lead upwards to the ground floor of the east wing. She crept upwards, a step at a time, until she was confronted by a wooden door of modern design. Again, the wisewoman attempted to employ her witch’s inner-eye, in order to gain a foreknowledge of any danger awaiting her beyond the threshold, but her gift appeared to be strangely inoperative and she had no choice but to proceed without the valuable aid of her second-sight.

Biting her lip, she pressed the latch and allowed the door to gently swing open.

Agas-lit main hallway lay beyond and this gave access to a pair of well appointed day-rooms that appeared to occupy much of the ground floor of the wing. To the rear lay three smaller rooms that were completely filled with stout workbenches, their surfaces littered with hanks of yarn, bolts of cloth and various pieces of complicated scientific equipment. In addition, the walls were lined with shelves that supported numerous bottles of variously coloured liquids, boxes of powdered chemicals and other types of scientific paraphernalia; the wisewoman immediately realized that she had entered the research laboratories where the rich industrialist developed and tested his newest discoveries.

The east wing was obviously much smaller than the main portion of the house and only one other ground floor room now remained to be explored. The room lay on the far side of the main hallway and the only access to it appeared to be through a large door that had been entirely constructed from wrought iron plates. Two keyholes were let into its smooth metal surface and a large brass knob appeared to operate a latch on the far side of the door.

Hetty placed both of her hands upon the knob and she had just begun turning it in a clockwise direction, when she heard a muffled footfall on the floor immediately behind her. Instinctively, the wisewoman’s hand flew to the poisoned hat-pin in the lapel of her dress, but, the same instant, she felt the sharp prick of a knife at her throat.

“Remain still witch!” A woman’s voice hissed in her ear. “Or by the Prophet, I swear to kill you this very instant!”

A
flickering glow on the distant southern horizon was the first indication that the ‘Bonny Barbara’ was approaching the copper clad walls of Holy Ptah, and the temporary crewmembers of the narrowboat were in especially good humour, for they knew they were approaching the spiritual home of their race.

Even so, they had little time for idle pondering, for the river was now crowded with vessels of every shape and size and a careful watch had to be set in the bows and the person manning the tiller had always had to be one of the more experienced steersmen. Indeed, the river would have been even more difficult for them to navigate, had the overseer’s galleys not been in close attendance; a fact that encouraged many vessels to give them a wide berth. Finally, on the thirty-eighth day out from the tragic ‘Island of Plenty,’ the entire crew of the narrowboat were able to stand on deck and view the burnished copper walls of Holy Ptah for the first time.

The Holy City stood on the eastern bank of the river and was protected by enormous metal-clad walls that towered at least two hundred feet above ground level, yet these cyclopean walls were simply dwarfed by the numerous finger-like buildings springing upwards from the environs of the city, and whose spires almost pierced the crimson clouds rolling endlessly overhead.

On the western bank of the Life River, directly opposite the metal girt metropolis, there stood a huge and sprawling suburb, whose modest buildings were constructed from commonly used materials such as brick, stone and timber and erected in the normal fashion of the river-folk. This western suburb, Wilakin the navigator had carefully explained, was a civil settlement that housed a vast labouring population, and the sole purpose of this mass of humanity was to provide all of the basic services needed by the Dark Priests, that strange group of clerics who dwelt in virtual isolation behind their shinning copper walls.

The two vastly contrasting settlements were joined together by a slender single-span bridge, made from some strange white coloured metal that arched over the Life River, and stood a good three hundred feet above the waterway at the highest point of its massive span.

One of the overseer’s galleys suddenly increased its stroke-rate and took up a new position ahead of the narrowboat. A sailor standing by the vessel’s stern-rail executed a series of swift hand-signals, which the navigator carefully read before turning to Darryl who was standing by his side.

“Master, we are ordered to follow that craft to the mouth of the overseer’s military dockyard, over on the western shore where a pair of towing-galleys are waiting to help us into our berth. There we shall be met by a representative of the Dark Priests, who is waiting to give you further instructions.”

“Nothin’ like feeling wanted!” The boatmaster reflected. “Anyway, they may have some fresh victuals waiting for us, for that final week of eking out the last of our food-stocks has left me with a fair appetite.”

He laughed. “I think that George is almost ready to start eating his boots, for he knows they’re made of good narrs-leather!”

The ‘Bonny Barbara’and its two escorts swept beneath the great bridge, and as they emerged, the lead-galley abruptly changed course and headed for the mouth of a large dockyard lying about a quarter of a mile away.

Moments later, two swift towing-galleys passed their lines over to the narrowboat and began easing her towards the entrance of the overseer’s dockyard. Darryl now took over the tiller from his twin-sister and he followed the navigator’s steering instructions with the utmost care, until his precious craft was berthed and under armed guard in the safety of the overseer’s dock.

A young man was standing upon the quayside. He wore a plain light brown robe and held an intricately carved baton of office in his left hand. A squad of eight heavily armed mercenaries were drawn up at his rear. The young official ordered his men to remain on the quayside and then he picked his way across the nearest outrigger and stepped down into the cockpit of the boat, where Darryl had just finished securing the tiller.

He grasped the boatmaster’s hand in the common WaterRealm greeting.

“I bid you welcome to the City of Ptah and extend to you the greetings of the Priests of the Ancient Lore. My name is Paris. I am the personal envoy of Councillor Hemm, the head of the High Council of the Priesthood. I am instructed to inform that yourself, and the two other newcomers to the Water-Realm, who fare with you, will be received by my master at noon tomorrow, in the Palace of the High Council. I will return early in the coming morning, too conduct you thither!”

Darryl returned the envoys greeting and was about to give his acquiescence to the priestly summons, when the door of the cabin suddenly swung open and his twin-sister emerged. She bowed to the young envoy, then turned and quietly addressed her brother.

“I mean no disrespect to our guest and I will gladly offer him refreshments from out remaining store of provisions, but I must warn you that although he is not a member of the dark priesthood, he still possesses considerable psychic ability. Brother, you must shield your mind, for he knows your thoughts as easily as reading a book!”

Paris threw back his head and burst out laughing.

“My lady,” he said, with a smile. “Your knowledge is indeed great, for only the most accomplished of seers could define the extent of my powers and done so before I attempted to make use of them.” The envoy raised his arm. “I swear before the forces of the unknown that I will never seek to use such powers against you or any of your friends!”

He paused and looked the young witch directly in the eye. “You know full well, my lady, that I will never break such a powerful oath.”

The envoy paused again and adjusted his robe.

“Councillor Hemm has much to discuss with you, and please do not be afraid. My master holds no animosity towards any of you, for he has known of your presence in the Water-Realm, almost from the first day that you arrived. Indeed you would not be alive, at this moment, if he wished you ill!”

“You have known…” Darryl began, but the youthful envoy held up his hand for silence.

“All your questions will be answered on the morrow. In the meantime, you must remain aboard this craft, for here you will be quite safe and you will also receive the best of provisions from the dockyard kitchens.”

The envoy adjusted his robe and prepared to quit the narrowboat.

“The dockyard overseer has been instructed to purchase your cargo of rare timbers at the full market price and to pay you, at once, in good solid discs. You will then have the means to pay-off or retain your crew-members, as you see fit.”

The envoy bowed graciously towards the girl. “I am glad to have made the acquaintance of so beautiful a seer. Now I must return to my other duties!”

So saying, he rejoined his escort upon the quayside and quickly disappeared.

“What do you make of the man?” Darryl asked, once they were alone.

But his sister simply shrugged her shoulders. “I feel that we can probably trust him.

He gave me the security of an almost unbreakable oath, when I warned you of his psychic powers, and my inner-eye also suggests that he is a man of considerable integrity, but we may well be minnows amongst sharks, so we must remain on our guard!”

Half an hour later, three sweating cooks visited the vessel, laden with baskets of hot food and a large jug of Thoa-nut beer. The boatmaster immediately called out the entire crew and they enjoyed an excellent meal seated upon the deck of the narrowboat.

However, the crewmembers had barely finished their repast when the brown robed assistant overseer of the dockyard arrived, accompanied by an adviser from the timber merchant’s guild and a dozen common labourers. At the overseer’s request, the ‘Bonny Barbara’s’ cargo of rare timbers was exposed for examination. For a full hour, the overseer and the merchant-adviser clambered about the hold, perusing its contents with care. Finally, they emerged from the hold and offered to pay the boatmaster a quantity of copper discs that was about equal to what old Agar-Marduk had expected the cargo to bring in the markets of Holy Ptah. Darryl accepted the offer without a moment’s hesitation, and, for the remainder of the day, the dockside was a hive of actively, as the contents of the hold were carefully unloaded by the labourers and transported to the safety of nearby warehouses.

Darryl, meanwhile, was taken to the dockyard’s main office, where the agreed sum in copper discs was counted out before his eyes, and presented to him in two strong leather moneybags.

The three laden cooks returned to the ‘Bonny Barbara’ at dusk. Once again, the crewmembers dined upon the open deck, but this time with the aid of lanterns. At the end of the meal, Darryl produced one of the bags of discs and meticulously paid out the wages owed to each member of the crew. He also thanked them for their loyalty and offered to retain their services for the foreseeable future.

Wilakin the navigator immediately stepped forward then kissed the boatmaster’s hands and swore to remain with the craft, until all their journeying was over.

He was instantly followed by ‘Whiteflower’ the newest crewmember, who repeated the same oath of loyalty also without hesitation.

The two blood cousins, Tess and Tom-Tess, were undecided, but agreed to remain and experience some of the wonders of the Holy City of Ptah, before deciding whether or not to take part in the next leg of the voyage.

Dromon, as expected, declined the offer of re-enlistment and declared his intention of briefly visiting Ptah, before returning northwards, to the village of his birth, in order to begin life as a freehold farmer.

Once again, Darryl thanked the men for their services, then he and the tired crewmembers sought the comfort of sleep.

Dawn broke over the City of Ptah and the crew of the ‘Bonny Barbara’ awoke and greeted another day.

They ate a light breakfast then Dromon, resplendent in his best garb and with a travel-pack slung loosely over his shoulder, descended the gangplank for the last time and waved goodbye before disappearing in the direction of the dock gates.

The two blood cousins followed shortly afterwards, leaving only five crewmembers aboard the narrowboat.

Darryl turned and addressed both his sister and the giant boat hand. “Well friends,” he said. “The five suns are already high, so we had best get ready for our meeting with Councillor Hemm. Paris said that we should wear only common dress and carry no weapons. So let’s get to it!”

The three newcomers were waiting upon the quayside when the young envoy arrived together with a bodyguard of soldiers.

Darryl and the boat hand were dressed in dark trousers and plain brown caftans and this simple garb drew no comment from the young official, but the man was visibly taken aback by the strikingly beautiful appearance of the youthfulwisewoman. She wore a long figure-hugging dress of emerald green, leaving little to the imagination, matching to perfection the long flowing tresses of red hair covering her shoulders and back.

“In the name of all the Gods!” The envoy gasped. “Can all the women who dwell in the world beyond the barrier, possibly be as fair as she?”

Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, a psychic message pierced the mind of the young envoy.

“No Paris… Indeed they are not. But as the priests of Dumteck say… Beauty of the form, without beauty of the soul, is but an empty and worthless gift!”