Kavin's World (21 page)

There were other wonders under Koremon. The peasant folk knew a great deal they had never told their evil masters, and it became clear that this had once been a mighty kingdom.

Under the cover of grass, long roads of dressed stones ran from the sea to the distant hills, and under mounds, deeply buried, lay mighty ruins. Sometimes our folk would clear trees, and find a giant statue, worn nearly faceless by time; and others, plowing, would turn up bones and armor, and more.

In hidden places, the brown folk had kept certain things from that old time, which they brought out now. The Copper Crown itself, I saw one day; a heavy, plain band of thick metal, engraved in a language even Thuramon could not read. That we hid again, but other things we kept.

Among those things were tools, broken or age-rotted, but useful as models for our workmen. As we learned their uses, we grew awed at the skills of that vanished people. There were moldering books, too, over which Thuramon nearly burnt out his eyes. And best of all, a lamp… many such, in fact. These were bronze globes, the size of a man’s fist, having short legs on which to stand; and on each one, a rod of crystal emerging. They were green with age, but most of them still worked; merely touching one caused the crystal to light with a brilliant cold light, bright as sunlight.

Thuramon took one of the lamps to his new workshops, where he kept a dozen men busy; there, he cut it apart, trying to learn its secret. The first such lamp nearly killed him, its explosion taking the roof of his workroom into the air. But a singed wizard is a wiser wizard; he employed an apprentice to disassemble the second one, who was fortunate. However, the means of its working still escaped him.

Then, one after another, ships began to come to our shore, some with returned Doradans and others, and a trader or two seeking profit. A harbor began to take form, and the elements of a port.

The people of the Dragon
island
remained aloof. Twice, I visited there, and had conversation, laying certain plans; but it was early made clear that visits from others were unwelcome.

Meanwhile, I worked to build both a realm and a strong force to defend it. I had little doubt that the three would whiff our presence, and possibly suspect our ends in time. And in the end, only our arms could finish that evil, I was sure.

It took too long, I felt, as I drove myself and others daily. Month after month… and metal gathered, a foundry set going, guns casting. We built a new kind of gun, riding on cartwheels, easier to fire and faster to charge; and by painful
experiment,
we learned to cast them as we wished. We found a source of sulfur in a hill valley, and willow for charcoal.

The saltpeter was hardest to gather, at first, but then we found a mighty trove of the stuff. On a sea rock, eastward of the dragon’s island itself, some of our folk who had been fishing saw the crusts of white, drifted like snow. It was a favorite roost for dragons, who fished from that perch, and their dung yielded
a saltpeter
of a mighty power. Gunpowder made from it was of ten times the strength of that which we’d used before.

But chief of the treasures of our new land of Koremon were those horses, the tall, wide-shouldered ones we had first seen drawing the peasant carts. Our own horse copers soon had a few of them broken to saddle, and we found there were more of them run wild in the near hills. Most were of the same giant stock; the largest were nearly twice the size of an ordinary warhorse. Our armorers now had a liberty with weight of metal such as they had never known, both for the rider and the beast itself. Our smiths made a new kind of metalwork, and weapons.

We now had a growing troop of cavalrymen, using high saddles, bearing longer shields, and with lances like boat masts, and each man was shelled in metal like a lobster. But those mighty horses, with such a weight, and carrying padded shields themselves, could still thunder forward at an earthshaking gallop.

I found a horse I liked particularly, a beast of middle size, a golden brown in color with a lighter mane, and a bright eye. He was a stallion, and had some tendency at first to rear and wheel, but I worked with him until he rode
better
than any horse I’d seen before. I called him Gold, for his color, and rode him, whenever the work permitted a free hour or two… not very often.

As months went by, Isa’s time came nearer. The three of us, she, and I, and Samala, were often together; Samala gained from me permission to erect a small temple and hospice for the Goddess. I let it be done, though I cared nothing about that matter; but I had a second temple of equal size built for Tana alone.

And sometimes, when my two queens were off together, exchanging certain occult wisdom concerning babies and their secrets, I now found time to walk awhile alone, in the forested places near the new house of the Prince.

In that forest, I discovered one day that I was not alone.

A hand touched my face, and a laugh came from the empty air: the invisible Macha Emmrin was there.

She was a most difficult woman to make friends with in any ordinary way. She could speak, I knew; but she seemed to prefer silence generally. But it became quite certain that Thuramon was right, and that I possessed some charm for women, a charm which I could not myself see. Young, I still was, but I bore a good many scars now, and my hair was gray; also, my face did not seem to have the open friendly look it once possessed, to see it in a mirror.

Well, it must have been that luck of mine again; Tana’s luck, that seemed to be the one certain thing in an uncertain world. With such luck, one ought to take what it gives, and make no questions. The luck gave me a most unusual gift, this time, for, as I made quite certain, Macha Emmrin was certainly a woman, in spite of two most unfemale traits… invisibility, and silence of tongue.

Well it was that none ever followed me into the oak forest, to see me walking beside a little lake I had found, conversing wisely with empty air.
Or with my arm around a vacant space, or an even more disturbing sight; the abrupt vanishment, which the Macha Emmrin could give by her touch.

Her greatest gift was not only her silence, but an occult ability to make me speak with little hope of any answer. Oh, sometimes a laugh; or a whispered word or two. But generally, I seemed to
feel
her answers, with no need of any sound from her lips; yet, it seemed to be necessary for me to use the older, more established way of speech, aloud.

“Koremon is a fair land,” I said, thoughtfully, as I lay on my back on a grass bank, staring up into the trees. “Fairer than…
Dorada that was.”
I knew she listened.

“Was your own land as fair?” I asked. “Or was it all as we saw it, a plain of grass, empty?”

Closing my eyes, I seemed to see dim towers, rainbow-colored, floating in a glowing sea, and phantoms
who
walked among them. I had seen this vision before; it was all she would let me know about her birthplace. A picture… and of a place that was in no way like that sea of grass where we had found her.

“And did your people have kings, and princes?” I wondered aloud. “And did those rulers find themselves with as little freedom to live as they wished as I have? Did they make oaths, to bind them to leave their rainbow towers, and seek quarrels with strangers? I’ll need to go out of this fair land, soon, Macha, and maybe never return. I must go on with this struggle, till it’s done. Else, my sons will have no land of their own, and this fair land will burn as Dorada did.”

The thought came from her. I would go, but she would go also, and I would return.

“Prophecies,” I said. “Some of them come about.
If you help them, with the sword’s edge…
Macha, I am no great prince, not even that… and no king at all. I find I do not love the sight of blood. I think I’ve slain too many already, and I’ve enough years left ahead to slay twice that number. And, as Thuramon might say, the gods seem to take an interest in me.
Such an interest that I am offered a copper crown, and from what I’ve seen of kings, that means more labor, and more manslaying, to the end of my days.
Kings and priests, and lords…
is
there no other way to set men’s lives in order? Could we have a land with no king at all, here in Koremon?”

Her laugh came softly, not mocking, but as if she knew a secret that would answer my questions… but could not tell. I felt a light touch on my face, and turned my head. She wished me to look to the north.

Low over the distant treetops, a dragon soared, its wide wings glowing iridescent in the sun. The sound of its call hummed through the forest, a deep music. It was not hunting; there were no beasts to its taste here. It was soaring for its own pleasure, as they sometimes did.

Bit by bit, I had learned more of the truth of the dragon folk and their ways, and of the creatures themselves. Few men knew what I knew, for most feared the beasts, and would hide from them. They were terrifying enough to look at, but they had never slain any man when other food could be had, or if not attacked by some glory-seeking fool.

But what most men could not realize was that the dragons were as wise, or wiser, than men.

They had a speech of their own, and much more. They were the true masters of the island; the men and women who dwelt there were… well, not servants. Not pets, though that word is closer to the truth; possibly they might be called students, who tried to learn more of those matters which the ancient wisdom of those dragons held. And even these folk, who were
most
learned of all mankind, thought themselves only children in knowledge beside the beasts they attended.

“No, a dragon would be unwilling to rule over men,” I said, aloud, answering the thought of Macha Emmrin. “Though no better king could be found, yet only a man is so large a fool as to seek a throne.”

I sat up, stretching and looking somewhat glumly at the little lake.

“I’ve work in plenty, growing cold while it waits for me. When Isa’s time is over, soon enough now, I’ll arm and ride out, to finish the task. Arastap, of the Isle, says he will aid me in some way only he knows; Thuramon nags me daily on the preparation of it. The land will lie safe enough, with no enemies near, and more good lads learning to carry lance and spear every day.”

I stood up. “And if I were a peasant, I’d build a croft here on this lakeshore, and draw a fish for supper… but at any moment now, Isa will bear my child. I’ll give it a name, and be off to clack blades with those we know; probably before I’ve had a chance to see my son’s first steps I’ll be a corpse.” I laughed, a little grimly. “Oh, but I’m feeling most monstrously sorry for myself.”

I knew she walked there, beside me, as I trod the grassy path through the oakwood. It was a most unusual friendship, I thought, but very
good
.

Then, I heard a sound among the thickets, as if a dozen horses moved toward me at once. There was a crashing and clatter, and thud of hooves. I wore no sword, but my hand dropped to my dagger almost instinctively. Then a monstrous scaled head emerged from the leaves, and two great emerald eyes fixed themselves on me.

“Greeting to you, man,” the dragon said, in his rumbling voice. “And to her who walks with you,
na
shalla ma’oon.”

A voice beside me murmured a phrase, in the same odd sounding words.
“Shalla
na
, eladines.”

“And greetings to you, dragon,” I said, politely. “It seems you know even the language of the invisible ones, which I’ve never learned.”

“We know many languages,” it rumbled. “Come to us, Prince, and we will teach you any tongue you like, or any
  other
  wisdom… even  the  wisdom  called   no-wisdom.”

“If I ever manage to find a day or two free of work, I may come to you and learn all these things.” I said.

The dragon grunted, a sound which I had learned meant amusement.

“I have a message for you, Prince,” he said. “I am called Rorimmik, and I am bidden to tell you this. First, before the sun sets, you will have two sons.”

“Two!” I shouted.
“Twins!
Tana’s luck!”

“We are pleased that this gives you pleasure,” Rorimmik said. “But we offer advice. It is this: give order that one of your two sons be sent to us, that we may teach him all that we can. And let it be that the other shall rule, and he will learn all he can of the scholars in your kingdom.”

I stared up at the giant scaled head, wonderingly.

“Why?” I asked. “Or, if you can teach wisdom, why not both my sons to learn… if they’re to rule here, they’ll need wisdom, and why should one have less than the other?”

“Because there is more than one kind of wisdom,” Rorimmik said.
“One for men, and the ways of men, and the making of that which men require.
And the other having to do with such matters as men do not yet require.
We desire that there should always be both kinds of wisdom in this land, so that when we return to our own place, we will have left wisdom behind.”

“And this… you advise me to do this, for the good of all in this land?” I asked, knowing that dragons find it very difficult to lie. “Is it a good thing for mankind, and a good thing for my sons?”

“It is a good thing, for young people,” Rorimmik said. “For your sons, it will be a burden and a sorrow. If you wish your sons to be happy, give them to a fisherman to
raise
up as his own.
Although, because they are your sons, they will doubtless cause turmoil enough even there.”

I could see what he meant, in a general way.

“Macha,” I said, suddenly. “Speak, for this once. What shall I do?”

“Do what is advised,” the voice came, clear as a bell’s tone, more loudly than she had ever spoken before.

“You have my word, then,” I told Rorimmik. He moved slowly back, into a clearer place among the trees; his great wings opened, and he beat them downward, with a thunder of air. The shining body sprang up, and into the upper air, and the dragon flew.

And for my own part, though not equipped as well for haste, I made good speed toward the new great house, and my new sons.