Shardik (98 page)

‘Oddly enough,’ answered Melathys, her eyes bright in the lamplight, ‘I believe I have. It must be clairvoyance - or else this excellent wine.’

‘I will write to Santil-ke-
Erketlis
from
Zeray
,’ said Elleroth, ‘but I feel sure that he will accept my recommendation. Radu, my dear boy, it’s time you were in bed; and Kelderek too, if I’m not presuming. You’ve both been ill and you look quite tired out. We ought tc start several hours before noon tomorrow, if we possibly can.’

58
Siristrou

‘- this being now the commencement of the tenth day that we have been travelling westwards from the western borders of Your Majesty’s kingdom, through some of the most inhospitable country I have ever seen. At first, while we remained close to the shore of the river Varin (which our guide calls, in his tongue, “Tiltharna”) tiicre was forest and rocky scrubland - a continuation, in fact, of the kind of country found on Your Majesty’s western borders, but wilder and, as far as we have seen, uninhabited. There are, of course, no roads and we ourselves did not come upon a single track. For much of
the
way we were obliged to dismount and lead the horses together with the pack-mules, so stony and treacherous was the ground. Neither did we see any craft upon the river; but this did not surprise us since, as Your Majesty knows, none has ever arrived in Zakalon from upstream. The guide tells us that below his country there li
es a gorge (which he named Berce
l), full of rapids and half-submerged rocks, so that it is not possible to travel thence to us by way of the river. That
this
man and his followers should have made the entire journey on foot,
their
nation being altogether ignorant of the use of horses, shows
partly
, I think, that this unknown country for which we
are
bound breeds a tough and resolute people and
partly
that the inhabitants - or some of them - must be most eager to develop trade with us.

‘We forded two tributaries of the Varin, e
ach - since we encountered both
near
the
confluence - with some difficulty. Indeed, at the second crossing we lost a mule and one of our tents. That was the day before yesterday; and soon afterwards we left the forest wilderness and entered upon the desert through which we are now travelling. This is a country of thorn-scrub and fine, blowing sand

‘Your Majesty will recall that when
the
man Tan-Rion, who is now our guide, managed to convey in audience
with
you
that
he came from a country beyond the Varin possessing resources for trade, Your Majesty’s councillors, including, I admit, myself, found it hard to believe that such a country could exist
without
our prior knowledge. However, the difficulty of
this
journey, togeth
er with
the
circumstance
that
the inhabitants have succeeded only during the past year in establishing a reliable crossing of the Varin at a point within reach of Zakalon, now make
this
more credible to me: and in short, I have become convinced
that
, as you yourself said, this may well prove to be a land with resources worth our attention. Tan-Rion has described - if I have followed him -
the
mining both of iron and of several kinds of gems: also
the
carving of wood and stone - though into precisely what kinds of
artefact.
I confess I do not know. He has also talked of corn, wine and
cattle
. Much of the possible trade, I think, will have to await either the construction of a road, or else the development of a water-route. (It has not escaped me that it might later prove practicable to bring goods across the Varin and then to embark them again from some suitable point on this shore, below
the
rapids.) As to what we may barter, I have only to remind Your Majesty that appar
ently
the entire country knows nothing of horses and that none of these people has ever seen the sea.

‘As to their language, I am happy to say that I seem to be making some
little
progress. In fact there are, it appears, two languages in general use beyond the Varin; the first, called Beklan, being commoner in
the
northern parts while the second, Yeldashay, is spoken, more generally in the south. They have similarities, but I am concentrating on Beklan, in which I can now rub along after a fashion.’ Writing they use very
little
and it seems to fascinate my soldier-instructor when I write down the sound of what he says. He tells me
that
it is but
three
years since the end of a civil war - something to do with the invasion of Bekla by a foreign tribe who appar
ently
went in for slavery - I confess that I could not altogether make it out. But now they are at peace, and since relations between north and sou
th
have improved, the prospects for our embassage seem very fair, coming at the present time.

‘Today we shall - if I have not been deceived - actually cross the Varin to a town from which it will be possible to travel inland to Bekla. I shall, of course, continue to keep Your Majesty informed

Siristrou, son of Balko, son of Mereth of the Two Lakes, High Councillor of His Ascendant Majesty King Luin of Zakalon, glanced
through
the unfinished letter, gave it to his servant to pack with the rest of the baggage and made his way out of the tent to where the horses were picketed in a patch of scrub. Heaven only knew how
or when the letter would get del
ivered anyway. It would, however, look well to have kept a fairly continuous record, as showing that he had the ki
ng and his interest constantl
y in mind. He had allowed himself a mention of the nasty drinking-water, though saying nothing of his disordered stomach and of the flux which he daily feared might turn to dysentery. A discreet suggestion of hardship would be more telling
than
too much
detail. He would not mention his blood-blisters: and still less
the
nervous anxiety that grew upon him the further they travelled from Zakalon towards the unknown country on the other side of the river. Knowing the king’s own hopes, he had taken care to express confidence in the prospects for trade. Indeed, these now seemed reasonable, and even if they turned out otherwise it would do no harm to have seemed initially hopeful of better things. In his heart, however, he wished that the king had not

selected him to lead this
expedition. He was no man of acti
on. He had been surprised to be chosen and, disguising his misgivings as modesty, had enquired the reason.

‘Oh, we need a detached, prudent man, Siristrou,’ the king had answered, laying a hand on his arm and walking him down
the
length of the
long gallery that overlooked the beautiful Terrace of
the
Bees. ‘The last thing I want is to send some quarrelsome soldier or greedy young adventurer on
the
make, who’d only upset these strangers by trying to grab all he could for himself. That would be the way to get bad blood at the outset. I want to send a learned man with no craving for personal gain, someone who can make a detached assessment and bring back the truth. Do that, and I assure you that you won’t be a loser by me. Those people, of whatever kind
they
are - things ought to be handled so that they can trust and respect us. By the Cat,
they
‘ve sent far enough to find us! I don’t want to see them merely exploited.’

And so, to the murmur of the bees in
the
golden rod, he had accepted his appointment.

Well, that was fair enough; and to give him his due, Luin was a man of just and sound judgment - if you like, a good king. The trouble lay, as usual, in giving practical effect to his excellent ideas. When it came to the point, quarrelsome soldiers and greedy young adventurers on the make would have been so much better at crossing wildernesses and deserts and would have felt so much less afraid than a detached, prudent councillor of forty-eight, a schoolman with a taste for metaphysic
s and the study of ethics. There
‘d be precious
little
in that line where he was going. The manners and customs of half-civilized peoples had a certain interest, to be sure, but this was ground which he had covere
d quite suff
ici
ently
as a younger man. Now, he was primarily a teacher, a student of
the
writings of
the
sages, perhaps even shaping to be a sage himself - if he survived. It was all very well for the king to say that he would not be a loser. He did not really need anything which the king had to give. Luin, however, was not a man whom one disobliged and it would not have been safe to thwart his wishes by refusal or even by seeming too hesitant.

‘I don’t so much mind being cut to pieces by barbarians,’ he said aloud, slashing
with
his whip at a th
orn-bush, ‘I
do
object to being
bored
¹
(slash),’
wearied”
(slash), ‘condemned to
tedium’
(slash) -

‘Sir?’ said his groom, appearing from
the
picket-lines. ‘Did you call?’

‘No, no,’ said Siristrou hastily, feeling self-conscious as he always did when caught talking to himself. ‘No, no. I was just coming to
see
whether you’re ready to start, Thyval. We’re supposed to reach the crossing today, as I think I told you. I don’t know how far it is, but I should prefer to reach the other side in daylight, so that we can get some idea of the place before darkness sets in.’

‘Yes, sir, I reckon that’s sense righ
t enough. The lads are just getti
ng their things together now. How about the mare, sir? Lead her with the mules?’

‘You’ll have to, if she’s still lame,’ answered Siristrou. ‘Come and tell me as soon as you’re ready.’

In fact they reached the east bank a
little
before noon, after no more than five hours’ march. Upon setting out, they had at
first struck almost due north, tu
rning away altogether from the pools and flashes marking the southern confines of the desert and filling the broad, treacherous flat which comprised the shore of the river beyond. Tan-Rion, after struggling to be understood, at length took a stick and drew a plan on the ground. Pointing first to this and then south-westward over the sand, he managed to convey to Siristrou and his companions that in that direction the river made a great
bend, so that its course half-encircle
d
them
, lying not only to
the
south
but also to the west of where they now stood. Some way above the bend on his plan he scratched a line to represent their intended crossing; and once more pointed, this time north-westward, to show the direction in which it lay.

In these parts spring had not yet turned to summer, but nevertheless the day soon grew hot and the wind freshened enough t
o blow the sand about unpleasantl
y. Siristrou, trudging beside
the
lame mare, dropped his head, half-closed his eyes and, as the sand gritted between his teeth, tried to think about his metaphysics pupils in Zakalon. One had to count one’s blessings. At least
there
was no lack of tepid water to wash the sand down. Tan-Rion was in excellent spirits at the prospect of return and led his men in singing Yeldashay songs. It was good, boisterous stuff, but hardly music to Siristrou’s taste.