The Icerigger Trilogy: Icerigger, Mission to Moulokin, and The Deluge Drivers (70 page)

Leaving the throne, the Landgrave of Moulokin came to exchange breath-greetings with them each in turn. Mirmib performed the individual introductions. The Landgrave did not hesitate or shy away when she came to the two humans.

The Landgrave (Landgravess? Ethan wondered) was named K’ferr Shri-Vehm. She had the typical broadness of all Tran, though was slimmer than the other females present, Elfa and Teeliam. Perhaps the Moulokinese ran to unusual thinness. They did if their Landgrave and guardian of the gate were any indication. Her slimness by Tran standards made her appear almost human, save for her height. She was nearly as tall as Hunnar or Skua September. September might find her attractive, in a bizarrely alien fashion, but to Ethan she was merely intimidating. Her sequinned dan could envelop him completely.

Her smile when she greeted each of them seemed genuine. Despite her beauty and presence, reflected in the admiring gazes of Hunnar, Ta-hoding and Balavere, nether Teeliam nor Elfa appeared apprehensive. Possibly it was due to K’ferr’s aura of authority. She seemed neither male nor female so much as Landgrave. This despite being the youngest Tran in the chamber, excepting Teeliam.

For reasons he never quite understood, it fell on Ethan to tell the tale of their accidental arrival and crash-landing on Tran-ky-ky, of the presence of a humanx outpost at Arsudun, their various adventures in reaching this point and their joint interracial decision that the best way for all Tran to improve their status was to form a Trannish government including many city-states which could then petition for admittance to the Humanx Commonwealth.

K’ferr absorbed this barrage of new ideas and concepts quietly, listening with both pointed ears cocked intently at Ethan. Occasionally she would make a small gesture of agreement or disagreement, or mutter something softly to Mirmib, who stood close on her right. She said nothing to anyone else until Ethan came to the part of their story where they were greeted and then betrayed and imprisoned by Rakossa of Poyolavomaar, who acted in collusion with the Landgrave of Arsudun, Calonnin Ro-Vijar. Before Ethan could finish, K’ferr rose and began pacing the open area between her throne and the assembled visitors. Her chiv clacked on the wooden floor, making her sound like a nervous tapdancer. Ethan studied the inlaid wood, wondering if the chiv marks were polished out after each audience or if the chamber was simply little-used.

When Ethan related the lies Ro-Vijar had employed to sway the mind of the unstable Rakossa, K’ferr’s soft voice angrily launched into a list of old grievances Moulokin held against Poyolavomaar.

“But Moulokin is a half-legend in Poyolavomaar,” said Hunnar.

“And their mendacity is legend in Moulokin! Tis true,” she continued furiously, “we have no contact with them. But they have contact with many peoples who trade with us. Though they cannot match the skill of our shipwrights, out of jealousy they try to keep others from contracting for our rafts. Their merchants are known as arrogant and their traders bully many who would deal with us. They are fat with power, from cheating at every opportunity. Yet we are told others are afraid not to deal with them. The capriciousness and evil of their Landgrave is well known to us.” Teeliam Hoh murmured a comment which none could hear clearly, but Ethan could guess at its substance.

“This Rakossa is famed for the taxes he wrings from his people. However,” she said more easily, lowering her voice, “you are here and not in Poyolavomaar.”

“And grateful for it, my lady,” added Hunnar.

K’ferr slid with a remarkable hirsute sensuousness into her chair, leaned on her left arm. The claws on her right paw appeared, vanished, reappeared, a nervous Tran habit Ethan recognized immediately.

“Tell me of this idea, this plan you have for our world, outlander-man. This—what did you call it, Mirmib? This confederation you call a union of ice.” She glanced sharply at Hunnar. “I have never heard of this Sofold, nor know any who have. Yet you subscribe to this proposition made by a few of another race. You can speak for your city and assure me that you will keep the peace if we eventually agree to become part of this union?”

Confronted abruptly with the reality of an idea coming true, both Hunnar and Elfa looked questioningly at Ethan. He said nothing. Finally, Hunnar replied. “We had not considered that we might so soon have to commit our state to this proposal, my lady.”

“So you are willing to agree in principle, but not with your own selves.”

“I did not say that,” Hunnar hastily corrected her. “ ’Tis only that I …” He paused, drew himself up impressively as he could. “I am a knight. I have no authority to make treaties.”

“I can.”

K’ferr turned lidded eyes on Elfa. “And you are also a knight of this distant land of Sofold?”

“I am the Elfa Kurdagh-Vlata, daughter of Torsk Kurdagh-Vlata, Landgrave of Sofold. One day I will be Landgrave, upon confirmation of the knights and nobles of Sofold. I give my warmth as forfeiture in the event Sofold should ever act belligerently toward our friends in union, the people of Moulokin. We will join in peace forever, for the betterment not of two small city-states, but of all the people of all Tran-ky-ky.” Aware everyone was staring at her, she continued less imperiously, “In so doing we but implement a larger vision from friends who exist in a greater universe than our own.”

K’ferr came forward, grabbed Elfa’s wrists with her paws. Elfa did likewise to her counterpart, and they exchanged breath, to brief but animated cheering from the others. It had all happened a bit fast for Ethan, used to dealing with the intricacies of Commonwealth bureaucracy. Once more, the informal nature of Tran government had shown its value.

It did not at all feel like a critical moment in the history of an entire world.

“T
HERE IS JINADAS, WHICH
lies forty-three satch southwest of Moulokin,” Mirmib was telling the now relaxed visitors. “They might well be willing to join in this union, especially if we send representatives along with you to assure them of its efficacy. And we have good friends in Yealleat, a most powerful state lying some hundred satch to the west.”

“We forget ourselves, Polos.” K’ferr Shri-Vehm looked solemn yet pleased with herself. “You must all remain several days now. An event of this magnitude and importance cannot be consummated properly without much feasting and celebration.” Topaz eyes flickered in the torchlight. “We Moulokinese seize readily upon any excuse for a holiday.”

“I don’t know.” Ethan tried to sound apologetic. “It might be a good idea if we hurried on our—”

“We’d be
glad
to stay awhile,” September cut in anxiously, with a sharp look in Ethan’s direction. “After the last couple o’ months, we could do with a bit of celebratin’. Couldn’t we, feller-me-lad?”

“Skua, don’t you think we ought to—”

“That’s settled, then.”

“ ’Tis agreed.” Mirmib entwined his fingers in a gesture indicating extensive satisfaction. “Preparations will commence. Meantimes, I would inspect this wondrous vessel of yours.” He directed his next query to Elfa.

“How did you manage such an enormous raft?”

“ ’Twas made possible by the special metal which our human friends call dur’loy, and which Sir Ethan insists can be supplied to us in quantity and at fair trade rates.”

The diplomat swung his fur-framed gaze toward Ethan. “Is this truth, outlander Ethan?”

“Commerce is the life-blood of the Commonwealth, friend Mirmib.” As he spoke it, Ethan wished for something less trite than that ancient government aphorism. He was better dealing with specific items than generalities. At the same time he wondered at Polos. Mirmib’s title. He’d called himself Guardian of the Gate, but his presence as K’ferr’s sole advisor here hinted at a much more powerful role. Was he chief minister, perhaps? Or father, or consort? Given the uncertainties, Ethan thought it best not to risk a breach of courtesy by inquiring. At least, not until the new Trannish confederation had been in existence somewhat longer than a few minutes.

“I’m sure something can be worked out,” he added.

“It promises abundances for the peoples of Moulokin and Sofold,” the Lady K’frr agreed. “And to our friends in Yealleat and Jinadas if they too will join, as I believe they will.” Her easy-going manner and beatific expression lulled Ethan completely, so that her next words were twice the shock they’d have been if he’d been expecting them.

“There is one thing, an obvious trifle, that all should agree to, of course. The treacherous inhabitants of vile Poyolavomaar must naturally be excluded from this.”

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat. Hunnar shook his woolly head and regarded the salesman with eloquent silence. The slant of his lips, the narrowing of double lids, said as plain as words, “See now? No matter how accommodating or friendly these folk of Moulokin are toward us, there will always be hatreds among the Tran which a mere idea cannot obliterate.”

“Details of the confederation can be worked out later, my lady.” It was a desperate attempt to forestall a possibly crippling argument. “For now we should return to our ship and prepare properly for Sir Mirmib’s visit.”

Either K’ferr sensed his discomfort or else he’d genuinely taken her mind off the subject of Poyolavomaar. “There is no need for you to trouble yourselves with special preparations for us, for I am coming also.” Mistaking his attitude of discomfort, she added, “But if you desire to rest yourselves and warn your crew, I fully understand. We will await word of your readiness.”

They made formal gestures of leave-taking and were preparing to exit the room when a Moulokinese soldier came running in.

The mere action was indicative of the importance of his message, for the Tran disliked running and avoided it except in extreme situations. Their sharp, long chiv were magnificently adapted for chivaning, or skating, across the ice. Running was awkward and dangerous, but this soldier came clip-clopping into the room at an impressive pace.

While the visitors stood grouped to one side and politely pretended to ignore the soldier’s anxious words, Ethan strained to overhear. Not only the soldier’s method of locomotion, but his manner and the rapidity of his speech hinted at news of some urgency.

As was the case with all Tran they’d observed thus far, the panting soldier did not prostrate himself before his ruler, or perform other time-consuming obsequious gestures. He simply approached the throne and began talking, pausing every so often only to catch his breath.

“My Lady—outside the first gate … a ship. And beyond, near the mouth of the canyon, many ships!”

“Conserve thy warmth, soldier,” said Mirmib quietly. “Now, how many is many?”

“Twenty to thirty, minister,” the exhausted messenger poured out, ignoring Mirmib’s admonition to relax. “All filled to the railings with armed soldiers.”

Ethan’s imperative whisper broke into the conversation between Hunnar and September.

“What is it, feller-me-lad?”

“Just listen.” He gestured surreptitiously toward the throne. Elfa, Teeliam and the others also stopped chatting, strained to hear.

“They say they come from Poyolavomaar,” the soldier continued.

“Speak of the devil.” September looked atypically upset.

“They say they know that—” he looked around the room and finally focused on Ethan and his companions, “—they are here.”

“How can they know that?” K’ferr’s nape hairs were bristling.

“From the depth and sharpness of the marks their ship’s runners leave in the ice, my lady.” Mirmib nodded sagely. “They demand that these visitors, their great raft, and the woman among them hight Teeliam Hoh be turned over to them. This done, they will quit their position and leave us in peace. Otherwise, they threaten to take the city.” At the close of this the soldier’s voice, despite his evident fatigue, took on a note of disbelief.

K’ferr stood abruptly, raked the left arm of her chair with sprung claws. “The
arrogance.
To come thus to our gate and demand by virtue of arms that we surrender
any
visitor. I would not turn over to such children an injured k’nith!”

The soldier unabashedly admired his ruler’s stand. “It seems incredible, my Lady. He insists he will destroy us if we do not comply.”

“He? Who is he?”

“Their Landgrave, Tonx Ghin Rakossa, leads them, my Lady.”

“Does he deign to allow us time to consider his generous offer?” she asked sarcastically.

“Four days, my Lady.”

“So much time? Why do they grant us so much?”

Taking her question literally, the soldier explained. “They realize, their representative told us at the gate watch, that it may be a difficult decision for us to make, going as it does against traditional laws of hospitality. We should be permitted time to consider. However, it was made clear to us that as long as their fleet blockades the canyon entrance, no ship of ours nor any other can move in or out to trade.”

“Or to escape,” added an unperturbed Mirmib. “Tell me, soldier, what is your name and profession?”

“Cortundi, minister. I am a leathersmith by trade.”

“What would you do, Cortundi?”

Common soldier regarded ruler and minister. His paws tensed into digging mode. “I wish only to return to the first gate, my lady and sir. I expect I will be needed there.”

“A siege would be long Cortundi.”

The soldier-craftsman smiled, showing pearly fangs. “There mayhap be better hides to cure, sir.”

“A pleasant thought.” K’ferr returned the panther-grin. “Wait outside, Cortundi.” The soldier turned and left.

“My fault, ’tis on me alone.” Ethan heard the disconsolate whimper, turned to see its source—a downcast Teeliam standing back against the wall. Torchlight turned the fur on her head and shoulders to singed silver.

“I should not have come with you when I helped you to escape,” she continued. “I ought fair to have killed myself cleanly then and prevented this. Rakossa is mad.”

“He is mad indeed,” said K’ferr, “to think he can take Moulokin. He cannot reach the city, nay, cannot breach the first wall. Truly he is driven not by common sense but by insanity.” Ethan forebore from mentioning that some of Terra’s greatest generals, ancient and modern, had been thought quite mad.