Vergence (11 page)

They flew low over a rocky outcrop at the edge of a ridge on one side of a narrow terraced valley, and out over rows of buildings piled up against the steep sides.

Below them, dozens of world-ships of every size nosed lazily forward, edging above empty spaces on the terraces, or drifting upwards, unfurling and adjusting large fan-shaped sales as they turned to head in the opposite direction.

A broad waterway, cluttered with long flat boats, ran along the lowest point of the valley, where a massive, pot-bellied vessel swayed ponderously in the air, tiny figures on the upper deck working to reel in anchor lines and sail rigging.

The floor of the valley rose up towards them as the world-ship tilted forward and accelerated downwards, cutting off their view of the greater part of the city. Smooth stonework flashed past barely a mast-length from the right hand side of their vessel, a rush of air in their faces whipping Sash's hair around their shoulders. Ebryn gripped the rail tightly, fighting the urge to shut his eyes, determined to see as much as possible.

Just as it seemed impossible they would stop before crashing, the nose of the ship levelled, and they slowed to barely a walking pace above a broad terrace, halfway up the valley side.

They were so engrossed in the view that it took them a few moments to realise a crewman had approached, and stood waiting patiently behind them.

“Do you want something?” Sash asked.

“Honourables, please excuse my rudeness,” the man said, bobbing his head. “My captain humbly requests all guests to return to cabins.”

“Why?” Sash asked.

“My captain wishes his honoured guests to be safe when we are landing.”

“I think they need a clear deck to work while they're landing,” Ebryn said. “I guess it must be fairly tricky positioning something this large over one of those spaces.”

Sash frowned and pursed her lips. “I really wanted to watch the landing. Oh, very well, if we must, I suppose we'll have to.”

As they made their way back to the stairs a flock of small bird-like creatures swept up over the ship from underneath, screeching loudly and scattering droppings across the deck.

The crewman made a hissing sound through his teeth. “Such pests–”

“What are they?” Ebryn asked.

“Do not be fearful,” the crewman said. “These are called leatherwing. Very messy — much cleaning.”

Sash stopped at the top of the steps. “Whoever gets back up here first waits for the others before leaving.”

Ebryn found Hui-ta and thanked him, before joining the passengers assembled at the disembarkation point on the upper deck. He found Quentyn already waiting, head bobbing up and down as he attempted to see past the small group surrounding him.

Amongst the waiting passengers were some of those who had attended the captain's banquet the previous evening. Sash stood a short distance behind the others near the railing watching the activity below.

Quentyn spotted him and rushed over.

“Hmnn, ah, Ebryn,” he said loudly.

“Master Quentyn?”

“Now pay attention, Ebryn,” Quentyn said. “Your tests will be held on the last day before the Tranquillity, so you have a few days to improve, eh?”

Ebryn nodded, wishing Quentyn wouldn't embarrass him in front of everyone they met. “Yes master Quentyn.”

“After all, you're not his acknowledged heir now are you, hmm? I mean your just the same as us, so you need to make sure you practise to make a good impression,” Quentyn said. “I mean you aren't a Conant, eh? Your family name is Alire, not Conant.”

There was a snort from beside them. Romain and his sister had approached unnoticed to join the group. “Alire. Funny name, isn’t it … a liar …”

Ebryn flushed, but Quentyn continued without appearing to draw breath. “Hmmn, what you need to understand is you need to make your way like all of us. You must do well if you want to rise in the—”

“Excuse me,” Sash said in a sharp tone, glaring at the back of Quentyn's head. “Ebryn, can you help me with this, please?”

Ebryn quickly joined her in front of a large collection of boxes and cases, grateful for the respite.

“He's insufferable. I don't know how you stand him,” she said quietly, leaning over to check the fastenings on a large wooden container. “It's a good thing he stayed in his cabin. It would have been tempting to push him overboard.”

In spite of his embarrassment, he couldn't help smiling. “Thanks.”

“Don't worry,” Sash said. “Whatever happens at the test, at least you won't have to put up with him much longer.”

“Yes, I just hope there aren't too many more like him,” Ebryn said.

Sash tugged on a buckle. “I'm sure they won't all be like him. Is this tight enough?”

Ebryn pulled on the lid, but it stayed firmly in place. It formed a single piece with the whole container, attached at one side and flapping over with long straps to fasten to the other. The body was made of a well-crafted fine-grained wood, the upper half with rows of hundreds of tiny holes on all four sides. Finely wrought bronze had been used in thin strips to bind the base and fashioned to make wide handles at each end. Even to his untutored eye, the quality of workmanship stood out clearly.

Most of the other containers scattered around Sash looked like they'd been made to the same design.

“Are these all yours? You brought a lot with you,” Ebryn said.

Sash eyed the assorted boxes and holdalls. “Not really. These are only a few of my things.”

“A few? How by Collenar are you planning on carrying all of these to wherever you're staying?”

“That's easy. Captain Lim offered to keep all of these over here in his guild strongroom until I know where I'm staying. Until then all I'm taking is that box, and this bag.”

Ebryn ran his fingers over the surface of the box as a flight of dark leatherwings swept across the deck, chattering and screeching, releasing a random splattering of pearly droppings, and he felt something stir inside under his hand.

He glanced at Sash. “Is there something alive in here?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes … I brought my friend with me from home.”

Ebryn lifted the wooden box a finger-span from the floor. It was much heavier than it looked, and the weight shifted abruptly as the thing inside moved.

“You won't get this far without help. How are you planning on getting across the city?”

“Addae will help, I'm sure. It's only one thing.”

“What is it you want me to help you with?” Addae asked, emerging from amongst the other passengers.

“You don't mind helping with carrying, do you?” Sash asked.

Addae chuckled. “Sashael, do you want me to be your bearer?”

“Just as far as the road. We should be able to hire a symor there — a kind of small cart. I have the name of a place we can stay, nearer where we want to be.”

“You seem to have thought of everything,” Ebryn said, impressed.

Sash shrugged. “I'm used to arranging things for myself.”

When the ramp dropped they followed the main group of passengers at a distance as they made their way down to the ground. Ebryn could see the back of Quentyn's head bobbing along ahead of them.

The walkway disgorged them into a mass of people on the terrace below the ship, and in moments Addae and Sash were the only ones around him that Ebryn recognised. He found the press immediately disorientating, pushing first in one direction, then another, like waves at the edge of the sea.

Ebryn found himself floundering as people repeatedly stepped in his way. Despite his size, Addae seemed to struggle too. They quickly fell in behind Sash, who seemed to have no difficulty pushing a path through, as she made for a broad set of steps at the edge of the landing area.

Vergence

T
HE SYMOR TURNED OUT
to be a lightweight contraption balanced on two wheels, like a shortened covered cart with space for passengers directly behind the driver, and a large open basket hanging off the rear for luggage. A number of these vehicles were lined up along the edge of the road.

Harnessed in front of each, where Ebryn might have expected a pair of horses, was a single creature, very tall with long thin legs, hairless grey-brown reptilian skin, and a long angular hound-like heads. It had a set of three stubby horns positioned towards the rear of its skull in a fan-shaped cluster.

Sash approached the nearest symor, but the driver waved them towards the front of the line.

“Why must we take the one at the front? Why can’t we just choose the ones we want?” Sash asked.

“It will be a matter of custom to be honoured,” Addae said.

“So we don’t have any choice? But then they must accept whoever arrives first too?”

“We have such a tradition amongst my people,” Addae said. “In the season of little water in the dry lands we have the
solongo
. When the people of many tribes must share water each must wait until those before have finished. And those who are before must leave the water in the morning after a day.”

“How odd … nobody in Senesella would submit to something not of their own choosing. They would just take whichever symor they liked, and the driver would be free to refuse whoever he wished not to take.”

“Without the
solongo
custom, the water would be lost to all, and there would be fighting amongst the people over what remained,” Addae said.

Sash laughed. “Nobody would fight for water in Senessela.”

The symor at the head of the line was painted in faded colours, the contraption had a tired worn-out appearance. Its driver had some of the features of the Chochin, but taller and thinner. He wore a loose-fitting faded blue long-sleeved shirt and trousers, with a small square cap balanced on top of his head. He grinned at them as they approached, revealing a mouth full of black-stained teeth.

“You want symor? Come, come, I take you.” He motioned toward the foot-step directly in front of the wheel. “Where you going?”

Sash showed him the chit Captain Lim had given her, “We were told the Etched Man.”

“Ah yes — etch man. Good, good, I take you,” he said.

“What’s the charge?”

“Three to go?” he said, holding up four grubby fingers and a thumb. “You pay five.”

Sash produced a small coin and held it out for the driver to see. “Five like this?”

“Five — yes,” he said, eyes fixed on the coin in Sash’s hand.

The coin looked like an eighth guilder, not a huge sum, but five would easily feed a man for a day or two.

“Is it far to the Etched Man?” Ebryn asked.

“Far? Yes, is far.”

Sash paid him and moved to the rear of the symor with Addae who helped load her bag and wooden container into the luggage holdall. Ebryn was grateful he and Addae were carrying nothing with them. Although Sash had left nearly all her belongings on the deck of the world-ship there was still barely enough space in the rack for what she had brought with her.

While Addae wedged the largest box carefully into place, and Sash made anxious noises about not blocking the breathing hole, Ebryn moved over to the three-horned creature at the front of the symor, and laid a hand on its shoulder.

“What kind of creature is this?” Ebryn asked.

“He called trikawi,” the driver said. “Strong, very strong. Very good.”

To Ebryn the trikawi looked fascinating, and he didn't recall seeing it in any of the bestiaries he'd read. Unlike the hairy warmth of a horse, the skin was smooth and leathery, and cool to the touch. Wiry muscles rippled under his hand as the trikawi leant away from him in its harness.

Ebryn focussed inside himself for a moment, searching for the calm point and allowing it to flow outwards through his hands, pouring out the same instinctive force he used to calm horses and angry dogs.

The trikawi’s head looped round on its long neck like a striking serpent, and snapped at his hand. Unlike the blunt instruments of a horse, its teeth were pointed at the front and sharp, with large outward facing canines. Ebryn barely managed to pull his fingers out of the way, stepping backwards quickly.

“
Har
,
har,
” the old driver bent over, holding the side of his vehicle and laughing loudly. “He eat your finger. You pay in coin, eh, no pay with finger.”