The Ruling Sea Part 68

'A miracle,' said the old man, trembling. 'A miracle. Or a curse.'

'Bolutu,' said Pazel, 'for Rin's sake tell them we're friends.'

Bolutu looked at his hands.

The father and son glanced behind them, as though tempted to run. The younger man pointed at Pazel. 'Did you hear it, Father?' he cried, his voice breaking with excitement.

'Don't . . . say it, it,' murmured the old man.

'Belesar,' said Hercol to Bolutu, 'speak to us this instant! Why are they so afraid? Why are you you?'

Bolutu turned to face them. He clutched at the amulet around his neck. He was shaking uncontrollably. 'No,' he said, his voice little more than a whisper. 'No. Rin. No.'

Pazel felt Thasha grope for his hand. She stepped forwards, towards the three motionless figures, and Pazel walked beside her.

The younger dlomu was steadying his father, but his eyes never left the newcomers. He struggled to speak again.

'It's just that we've never - I mean, Father has, as a child, but I've never seen--'

'What?' said Pazel, 'A human? But we just saw them - we saw six six of them.' of them.'

The young dlomu shook his head. Then he locked eyes with Thasha, who had drawn nearer still. Releasing Pazel, she put out the hand that had touched the Nilstone. Slowly, cautiously. A blind girl groping for his face.

'Say it,' she told him. 'You've never seen--'

'A woken human,' said the other, softly.

Thasha's face paled, and her eyes went wide and cold. Pazel reached for her arm, even as he grappled with the horror of what he'd just heard. She was trying to speak but could only gasp. He thought suddenly of Felthrup's terror on the quarterdeck, and knew that something like it was stirring in his mind.

Hercol gave a warning shout: across the little square, between two crumbling structures, a small human crowd was gathering. Some were dressed, after a fashion - sc.r.a.ps of leggings, torn and filthy shirts - but most wore nothing at all. They stood bunched together, or bent low, staring at the newcomers, obviously afraid. One man was biting his finger. Two or three uttered wordless moans.

Thasha clutched desperately at Pazel's arm. 'I didn't mean to,' she said. 'It was never supposed to happen. You believe me, don't you?'

He pressed her head against his chest. I love her I love her, he thought. And then: Who is she? What is this thing I love? Who is she? What is this thing I love?

The older dlomu stepped towards the crowd of men. He whistled and clapped his hands. At the sound, the whole group shuffled forwards, slow and fearful and close together. When they reached the old man they pawed at him, clung to his shirt. One by one their eyes returned to Pazel and Thasha and Hercol, and there was no human light in those eyes, no consciousness but the animal sort, that fearful otherness, that measureless sea.

Here ends The Rats and the Ruling Sea Book Two of The Chathrand Voyage. The Chathrand Voyage.

The Story is continued in The River of Shadows Book Three of The Chathrand Voyage. The Chathrand Voyage.

Acknowledgements

My partner, Kiran Asher, lived with me through the arduous journey of this book. No one should be subjected to such a fate. I'm profoundly grateful for her patience and her love.

A few close friends effectively kicked the door down in their eagerness to read The Rats and the Ruling Sea The Rats and the Ruling Sea. In addition to Kiran, Holly Hanson, Stephen Klink, Katie Pugh, Jan Red.i.c.k, and Edmund Zavada all shared generous and wise responses to the rough-hewn ma.n.u.script.

As Rats Rats left the home laboratory, I benefited from the insights of my wonderful editors Simon Spanton at Gollancz and Kaitlin h.e.l.ler at Del Rey, as well as the indispensable guidance of my agent, John Jarrold. Additional help came from Betsy Mitch.e.l.l, Gillian Redfearn, Lisa Rogers, Charlie Panayiotou, Shawn Speakman, David Moench, Jonathan Weir and teams of others whose names and heroic deeds remain trade secrets. left the home laboratory, I benefited from the insights of my wonderful editors Simon Spanton at Gollancz and Kaitlin h.e.l.ler at Del Rey, as well as the indispensable guidance of my agent, John Jarrold. Additional help came from Betsy Mitch.e.l.l, Gillian Redfearn, Lisa Rogers, Charlie Panayiotou, Shawn Speakman, David Moench, Jonathan Weir and teams of others whose names and heroic deeds remain trade secrets.

In addition, for encouragement and counsel, I'd like to thank Hillary Nelson, Tracy Winn, Amber Zavada, Paul Park, Bruce Hemmer, John Crowley, Corinne Demas, Gavin Grant, Nat Herold, Jedediah Berry, Karen Osborn, Julian Olf, Stefan Petrucha, Patrick Donnelly and Jim Lowry.

Many novels could end with a credits-roll surpa.s.sing those of Hollywood films, if every person who helped along the way received mention. Certainly this is such a book; and just as certainly, a few names that should not under any circ.u.mstances under any circ.u.mstances have been omitted will rise to haunt me when I sec this page in print. My apologies to those deserving souls. have been omitted will rise to haunt me when I sec this page in print. My apologies to those deserving souls.

Before the book, there's the idea; before the idea, the habits of mind in which it gestates. Since plunging into The Chathrand Voyage The Chathrand Voyage series I've had occasion to reflect, in turn, on the origins of those habits: in this case, my addiction to tales of the wondrous and improbable. I trace part of the answer to certain cherished evenings in Iowa, over three decades ago, listening to my father, John Red.i.c.k, read science fiction novels to an awestruck audience of one. Years late in all instances have been my expressions of thanks, so here's one more, Dad. series I've had occasion to reflect, in turn, on the origins of those habits: in this case, my addiction to tales of the wondrous and improbable. I trace part of the answer to certain cherished evenings in Iowa, over three decades ago, listening to my father, John Red.i.c.k, read science fiction novels to an awestruck audience of one. Years late in all instances have been my expressions of thanks, so here's one more, Dad.

1.

Sollochstol and Ibithraed went to war in 828, after four drunken Sollochi teens climbed and desecrated an Ibithraen burial mound. Sollochstol contends that the youths were in fact Arquali provacateurs, sent to stir up a conflict that would weaken both nations, making them easier to conquer. Given the events this book relates it is perhaps time to take their claim more seriously. - EDITOR.

2.

In the late Becturian era, Prince Axmal of Dremland persuaded four minor lords, who had taken up arms against one another and Axmal himself, to drop their feuds and attend his son's tenth birthday party. Each lord had a son or daughter of about the same age, and Axmal hoped to pacify the lords with the sight of their children at blissful play in his courtyard, over which he had hung a sign reading, 'The Garden of Happiness.' The plan worked: the lords were entranced by the children's innate goodness, and toasted one another, and declared themselves brothers for all time.

But the children of the minor lords had heard their fathers curse Axmal night after night, and were jealous of the gifts lavished on his son, which were finer than what they received on their own birthdays. When the adults went in to table, they stripped and gagged the boy, tied him to his birthday pony, set the beast's tail on fire and whipped him around the courtyard. Two days later the domains were at war. - EDITOR.

3.

Rose began this letter several times. A draft recovered from his personal effects contains a variety of first sentences, all discarded: 'I trust this finds you well', 'Rest a.s.sured that [unfinished]', and most curious of all, 'Ghosts and sorcerers lie, but from you, Father, I expect no less than perfect truth.' - EDITOR.

4.

Admiral Eberzam Isiq had the intention more than the habit of journal-keeping. Among the personal effects he left behind on the Chathrand Chathrand was a fine calfskinned volume of unprinted pages. The first eight sheets are filled with writing in his own hand; thereafter the writing is exclusively that of Mr Fiffengurt. - EDITOR. was a fine calfskinned volume of unprinted pages. The first eight sheets are filled with writing in his own hand; thereafter the writing is exclusively that of Mr Fiffengurt. - EDITOR.

5.

Etherhorde slang: a sutska sutska is a speckled dove found in parks and gardens and empty lots. A favourite dinner of tramps and vagabonds, it is easily lured into snares with a handful of grain. - EDITOR. is a speckled dove found in parks and gardens and empty lots. A favourite dinner of tramps and vagabonds, it is easily lured into snares with a handful of grain. - EDITOR.

6.

But Greysan Fulbreech learned of them on a plundering foray into Pathkendle's footlocker. Among other thefts, Fulbreech helped himself to a few loose pages t.i.tled simply, 'In Case You Live to Remember'. After recounting the conversation of the birds, Pathkendle writes: 'Lady Oggosk must be wrong. How could the Waking Spell be a curse if it made those owls, and Felthrup, and so many other wonderful creatures?' The pages went to the Secret Fist, and so, in good time, to me. - EDITOR.

7.

As well she might. 'Darkling Days' come from the myth of the Woman and the Troll, which tells of a fair young woman whose beloved ran afoul of the Elcand Firelords and was sentenced to death. The woman journeyed to the court of a great sorcerer-troll and begged him to hide her sweetheart in the valley he ruled. 'No one defies the Firelords without great cost, my child,' replied the troll. 'However, my wife leaves soon to visit her kin in the underworld, and if you will sign a contract promising to care for my sons until she returns, I will shelter you and your lover in my garden for one day, after which he must depart and answer for his offence.' The woman agreed, for she could hear the hounds of the Firelords even then, and the troll's scribe drew up the contract and gave it to her to sign. But when the scribe looked away the clever woman changed 'day' to 'darkling day,' the latter being the four-year span Rin leaves between one solar eclipse and the next. The troll signed carelessly, and as it was a magic contract it bound him to relinquish his garden to the lovers for four whole years.

But those years of joy - feasting on the sweetest of fruits, bathing in warm springs, dreaming to the pipes of fauns and the singing of the water-weird in the fountain - at last came to an end. And when they emerged from the garden the Firelords' warriors seized the man and bore him away to be executed. The heartless troll too had his revenge: he had divorced his wife and barred her from ever returning, and hence the woman was bound to go on caring for his malicious, sharp-toothed sons. And as trolls grow up far more slowly than humans, the woman only managed to fulfill the contract when she was very old, and weak of eye and memory, and too frail to hobble out of the valley of the troll. She stayed in his court, and served him to the end of her days, and wept for reasons no one else recalled at the time of the eclipse. - EDITOR.

8.

Names available upon request. - EDITOR.

9.

The mandoloro mandoloro is a small Opaltine accordion, traditionally constructed of two solid gourds and a rubbery bellows made from a shark's bladder. The instrument produces a reedy & singularly piercing yowl. It was upon first hearing a mandoloro in the Opalt back country that the explorer Jelan Gergandri doubled the number of men on night watch, declaring that 'in a country where is a small Opaltine accordion, traditionally constructed of two solid gourds and a rubbery bellows made from a shark's bladder. The instrument produces a reedy & singularly piercing yowl. It was upon first hearing a mandoloro in the Opalt back country that the explorer Jelan Gergandri doubled the number of men on night watch, declaring that 'in a country where that that is labelled music we must be ready for anything.' - EDITOR. is labelled music we must be ready for anything.' - EDITOR.

10.

The later testimony of Lady Lapadolma Yelig and others indicates that Fiffengurt was indeed to be appointed captain of the Great Ship, before His Supremacy proclaimed that the post would once again belong to Rose. - EDITOR.

11.

Receipts signed by Captain Theimat Rose indicate that he purchased ixchel for use as poison-tasters, letter readers, and small-item (watch, compa.s.s, eyegla.s.ses) repairmen. To judge by the frequency of purchases, the average life expectancy for an ixchel in the Rose household was two years. - EDITOR.

12.

Nearly illegible, rather. After hours of scrutiny I believe the line read: 'Fate nearly reunited our family in the depths.' Or possibly, ' . . . in death.' - EDITOR.

13.

Of the five who disagreed: two thought the date 19 Ilbrin. Another declared with certainty that it was Ilbrin the 23rd. Mr Teggatz, charged with keeping a daily statistical log of work in the galley, confessed to having accidentally burned his log-book in the stove. Finally, Old Gangrune the purser admitted under questioning that he considered the entire Solar Year a mirage. The sun moved faster or slower at the G.o.ds' whims, he declared: any fool who watched the sky knew that, and clocks and hourgla.s.ses changed their speeds to match the sun's. It was pointed out to Gangrune that this belief called into question his fifty years of shipboard record-keeping. 'You've got it backwards,' he retorted. 'My logbook's our only hope of keeping track of the years. I'm an Imperial a.s.set, if you please.' - EDITOR.