Of Machines & Magics (19 page)

Calistrope noticed Ponderos’ eyebrows rise as he saw Shamaz outside her cabin for the first time. “The starboard… that side?” Calistrope, pointed off to the western side.

For an instant, Ponderos was shaken. He had only ever seen Shamaz seated and her height was a little startling. “Just so,” he said, regaining his composure. “While you do that, I’ll get Roli.”

“Roli? Is that really necessary?”

Ponderos looked at his friend strangely. “Of course, naturally. We three are comrades, are we not?”

“Well, yes,” Calistrope was doubtful. “By all means, if that is your wish.”

Ponderos ran towards the rear end of the raft and ducked under the low roof which covered the sunken engine room. “Roli?”

Ponderos eyes accustomed themselves to the gloom and he saw Roli pull the bucket from the well and pour its contents into the tank. He traced the pipes through which the water must trickle, saw the valve which was controlled by a cable from the steering point in the bows. An idea came to him.

“Roli, it is time to go. You will find Calistrope on the starboard walkway.”

“Go? Are we leaving already?”

“We certainly are my boy. Now make haste,” he pointed to the valve he had seen. “Is that the valve which controls the flow of water to the boiler.”

Roli, pulling on his jacket, nodded.

“Very good. Be off with you now.”

Ponderos reached for the valve, he turned it fully on and twisted a loop of the control cable around a nearby bracket. The water ran unchecked to the boiler where it flashed into steam. The gentle pop-pop-pop sound of water boiling changed to a continuous hiss. Gradually, the speed of the raft would increase and hopefully sow confusion among the regular crew.

Ponderos hurried to reach his friends.

He came to the place where he had secured the skiff ready for their escape but where were the others? The walkway ahead was deserted. Ponderos looked behind him and there he saw them, walking slowly towards the stern. Not daring to call, Ponderos ran after them.

They turned when they heard his footsteps.

“This way,” he said. “I have a small boat ready for us.”

“I’m sure the Lady Shamaz does not wish for a cruise, Ponderos. A refreshing walk is quite sufficient. Shamaz was just saying how invigorated she feels.”

Ponderos clenched his teeth.
Was every word he uttered to be questioned?
“The boat is for our escape, Calistrope. Have you no imagination? Quickly before we are discovered.”

Shamaz took hold of the railing for support. “Escape? Ponderos, what are you talking about. I have no need to escape, Protection is what I require. Surely your friends are here to protect, not to abduct.”

Thoughts flitted through Shamaz’s mind, her surmise became certainty. Perfidy!

“Help me!” She shouted with considerable force. Her brief walk had evidently achieved excellent results, Shamaz grasped the railing tightly with both hands and resisted Ponderos’ quite gentle efforts to disentangle her fingers. “I am being carried off. Help.”

And help was at hand. Minallo came hurrying from the forward part of the raft, Hafool and Anas from aft and several more from other directions. Swords were much in evidence, Minallo and Anas both had bows and arrows tipped with wicked glass barbs pointed at them. Ponderos and Calistrope raised their hands to signify surrender.

Calistrope noted the knowing smirk on Anas’ lips and some of the joy which, earlier, he had taken from her presence, leaked away. “This is all a mistake,” he said, attempting to mix dignity and mild outrage at the possibility that anything else might be suspected.

“Absolutely. I agree with you,” Minallo replied. “Now place your arms on the deck and come up here one at a time. You first Ponderos. Where is the strong box which you have doubtless taken from Shamaz’s residence?”

“We have taken nothing,” Ponderos was outraged.

“If that is the case then you must be as inept at piracy as you are at guarding. Prest, run and take a look in the lady’s accommodation and see if her belongings are still there. Terny, go and watch Prest to be certain he leaves everything as he finds it.

At that point, with the pilot’s attention on what was taking place amidships, the prison raft caught up with the raft in front of it. The shock of collision, knocked most of them off their feet.

Roli’s mind turned immediately to thoughts of escape. As nimble as if he had been running along the roof ridge of a house, he took three steps along the walkway, vaulted the railing and slashed at the cord which held the skiff to the side of the raft. “Calistrope, Ponderos, quickly.”

However, nimble and fast as Roli was, there was one faster still and more nimble. There was the
twang
of a bow string released, there was a tug at Roli’s sleeve and an arrow with scarlet fletchings pinned him to the skiff’s gunwale. Above him on the raft, both bows were drawn taught with arrows aimed at him, the arrow held in Anas’ fingers had scarlet fletches.

Master Karkadee stood stiffly and listened to the story without comment. Calistrope suspected there were times when the Master would have laughed, had the occasion been less grave. The Purser’s demeanor gave no such impression, Rem Alcudea saw his prestige and repute in great danger; anger and an overwhelming desire for retribution were written plainly in his expression.

“Every day I see intelligent men whose reason is suddenly replaced by hormonal urges,” Karkadee told Ponderos. Calistrope remembered how Lelaine had said something rather similar. “However,” the master continued, “I have rarely seen this process taken to such extremes.”

He turned to Calistrope. “And you, who I presume, are a reasonably intelligent person under other circumstances, should have dissuaded your friend rather than joined him in this escapade. It is a farce of such proportions that it will be told up and down the river for a score of generations.”

Karkadee’s twitching lips stilled, his next words were severe.

“Which brings us to the matter of the collision you engineered. I am unable to express my feelings on this. It is certain that Purser Alcudea’s reputation will suffer and deservedly so. Just as certain is the damage inflicted on my own renown; doubtless, that too is deserved.

“Purser. Lock them in the cells until we come to Jesm. Shackle the boy in the engine room to work double duty and ensure that he is watched every minute of the day. They will be given over to dry land jurisprudence at Jesm.”

Calistrope and Ponderos were locked together in the same tiny cell for an old week, Roli worked two watches out of the four every day. When, at last, they were taken outside, Calistrope and Ponderos could hardly walk and shuffled like old men. Roli was so used to gloom and smoke he had to screw his eyes up against the orange sunlight.

The five days had wrought big changes in the scenery, too. They had left behind the high cliffs and long shadows of the continental massif. The banks spread out on both sides, flat expanses of mud covered in brilliant green and red slimes; ahead, the horizon was flat, the Last Ocean glittering with orange highlights out to where it met the sable sky of nightside. Near enough to dominate the East was the great bulbous mountain with the huge plume of vapor erupting from its higher flanks.

As they boarded the skiff which would ferry them across to Jesm, Shamaz came onto the deck. Towering above the slight figure of Anas, she gave a forlorn wave of the hand to Ponderos. Ponderos gave her a slight bow in return and climbed down into the boat.

Chapter 16

Jesm lay along the edge of a bay on the south western shore of the Long River. It was separated from the water by a strip of noisome mud and to a large extent, it was itself built upon mud. When they docked, Calistrope saw the quays and the streets beyond were built of tarred timbers laid over box-form floats resting on the surface of the mud. Behind the roadway, shops and warehouses were built on foundations of identical design. Two story buildings were rare, and where there was an upper floor, it was small compared to the ground floor to prevent it overbalancing on the floats.

The air was filled with the odors of decay, a fact which went unnoticed by the populace and quite probably disregarded by regular visitors. Calistrope, Ponderos and Roli were marched along the boardwalk street. A mud lizard basked in the heat from a baker’s window; a pair of insects with great fan-shaped feet hopped out of their way and went flap-flapping across the mud beneath the walkway.

They came to a more robust building than most. A civic hall, Calistrope supposed, for inside was a maze of corridors painted mud-green and mud-brown and through which they were conducted to the
Enforcer’s
office. There was much discussion in heated whispers between the Enforcer and the Purser while the travelers watched long slim-winged insects hovering around the light globe and crawling across the ceiling.

At length the Purser left, his expression a mixture of disappointment and satisfaction. They were to be accommodated in spare rooms at the house of one of the town’s lawyers. A pair of constables conducted them along the main street and back to the more elegant part of town where the wealthier citizens lived. In fact, two of the lawyer’s three daughters were moved to share a single bedroom to make space for Roli. The situation surprised the three travelers and they discussed it with their host.

“Jail?” asked Linel the Advocate. “No, no, we have no jail. I am responsible for you until the trial has run its course.”

“And what if we escape?” asked Ponderos. “After all, this is all a mistake and will be corrected in due course but we might be desperate men.”

“Escape?” he asked, amazement loud in his tone. “Where to? Jesm is bordered on three sides by salt marshes where your lives are not worth the flick of my little finger.” Linel the Advocate made a complicated gesture—at the end of which his little finger clicked satisfactorily. “The river awaits you on the fourth side but it runs through those same salt marshes. Escape by all means. You deprive me of my fee but what of that? I am wealthy enough.”

“Then suppose we take your wife and children as hostages?”

“Goodness me!” exclaimed the Advocate. “As close as we are to the final freeze and you expect me to believe that such unruly behavior is possible here in Jesm? The militia would bring you down with three crossbow bolts in each of you before you left my gate.” Linel took out a large handkerchief and wiped his brow. “Sir, your conversation is quite disturbing.”

Calistrope sought to calm their host. “My friend was merely interested in local custom. Please compose yourself, there are times when he exceeds propriety.”

Linel’s wife and daughters served the travelers with good, wholesome food. The wife and children—including a babe in arms—sat and ate at the other end of the room. Afterwards, Linel asked the travelers to sign a requisition for the food which he would tender to the town’s governors.

After the meal they discussed the case in detail until Linel leaned back in his chair, his chest heaving with great guffaws. “I cannot present this as a serious defense of your actions.”

“But it happens to be so, what is the matter with it?” Calistrope could not understand.

“The Lady Shamaz is traveling back to her home town of Jesney, along the coast. She had contracted to marry a certain merchant of the hinterland who, she found, was a coarse fellow of low breeding and interested largely in her dowry.”

Linel opened a bottle of wine and handed round glasses. He filled them, added a figure to the bill they had already signed.

“She is a woman of considerable wealth. The Lady refused the contract—she had that right—and had been accommodated in the carcery at her own request and expense—and for her own safety.”

Linel tasted the wine. “The very best vintage, you will agree if asked?”

Calistrope found the wine to be rather ordinary but readily agreed since it would not affect
his
purse. In any case, tastes differed from region to region, his own partialities were hardly commonplace and if Linel made a copper flake or two, well…

“She supposed her erstwhile betrothed might pursue her and take the dowry which he maintained was his whether she married him or not.” Linel held out his hand and rocked it from side to side, “The law is not clear on the matter, but in any case, this is all beside the point. Misleading the Lady Shamaz is nothing, a minor affair. What should concern you is the matter of interfering with the governance of the raft. This could well be a capital offence.”

“There was no damage Sir, no injury.”

“Principle is all in such things.” Linel opened a wall case and consulted a chronometer inside. “Besides, it is sleep time. We must do our duty and then sleep will refresh us. A gong will sound when the first meal is ready, you may return to this room to break your fast.”

Calistrope took advantage of his civilized surroundings and drew himself a bath of steaming hot—if slightly brackish—water. He disrobed and stepped into the tub and settled down to enjoy the warmth.

It was sometime later, aroused from a state of somnolence by loud voices, that Calistrope discovered how cold the water had become. He dried himself vigorously and dressed again while he listened to muffled shrieks mingled with the lower and increasingly vexed tones of Ponderos.

Calistrope went out into the corridor and listened at the door to the adjacent room. Ponderos seemed to be thoroughly exasperated, what little patience he still possessed was fast running out. Calistrope opened the door and went in. One of Ponderos’ discarded boots almost tripped him up, the other lay on the windowsill and his great coat had been tossed in a heap in one corner, apart from these, there was no immediate sign of Ponderos’ presence. What he saw was a pair of naked girls, plump and nicely rounded, bouncing up and down on a pile of bedclothes.

“Calistrope,” said the pile of bedclothes in the voice of Ponderos. “Thank the Graces, save me.”

Calistrope raised an eyebrow and looked more closely. A hand poked from under the blankets and waved feebly.

“Help me,” called Ponderos. “Get them off me.”

Calistrope bent and put an arm around each plump waist and heaved. He cheated a little, applying a minim of magical power and lifted the two buxom girls off the couch. Ponderos’ face looked up at him with evident relief.

His burden was kicking and screaming theatrically with an occasional giggle. Calistrope carried them to the door, lifted the latch, opened it with mind power and set them down on their feet outside. He administered a sharp slap to each pair of buttocks to send them on their way. The girls ran off, jiggling and bouncing along the hall.

Calistrope closed the door. “Ponderos?”

Ponderos shrugged. “Neither would take ‘no’ for an answer,” he said. “I told them to go and bother Roli, that he was more their age. They wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Clearly you have something which appealed to them. Why didn’t you use magic?”

Ponderos sat up and clutched the blankets to himself. “I…” He looked around the room. “I, er, that is, I was concerned that I might hurt them.” His shoulders slumped, he gave Calistrope a sheepish look and shook his head. “In truth, I never thought of it… magic,” Ponderos sighed and pushed the blanket away.

He was partly naked. His boots and hose were gone. His shirt hung in strips from his shoulders. His breeches, minus several buttons, were down around his thighs.

“I wish I had a bright, incisive mind like yours, Calistrope. Magic!” The ribbons of his shirt rewove themselves together. Buttons flew back like golden bugs and sewed themselves back in the right places. Socks, boots, coat, kerchief, pocket contents; all flew back from various parts of the room and fitted themselves to Ponderos’ person or folded themselves up in a neat and tidy pile. “Never gave it a thought.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to rest. You seem to have straightened up well enough.”

“Thank you, Calistrope.”

Calistrope laughed. “Rest easy. I’ll see you when they call us for the meal,” Calistrope left and returned to his room.

The curtains, which he was certain had been open when he left, were now drawn. There was a faint but unmistakable scent of woodland flowers in the air. Someone sat on the edge of the couch, hair falling in a long cascade over one shoulder, a sheer gown of silk hinting at a slim figure and long, charmingly proportioned legs. Even in the gloom however, Calistrope could see that the woman was less than charmed to see him.

Silence, he decided, was the most propitious approach.

“Well,” she said when the silence had stretched out long and thin. “Do not think you will come to me now.”

The remark was puzzling. She was angry—this was obvious. Very angry, and her voice identified her as the wife of their host. “Come to you?” his considered course of action was forgotten in an instant.

“Certainly not!” There was considerable venom in her tone. “You keep me waiting like a common hireling while you and your gross friend play with my daughters for half an hour. Now you come back expecting me to still be waiting, dewy eyed and breathless.”

Calistrope held up his hands as though to fend off the tirade. “Madam, I assure you that neither I nor Ponderos
played
with your daughters.

The woman stood up and smoothed her gown down over her hips and thighs. “I am going. If that is discourtesy in my husband’s house, then so be it. Even if I were content to be treated in this way, I daresay it would be time wasted after all the efforts I heard you making with the girls.”

“I don’t understand you,” Calistrope spoke loudly, trying to make her listen to him. “I did nothing with your daughters. Nothing. And nor did Ponderos.”

“And now you compound the insult. Stand aside and let me go.”

“At once, Madam,” Calistrope stood aside and she swept past him. The door slammed behind her. Calistrope lay down and put his hands behind his head. He attempted to make sense of the bizarre argument. After a while, he dozed a little then woke and puzzled some more until the gong sounded for the meal. This signaled breakfast, the meal taken by ephemerals after sleeping away a third of their arbitrary day.

Calistrope, Ponderos and Roli met in the same room where they had taken their previous meal. Breakfast turned out to be a somber affair and a brief one. The Advocate’s wife brought in two trays of toasted breads and two pitchers of ice cold spring water; one was placed in front of the travelers, the other on a table at the far end of the room where she was joined by her offspring—two of which cast surly glances at Ponderos and giggled whenever they caught Roli’s eye. The Advocate came in then and as silently as the others, placed another receipt on the table and laid a pen beside it. He went to join his family.

The travelers began to eat. “That’s very queer,” said Roli. “I smiled at the Advocate and his wife and they ignored me.”

“I believe I’ve made sense of the situation,” Calistrope spoke through a mouthful of crisp bread.

“The situation?” asked Roli. “This lack of courtesy?”

“And?” asked Ponderos.

“How many people are there here? In Jesm.”

Ponderos shrugged. “Six thousand? Seven?”

“There is magic here too, isn’t that so?” Roli asked. “I heard you mention it, I’m certain.”

“Seven thousand at the outside, I would guess. And the same for other villages along the river. Each one self-contained, a tiny pool of inheritable traits,” he turned to Roli. “Yes Roli, a certain amount.”

“Small communities but the river links them all.
Aha,
” Ponderos saw the shape of Calistrope’s hypothesis. “Without new genetic material being accepted at every opportunity, these villages would become terribly inbred.”

“It is tempting to imagine each one becoming a separate subspecies over the course of generations.”

“Will someone explain what we’re talking about?” said Roli. “Please?”

“Miscegenation is a necessity,” Ponderos continued. “Welcomed.”

“By the younger ones, Ponderos. I cannot vouch for the older generation.”

“Oh yes,” Roli nodded. “The younger ones go for miscegenation in quite a big way.”

Roli’s companions stopped eating and looked at him. “Is this the case?” Calistrope asked, and then signed the receipt with a flourish.

Linel the Advocate was right when he had expressed his doubts about their defense. The judge, a small man—barely able to see over the bench let alone visualize the truths of the matter—was plainly unimpressed by the case before him.

“Abduction? Yes?”

“As you say, Sir Arbiter.” The prosecuting lawyer nodded.

“A vile business. And you allege the injury, Sir Phelan? Correct?”