Angus Wells - The God Wars 01 (5 page)

 
          
He
chose to think, and for that purpose set out for the city wall, knowing tnat
there he might find solitude.

 
          
The
alley that flanked Reba's house continued on the opposite side of the street,
cutting across the Seers Gate in the direction of the harbor, and he followed
it, grinning at the sheer imagination of the graffiti decorating the buildings.
He saw few people until the alley emerged into a wider avenue, one of the
larger thoroughfares circling the city like the radial strands of a spider's
web, linked by the smaller streets, the Domm's palace at the center. The
roadway marked the boundary of the Seers Gate and the commencement of the
Merchants Quarter. The buildings were larger here, bright-striped awnings
extending over wide pavements busy with pedestrians, the road active with
carriages and chariots, the warm air loud, fragrant with the odors of spices, leather,
dyes, cloths, metal; the myriad goods offered for sale. Calandryll hurried
across the avenue, dodging traffic, and made his way between two emporiums to
the broad military road running beneath the wall, designed to allow swift
movement of troops to any part of the perimeter in the event of siege.

 
          
Civilian
vehicles were scarce on the road and he crossed it easily. On the far side the
wall bulked toward the sky, barracks and stables and armories built into the
foot, the wall itself wide as a sizable house to defeat siege engines or
sappers. Soldiers lounged in the sun outside the barracks, but none offered
Calandryll more
than
a cursory glance as he crossed the road and
commenced the ascent to the ramparts.

 
          
The
steps at this point were narrow and steep,
angling
vertiginously
between a stable and a storehouse, ending beside one of the small blockhouses
that guarded each stairway. Five legionaries looked up from a game of dice as
Calandryll came panting onto the wall, grinning as he paused to regain his
breath. The officer took in his cloak and clothes and nodded in greeting.

 
          
"A
fine day for a stroll along the wall."

 
          
He
appeared to consider Calandryll some minor aristocrat.

 
          
"Yes."
Calandryll nodded, thinking that Tobias would have been instantly recognized.
Before the officer had chance to mark any resemblance, he walked on.

 
          
The
breeze was stronger up here, coming off the sea, tangy with the scent of ozone,
and he gathered his cloak about him as he crossed to the farther perimeter and
peered down.

 
          
The
Eastern
Sea
was a metallic grey, flecked with
whitewhere waves broke, spray bursting across the long mole that protected the
harbor. Ships rocked there, mostly caravels that plied the coastal trade
northward to Hyme and Forshold, or south and west to Aldarin, then on to Wessyl
and Eryn, but also three-masters awaiting the shifting of the wind that would
carry them across the
Narrow
Sea
to Eyl and
Kandahar
, and fishing boats, dwarfed by their larger
companions. Mangonels stood ominous at the farthest extent of the mole and to
either side of the harbor itself, and beside the Sailors Gate a sizable
blockhouse warded that entry to the city. There had been no fighting since
Calan- dryll's childhood, the cities of Lysse maintaining a somewhat precarious
peace since the last siege, when Bylath had resisted Aldarin, and the Kand
pirates preferred to attack merchantmen crossing the Narrow Sea to storming a
fortified metropolis, but the Domm allowed no relaxation of his defenses and so
both mangonels and blockhouse were fully manned.

 
          
Calandryll's
gaze wandered from the activity of the harbor to the more ponderous movement of
the sea, its grey surface vaguely menacing in the light of Reba's prediction.
There was always some measure of danger where that element was concerned;
indeed, although Secca adhered to the worship of Dera, there were temples
dedicated to Burash in the Sailors Gate, and few mariners set sail without
making some offering to the god of the waters. Burash was an unpredictable god,
whimsical in his moods and given to violent rages. If he was to make the
journey Reba had forecast, he would sacrifice to Burash.

 
          
But
if he chose that path it would be without Nadama: she would never, he was
certain, agree to leave the city. If she accepted his suit he must remain in
Secca, and if he did that it must be at risk of his brother's enmity, his
father's wrath. But married to Nadama he would, at least, have the support of
the powerful den Ecvin family to protect him. But then Tobias might well employ
the Chai- paku, and he was no great swordsman—the notion of finding
himself
hunted by assassins was alarming.

 
          
He
pushed away from the parapet and began to walk along the wall, unaware of the
wind that ruffled his long hair, his head down, deep in thought. Reba had
spoken of a quest, yet told him he could choose to ignore it. Were he to take
that path it must, it seemed, mean banishment and the loss of Nadama. Were he
to ignore it, it must mean the acceptance of the fate outlined by his father, a
life of tedious religious duty.

 
          
Unless
Nadama should accept him: it seemed his fate must rest with her. Until he knew
for sure whether or not he had her, he could not decide: he would approach her
and demand she make her choice. He felt better for that, his stride quickening,
cloak billowing behind as he raised his head and smiled.

 
          
Then
faltered as it occurred to him that he was afraid. That it seemed, whatever
answer he received, he must lose something. What was it Reba had said?
You
will that which cannot be had and find disappointment. But you will gain much;
more than you lose.

           
His smile faded and he looked once
more toward the sea. The waves seemed to mock him and he turned from them,
looking inward across the city.

 
          
That
view offered no better answers. He saw the bustle of a prosperous metropolis,
the streets angling toward the great white edifice of the Domm's palace, ringed
by a sward of green, the inner courts hidden behind high walls. The seat of
government, to which all Secca looked for guidance; the seat of power.

 
          
He
had no wish for power, nor any desire to govern. He was happy to leave all that
to Tobias, yet neither his father or his brother would concede the same freedom
to him. He was, he knew, a disappointment to his father; to his brother... he
was not sure what he was. A potential threat, certainly, for Tobias was hungry
for the title of Domm, and any sibling could become a rival. In the matter of
Nadama, too, there was rivalry: both sought her favor, but so far she refused
to choose between them.

 
          
He
mouthed a curse heard in the palace stables, teeth clenching in frustration.
Whichever way his mind turned his thoughts came back to Reba's enigmatic
prophecy. What did it mean? How did it help him?

 
          
It
was impossible to decide until he knew Nadama's mind. He nodded, agreeing with
himself, and his pace quickened again, moving toward the inevitable watershed.
Nadama would attend tonight's banquet: he would ask her then.

 
         
Calandryll
was too deep in thought to conceal his return to the palace, forgetting
that he had left by the Ostlers Gate and consequently approaching the great
ceremonial arch that granted entry to the main courtyard. It was only the
clatter of halberds against shields as the guards stationed there offered him
formal salute that reminded him of his mistake, and by then it was too late to
rectify the error. Nor was he sure that he wished to, despite the rush of
apprehension that filled him as he thought of his father's displeasure should
the Domm leam his younger son had gone wandering the poorer quarters alone. He
waved a casual response and continued on across the yard, oblivious of the
amused looks the guards exchanged. Like all the palace folk they were
accustomed to the vagaries of the younger heir and had long given up any
expectations of disciplined or dignified behavior where he was concerned.
Calandryll's a dreamer, they said among themselves, not like Tobias. It's lucky
he was the second bom, for he'd make a poor Domm.

 
          
Calandryll
himself shared that opinion without resentment, though now, for all his
abstracted air, he felt positive. He had thought the matter through and arrived
at what he believed was the only logical conclusion. What worried him was the
outcome: it seemed he must lose either way.

 
          
He
nodded absently as more guards saluted, passing through the wide copper-clad
doors into the first of the palace's receiving rooms, crossing that to a
corridor busy with servants preparing the halls for the forthcoming banquet.
They bowed as he passed, not so deeply as they might for Tobias or his father,
but he scarcely noticed that and would not have cared had he been aware of the
lack of respect. They liked him well enough and that was sufficient.

 
          
He
left the bustle behind as he climbed the stairs to his private quarters,
pleased to have regained the palace without, so far as he knew, his father
learning of his absence.

 
          
The
door closed behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief and shed his cloak,
tossing his swordbelt onto a convenient chair. The familiarity of the room was
comforting, reassuring, the books and scrolls and parchments that covered one
wall like old friends, supportive of his decision. Though that, he thought, was
at present only a decision to make a decision and it occurred to
him
that
he should look his best if he was to approach Nadama. He went through the outer
chamber to his bedroom. The windows had been opened and his bed made, the books
littering the table tidied; the room was pleasantly warm, airy, sunlight
tinting the white walls with gold, glinting off the surface of the tall cheval
glass standing beside his wardrobes. He placed himself before the mirror and
studied his image critically.

 
          
A
tall youth—no, he decided, a young man—looked back, slim and reasonably
muscular. His hair was untidy, shining gold in the sunlight and in need of
cutting, framing a long face in which the large brown eyes were the most
dominant feature. He was not, he thought, unhandsome. Perhaps not so obviously
good-looking as Tobias, and certainly less commanding, but not ugly. His nose
might be broader and his jaw perhaps a fraction more square, his ears smaller,
but his mouth was wide enough and his teeth even. He grinned at himself,
squaring shoulders he knew had a tendency to slump, deciding that he was not, all
things considered, unattractive. He would summon a barber and have his hair
dressed. Take a bath. And choose clothes for the evening.

 
          
Then
... His doubts returned and he saw his grin fade. If he were Nadama, which
brother would he choose? He turned from the mirror, going to the wide windows
opening onto the balcony.

 
          
Below
was a walled garden, vines climbing the stonework, bushes offering the first
green of spring, flowers thrusting tentative stalks up through the dark earth,
a small fountain at the center. That, he remembered, had been a favorite place
of his mother's: he could just recall her playing with him there, before she
died, a victim of the plague, perhaps the same outbreak that had scarred Reba.

 
          
How
would she have advised him?

 
          
He
had not known her long enough to hazard a guess; he had been a child when she
died and all he could remember was a feeling of warmth, of protective love,
arms to which he ran when Bylath grew angry. There were portraits about the
palace, and sculptures, but those were formal representations, depicting a
dignified woman, her thick hair encircled by the Domme's coronet. They told him
what she had looked like, not how she thought; they were not the mother he
dimly remembered.

           
It seemed that, for all his swift
temper, Bylath had been different then; softer, more approachable. Her death
had struck him hard and he had withdrawn, become austere, unyielding, as though
he feared to commit to fondness again, seeing in his sons the potential for
pain that walks hand in hand with love. Had that withdrawal not taken place,
Calandryll thought his life, his outlook, might well be different. Tobias, two
years older, had accepted it, finding in military training, the anticipation of
power, the consolation denied by their father. Calandryll, on the other hand,
had been hurt, withdrawing in turn from his father, increasing the emotional
distance between them, seeking solace in those things his mother had loved,
chief among them books, learning, the acquisition of knowledge beyond those matters
immediate to the welfare of Secca. That love had increased with the passing
years, prompting Bylath to despair of ever making a warrior of his
son.                                                             
„     ,        
_    _

 
          
In
some ways it worked to Calandryll's benefit. It was not unknown for a Domm to
exile younger sons in Gannshold or Forshold, the two great citadels that
guarded the landward approaches to Lysse, fearing they might rise against their
elder brothers, rivals for the title.

 
          
Equally,
it was not unknown for the elder brother to employ assassins to dispose of the
potential contender: Cal- anaryll had heard rumors that the current Domm of
Wessyl had used the mysterious Chaipaku to rid him of two siblings, while it
was common knowledge that the Domm of Hyme had hired the Brotherhood of
Assassins to eliminate four members of his family. Such threat did not exist in
his case, he thought: Bylath clearly considered him too poor a warrior to send
him north and Tobias showed only contempt for his bookish brother.

 
          
Were
he to remain in Secca it seemed the priesthood must be his destiny, unless he
won the support of Nada- ma's family. He sighed and turned from his
contemplation of the garden, going back into his chambers. The sand clock told
him he had still some hours before his presence would be required and he
determined to spend them making himself as presentable as possible. He tugged
on the cord beside his bed, knowing that somewhere in the bowels of the palace
a bell would ring, summoning a servant, and settled in a chair with the book he
had been studying the previous night.

 
          
It
was Medith's
History of Lysse and the World,
from which he had sought to
glean insights into the thinking of the ambassador he was soon to meet, and while
he considered it less erudite than Samium's
Chronicles of the Southern
Kingdoms,
it was interesting enough that he became engrossed, and was
startled by the appearance of the servant.

 
          
"My
lord?"

 
          
The
man studied Calandryll with less respect than he would have given Tobias, his
manner vaguely suggestive of more pressing urgencies than attendance on the
Domm's younger son. Calandryll looked up, marking his place, and set the book
down.

 
          
"A
bath. And a barber. And is there anything to eat?"

 
          
"The
Domm has taken luncheon, my lord; and the kitchens are preparing tonight's
feast. You were not to be found."

 
          
"Did
my father ask for me?"

 
          
Calandryll
reviewed excuses, aware that his cheeks reddened.

 
          
The
servant paused as if considering the matter, then shook his head. "No, my
lord. He ate with the ambassador and your brother. I might find
something."

 
          
"Please,"
Calandryll nodded, thinking that if Tobias had voiced the request the man would
be gone now.

 
          
"In
what order, my lord?"

 
          
Calandryll
bit back a sigh: he must endeavor to be more authoritative. He said, "Food
first, then a bath. Then the
barber."                                           
'

 
          
The
man bowed. "Yes, my lord."

 
          
Calandryll
watched him go and returned to the book. One advantage of Medith's work was its
more recent maps, his cartography of greater precision than Sar- nium's. Secca
lay to the east of the Lyssian domains, on a rough line with Aldarin, Wessyl to
the north, and higher on the coast the great inlet that protected the shipyards
of Eryn. Eyl and
Kandahar
lay across the
Narrow
Sea
, Aldarin ideally situated to enjoy the
benefits of trade with both, while Secca's commerce was mostly with the other
coastal cities and the distant Jesseryn Plain. Aldarin might, if her Domm so
chose, cut the trade routes, so a treaty that would secure Secca's sea-lanes to
Kandahar
was a worthwhile prize.

 
          
Kandahar
occupied the southern tip of the peninsula extending into the Southern Ocean,
and while nominally at peace with Lysse, still afforded anchorage to the Kand
pirates whose annual depredations threatened all Lyssian trade. Thus it was in
the interests of both Secca and Aldarin to forge a naval alliance presenting a
unified front when the corsairs began their raids.

 
          
Satisfied
with his summary, he let his eyes wander over the map, thinking of Reba's
prophecy of travel to distant lands. Neither Eyl or Kandahar seemed distant
enough, but not even Medith showed much more of the world. Beyond the Gann
Peaks, which marked Lysse's northern boundary, Kem was depicted as prairie, the
grassland surrounding the vast central forest of the Cuan na'Dru, the mountains
of the Valt to the west and the Jesseryn Plain to the north across the chasm of
the Kess Imbrun. Of that mysterious land nothing was known, those traders
venturing so far confined to Nywan, the closed city at the mouth of the Marl.
The peninsula containing Eyl and
Kandahar
, the
Shann
Desert
between them, was split by the spine of the
Kharm-rhanna, the western coast wholly occupied by the Jungles of Gash.
Northwest, from the great barrier of the Valt to the sea, lay Gessyth, of which
Medith said only, "It is a forbidding land best left be, all reeking swamp
where strange creatures dwell, the outcasts of the gods with no love of men.
Three of my crew died here, and I fell sick close unto death."

 
          
There
was another map, Calandryll remembered, a more detailed work, tucked away in a
dusty comer of the palace archives. He had noticed it once before while
searching for a chart of the Lyssian coastline, but paid it scant attention. At
the first opportunity he would seek it out. In case Nadama refused him.