Slow Turns The World (12 page)

“Listen to me!  You are free!  Take weapons from the stone building yonder.  You are enough to fight off those who attack.  Find your way home again.  Be free.”  Then Torrin turned and was gone.  The slaves stood bewildered for a moment, and then with an angry roar they rushed forward, and did all that he commanded.

Torrin fought his way back to the jetty, which had become a bridge of flames.  The boat was already moving toward the ship with the last of their band.  He ran across the burning timbers, felt the waves of scorching heat, dodged between the tongues of flame to reach the end where the few remaining boxes stood piled.  He looked at the heavy gleaming blade streaked with blood in his hand, glinting redder still in the flame-light, and cast it aside into the sea.  Then he leapt from the burning timbers into the cold waters of the bay.  

Arrows fell around him as he swam to the boat and then strong arms pulled him aboard.   New sounds came from the compound, shouts, screams and ringing steel as the slaves and Jidsat clashed.   They rowed to the ship and struggled up the ladder.  A few fire arrows still streaked the sky but the attacking slaves now distracted the archers.   On the ship the crew were beating out fires in many places.  The paddle wheel turned and the ship crept from the bay.  At the narrow mouth some final burning arrows fell upon them.  High in the rigging a stowed sail was ignited.  The flames took hold and the mast became a fiery cross that burned brightly, and was slowly carried out to sea.

They ploughed on slowly towards the band of brightness that defined the western horizon.  The Captain walked the ship looking grimly at the fire damage and at a black skeletal mast with hanging fronds of charred rigging.  He went below into private council with His Lordship and emerged after much bartering a slightly happier and richer man.  Torrin was summoned next to His Lordship's cabin.     On the table was an open wooden case filled with shiny, freshly minted coins.   There were several small pouches too, all bulging, except for a final one that His Lordship was carefully filling, counting precisely the sum of money it was due.  He spoke without looking up from his task.

“That was an ingenious strategy, Vasagi, to release the slaves and let them fight on our behalf.”

“Yes, Lord,” said Torrin, keeping his face a blank mask.

His Lordship placed a final coin into the pouch and sat back looking at Torrin eye to eye.  Neither blinked nor dropped their gaze.  His Lordship spoke again.

“It was unfortunate that we lost some of the cargo.  But it will be salvaged.   When the sun rises here again a ship will be sent.  Other hands will continue our work.”

He drew silent for a moment and then indicated the coins within the chest.

“What do you know of this, Vasagi?”

“Very little, Lord, until I came upon the ship, until I heard the crew talk of wealth and money.  They had a look of lust, and of greed.”

“You have never been offered coins, or precious metals in barter with other tribes?”

“Why would we need such tokens?  We have the barak; it feeds, it clothes.”

“Vasagi, your people walk in darkness on the margin of the world.  You worship no God, you have weak leaders, chosen by fools and women, and you have no notion of wealth or money.  But we can thank God that your ignorance may soon be enlightened.  The world is changing, Vasagi.  It may not yet have reached to the southern-most corner of the sunset lands but it shall come.”

“It is a great comfort to me, Lord, to know this,” said Torrin still returning the blank stare.

“Vasagi, this is the great work to which God has called me, to bring His light to the dark corners of the world.  And it is a task far beyond your knowing.”

“Yes, Lordship, I am but an ignorant heathen,” said Torrin, cold anger finally brimming over into his quietly spoken words.  “But what I do know, Lord, is that you are journeying to far corners of the world seeking the metal from which these coins are forged.  I know that you buy the hearts of passing tribes with suits of mail, with shiny swords, and with crossbows.  I know that you buy slaves to labour in dark places, to burrow like animals into the ground, I know that you cut down scores of trees to fire furnaces, and to purify the metal you use foul potions that poison the land and waters.  And that all of this is done in the name of God.”

“Yes, Vasagi, in His name.”  His Lordship opened the Text that lay upon the table and flicked though the heavy, illuminated pages.  He read aloud:

“And God spoke to Salrose, who was king of all Etoradom.  He said, ‘know that you are placed upon the summit of the world above all others, that you alone shall be warmed and lit by the sun which I have set to circle about you.  And know also, that you shall have dominion over all the lands and tribes and beasts of the lesser world, and that your sacred duty to your God is to bring all these within the kingdom which is yours and which is Mine.’”  He closed the Text carefully and met Torrin's stare again.

“God's work, Vasagi. God’s will that His dominion be united as it was when the world was new-made, and then there will be peace, and order. But we do not do this by sending armies or fleets of ships.  I am just one man, one of a very few sent by the Emperor Priest on the most precious of missions.  Yes, I am charged to do all the things that you have said and then deliver the cargo.  Do you know, Vasagi, that this ship carries enough wealth to buy a score of armies, or a fleet of ships greater than any that sail the five seas?   This world will be one nation as God commands, but it will not be us who wields the sword.   We shall make it so with these....”

He grasped a purse of coins and then slapped it hard back upon the table.   “That will buy our armies, but here is something greater still.  Here is the power that will conquer the world…”

He lifted from the floor beside him another wooden chest and emptied its contents onto the table.  Many books spilled out.  Each was a small bound copy of the Text of God.

The purses of money were for the overseers who had been brought on board.  They were summoned one by one to His Lordship's cabin to receive their payment and those converted to the faith were also given a copy of the Text.  Torrin stood impassively behind his master as the payment was made, his lip only twitching slightly as the converts, kneeling in spiritual subjugation, held the Text in their upturned hands as if it were a most delicate and precious thing.   When this small duty was done His Lordship ordered Torrin to arm himself with a new sword.  There were several stowed in Kalor's cabin.  Torrin could imagine Kalor giving each a pet name and spending long hours lovingly sharpening and polishing.   Grudgingly Torrin chose another curved blade, which filled the empty sheath at his side as if one was made for the other.
 

The wind was against them and the paddle wheel churned relentlessly.  The crew was tired and dispirited.  They had been long at sea and now found themselves in this gloomy twilight world struggling to return to warmth and sunlight.  Supplies were dwindling, the food they ate was stale and meager; fresh water was rationed.  The overseers ate their share but did not offer manpower to the ship.  The converts prayed three times each day.  They would gather on the deck, face northwards to the holy land of Etoradom, and then kneel, hands raised as if in surrender, as they chanted verses from the Text.  Both the crew, and those of their number who had not converted, eyed them with distaste.   When told by the Captain not to obstruct the decks, they were defiant, pronouncing that God's word compelled them to pray three times each day.  It struck Torrin that he had never seen His Lordship being so devout.

The hourglass on the upper deck emptied.  As the last grain of sand fell through it was quickly turned and then the bell rang out.  The sands leaked again from chamber to chamber, then again, and again.  Weary, thin and thirsty figures filed up from the treadmills and looked westwards hoping each time to see the rim of the sun burning on the sea.  The top-most mast became bathed in red light, but the bulk of the ship stayed in shadow, and the west wind still blew against them.   Torrin was with Valhad at the bows looking out across the endless sea. Valhad, just emerged from his duty on the treadmills, lay stretching his tired muscles on the deck. They talked of their tribe, of the strange things they had seen and of what might lay ahead of them.  Then, there was a great commotion and many voices shouting from the deck behind them.  They jumped up and went to see the cause.

The religious overseers were scuffling with the crew.  One was already knocked down with a bleeding nose, another had drawn a sword and was holding his attackers at bay, while a third did likewise with a crossbow.  There was much angry shouting and cursing from both sides.  Torrin drew his sword and pushed his way between them.  All drew back a pace and were silent when they saw the blade in his hand.

“What's happening here?” demanded Torrin.  There was much shouting again from both sides.

“Enough!  You,” said Torrin to one of the crew, “tell me”.

“Some of us were gathered below in worship of Jilkes, God of the sea.  We prayed for a new wind to speed us home, and out of darkness.”

“Did you offer sacrifice?” asked Torrin sternly.

“No, no, only prayers and some small tokens.  Then these swine came down and threatened us with swords.  They said we were heathens and took our statue of Jilkes.  They threw it in the sea! In the sea!  They've put a curse upon us now…”

There was an angry murmur from the crew and many stepped forward again to vent their fury on the overseers.

“Stay where you are!” ordered Torrin and turned to the overseers.  “Is this true?”

“He who kneels before idols or offers prayer to false gods shall be cursed.  So it says within this holy Text”.  The overseer who replied spoke out loudly with all the confidence of one who knows without doubt that he does God's work.  His companions shouted out holy praises and waved their Texts in the air, the crew surged forward again.  It was at this moment that Valhad stepped out with a far away look in his eyes that Torrin had come to recognise.  He raised his hands palms outward in a gesture of conciliation.

“Friends,” he said, “Is it the will of God that we shall…”

“Don't you say a word!” barked Torrin and he waved the sword angrily in the air between them.  Everybody on deck stepped back in frightened silence except Valhad, whose mouth curved into the slightest smile as he watched his friend caught between the arguing factions.  

“Valhad,” said Torrin, “collect the weapons.”

Valhad took the swords and crossbows from the overseers.  One look at Torrin's burning eyes and glinting blade dissuaded them from too much complaint or resistance.

“Throw them overboard.”  The disarmed men mumbled bitterly as the weapons vanished with barely a splash and were gone.

“Now collect the Texts.”  This time there was more resistance and calls of blasphemy as the books were unwillingly surrendered.

“Throw them from the ship.”

The books fell with pages fluttering and were left in a bobbing trail on the water.

“Now,” said Torrin to the crew, “get below.  And as for you….” He turned to the overseers, “Get to your quarters and if any more trouble is caused you will join your weapons and your blessed Text.  Go!”  He waved the sword again and in a few moments he and Valhad were alone on the deck.  He turned to Valhad who now smiled broadly.  

“What are you laughing at?” Torrin snapped, before marching off the deck.

Later, he reported the trouble to His Lordship.  When asked if it was likely to recur he replied:

“No my Lord, I think not.  All offensive items have been removed from the ship.”

Despite any offence made to the opposing deities, the wind did change, allowing both groups of devotees to claim some vindication.  The sails on the two surviving masts billowed full and drove the ship onwards into sunlight.   They passed Gradala again and set course northwards.  The Captain ordered the crew and passengers to assemble on the deck.  He addressed them, while His Lordship stood silently bedside him.

“The ship needs repair and provisions and we are entering the waters of Nejital.”   His Lordship coughed slightly and the Captain rephrased his words.  “Waters claimed by Nejital.  The port and city of Hityil lie to the north and we shall make landfall there.  His Lordship reminds you that you are not to speak of our voyage or our cargo, and…” he looked at the overseers, “that emblems of Etoradom and its faith must be concealed.   His Lordship also wishes to reward each man for his service.”

Every crewman was given a few small coins, and later, as the crew bedded down upon their litters, there was much wistful discussion of what delights awaited them.

 To the east a coastline could be seen, distant hills bathed in red light, broken into craggy ramparts by the beating waves.  There were other ships now, single sailed fishing boats darting nimbly in the shallower waters and further out to sea taller masts silhouetted against the sun.  Torrin joined Trabbir who was standing by the balustrade, gazing at the passing coast, with a distant look upon his face.

“These are your people then?” he said and Trabbir nodded.

“Yes, and this would have been my home.  When I last saw this coast all the colour was burnt from the land for it was just past noon in the long day of the world.  It has been green and has blossomed since then, and now it fades and dies once more as the sun sets.”

He sighed deeply and shook his head.

“What did we do that made the gods set the world spinning?  Why did they punish us thus?”

“I cannot say, Trabbir.  We of the Vasagi have our own tale that is told at the campfire of why the world must turn.”

Trabbir turned to him with a small sad smile upon his lips.

“And what do the Vasagi say?”

“That in the beginning,” said Torrin, “the Maker of all Things created the world and the three moons.  Then he set the tribes upon its face, onto desert, plain and mountain, there to dwell, each according to their custom.  And at that time the sun stood still upon the sky and there was no cold nor darkness and the tribes prospered and multiplied.  Then Maker of all Things returned and gazed upon the world that he had made and saw the people fat and lazy from the bounty of the bright lit lands.  And The Maker of all Things laughed, and because he is the maker of all things he is also the maker of mischief; for so it must be.  And then he breathed upon the world and it began to spin slowly, slowly, so that one full turn might last a man's long life and then he laughed and said, ‘I made you and gave you life and now I make you more alive my children.’ And he strode off to make mischief in all the other worlds that he had made.”