The Ultimate Stonemage: A Modest Autobiography (31 page)

A Tenth Section Of The Eleventh Part

In Which I Tell Of My Voyage Across The Pacific Ocean

We had been at sea
for no more than a week when the head slave told me a group of ships were approaching us from the southwest.

“That is not so strange,” I said. “There are many ships which travel these waters, carrying goods for trade.”

“These ships do not look like trading ships,” replied the head slave. “Indeed, it is clear they are warships, for I can make out the great spears upon their prows.”

I took a look for myself then, and could see the ships plainly enough, although I could not make out their prows. Still, slaves have good eyesight, and it is best to trust them in such matters.

I said, “They are probably pirate ships. Tell those slaves upon the sails to give us all the speed they can give us, by hoisting such sails and pulling upon such ropes as will accomplish this. And tell those upon the rudder to turn our ship to the southwest.”

The head slave said, “Sire, forgive my question, but do you not mean for us to turn to the northeast, for the warships lie to the southwest?”

I said, “Did I not say ‘northeast’?”

He said, “No, sire. You said ‘southwest.’”

“That is very strange,” I said. “I meant to say ‘turn to the southwest,’ and indeed, I thought I had said so, but somehow my words came out differently.”

The head slave looked puzzled then, and said, “Sire, if you meant to say ‘southwest,’ then your words came out precisely as you intended, for you said ‘southwest.’”

I suddenly realized he was right, and I had made the mistake for a second time. Still, such mistakes happen now and then, and I thought little enough of it, so I said to the head slave, “A mere slip of the tongue. My meaning, however, should be clear enough, since you cannot imagine I would wish us to sail towards those warships. Therefore, and mark me this time, go to the slave upon the rudder and have him set our course to the southwest.”

“Northeast,” said the slave.

I instantly realized I had made the same mistake for a third time.

Well, that struck me as very strange indeed, for I am ordinarily very careful in my speech, especially when the matter at hand is an urgent one.

They say “Spirits speak through tripping tongues,” and I shuddered now as I realized God’s spirit had been taking possession of my lips as I spoke, and had told me, three times, to sail to the southwest, towards the warships, even though common sense would have told me to fear those ships.

I spoke to my head slave then, saying, “Listen to me well, for God is speaking through my very lips, and I do not wish to offend Him by speaking more than I must. We must sail to the southwest, towards those fearsome warships.”

The head slave said, “Shall I bring the myrmidons upon deck, with spears at the ready.”

I said, “No. We shall sail towards those ships showing not fear, but enthusiasm, and we shall see what Providence places in our hands.”

Well, we sailed to those ships, and they sailed to us, and at length our vessels came together. I stood on deck and waved to the warships, and you may be sure the folk aboard those terrible vessels were astonished to see us approach so fearlessly. After a time, their myrmidons raised spears, and I thought they would strike, but then their weapons were lowered again, and we were allowed us to draw close.

Their ships were very huge, and they rose up over mine like a great wall jutting out of the ocean, even though the
Moray
was nevertheless a fair size of ship.

I heard a voice shouting, then, and I looked up to see a woman was hailing me. She said, “Accept my apologies. We took you at first to be a trader or a fishing vessel.”

I did not take her meaning, but I knew God was guiding my journey, so I replied, “The mistake was a natural one to make. Think nothing of it.”

Then she said, “Stand back. We will lower nets.”

Well, they lowered nets then, and, since they made no move to climb down the nets, I climbed up them, onto the deck of their ship.

I had no sooner boarded the vessel than I was struck by its awesome size and beauty. I saw huge ballistas placed there, covered in patterns of gold and jewels. The lookout cabins were as large as mansions, and covered with statues and paintings of fearsome animals. As for the decks, they were so wide it would take a man a hundred paces to cross them. In the centre of the craft, a great rectangular opening looked down upon the lower decks. On those decks I saw not only myrmidons, but also such animals as horses and pigs, and food gardens too.

The woman who had hailed me hugged me in greeting. She was in her fifties, I should say, but with dark and weathered skin and short grey hair. Her features were not like those of any American, nor yet were they like those of a Cypriot, or a Kennian, or a Chinese, or any other race I knew. She had a long, narrow nose, a thin face, jutting cheekbones, and narrow lips. An emerald, or some green gem like it, was set into one of her teeth.

There were other men and women there too, who stood behind the captain, dressed in fine clothes, and with many jewels to decorate their persons.

The captain said then, “Welcome. I am
Captain Da Qua Yansh.”

I said, “Excellent. I am Yreth.”

“That is a strange name,” she said.

I said, “I find it serves me well when I am travelling in such parts as these.”

She tugged upon her nostril then, saying, “I understand perfectly.” Then she asked, “Do you bring a message from the
Ucher Tad?”

I replied, “I bring a message of unsurpassed urgency.” And this was quite true, although she took my meaning to be that the message I brought her was from Ucher Tad, whereas, I knew that, when I delivered the message, it would just be off the top of my own head.

She said, “Tell me the message, friend Yreth.”

I did not to wish to speak too rashly just yet, so I employed a clever ruse to find out more information about this woman and these warships.

I said, “Before I speak, let me say this. Spies are a constant danger in this world, and it is often difficult to know who is truly a friend and who an enemy. I feel in my heart you are indeed the same brave Captain Da Qua Yansh to whom I must deliver my message, but it occurs to me now you might be some imposter, who has commandeered this vessel through the violent disposal of its famous captain.”

She said, “Ah, you are very wise to consider this. All too often, folk are tricked by first impressions, and, seeing a great ship or a fine uniform, assume without question that all is as it seems. But how may we settle this matter in order to put your mind at rest?”

I said, “I will ask you a number of questions. If you are who you claim, you will certainly know the answers. If your replies satisfy me, I will deliver my secret message.”

She said, “An excellent plan. Ask your questions.”

Well, I thought for a moment, then I said, “What is the extent of your command?”

She said, “These five great warships, of course.”

“And how many myrmidons do you carry?”

“Twelve thousand, upon these ships, although, naturally, there are many more on the entire fleet.”

My ears pricked up at this. “How large is this fleet you speak of?” I asked.

“Why, two hundred ships,” she said. “Surely, though, this fact would be known to any spy who had managed to take my place.”

“Yes, indeed,” I said, “but I fancy only the real captain would be puzzled by my asking the question.”

She said, “Ah, yes. You are very clever. I had not considered that. Have you now heard all you need to hear?”

I said, “No, not quite.” Then I asked, “Are all the ships within the fleet as large as this one?”

She said, a little impatiently, it seemed to me, “Some are as large, others are a little smaller, still others are a great deal larger.”

“And what is your mission?” I said.

She said, “To spearhead the raids along the coast of America, and to destroy those cities which are within the realm of the emperor, for the Ucher Tad has heard this wicked emperor is an eater of goat flesh.”

I was alarmed to hear of this plan, for the emperor had shown me nothing but kindness. I resolved on the spot to do all I could to avert this attack, and I realized I might do so by means of issuing false orders.

“Good, good,” I said. “I am now completely satisfied you are indeed who you claim, which is to say, the noble and fearsome Captain Da Qua Yansh. I will now deliver to you my message, which comes directly from the person of Ucher Tad.”

But before I could give my orders, she interrupted me. “First,” she said, “perhaps you should allow me to ask a few questions of you, again, just to determine that you, too, are who you say, for it strikes me now you do not look like a
Tulvuki, and your ship’s design is strange.”

Now, I will confess I was afraid at these words, especially since the captain then waved her hands and called myrmidons to surround me with spears. Still, I was determined I should not let my fear show, and it was well I made this decision, for her next words to the myrmidons were: “I will ask him questions. If he shows fear, or hesitates with his replies, then run him through instantly.”

Then she said to me, “How many toldics decorate the Ucher’s mask?”

I laughed carelessly, and said, “The question is preposterous!”

She said, “Why is it preposterous, good Yreth?” Then she leaned forward, with some unusual interest, it seemed to me.

I thought to myself, “Ah, there is a trick to the question, and while I do not know what a toldic might be, I will warrant there are either none of them on the Ucher’s mask, or that the Ucher does not wear a mask.”

So I took a chance then, and said, “There are no toldics on the Ucher’s mask, and I pray there never will be!”

She gave a great smile at this, and all the men and women around her cheered, saying, “Well said! The Ucher will never be reduced to wearing toldics.”

Then one of the men, a young fellow with blue eyes, said, “Let me ask a question, captain. I have a good one.”

She gave her assent, and he turned to me, saying, “Do you
enjoy
eating the flesh of the cow during the moon’s half phases?”

Well, from the way he asked the question, it was so obviously a trick I did not even take any time to think about it, but instead pretended to grow angry, saying, “How dare you accuse me of such a vile act! The Ucher will certainly hear of this!”

He looked scared then, and said, “But it was merely a question to test you.”

Then I said, “It seems to me anyone who would ask such a question must have thought about committing the act himself. There can be no other explanation for thinking upon such depravity.”

“I would never do such things!” he said.

But the captain said, “Are you sure,
Tin Mik? I find Yreth’s argument compelling. I will be watching your behaviour carefully from now on.”

Then another man asked me a question. He narrowed his eyes and said, “What shade of red may a warship be painted?”

I suspected yet another trick question, and so I said, “No shade of red. A warship should never be painted red.”

Once again, my answer pleased them.

Then one of the women said, “What building lies in the centre of
Pior’s Lake?”

But all the others objected to this question, saying, “No no, it is too easy. All the world knows the great
Mathematical Dome lies in the centre of Pior’s Lake. Ask him something harder. Try to trick him.”

The woman retracted her question, and instead asked me how many times deer had been seen in the
Forests of Lid. I replied that deer had never been seen there, for the Forests of Lid contained no deer. They laughed then, saying “Of course! How could they? The deer would drown in Old Lid’s watery kingdom.”

Their interrogation continued in this way for some time. They asked question after question, each trying to outdo the other in the sophistication of their trickery. However, because I knew each question was a trick question, I had merely to discover the nature of the trick in order to deduce the correct answer. This was fortunate for me: if they had asked me an ordinary question, like the one about Pior’s Lake, or even a question like “What is the name of the country we come from?” I would certainly have been exposed.

Finally they were satisfied I was who I claimed, and the captain apologized to me for the rigour of the test.

“We had to be certain,” she said, “for there is much about your appearance that is unusual.”

“It enables me to blend easily with others in these parts,” I said.

“I can see that,” the Captain replied. “But on to our business. Do you prefer to give me the Ucher’s order here and now, or would you rather rest for a few hours and tell me over dinner.”

I said, “That depends on the dinner. What do you plan to have served?”

She replied, “In your honour, we will serve fine spadge, naturally.”

Then I said, “How do you prepare your spadge?” I wanted to find out what sort of food it was, you see.

Her reply was not helpful, though. She said, “Oh, in the normal way.”

So I said, “No, I mean, in what order are the ingredients added?”

“Ah, an excellent question!” she said. Then she called for the slave who supervised the cooking. When he arrived, she said, “Tell this man in what order the ingredients are added to the spadge.”

The slave said, “First goes the brine, with the seaweed in it. When this is heated, I add the black beans, then the yellow beans. The fire onions are thrown in next, and the mixture is stirred until it forms a thick paste. Only then do I add the cabbage leaves, cloves and scraps of bone marrow.”

Then the captain said, “Although he is but a slave, he is a master of the spadge.”

Well, whether he was a master or no, the concoction did not sound tasty to my ear, so I told the captain I had remembered other urgent tasks I needed to perform aboard my own ship, so I would not be able to attend the dinner.

Then the captain asked me for the new orders I had brought.

I said, “Here are your orders. In the first place, you must not attack the coast of America.”