Flight to Opar

  In addition, the raft tribe sold its logs for a great profit, since mahogany and the other valuable trees did not grow on the Wethnan side of the coast. They also sold or bartered artifacts, carved good-luck godlets, whistles of eagle bone, phallic jadeite statues of their aboriginal deities, fascinating to the Wethnans because of their unfamiliarity. And aphrodisiac and contraceptive powders, fertility charms, bracelets to ward off the evil eye and diseases, ceremonial dildos fringed with the feathers of a kingfisher found only in the K'ud"em'o country.

  "Surely you don't end your voyage at the harbor of Wethna?" Hadon said. "The current could not bring you right to its doorstep every time."

  "It doesn't," Qasin said. "The rafts usually end up about fifty to seventy miles either way from Wethna. Then arrangements are made with the merchants of the city to transport the logs and goods on the coastal road. We pay for that, of course."

  Once everything was sold, the tribe built a number of small ships and rowed back to their mainland. The largest carried the stone of their goddess of healing.

  "Have you ever lost it in a storm or an accident?" Hadon asked.

  "Never. We have been doing this for three hundred years and, though we have been in some terrible storms, always the raft with the stone gets through safely. There is a prophecy among my people, however, that if the stone should be lost, then the two seas will dry up."

  Having arrived home after a two-month return trip, going against the current and the wind, the voyagers summoned those left behind. From the coast and the hills the tribesmen came down to rejoice with the rafters. The festival ran until all the money was spent, sometimes taking two months or more. During this occasion, all feasted and drank for free. Burials were conducted in drunken hilarity. Marriage ceremonies were held and infants, some of whom had waited for three years, were given their public names.

  "Nothing of any real importance is done except during the festival of the homecoming," Qasin said. "Until then, the dead are placed in the open on top of a hill. When the festival is to start, their bones are collected, washed and wrapped in palm leaves and brought down to the coast for burial. No one can be married until this time, though of course couples live together and have children. Nor can one be divorced until the festival, though people do separate meanwhile. Nor can property change hands or accused lawbreakers be judged until then."

  "If, as you say, the judge, the prosecutor, the defendant and his protector are all drunk, then you must have some grave miscarriages of justice," Hadon commented.

  "No more than when all are sober," the chief said.

  "But isn't it unjust to jail a man for two years while he waits trial?"

  "We don't jail the accused until time for the festival," Qasin said, "unless he is an obvious public menace, in which case we kill him. If he has fled to the hills, then he is automatically assumed to be guilty."

  Qasin mounted a platform and ordered a large bronze bell rung. This summoned people from the little settlements at the four corners of the raft. When all were assembled, the chief gave them the news of the terrible schism which had plunged the Empire into a bloody time. There was an uproar which lasted for half an hour. The chief then restored order by having the bell clanged again.

  The injured seamen and refugees, bandaged and smeared with healing salves, limped or were carried in. The priestess chanted over them, and then, one by one, they went through the hole in the stone. If they could not crawl through by themselves, they were dragged through. After each had been slid like the end of a thread through the eye of a needle, he was examined by two doctors, a priestess and priest, who felt the bodies and heads of the injured. They then made signs to twenty young men who stood nearby. The men took some off to a nearby group of huts to convalesce. Others they removed on litters to a hut set some distance westward of the central village.

  Hadon asked the reason for the segregation.

  "You see the spirals on the inside of the hole in the stone?" Qasin asked. "These are magical markings which collect the currents that pass through the body of the earth and the sea. They focus them, amplify them, build them up. The field of force is healing, and anybody who passes through it is healed of whatever ails them. Or, if healthy, then one becomes supercharged with the currents of goodness."

  "Goodness?" Hadon asked.

  "Yes," the chief answered. "To be good is to be healthy and vice versa. A man may be evil and yet seem to have perfect health, but he is not really healthy."

  "What happens to those who were put in that hut to the west?"

  "They are too far gone to benefit from the healing field in the hole," Qasin said. "They will be knocked on the head with specially blessed clubs—we don't want their ghosts haunting this raft—and then thrown into the sea."

  "But—but—they may survive!" Hadon said.

  "No, they won't," Qasin said. "The vicars of C'ak'oguq"o are sensitive to the aura which her stone lips radiate. They can feel the lack of the vital force; they shudder at the cold of dread Sisisken's hand on the flesh of the unfortunate. It is true that the sick might live for some time. But why drag out their pain and misery? Besides, we don't have a surplus of food aboard; we really can't afford to feed all these sailors. So…"

  A few moments later the injured men were dragged out and their skulls shattered with stone axes. The lieutenant ran up to the slaughter and protested loudly. The chief made a sign with one hand and a young man swung his ax down on the head of the officer.

  "We don't like people who interfere with our traditions," the chief said.

  "I personally have always believed that a stranger should honor the customs of the people he finds himself among," Hadon said. But he felt sick when he turned away. Later he told himself that the killing of the officer was the best thing that could have happened. Now he could never report that the long-sought Hadon of Opar and the Witch-from-the-Sea were in Wethna.

  This thought made him wonder about the fate of the sailors who had been spared. He asked Qasin about them.

  "They will be questioned," Qasin said. "Those who are loyal to Kho, but who had to conceal their true feelings because they were in Minruth's service, will be allowed to step off the raft when we get to the coast. Those who would lift the Flaming God above his natural rank, who would degrade the White Goddess, Mother of All, will not be with us when we sight the shores of Wethna."

  Further questioning disclosed that the raft carried no small ships which Hadon and his party could take for a faster voyage to the coast.

  "You will have to remain here for the next two months," Qasin said. "Unless some ship comes near enough for us to hail and so put you aboard. That is not very likely to happen."

  "Lalila is two months pregnant now," Hadon said. "She will be four months along when we get to Wethna. And it is a long and dangerous way to Opar from there. Ordinarily I would not worry about the time, since a galley or a swift sailing ship could get us there in two months. But there are pirates abroad now, and there is no Empire to maintain law. Every city is setting itself up to be independent, and many of the small towns and villages are eager to break away from the rule of the cities. We won't know what to expect whenever we put in to a port. Besides, from what I have heard, Minruth did leave enough ships and men to shut off the Strait of Keth, which means we'll have to go overland to Kethna. The peninsula is a wild, rough, dangerous area, mountainous, full of four- and two-legged predators. Five months is really not much time to get from Wethna to Opar under these conditions."

  "True," Qasin said. "But why worry? You can do nothing until you get to Wethna. Meanwhile, enjoy yourself. Come to my hut. I will open a jug of s"okoko for Us, and you will soon forget your troubles. Let us drift with the raft and enjoy life."

  He grinned at Hadon with triangular teeth. He doubtless meant to show friendliness, but the smile still looked sinister.

  21.

  Seventy days later, all of Hadon's party except for Ruseth left Wethna on a merchant sailing ship. Ruseth stayed behind, intendin
g to embark the next day as deckhand on a merchant galley. Since his ship was lost, he considered that he was no longer under orders to take Lalila to Opar. He would return to Khokarsa and try to interest Awineth in building a fleet of fore-and-aft sailing ships. He would say nothing to her, of course, about his part in getting Hadon and Lalila off the island.

  "I'll go to Dythbeth," Ruseth had said. "Or I'll try to get into the city. By now it may have fallen. If Awineth is alive and uncaptured, I'll find her and talk her into building a new navy. If she is in a position to do so… well, never mind. I'll see what I can do when I get there. If I get there. The Wethnans say there are many pirates now that the navy can no longer keep order on the high seas."

  Hadon wished him luck, but he did not think Ruseth had much likelihood of success.

  For that matter, his own chances were none too good. Neither of the two routes open was easy or free from perils. The regular way into the Sea of Opar was through the Strait of Keth. But this, according to Wethnan reports, was blockaded at its northern end. There were six triremes, four biremes and a number of smaller naval ships at anchor there. In addition, at least two hundred marines were stationed on the top of the cliffs forming the entrance to the strait. Minruth had ordered this fleet to remain on guard there, even though he needed them very much at Khokarsa.

  Minruth knew well how ambitious the ruler of Kethna was. The kings of this city had always been overly independent, often arrogant, because they held the southern end of the strait. No ship could leave the Kemuwopar to carry its trade goods from Opar into the Kemu unless the Kethnan fleet permitted it to do so. And in times of troubles, the Kethnan fleets had ventured out into the Kemu and ravaged Khokarsan shipping and navies. A Kethnan expedition had in fact once raided the shores of Khokarsa itself and come very close to capturing the Emperor.

  There was no communication from Kethna at the moment, but the authorities in Wethna expected the Kethnan fleet to come through the strait some day and attack the Khokarsan fleet. After all, the Kethnans had a much larger fleet available, and they could send an overland expedition against the marines holding the cliff exit.

  Indeed, the main subject of conversation in the marketplace and on the docks was why Kethna had not already attacked. Some people speculated that Kethna had more immediate projects, such as defending itself against the pirates of Mikawuru. No one knew what the true situation was, since all communication had been cut off; of course this did not keep people from reporting all sorts of wild tales as the truth. It never had and never would.

  Hadon considered going along the coast westward until they reached a small village about thirty miles east of the strait. Here they could disembark and proceed over the mountains of the peninsula to the Sea of Opar. They could make their way along the precipitous shore to the city of Kethna. And there, hopefully, they could buy passage on a merchant ship to Opar. Or else they could purchase a small sailing ship. Or, if they had no money, steal a vessel.

  The main trouble with this plan was that the journey through the mountains, though relatively short, was known to be very dangerous. Of the two trails available, both were difficult to traverse and beset with wild beasts and outlaws. It was even said that a mountain-loving type of Nukaar, the hairy ape-men of the trees, dwelt in that area. Much was said about this land, none of it good.

  Another route would be directly south of Wethna. This too would be over mountains, and the passage through these would take about five times longer than the former route. Having crossed, however, the party would be much closer to Opar. They would, theoretically, come out close to the city of Wentisuh. From there they could take a ship or even a coastal boat to the port which served the inland city of Opar. After much asking about it in the bazaar and on the docks, however, Hadon decided against the second route. It was so dangerous that nobody knew of anyone who had ever used it successfully.

  Paga suggested a third alternative.

  "Why not take a small vessel into the strait under cover of night? If there is no moon, and the ship is little enough, we could slip by the big vessels. They won't be anchoring against the cliffs or across the mouth of the strait, you may be sure of that."

  "No," Hadon said. "But the strait is very narrow; it's only about eighty feet wide at the mouth. The cliffs on both sides reach a height of two hundred feet there, though the mountains immediately beyond them tower several thousand feet. If there are marines stationed on both sides, they can observe anything that passes through on the waters below. They will most assuredly have torches or lamps floating on buoys in the mouth of the strait, and these will enable the marines to see at night too. They will undoubtedly also have large rocks ready to be cast down on a ship, and flaming oil and Kho only knows what else. They will be able to summon the blockading ships by bell or signal fire or some means, who knows?"

  "Besides, there is nothing to prevent them from stretching a net across the mouth."

  "Could we slip past the guards on either side above?" Lalila said. "Then walk along the top of the cliffs to the other end of the strait?"

  "No," Hadon said. "The cliffs become sheer mountains. There are some plateaus further along, but I wouldn't know how to get to them. Besides, the wild Klemqaba roam those parts."

  While he was deciding what to do, Hadon took a job as bodyguard for a rich Wethnan merchant. Kebiwabes picked up some money by singing in the streets and in the taverns. Paga apprenticed himself to a blacksmith. Though he did not earn much, he did learn a lot about the skill of working iron. This went on for thirty-five days, at the end of which there was enough money to buy passage to the village of Phetapoeth. There was not nearly enough, however, to buy a small ship for their purposes.

  "It will take three more months just to save enough to buy a very small fishing skiff," Hadon said. "Lalila has about four months left before the baby comes. I doubt that we could get to Opar in a month's time—not with the troubled situation. But if we took passage on a ship to Phetapoeth now, we couldn't leave the village after we got there. There are no jobs there. So…"

  "So we steal a ship!" Lalila said. "Or we go to Phetapoeth and then go over the mountains!"

  "I think," Hadon said slowly, "that we will try to go through the strait after all. It is dangerous, but the least dangerous way."

  "And if we can't get through, then we can try the mountain passes above Phetapoeth?" Lalila asked.

  She looked anxious, and rightly so, since such a trip would make strong men look forward to it with anything but joy. For a pregnant woman and a little child to venture there with only a bard, a manling and Hadon—swordsman though he was—was madness, or not far from it.

  Hadon felt angry. Somehow he had failed her, yet what else could he do? He was not one of the heroes of ancient times, Nakadeth, for instance, who could steal a pair of magical shoes from an evil spider and walk across the skies upside down, thus going over instead of around those very mountains.

  Lalila, looking intently at him, said, "Do not be angry, Hadon. You cannot help it that you are only human."

  He was astonished, not for the first time, at her ability to read his thoughts. Sometimes he wondered if she was indeed a witch from the sea. The idea made him proud that such a woman would love him, yet, at the same time, it made him feel Uneasy too, thinking of certain undesirable thoughts he'd had. For instance, if Lalila could read his thoughts when he saw the beautiful wife of the merchant for whom he was working, what would she do?

  Come to think of it, she always had a rather peculiar smile at these times.

  "What's the matter now, Hadon?" Lalila said.

  "Oh!" he said, staring. "Nothing. I was just trying to envision the strait as I saw it some years ago."

  She had that same peculiar smile.

  He went to the docks that night after his shift. He inquired around, found a dockmaster and asked him about passage to Phetapoeth.

  "Why would you want to take your woman and child to that Kho-forsaken place?" the dockmaster asked. "There's no wor
k for a numatenu there. Besides, too many ships have disappeared on their way there. There are pirates along that route, honored swordsman. They lurk in every little bay and cove, ready to dash out and intercept any ship that looks like easy prey."

  Hadon hesitated. His first impulse had been to tell the man that he was sticking his nose up the ape's ass. * He checked himself, however, because he did not want to anger the fellow. If he became suspicious of Hadon, he could notify the authorities and they could—no, would—arrest him for questioning. As in all countries, the spy-hunting fever was raging. Wethna was theoretically neutral, having declared for neither Awineth nor Minruth. This placed Wethna in a delicate situation, since whoever triumphed might decide to punish Wethna for not having taken a definite stand. In fact, Hadon thought, this would inevitably occur. The city fathers and mothers should have gone one way or the other, even if they had had to resort to tossing a coin.

  * A literal translation of a widespread Khokarsan phrase. This is based on an old folk tale which is too repulsive even for the standards of modern American publishing. However, like most old jokes, it originated in the Old Stone Age and is found, in one form or another, in all countries.

  The reasoning for Wethna's neutrality was the hope that the winner would be grateful to them for not fighting on the side of the enemy. Hadon considered this very unrealistic. Kings and queens always regarded the person who was not for them as against them. And history had verified that retaliation for less than wholehearted backing was a terrible thing. Entire cities had been leveled and their population, man, woman and beast, had been slaughtered because of lukewarm loyalty.