The Dragon in the Sword
Lastly, between the furthest Maaschanheemer hull on our left and the dish-shaped boats, was one great vessel which looked more like a stylised Noah’s Ark than anything I had ever seen afloat. It was of wood, with sharply pointed stern and prow; one single huge house on its deck, also of the simplest design, but four storeys high, with windows and doors placed at regular intervals without any attempt at decoration. It was one of the most functional, unimaginative vessels you could find. The only thing which made me curious about it was that the doors seemed a good deal larger than were needed for people of average height. No flags flew from it and von Bek was as incapable as I of guessing who owned it or where it was from.
A few distant figures had landed near their ships, but we could see no details. The people from the white vessels seemed to wear clothing which covered them from head to foot and which was also of an unrelieved whiteness. The people from the very elaborate galleys next to them were, as one might have expected, brightly dressed. The people from the large, open boats had erected tall, angular tents and judging by the smoke from the largest of these were preparing themselves food. There was no sign at all of the occupants of the ark.
I wished that I might have had Jurgin’s spyglass, for I was intensely curious about all the occupants of the so-called Six Realms.
We were speculating on the identities of the people and their ships when a voice from above shouted: “Enjoy your leisure, good gentlemen! You’ll have little enough after the Massing. We’ll see if a deposed prince of the Valadek can run as well as the average marsh mouse!”
It was Armiad, red-faced and spitting, clad in some sort of morning robe of purple and cerise, leaning over a balcony above us and to our right and clenching his fists as if he would squeeze the life from out of us if he could.
We bowed to him, wished him a pleasant morning, and went inside. We had decided to risk leaving our quarters now (though we took all we owned with us) and went to look for our young friends in the hope that they would still wish to spend time in our company.
We discovered Bellanda and her companions seated on a flat part of a high foredeck playing some kind of game with coloured counters. They were a little surprised to see us and got up reluctantly from their game.
“You’ve heard the news, plainly,” I said to Bellanda, whose youthful, pretty face was full of honest embarrassment. “I have been turned from a hero into a villain, it seems. Would you take my word, for the time being, that I know nothing of the crimes they speak of?”
“You don’t have the manner of someone who would easily quit his responsibilities or would try to murder his own sister,” said Bellanda slowly. She looked up at me. “But you would not have been made into a popular hero if you did not strike people as being honest and upright. It is hard to know a heart from a handsome face, as we say on the Frowning Shield. Easier to read the character of an ugly one…” She looked away for a second, but when she looked back her eyes were candid. “For all that, Prince Flamadin—or is it ex-Prince?—I think we are agreed between us to offer you the benefit of the doubt. We have to trust ourselves. Better than believing either the fictions of the popular prints or the edicts of our good Baron Captain Armiad!” She laughed. “But why should it matter to you, hero or villain, what our opinion is? We would do you neither harm nor good. We are in a position of almost complete impotence here on the Frowning Shield.”
“I think your friendship is what Prince Flamadin desires,” said Ulric von Bek softly. “For that offers at least a little confirmation that what we value is of positive worth…”
“You’re a flatterer, my lord count?” She grinned at my comrade. It was his turn to show a touch of confusion.
Peering up into the crosstrees I saw young Jurgin, using his glass to observe one of the other hulls. After a brief conversation with the others I began to climb the rigging until I was seated beside Jurgin on the yardarm. “Anything of particular interest?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I was merely envying the other hulls. We’re the filthiest, most unkempt, poorest vessel of all. And we used to be proud of our appearance. What I fail to understand is why Armiad doesn’t notice what has happened to our hull since he killed the old Baron Captain. What did he want from that act?”
“The miserable frequently believe that possession of power for its own sake is what has made others more content. They grab such power in many different ways and remain baffled as to why they are just as miserable as they were to begin with. Armiad killed for something he thought would bring him happiness. Now perhaps his only satisfaction is that he can make others as unhappy as himself!”
“A somewhat complicated theory, Prince Flamadin. Are we still to call you that? I saw you with Bellanda and I understood that the others have decided to remain your friends. But since you disinherited yourself…”
“Call me simply Flamadin, if you will. I came up here to ask if I could borrow your glass. I’m particularly curious about the big, plain ship and the people in white. Can you identify them?”
“The big ship is the only vessel of its kind possessed by the Ursine Princes. They will doubtless remain inside until the true Massing begins. The women in white are said to be cannibals. They are not like other human beings. They give birth only to girls, which means they must buy or steal men from other realms, for obvious reasons. We call them the Ghost Women. They are clad entirely in ivory armour, from crown to instep, and one rarely sees their faces. We are taught to be afraid of them and to stay clear of their ships. Sometimes they make forays into other realms for males. They prefer boys and young men. Of course, they’ll take nothing at the Massing save what is offered them by way of trade. Your folk are prepared to deal with them and I think Armiad would do so, too, if he was prepared to risk complete ostracism from the other Baron Captains. It is several centuries since any of our hulls traded in slaves.”
“So my own people, the people of the Draachenheem, buy and sell men and women?”
“Did you not know this, prince? We thought it commonly understood. Is it only at a Massing that your folk indulge in such business?”
“You will have to assume that I’m suffering from lapses of memory, Jurgin. I’m as mystified as you as to the domestic customs of the Draachenheemers.”
“The worst of it is,” said Jurgin handing me his glass, “that the Ghost Women are said to be cannibals. They are like female spiders who eat the males as soon as their work is done.”
“They’re very elegant-looking spiders.” I now had a group of the women in focus. They were conferring amongst themselves. They seemed to be uncomfortable in their ivory armour which, at closer range, I could tell was not simply white but had all the shades from light yellow to brown which ivory possesses when it is used for artifacts. It was covered in fine engraving which reminded me a little of scrimshaw work. It was held together by bone pins and leather toggles and was marvelously articulated so as to enclose the entire body, making the wearers rather resemble elegant insects with unusually marked carapaces. They seemed taller than the average person and had a graceful way of moving in the restricting armour which I thought very attractive. It was hard to believe that people of such beauty could be slave-traders and cannibals.
Two of the women now put helmeted heads together to speak. One of them shook her head impatiently so that the other tried to repeat what she had said and then, in frustration, raised her visor.
I could now see part of the woman’s face.
She was both young and unusually beautiful. Her skin was fair and her eyes large and dark. She had the long, triangular face I associated with the Eldren and, as she turned towards me, I almost lost my grip on the spyglass.
I was looking full into the features of one of the women who had plagued my dreams, who had called for my sister Sharadim, who had spoken so desperately of a dragon and a sword…
But what had shocked me so thoroughly was that I had recognised the face.
It was the face of the woman I had searched the aeo
ns to find again; the woman with whom I longed, night and day, to be reunited…
It was the face of my own Ermizhad!
5
IT SEEMED TO me that I remained staring at that face for an age. How I did not fall from the rigging I do not know. I was repeating her name over and over. Then, anxiously, I attempted to follow her with the glass as she moved. She smiled at the other woman, seemed to make some slight joke, then reached up her hand to bring her visor down again.
“No!” I did not want her to hide that exquisite face. “Ermizhad! No! It is I, Erekosë. Cannot you hear me? I have searched for you so long…”
I had the impression of hands trying to help me from the rigging. I tried to fight them off, but there were too many. Slowly I was borne to the deck while enquiring mouths wished to know what was wrong. All I could do was repeat her name and struggle to get free, to follow her. “Ermizhad!”
I knew in my heart that it was not really my Eldren wife but someone closely resembling her. I knew it, yet I resisted the understanding as thoroughly as I resisted the hands of my astonished companions.
“Daker! Herr Daker! What’s wrong? Is it an hallucination?” Count von Bek held my face and stared into my eyes. “You’re acting like a madman!”
I drew a breath. I was panting. I was sweating. I hated them all for holding me as they did. But I forced myself to grow calm. “I have seen a woman who might be Ermizhad’s sister,” I told him. “The same woman I saw in my dream last night. She must be related. It cannot be her. I am not so crazed that my logic is completely askew. Yet the sight strikes the same chords as if it were really Ermizhad I had seen. I must get to her, von Bek. I must question her.”
Bellanda was shouting from behind me. “You cannot go. It is the Law. All our encounters are formal. The true time of the Massing has not yet come. You must wait.”
“I cannot wait,” I told her simply. “I have already waited too long.” But I let my body relax, felt their grasp grow limp. “No other creature could believe how many lifetimes I have spent seeking her…”
They became sympathetic. I closed my eyes. Then I opened them a slit. I was looking at a likely route down to the shore.
A moment later I was up, diving from the side of the deck, vaulting the rail, flinging myself towards rigging, then sliding and clambering and dropping down, down to the lowest outside deck. While various workers yelled at me in protest, I pushed through gangs of men hauling on ropes, others who carried barrels down towards the rollers and yet others who bore large pieces of timber sheeting of the kind used for repairs. These I ignored, got to the side and found that ropes had been arranged here so that the hull might be inspected. I swung down one rope, dropped onto a swaying plank, jumped from the plank to a tall ladder and slid down this to the ground. Then I was running over the soft turf of the island towards the boats of the so-called Ghost Women.
I was halfway to their camp, passing the monolith which now raised itself above me, when the pursuers (of whom I’d not been aware) caught up with me. Suddenly I found myself struggling in a huge net while beyond the mesh I saw von Bek, Bellanda, some of the young men and a group of Binkeepers.
“Prince Flamadin!” I heard Bellanda call. “Armiad seeks any excuse to destroy you. Cross into another camp before the Massing and the penalty can be death!”
“I don’t care. I must see Ermizhad. I have seen her—or someone who will know where she is. Let me go. I beg you to let me go!”
Von Bek stepped forward. “Daker! My friend! These men are commissioned to kill you if necessary. As it happens they have no stomach for Armiad’s orders, but they are bound to obey him if you do not pull yourself together.”
“Do you understand what I have seen, von Bek?”
“I think so. But if you wait for the Massing to begin, you can approach this woman in a civilised fashion. It is not long to wait, after all.”
I nodded. I was in danger of losing my mind completely. Also I might bring those who had befriended me into danger. I forced myself to recall the ordinary human decencies.
When next I rose up I was in full charge of my senses. I apologised to everyone. I turned and began to make my way back to our hull. From the ground the grouping of hulls was even more impressive. It was almost as if every great transatlantic liner, including the Titanic, congregated here, each one neatly beached with its bow pointing inland, each one bearing on its back a complete and complex medieval town. This sight took my attention away from Ermizhad just a little. I knew that I was experiencing something akin to a continuing hallucination, an extension of my dreams that past night. Yet there was no question but that the woman resembled Ermizhad, down to the shape of her mouth and the subtle colour of her eyes. So the women were Eldren. Yet they were not from the same time, probably not even the same realm, as the one from which I had been wrenched against my will. I resolved to contact those women as soon as I could. They might have some clue, at least, to Ermizhad’s whereabouts. And I might also discover why they called for Sharadim.
Von Bek and I had been wise to take all our possessions with us when we left our quarters. When we reached Armiad’s portcullis and called to the guard to open it for us there was a silence. This was followed by some kind of mumbled reply to our third request for the gate to be opened.
“Speak up, man!” cried von Bek. “What’s the trouble?”
Finally a guard on the other side yelled that the gate was stuck and that it would be a number of hours before it could be repaired.
Von Bek and I looked hard at one another and smiled. Our suspicions were confirmed. Armiad could not dismiss us from his hull but he could do everything in his power to make life uncomfortable for us.
For my part I was as glad to be out of his company and we made our way back to the part of the ship where our student friends generally congregated. Some of them were there, playing their interminable game with counters, although Bellanda, we learned, had gone to take instruction from a teacher recently dismissed from their school.
With Jurgin’s willing assistance, we continued to watch the preparations being made for the Massing. Various stalls, pens, tents and other temporary buildings were being erected. Each group from the Six Realms had brought goods they wished to trade, as well as livestock, publications, new tools. The people of the Draachenheem seemed a little disdainful of the others while the Ghost Women kept themselves thoroughly apart.
One group seemed more used to trading. They had the hardy, simple look of a people who regularly carried on barter in a variety of locations. It was the way in which they set up their stalls, looked at their neighbours, chatted amongst themselves, which characterised them. The only surprise, for me, was their inefficient boats. They must be more used to making overland treks for their normal trading, I thought. These were the people whose realm was called Fluugensheem, who were protected, I remembered being told, by a flying island. They seemed singularly ordinary for folk so exotically named.
There was still no sign of those who had come here in the oddly shaped ark, nor of the occupants of the three bulky paddle-steamers.
“This evening,” Jurgin told me, “they will begin the first ceremony, when all announce themselves and give up their names. Then you shall see them, every one, including the Ursine Princes.”
He would say no more. When I asked him why the Ursine Princes were so named he would only grin at me. Since my chief interest was in those they called the Ghost Women, I was not greatly upset by his deliberate mystification.
Needless to say von Bek and myself were not amongst those invited to attend the first ceremony, but we watched from the rigging of the Frowning Shield as gradually the various peoples of the Six Realms began to assemble about the monolith. This was called, I was told, the Meeting Stone and had been erected several centuries before, when these strange gatherings first began. Until then, Bellanda informed me, all the various realms had regarded the others with superstitious fear and had fought each other at random. Gradually, with famil
iarity, they had struck upon this means of trading and exchanging information. Every thirteen and a half months, apparently, the Six Realms intersected so that each realm could enter any one of the others. This period was brief—three days or so—but it was enough for everyone to conduct their business, so long as it was agreed that only the most formal rules were applied. No time could be wasted on anything but the agreed activities.
Now the stolid merchants of Fluugensheem came to take their places on one side of the monolith. Next the Ghost Women of Gheestenheem arranged themselves on the other side of the Meeting Stone. They were followed by six Baron Captains of the Maaschanheem, six splendid lordlings of the Draachenheem, and, from the strange steamers, six fur-festooned and bearded Rootsenheemers, wearing great metal gauntlets and metal masks which obscured the top halves of their heads. But it was the last contingent which stunned me.
The Ursine Princes were precisely named. The five great, handsome beasts who marched out of their ark and down the lowered ramp to the ground were not human at all. They were bears, bigger than grizzlies, clad in rippling silks and fine plaids, each wearing upon his shoulders a kind of delicate frame from which, suspended over his head, hung a banner—doubtless the banner of his family.
Von Bek was frowning. “I am astonished. It is as if I look at the legendary founders of Berlin! You know we have legends… My family has stories concerning intelligent beasts. I had thought they spoke of wolves, but doubtless it is of bears. Have you seen anything like the Ursine Princes in your travels, Daker?”