Part 37 (1/2)

Later they stood him up and walked him to the table. It was by now covered with books, scrolls, loose vellum sheets. Nearly everything was old; some of the books appeared positively ancient. Look Look, they said, and spread before him something that might have been a sc.r.a.p of sailcloth with old grey stains. Look there. What is that? Look there. What is that?

'Your finger?' he said.

Rose seized his ear and twisted savagely, as if annoyed to find it so tightly fastened to his head.

'There's writing, Pathkendle. Lean closer.'

Tears of pain in his eyes, Pazel leaned over the canvas. The faces around the table watched him breathless. Rose was pointing at a symbol in pale blue ink. Was it a character, a word? The only thing Pazel was sure of was that he'd never seen its like before.

His vision blurred; he shut his eyes, and when he opened them again he read the word as easily as though it were his own name: ' ”Port of Stath Balfyr.” '

The men exclaimed: some relieved, others in doubt. 'I told you,' said Syrarys, her voice softly ardent. 'I told told you it came from a chart.' you it came from a chart.'

'What's that language, then, cub?' asked Drellarek, pointing at the canvas.

Pazel hesitated. 'N-Nemmocian,' he said at last. It was the truth, but he only discovered it by speaking the word aloud.

'Where is the tongue spoken, lad?' asked Sandor Ott.

'How in the Pits should I know?'

'The boy's Gift does not extend so far,' said Dr Chadfallow. 'He learns nothing of the culture of the languages he . . . acquires. Nothing but what one may deduce from the words themselves.'

'Then we're no better off than before!' huffed Alyash. 'Why, we could spend the rest of our lives looking for a place called Stath Balfyr, where they may or may not speak something called Nemmocian. And begging your pardon, Lady Syrarys, but we can't can't be certain this was torn from a chart.' be certain this was torn from a chart.'

'I don't understand,' said Pazel.

The men looked at him uncertainly. It was Sandor Ott, of all people, who broke the silence.

'The world beyond the Ruling Sea,' he said, 'is not entirely entirely forgotten. What you see before you is all that the libraries, archives and private collections of the known world have yielded to my investigators, after a decade of searching.' forgotten. What you see before you is all that the libraries, archives and private collections of the known world have yielded to my investigators, after a decade of searching.'

He lifted an ancient book, cracked it open, blew. The page flaked and crumbled.

'Not much to show for our labours, is it?' said Ott. 'But there were a few helpful discoveries: that first canvas gives us some idea of the shape of the coastline we may reach. Another doc.u.ment seems to be a list of surnames - royal families, in all probability - and the lands they govern. But the jewel in this musty h.o.a.rd is a page from a diary or log-book. I will not show it here, for it is so delicate that each time we remove it from its case a portion crumbles to dust. We have copied it out, however - word by word, number by number.'

Pazel's head was swimming; he was finding Ott's words very difficult to follow. 'What . . . does it tell you?' he managed to ask.

'Headings,' said the spymaster. 'Course headings, and distances, from Stath Balfyr to lands on this side on this side of the Ruling Sea. Lands we know, cities that yet exist, even though the names have changed. Eldanphul, the old name of Uturphe. Ma.r.s.eyl, that the Noonfirth Kings renamed for their founder, Lord Pol. And one island whose name has not changed: Gurishal. Do you see, Pathkendle? If we can but find this Stath Balfyr, we will know the exact course to the s.h.a.ggat's kingdom, and the mult.i.tude that awaits him.' of the Ruling Sea. Lands we know, cities that yet exist, even though the names have changed. Eldanphul, the old name of Uturphe. Ma.r.s.eyl, that the Noonfirth Kings renamed for their founder, Lord Pol. And one island whose name has not changed: Gurishal. Do you see, Pathkendle? If we can but find this Stath Balfyr, we will know the exact course to the s.h.a.ggat's kingdom, and the mult.i.tude that awaits him.'

'If we find it,' said Alyash, shaking his head. we find it,' said Alyash, shaking his head.

'Yes,' said Ott, 'if. Unfortunately the collector of ancient ma.n.u.scripts who owned this particular sc.r.a.p of writing . . . died, trying to stop my men from seizing it. And his records contain no mention of the page.'

Syrarys turned impatiently from the table. 'You needn't explain things to the tarboy,' she said.

Ott looked Pazel up and down. 'I am following my instincts with this one,' he said. 'The ignorant make poor servants. For as long as he is with us, he must grasp the fundamentals. Of course, he will not be with us for ever.'

'What do you mean by that that?' demanded Chadfallow, leaning forwards.

The spymaster ignored him. 'Pathkendle,' he said softly, 'do the words Stath Balfyr Stath Balfyr mean something in themselves?' mean something in themselves?'

'No,' said Pazel.

It came out too quickly, a blurted denial. Sergeant Drellarek sat back with a laugh.

Ott turned to look at Chadfallow. 'There's an answer for you, Doctor. Your tarboy has just lied, very clumsily. My boys in the School of Imperial Security tell better falsehoods after thirty minutes of training. How long will Pathkendle be with us? A short time indeed, if he fails to answer my questions. But long enough to hear one or more of his friends beg for death: a death Ramachni's spell, alas, will make it inconvenient to provide.'

Pazel swallowed. He was only too aware how easily Ott could carry out his threats. Thasha, Neeps and Marila would be forced to leave the protection of the stateroom in short order if Rose let the spymaster cut off their food.

'Look at him, he's stalling,' said Syrarys.

Fascination glimmered in Ott's eyes. 'No, he is considering his choices. He's a thoughtful lad.'

Diadrelu. Pazel closed his eyes. Forgive me. Forgive me.

'Answer the question, Pathkendle,' said Rose.

'Sanctuary,' said Pazel. 'Stath Balfyr means Sanctuary-Beyond-the-Sea. ' Sanctuary-Beyond-the-Sea. '

Broad daylight. Somehow Pazel had slept the night away, chained once more in his corner. He shook his head fiercely. He had no memory of waking at all.

He was on horseback, clinging to the saddle horn, startled out of his trance. Birds were singing; the great black horse pranced in the mud; and around him a million leaves and fronds and flowers glittered from a recent downpour.

It was already hot; Pazel felt as though some great animal were breathing on him. Yet the noise of the sea was close and loud, and off to his left he saw a place where the trees ended, and blue sky began. He knew suddenly where he was: atop the cliffs, on the edge of Bramian's great wilderness. It felt like trespa.s.sing, like putting a toe through some forbidden doorway just to see what would happen.

Ott climbed into the saddle behind him. Pazel stiffened: it was frightful to be so close to the a.s.sa.s.sin, with his scarred and deadly hands gripping the reins on either side. Pazel had heard the phrase Stath Balfyr Stath Balfyr whispered among the Ixchel. Only once or twice, when they forgot his abilities; and they spoke it with reverence, like a holy name. He had given something sacred to the most profane man he'd ever known. whispered among the Ixchel. Only once or twice, when they forgot his abilities; and they spoke it with reverence, like a holy name. He had given something sacred to the most profane man he'd ever known.

Ott turned the horse in a half-circle, and Pazel caught a glimpse of the cave mouth, low like a burrow and all but invisible with greenery. There were other horses: one bore Chadfallow, another Alyash. Swift and Saroo were mounted also; their horses carried large leather purses secured to chaps before the riders' knees. The last and largest steed bore Drellarek and Erthalon Ness, the latter gazing in horror at the jungle about them.

Ott waved his men back underground. Then he turned to the other riders and raised a cautioning hand.

'The first part of this journey is likely to be the foulest,' he said softly. 'Stay close to me, and do not stop unless I do. Trust your horse's footing: these are the n.o.blest animals His Supremacy could provide, and mountain-trained from birth. Away, now! Ride fast and silent, as you value your lives.'

With that he spurred his horse into the bush. There seemed no path at first, and they crashed (far from silently) through great sprays of palm and ferns and creepers. But very soon the underbrush thinned. Huge trees loomed over them, craggy black-barked monsters laden with vines and mosses and dangling epiphytes. The horses were indeed magnificent. They dodged roots and rocks, and somehow guarded their riders' balance at the same time.

They began a steep ascent, criss-crossing a gurgling stream. In patches of sunlight over the water Pazel saw b.u.t.terflies of iridescent blue, rising in sapphire clouds at their approach.

'Where are you taking us?' he asked.

'Quiet!' said Ott. 'Or you'll find I've taken you only to your grave. We are ascending the mountain known in the Outer Isles as Droth'ulad Droth'ulad. An evil corner of a vast, evil isle.'

'Evil?' said Pazel. 'But it's beautiful. Look at it.'

'I am most certainly looking,' said Ott, who was in fact peering deep into the trees ahead. 'Yes, evil: the name means Skull of Droth, the Demon-Prince. But it is not Droth who threatens us now. I am looking for the Leopard People. This has been their part of Bramian for longer than anyone from the outer world has been coming here. Fortunately for us they fear to climb Droth'ulad, but they will slip around its base sometimes, to hunt monkeys or wild dogs. They are master archers, and will kill us if they can.'

'Why do they fear the mountain?'

'Because something lives at the summit that kills them them. Not the demon himself, I think, but perhaps something not greatly to be preferred. We would do better to avoid that place ourselves. But the ridgetop is the only swift path to our destination, and Elkstem swears we must put to sea in a matter of days or be kept from all hope of safe pa.s.sage by the Vortex.'