Helliconia: Helliconia Spring, Helliconia Summer, Helliconia Winter (86 page)

After her lunch, scarcely tasted, the queen went alone to her quarters and sat at her favourite window, on the cushioned seat built round its bay. She thought of the odious Prince Taynth Indredd, who resembled a frog. She knew that he was related to the equally disgusting King of Oldorando, Sayren Stund, whose wife was a Madi. Surely even phagors were preferable to these scheming royalties!

From her window, she looked across her garden to the tiled reservoir where she swam. On the far side of the reservoir, a tall wall rose, hiding her beauty from prying eyes, and in the bottom
of the wall, just above water level, was a small iron grille. The grille formed the window to a dungeon. There, JandolAnganol’s father, the deposed King VarpalAnganol, was imprisoned, and had been since shortly after the queen’s marriage. In the reservoir were golden carp, visible from where she sat. Like her, like VarpalAnganol, they were prisoners here.

A knock came at her door. A servant opened it, to announce that the queen’s brother awaited her pleasure.

YeferalOboral was lolling against the rail at her balcony. They both knew that JandolAnganol would long since have killed him, but for the queen.

Her brother was not a handsome man; all the beauty in the line had been bestowed in superabundance on MyrdemInggala. His features were meagre, his expression sour. He was brave, obedient, patient; otherwise his qualities were few. He never carried himself well, as did the king, as if to emphasise that he intended to cut no figure in life. Yet he served JandolAnganol without protest, and was devoted to a sister whose life he held so much more dear than his own. She loved him for his ordinariness.

‘You were not at the meeting.’

‘It wasn’t for the likes of me.’

‘It was horrible.’

‘I heard so. For some reason, Io Pasharatid is upset. He’s generally so cool, like a block of Lordryardry ice. Yet the guards say he has a woman in town – imagine! If so, he runs a great risk.’

MyrdemInggala showed her teeth in a smile. ‘I detest the way he looks at me. If he has a woman, so much the better!’

They laughed. For a short while, they lingered, talking of cheerful things. Their father, the old baron, was in the country now, complaining of the heat and too old to be reckoned a danger to the state. He had recently taken up fishing, as a cool pursuit.

The courtyard bell rang. They looked down to see JandolAnganol enter the court, closely followed by a guard carrying a red silk umbrella over his head. The phagor runt was close to him, as ever. He called to his queen.

‘Will you come down, Cune? Our guests must be entertained during a lull in our discussions. You will delight them more than ever I could.’

She left her brother and went down to join him under the sunshade. He took her arm with formal courtesy. She thought he looked weary, though the fabric of the umbrella reflected a flush like fever on his cheeks.

‘Are you coming to a treaty with Pannoval and Oldorando which will ease the pressures of war?’ she asked timidly.

‘The beholder knows what we’re coming to,’ he said abruptly. ‘We must keep on terms with the devils, and placate them, otherwise they’ll take advantage of our temporary weakness and invade us. They’re as full of cunning as they are of fake holiness.’ He sighed.

‘The time will come when you and I will be hunting and enjoying life again, as of old,’ she said, squeezing his arm. She would not rebuke him for inviting his guests.

Ignoring her pious hope, he burst out angrily, ‘SartoriIrvrash spoke unwisely this morning, admitting his atheism. I must get rid of him. Taynth holds it against me that my chancellor is not a member of the Church.’

‘Prince Taynth also spoke against me. Will you get rid of me because I am not to his liking?’ Her eyes flashed angrily as she spoke, though she tried to keep lightness in her tone. But he replied sullenly, ‘You know, and the scritina knows, that the coffers are empty. We may be driven to much we have no heart for.’

She drew her hand sharply from his arm.

The visitors, together with their concubines and servants, were grouped in a green courtyard, under colonnades. Wild beasts were being paraded; a group of jugglers was entertaining with its paltry tricks. JandolAnganol steered his queen among the emissaries. She noted how the countenances of the men lit up as she spoke to them. I must still be of some value to Jan, she thought.

An old Thribriatan tribesman in elaborate braffista headgear was parading two gorilloid Others on chains. The creatures attracted several onlookers. Away from their arboreal habitat, their behaviour was uncouth. They most resembled – so one of the courtiers said – two drunken courtiers.

The froglike Prince Taynth Indredd was standing under a yellow sunshade, being fanned and smoking a veronikane as he
watched the Others perform some limited tricks. Beside him, laughing uproariously at the captives, was a stiff girl of some eleven years and six tenners.

‘Aren’t they funny, Unk?’ she said to the prince. ‘They’re quite like people, except for all the fur.’

The Thribriatan, hearing this, touched his braffista and said to the prince, ‘You like see me make Others fight each other?’

The prince humorously produced a silver coin in the palm of his hand.

‘This if you’ll make them rumbo each other.’

Everyone laughed. The girl screamed with humour. ‘Unkie, how rude you are! Would they really?’

Mournfully polite, the tribesman said, ‘These beasts have no khmir like humans. Only every tenner make love, do rumbo. Is more easy make fight.’

Shaking his head and laughing, the prince retained his coin. It was as he turned away that MyrdemInggala addressed him. His small companion drifted off, suddenly bored. She was dressed as an adult, and her cheeks were rouged.

When the queen decently could, she left JandolAnganol and Taynth Indredd talking, and crossed to the fountain to speak with the girl. The latter was staring moodily into the water.

‘Are you looking for fish?’

‘No, thank you. We have much bigger fish than that at home in Oldorando,’ She indicated their size in a childlike way, using her hands.

‘I see. I’ve just been talking to your father, the prince.’

The girl looked up at her interrogator for the first time, with an expression of contempt. Her face astonished MyrdemInggala, so strange was it, with huge eyes fringed by abnormally long lashes, and a nose like the beak of a little parakeet. By the beholder, thought the queen, this is a half-Madi child! What a funny little thing! I must be nice to it.

It was saying, ‘Zygankes! Taynth my father! He’s not my father. Whatever made you think that? He’s only a distant cousin by marriage. I wouldn’t have him for a father – he’s too fat.’ As if to strike a pleasanter note, the girl said, ‘In truth, this is the first time I have been allowed to travel away from Oldorando without my
father. My women are with me, of course, but it’s terribly boring here, isn’t it? Do you have to live here?’

She squinted as she peered up at the queen. A characteristic in her face made her look at once pretty and stupid.

‘You know what? You look quite attractive, for an old person.’

Keeping a serious face, the queen said, ‘I have a nice cool reservoir, sheltered from view. Would you like a swim? Is that permitted?’

The girl considered. ‘I can do what I like, of course, but I don’t think a swim would be ladylike just now. I am a princess, after all. That always has to be considered.’

‘Really? Do you mind telling me your name?’

‘Zygankes, it is
primitive
in Borlien! I thought everyone knew my name. I am the Princess Simoda Tal, and my father is the King of Oldorando. I suppose you’ve heard of Oldorando?’

The queen laughed. Feeling sorry for the child, she said, ‘Well, if you’ve come all the way from Oldorando I think you deserve a swim.’

‘I’ll swim when I please, thank you,’ said the young lady.

And when the young lady pleased was next morning at dawn. She found her way to the queen’s quarters and woke her. MyrdemInggala was more amused than vexed. She roused Tatro and they went down with Simoda Tal to the reservoir, accompanied only by their maids, who bore towels, and a phagor guard. The child dismissed the phagors, saying that they disgusted her.

A chill light lay across the scene, but the water was more than tepid. Once, in JandolAnganol’s father’s time, carts of snow and ice had been brought from the mountains to cool the reservoirs, but considerations of manpower and the stirrings of Mordriat tribes had terminated such luxuries.

Although no windows but her own faced over the reservoir, the queen always swam in a filmy garment which covered her pale body. Simoda Tal had no such reservations. She threw off her garments to reveal a stocky little body prinked with dark hairs, which stood out like pine trees on snowy hillsides.

‘Oh, I love you, you’re beautiful!’ she exclaimed to the queen, rushing up as soon as she was naked and embracing the older
woman. MyrdemInggala was unable to respond freely. She felt something inappropriate in the embrace. Tatro screamed.

The young girl swam and surface-dived close to the queen, repeatedly opening her legs as she performed in the water, as if eager to assure MyrdemInggala that she was fully adult where it was most important to be.

At the same time, SartoriIrvrash was being wakened from his couch by an officer of the court. The guards had reported that the Sibornalese ambassador, Io Pasharatid, had left on hoxneyback, alone, an hour before Freyr-dawn.

‘His wife, Dienu?’

‘She is still in her quarters, sir. She is reported to be upset.’

‘Upset? What does that mean? The woman’s intelligent. I can’t say I like her, but she’s intelligent. Botheration … And there are so many fools … Here, help me out of bed, will you?’

He drew a gown round his shoulders and roused the slave woman who had served as his housekeeper since his wife died. He admired the Sibornalese. He had estimated that at this time of the Great Year there were possibly fifty million humans living in the seventeen countries of Campannlat; those countries could not agree with each other. Wars were endemic. Empires rose and fell. There was never peace.

In Sibornal, cold Sibornal, things fell out differently. In the seven countries of Sibornal lived an estimated twenty-five million humans. Those seven nations formed a strong alliance. Campannlat was incomparably richer than the northern continent, yet perpetual squabbles between its nations meant that little was achieved – except religions which thrived on desperation. This was why SartoriIrvrash hated the job of chancellor. He had a contempt for most of the men he worked for.

The chancellor had paid bribes, and knew as a result that Prince Taynth Indredd had brought to the palace a chest of weapons – the very weapons discussed yesterday. Clearly, they were designed as bargaining power, but what the bargain would be remained to be seen.

It was not improbable that the Sibornalese ambassador had also gained news of the chest of matchlocks. That could account for his hasty departure. He would be heading north, towards
Hazziz and the nearest Sibornalese settlements. He should be brought back.

SartoriIrvrash sipped a mug of pellamountain tea which the slave woman brought and turned to the waiting officer.

‘I made a fabulous discovery yesterday regarding hoxneys, which influences the history of the world – a remarkable discovery! But who took account of it?’ He shook his bald head. ‘Learning means nothing, intrigue is everything. So I have to bestir myself at dawn to capture some fool riding north … What a botheration it is! Now. Who’s a good hoxneyman near at hand? One we can trust, if such exists. I know. The queen’s brother, YeferalOborol. Fetch him, will you? In his boots.’

When YeferalOborol appeared, SartoriIrvrash explained the situation.

‘Fetch this madman Pasharatid back. Ride hard and you’ll catch him up. Tell him – something. Let me think. Yes, tell him that the king has decided to make no commitment to Oldorando and Pannoval. Instead, he wishes to sign a treaty with Sibornal. Sibornal has a fleet of ships. Tell him we will offer them anchorage in Ottassol.’

‘What would Sibornalese ships be doing so far from home?’ YeferalOborol asked.

‘Leave him to decide that. Just persuade him to return here.’

‘Why do you want him back?’

SartoriIrvrash squeezed his hands together. ‘Guilt. That’s why the scerm has left so suddenly. I mean to find out exactly what he has done. There’s always more than arm up a Sibornalese sleeve. Now please go, and no more questions.’

YeferalOborol rode north through the city, through its streets which were even then crowded with early risers, and through the fields beyond. He rode steadily, trotting and walking his hoxney by turns.

He came to a bridge across the Mar, where that river flowed into the Takissa. A small fort stood, guarding the bridge. He stopped and changed to a fresh hoxney.

After another hour’s riding, when the heat was becoming intense, he stopped by a stream and drank. There were fresh
hoxney-shoe prints by the water, which he hoped were those of Pasharatid’s mount.

He continued north. The country became less fertile. Habitation was scarce. The thordotter blew, parching throats, drying skins.

Giant boulders were strewn about the landscape. A century or so ago, this region had been popular with hermits, who built small churches beside or on top of the boulders. One or two old men could still be seen, but the intense heat had driven most of them away. Phagors worked patches of earth under the boulders; brilliant butterflies fluttered about their legs.