The Anvil of Ice (51 page)

Once only did the guilds of both lands work together, and that was in the early days when enmities had faded, both realms were wealthy and trade was expanding. Then they came together, with the guarded blessings of the Syndicacy and the larger northern towns, and built the great Causeway across the Marshlands, replacing the former crazy mix of half-flooded trails, short stretches of embanked wagon track and rickety bridges. They also began the extension of the High roads into Nordeney, but this was completed in later years by the north alone.

The Duergar

The duergar race is so hedged about with mystery that it is hard to form a clear picture of their ultimate origins, though more is said about their history in later books. Their strange subterranean way of life, their great wisdom and craft, their long lifespans, diminished form and secretive natures are matters of legend, and in the days of their power few besides Elof and Kermorvan were privileged to see beyond that. But despite the accretions of myth, there is no doubt that they were an ancient offshoot of the same mortal stock as men. They often named themselves the Elders, and angrily rued the coming of humans as one would the growth of ungrateful and unruly children. Some clues may also be found in the detailed physical descriptions in the Chronicles. These reflect an anatomical pattern consistent with one particular race of men whose limb bones are characteristically short and slightly bowed, with very strongly marked points of muscle attachment, indicating a stocky build and remarkable strength. Their skulls appear low-vaulted, giving a sloping forehead, but the average brain capacity is actually larger. The heavy jaw and straightlined chin, neither receding nor protruding, are also characteristic of later forms of the only accepted subspecies of man,
Homo sapiens soloensis
or
neanderthalensis
.

The popular picture of Neanderthal man is still seriously distorted by early studies of the first remains identified, which suffered from the preconceptions of the scientists and their failure to see that the bones were those of an old man crippled with arthritis. The brain capacity alone should have alerted them, but the image of a shambling caveman they produced has proved hard to dispel. In actual fact a Neanderthal man would look little more unusual among later men than an Eskimo, and many Neanderthal skull and facial features can still be found as individual variations of
Homo sapiens sapiens—
except, that is, for the larger brain. Interestingly enough, many authorities regard Neanderthal characteristics as specialized adaptations to an unusually cold climate.

If such an identification is possible, it is an important factor in dating the Chronicles, and something of a problem. Neanderthalers vanished as a separate type some 40,000 to 35,000 years ago, in the middle phase of the last glaciation. Some theories suggest they were exterminated by
Homo sapiens
, others that they interbred with him—a view that surviving traits, such as a low bump at the rear curve of the skull, would support. A third possibility, indicated by the little the duergar would reveal of their own traditions, is that their own ancient civilization was of old assailed by the Ice and the coming of men, and only preserved by the intervention of Ilmarinen, whom they revered, in making their refuges in the hollow hills. As later books of the Chronicles indicate, there is probably some truth in all three.

At the time of the Chronicles the duergar way of life, as indicated in Chapters 7 and 8, suggests a relatively small population, widely scattered. But the sheer size of their underground realm, running the entire length of the Shield-Range, equally suggests a much larger population, and there is little doubt that in their isolation the duergar were in decline. Why this was is uncertain. Their food supplies were undoubtedly plentiful; they grew food on inaccessible mountain terraces not unlike those around Inca cities, whose entire topsoil was hauled up the high slopes on the backs of porters. Some livestock, including strains of mountain goat, was raised there also, but meat did not play a large part in their diet; it was not unlike the traditional Chinese fare, strongly based on grain, vegetables and the fish in which their rivers abounded, and generally well balanced. The health of the duergar was naturally good, and their knowledge of healing deep; there are no records of plagues or recurrent disease. The cause of their decline seems to have been spiritual rather than physical, and very probably Elof caught it exactly when he questioned their purpose in the world. Many duergar seem to have felt the lack of a purpose, and yet so mistrusted the outside world that they could not bring themselves to seek it. Ansker was unusual in his understanding of men, and undoubtedly he and Ils strove to appear as natural to them as they could; the commoner duergar personality seems to have been much stranger and more remote.

Others:

Such were the chief peoples of western Brasayhal at this time. There were many others on its borders, such as the Children of Tapiau, whose true home was elsewhere in the land, and the Ekwesh, at this time still sailing back to their homelands across the western oceans. More is said of these later in the Chronicles. But it is possible that there should be one more addition to the races of men. These are the snow-trolls, for, strange and monstrous as they were, they wore man's shape in a land where no ape has ever come.

But since they were creatures of the Ice, it is possible that they were borne from the far west, the harsh homelands of the Ekwesh along the margins of the Ice. Certainly some remains have been found there, principally enormous teeth, of a vast creature that must have stood half again as tall as a man, and with far greater bulk. Significantly, it has been suggested that the huge growth of these creatures, called
Gigantopithecus
, was another kind of adaptation to the Ice. And although such remains as have been found date from an earlier season of the Long Winter, it may be equally significant that legends of similar creatures yet persist on both sides of the Western Ocean, and in the same areas.

Languages of the Two Lands:

Original texts of the Winter Chronicles are written in the ideographic script of Kerys, which was largely common to both northern and southern tongues. Because each word is depicted by an ideograph, and not actually spelled out, it is not always possible to tell which of the two tongues is being spoken in the text. I have tried to suggest this, though, where the context permits.

More seriously, it is not always known how words sounded, even though their meaning is known; direct equivalents cannot easily be traced in a living tongue, as was done with Egyptian hieroglyphs and Coptic, and this creates a problem. Each tongue has its own strongly individual character. One, the Svarhath, was distinctly "northern" in character, being somewhat hard-edged and harsh; the southern tongue, Penruthya, was softer and more rolling, and at the same time more elaborately formal. The names and terms we do know in these tongues make it certain that they were broadly ancestral to the Indo-European families, especially those strains which were to develop into the various languages of northwestern Europe (sometimes defined as the
kentum
tongues, from the common term for one hundred); in particular, they were remarkably close to the Germanic (or Scandinavian) and Celtic families respectively. So, to preserve their individuality, the spellings of names and other words have Scandinavian or Celtic flavors, as appropriate. It is im-portant to remember, though, that they were not as different as this suggests; Scandinavian and German would be a better example in that respect. More than half their vocabulary came from similar roots, though differently developed and pronounced, and the grammatical structure was broadly similar. Not so the final effect; Penruthya speakers found Svarhath "furry" and somewhat uncouth, Svarhath speakers thought Penruthya clear but inexpressive. But neither found the other's tongue especially hard to learn, especially in written form, since the same ideographs served for both languages; this is probably why the various alphabetical scripts that existed never entered common usage, and were thought of almost as codes or cryptograms. Probably many of the Mastersmith's books were written in alphabetical characters.

It is interesting that at one point in the Book of the Sword, Kermorvan, through modesty or caution, very definitely talks in Svarhath when the subject would suggest his native tongue. This is his brief account of the fall of the great eastern city, in which he uses the northern form of its name, the Strandenburg, here rendered City by the Waters. His reasons are made clear in the Book of the Helm.

Other Tongues:

Little can be said about these at this stage. Most duergar knew the northern tongue; Andvar spoke an old and rather literary form of it. But it is noticeable that most other duergar spoke in a broad, colloquial fashion, suggesting a preference for informality in their own tongue. Elof and Kermorvan did undoubtedly learn some of the difficult duergar language, but very little of it is preserved; it looks at first sight almost Slavic, but has an inescapable resemblance to Finno-Ugrian tongues. More is said of this, and of the Ekwesh tongues, in later books.

Ships:

Descriptions of three different types appear in the Book of the Sword. From these and occasional marginal illustrations and illumination (reconstructed on the maps at the beginning of the book) it is possible to make reasonably informed reconstructions.

Ekwesh Galleys:

The Ekwesh raiding ships were the most feared warships of their day. As the vessels described in Chapter 1 do not appear to have been bireme types—which would probably not have been very seaworthy in an open ocean—it is possible to make a rough estimate of their length from the number of oars per side. To be used freely, these would have had to be about three feet apart, but in a fast raiding vessel no more than that; a length of one hundred feet would not be unreasonable. Also, to be as hard to see as they were, the ships must have ridden quite low in the water. We know also that they were relatively sleek and narrow-beamed, and had at most partial decking to cover the cargo. All this fits a recognizable pattern. These vessels, like many "primitive" warships, were extreme sophistications of the war-canoe form, but given great speed and carrying capacity by the addition of a sail. This, as in most other ships of the time, was a simple square. Descriptions in the Chronicles, and details such as the heavy tarred-cord reinforcements, suggest that the Ekwesh had mastered the use of it across the wind, and even in some cases against it. Illumination and marginal illustrations, though stylized, bear this out.

The warships described in Chapter 1 seem to have been typical of the earlier days of Ekwesh expansion. It is significant, though, that they are definitely smaller than the ones described in Chapter 5. Even when laden with booty these ride substantially higher in the water than the corsair craft, and are described as being at least half again as long—probably something of an understatement. They have full decking and some kind of sterncastle, and holds big enough for prisoners and booty. Evidently the Ekwesh had begun to build larger and more sophisticated vessels to carry larger raiding parties, and richer pickings. Some of this may have been the Mastersmith's influence, but there is little doubt that it would have happened anyway.

The Corsair Craft

This seems to have been a typical small war craft of Bry-haine. The spiked ram was characteristic, a useful weapon that could not only penetrate an enemy's planking, but hold to it for boarding, unlike most Ekwesh ships which rammed only to sink, having either reinforced lower bows or using a heavy beam with metal sheathing, which often glanced off springy planking. The corsairs' tally of oars suggests a length of around sixty feet, possibly more. It was probably more strongly built than Ekwesh vessels, somewhat broader in the beam and less subtly shaped, relying on its smaller size and proportionally larger sail area for any advantage in speed. It seems to have had very little decking, save platforms at bow and stern to cover the cargo, and the journey back with twenty-two women on board, described in Chapter 5, must have been somewhat arduous—though no doubt preferable to the Ekwesh holds.

Duergar Courier Boat:

Although this was built only for fast sailing on calm underground waterways, it seems to have been of very advanced construction for the time, and this no doubt is why the one carrying Kermorvan, Ils and Elof was able to survive in the open sea for as long as it did. Under thirty feet long, it seems to have had the narrow hull typical of waterway boats, but with a sharp vertical bow, and, fortunately, a somewhat deeper draft; being fully decked, with bulkheaded compartments beneath, probably strengthened it. Its rig was unusual, the sail area much larger and baggier than normal to catch the gentle breezes of the tunnel system, and having a small extra topsail; this was not normally furled, but lowered against the mainsail, as on Norwegian
femboring
craft. Remarks in the text suggest that larger duergar craft normally had multiple sails, and perhaps quite complex rigs, though no doubt of a very specialized kind. Other unusual features of the courier boat were a pivoted rudder rather than a steering oar, and the use of winches to allow one person to sail the craft from the tiller, possibly aided by some spring or counterweight mechanism. Without these it might not have been possible to control such a sail in any strong sea wind. In fact, even with the leeboard improvised by Kermorvan (a feature still seen on traditional Netherlands designs) it is remarkable that the little craft carried the three travelers as far as it did without a capsize.