The Belly of the Bow (22 page)

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘You look like you’re miles away.’

‘What? Oh, it doesn’t matter. Go on with what you were saying.’

‘I will if you can tell me what I was talking about. Is it something that merchant told you?’

Vetriz nodded. ‘He was asking me if I knew Patriarch Alexius. Apparently he’s here. On Scona.’

Venart raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, everybody’s got to be somewhere. Maybe he got offered a job. Don’t look at me like that. For all practical purposes he’s just another City refugee, he’s got to earn a living the same as everyone else.’

Vetriz gave him one of her patient looks. ‘I don’t think it works like that in his line of business,’ she said. ‘I mean, I haven’t heard of any annual hiring fairs for abstract philosophers, have you? I think . . .’

‘Well?’

‘I don’t know,’ Vetriz confessed. ‘I just have this feeling, that’s all. You’d probably best ignore me.’

Venart sighed. ‘The last time you had a feeling,’ he said, ‘I had to pull him out of the fall of Perimadeia. This time, can whatever it is you’ve got a feeling about please be something a little less strenuous and exciting? Maybe even something where we can turn a few quarters? You want to try and get rid of this idea that we’re princes and princesses out of a kids’ story.’

‘Huh.’ Vetriz pushed her hair back behind her ears. ‘If it wasn’t for me you’d lead ever such a boring life. You should be grateful.’

 

‘I’m sure I know you from somewhere,’ the man said for the third time, raising his voice so as to be heard above the background noise in the inn. At the other end of the room, ten or so soldiers were having a heated discussion about something technical, to do with fletchings for arrows. ‘you’re Perimadeian, aren’t you?’

Alexius nodded slowly. ‘Actually, I was born in Macyra, but I lived most of my life in the City.’ He smiled, as if at some private joke.

‘I’ve got it,’ the man said, pouring himself another mug of cider. ‘You see, I studied in Shastel, years ago, of course, before the Bank was ever founded, when I was a student, and I was sent to the City as one of Doctor Raudel’s pages. There, I thought you’d recognise the name.’

Temper
, Alexius commanded himself.
Bear in mind, this nuisance is much less of a nuisance than some of the nuisances you’ve managed to be perfectly civil to in the past. And he did buy you a meal
.

‘Oh, I remember Doctor Raudel Bovert; I met him a number of times.’ Alexius turned his head slightly and stared up at the smoke-grimed rafters. ‘Rather pompous, very opinionated, like so many of the scholars of the Foundation. He had a few very brilliant insights which he’d completely failed to understand, but his manner was so offputting that nobody in the Academy could be bothered with them. A typical Foundation scholar, in fact.’

The man wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘now I know who you are. You’re one of the Perimadeian Foundation, something quite high up.’

‘The Patriarch, actually,’ Alexius replied casually. ‘Last of the line, of course, there won’t be any more of us after I’m gone.’ He made the effort to frown. ‘No great loss, really,’ he added, to himself as much as to the man. ‘When I think of all the talent and resources we had at our disposal, and then of what we actually achieved—But that’s probably just as well. It’d be rather distressing to die knowing that something valuable was dying with me.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ the man said. He was still rather vexed at hearing Raudel dismissed so trivially, but obviously the thought of having an opportunity to talk to the greatest living authority on the Principle was worth the aggravation. Alexius could visualise the expression on the man’s face as he bored all his friends with the story that evening. ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘first things first, how about another drink?’ He turned his head and called out, ‘You there! Wake up, there’s people dying of thirst.’

The last thing Alexius wanted was another drink; his head was already foggy from the two mugs of strong cider the man had practically forced down him already. But it would have been easier to stand off the whole of Temrai’s army single-handed than resist such grimly determined hospitality. Fortunately, after half a mug, he fell asleep—

—And then he was sitting on a bed in a room in an inn, quite like this one but slightly less depressingly sparse; and there on the other bed, lying on his back with his boots off, was Venart, the young Islander he’d known back in the City and afterwards. He was asleep, snoring softly, and on the floor where it had fallen from his hands was a fat ledger.
Small world
, Alexius thought, and then the door opened and Vetriz came in, cautiously, furtively even, holding a bundle of sailcloth. She closed the door quietly, walked over to the small table and unwrapped her bundle, which turned out to contain a roll of expensive-looking fabric. Vetriz made sure her brother was still asleep, then spread the roll out and held it up against herself, craning her neck to peer down and see what it looked like.
So she’s bought some cloth that probably cost more than she’s allowed to spend, and she doesn’t want her brother to know
, he thought.
For a final revelatory vision granted to an eminent sage on his deathbed, it’s a bit prosaic. I thought these things were meant to show you the crucial cusps of the future, the point of balance where momentous trends can go one way or the other. I had no idea the future of women’s fashions was so important
.

After striking various poses and leaning over backwards to look at them, Vetriz rolled up the cloth and put it away under the bed, just behind Alexius’ feet; she was so close that he could see the individual hairs on her head, and the tiny white line of scalp where she’d parted it to form her rather appealing fringe. In fact, the quality of the vision was markedly better than any he’d had before in terms of clarity and realism, and he suddenly realised that he was indeed actually there—

This is ridiculous. Of course I’m not there, although it’d be wonderful if I was. But I’m here, stuck in a horrible inn with a boring man, dying. This is starting to annoy me
.

Then the door opened again, and a man came in; slowly, painfully, leaning on a stick.
But that’s me, and that’s ridiculous, because I’m already here
. He opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out, and the other Alexius hobbled over to the bed and sat down beside himself, while Vetriz closed the door and woke up her brother with a brutal shove.

‘Wake up,’ she said, ‘look who’s here. Patriarch Alexius, this is—’

‘Please,’ the other Alexius interrupted, ‘I want you to help me. There’s no earthly reason why you should, and it might well get you into serious trouble, but can you please get me off this island on your ship? You see—’

—And he opened his eyes, blinked twice at the round face of the hospitable pest, who was asking him if he was feeling all right, and tried to reply; but he was feeling drowsy again, so he closed his eyes, then opened them again—

—There was someone sitting on the bed; a stranger, a young girl. She was wearing a coarse dark-brown woollen robe, and her hair was tied back in a tight knot at the nape of her neck. She looked about eighteen, pretty in a slightly awkward sort of way.

‘Hello,’ she said, ‘my name’s Machaera. Can you see me?’

Alexius nodded. ‘Are you here?’ he asked softly. The girl frowned.

‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘It feels exactly as if I am, but I know for a fact I’m in my cell at the lodgings doing a projection. Who are you?’

‘My name’s Alexius. When you say you’re doing a projection, do you mean you’re somehow using some latent mental ability to harness the Principle and use it to show you this vision? Come to that, can you understand what I’m talking about or is it a complete mystery to you?’

‘Oh, I know about the Principle,’ the girl replied. ‘And so do you, obviously. You don’t look at all well, by the way.’

‘You’re too kind. Now then, by the way you’re taking it all in your stride, I’d say this isn’t the first time you’ve done one of these, what did you call them, projections. Am I right?’

‘Yes indeed. I’ve done heaps of them now.’
Oh, for pity’s sake, another natural. What harm have I ever done anybody to deserve this?
‘But this is the first time I’ve ever been able to talk to anybody. Usually I just stand there and listen.’

Alexius made an effort and gathered up the few scraps of strength he had left. ‘There could be several reasons for that,’ he said. ‘We may be sharing a vision - it’s happened to me a few times, though never like this. I may be able to talk to you because of my experience with, ah, projections. There’s also the possibility that I’m hallucinating because of this fever I’ve got, and you aren’t really there at all.’

‘Oh, I’m here all right,’ the girl said, and she reached out to touch Alexius’ hand. Somehow she couldn’t quite reach, even when she shifted up very close. ‘Oh. Well, I think I’m here and so do you. Isn’t that proof?’

Alexius shook his head. ‘Not really,’ he said, and he realised that he was using the voice he’d always used when taking a tutorial. ‘You see, I could be hallucinating you, or you could be hallucinating me. It’d be quite possible for me to imagine you saying you could see me.’

The girl look disappointed. ‘So you think I’m not really here at all?’ she said. ‘Really, I honestly think I am. But you can’t take my word for that, can you?’

‘I believe you,’ Alexius said. ‘And I can only assume you’re here because this is some sort of cusp in the curve of history which—’

‘Sorry. Do go on.’

‘No, you were about to say something. I want to know what it was.’

The girl hesitated. ‘Well, it was just when you called it a cusp. That’s the word my tutor uses, Doctor Gannadius. He says—’

‘
Gannadius!
’

‘My tutor,’ the girl repeated. ‘Why, have you heard of him?’

‘Gannadius,’ Alexius repeated. ‘Shortish round-faced man with very pale blue eyes, just the right side of sixty, dark brown hair starting to get thin on top? He used to be Archimandrite of the City Academy of Perimadeia.’

‘That’s right,’ said the girl. ‘You do know him, don’t you?’

‘And he’s your tutor. Where?’ He felt something fall into place in his mind. ‘On Shastel,’ he said. ‘You’re a member of the Foundation, and Gannadius is working there. I’m right, aren’t I?’

The girl dipped her head. ‘He’s the senior tutor in Applied Metaphysics,’ she said. ‘He taught me how to do this - well, how to do it properly, at any rate. Are you from Perimadeia too?’

Alexius smiled. ‘Why does everybody keep asking me that? Yes. Listen to me; will you go at once and find Gannadius and tell him what you’ve seen? Please? It might be quite important.’

‘Of course,’ the girl said. ‘Excuse me, but are you the Alexius who used to be the Patriarch? Doctor Gannadius talks about you all the time. He said you were the most brilliant—’

‘He’s wrong. Very gullible man. Now, please, will you do what I asked you?’

‘I’ll do my very best, I promise,’ the girl said. ‘And really, you shouldn’t say such things about Doctor Gannadius. He’s very highly respected in the Foundation.’

‘Really? Extraordinary. Well. Look, I’m sorry if this sounds rude but I’d be really grateful if you could go and see Doctor Gannadius now. It’s been very . . . interesting talking to you like this, but I would just like to—’

—Someone was leaning over him, that damned hospitable fool with his earthenware jug of cider and his big fat face. ‘Time for another one before you go?’ he said cheerfully. ‘Now then, say when.’

Alexius looked back at the girl. ‘Please,’ he said. She nodded. The hospitable nuisance looked straight through her, then at Alexius, and shook his head. ‘I’m not hallucinating,’ Alexius said. ‘She wasn’t actually here, you see, and . . .’

‘Of course you’re not,’ said the man, putting the jug down. ‘You were just talking in your sleep, that’s all. But maybe another one wouldn’t be such a good idea after all.’ He stood up, just a little too quickly to be convincing. ‘Well, it’s been a real treat talking to you, but time’s getting on, so I’d best be on my way. Goodbye, Patriarch.’

Alexius sat quite still for a few minutes, making sure that the hospitable nuisance had actually gone, and hoping (rather optimistically) that his headache would go away. When it didn’t he hauled himself to his feet and was nearly out through the door when the innkeeper called him back and told him that his friend, the one who left in such a hurry, had forgotten to pay for the drinks.

 

‘What can you see?’ the boy called out.

‘There’s people moving about,’ Bardas Loredan replied, ‘but I can’t make out whether it’s them or us.’ He shifted carefully and put more weight on his elbows, painfully aware that his perch up among the rafters by the hole in the roof was unstable at best; if the roof-ties realised he was there, they’d be well within their rights to collapse under his weight and let him drop to the ground. ‘They seem to be heading for that other ruin down in the dip there, but it’s too far for me to be able to see clearly in this rain.’

‘Why don’t I creep out and see if I can get close enough to take a proper look?’

‘Be quiet,’ Loredan replied.

The boy muttered something, and went back to whittling a bit of stick. Loredan shifted a little more, trying to get out from under the persistent drip that was landing square on the back of his neck. His left hand had gone to sleep.

‘If it’s us,’ the boy said, ‘we should go down and tell them what we’ve seen. And if it’s them, they’ll be to busy to bother with us. We might even be able to gather useful intelligence.’

‘I don’t think you could spare any, even if you managed to get hold of some. Now shut up and let me concentrate.’

The boy abandoned his bit of stick, which he’d reduced to a thin shaving, and started sharpening the arrowheads on a piece of broken whetstone he’d found in his pocket. The slow scraping of steel on stone is, of course, one of the most irritating noises in the world.