Chapter 23
The experience of the sailor turned to
fact before the prince’s eyes, and they made landfall in the port of the city
of Goman barely two days after they had fended off the attack of the other
ship. The message which had been left for them at them of that encounter, one
which promised eventual destruction and death to them all, had been at the
forefront of the prince’s mind since the moment he had read it.
Miran had wasted no time in inquiring
whether the captain knew anything of the emperor who had been saluted at the
end by way of a farewell from the mysterious enemy sailors. However, the
captain had closed the discussion almost immediately with the statement that he
was not the man to come to with such questions, which seemed to him best
answered by those at the court, and therefore the prince should not waste his
time asking the wrong people, whilst he was on his way with all speed to the
right ones. Complying with the man’s bluntly worded request, Miran had
installed himself near the fore of the ship, keeping as well as he could out of
the way of the sailors as he silently watched the approach to the harbor.
Almost before the ship the ship was
properly tied to the docks, the captain of it was at Miran’s side again,
offering assistance.
“Now then, my lord, you’ll be wanting to
get off this moment I suppose. Landsmen usually do.-“
It seemed to Miran that the captain
intended to take unnecessary time getting to his point, so the prince, whose
desire to reach the next moment had become greater with every one that passed,
simply cut him and got to the point himself. “I believe you were going to lead
me to a man who can take me across the desert. Can you not?”
“Ah yes, that.” The captain replied.
Signaling to a crewman to retrieve the prince’s bow and arrows, and to another
to make ropes ready, the man turned back to Miran and continued. “I said it
before, so I shall do it. I know the man and I’ll take you to him myself in a
moment.”
The man was as good as his word, and it
was truly only a short time later that Miran was once again equipped with his
bow-staff and his bag and standing on firm ground again. In addition to the
other things, he had taken with him the note which had been delivered by the
enemy shaft, and which was now rolled and resting in the bag among his carving
implements.
There they were delayed several minutes,
as the boat’s chief sent some of his men for a litter in which to convey the prince
to their destination. Miran was at first insulted by the supposed implication
that he could not keep up with the others, but the boatman was quick to assure
that this was the least of their reasons. As they waited, he explained himself.
“If we were to carry you to my uncle’s
house, it would serve to convince him that you are a person of some importance,
for remember, he does not know the prince by sight, and to come up to his gate
as you are would not convince him you speak the truth. Secondly, by acting this
way we can perhaps escape notice from curious people who would hinder us. For
litters are an ordinary thing in this country. A bowman with a limp is not, my
lord. And here it is now, so please get in.”
The litter was not just a simple
stretcher, as Miran had expected it might be, but included a tall frame from
which long green curtains had been hung. Having one of the sides rolled up so
that he would be able to see, he got into it and turned back to the boatman
with a new question. “Would the man not believe you if you said the prince was
among you? Does he think you a liar?”
“I assure you, my lord, he does not. But
he respects only two things; business and the throne. For you, he will do this
for who you say you are. From me he wants only goods.”
Without further delay, Miran consented
that they should start, and the four crewmen raised him from the ground as the
boat- master went ahead to serve as their guide. The watchman at the harbor
gate gave them no trouble, and lowered his head in deference as Miran was
carried through. Miran, however, took no notice of this, as he was thoroughly
occupied with taking in the sights and sounds of the city which had appeared
before him.
The streets visible to him were lined
with tightly packed mud- brick buildings of varying heights. The roof of each
was flat, and Miran could see that shades had been set up atop several of them.
In fact, almost every building also had a shade set up over the doorway, so
that no more than two yards of space in the middle of the street was left
uncovered. And the noise! Having subsisted in his hermit-like existence almost
since he was born, Miran had grown up without an accurate idea of what a city
of people would be like to experience. Moments after passing inside the harbor
wall, the typical sounds of the city had begun, amplified as they were in his
perception by his inexperience, to hit him from all directions. Falling onto
his side, he released a cry of pain and tried to cover his ears.
In a moment, his bearers had stopped short
as the man guiding them moved alongside the prince. Miran shifted one hand to
allow the man a word and said loudly in reply “There is more life here than I
can yet bear. Wherever we are going, get me away from this!” Granting his guide
but a moment to accept the order, Miran reached up and closed the curtain which
he had earlier requested left open. His situation hardly eased by this action,
he lay on his back, resting his head on his palms and trying to press his arms
against his ears. Closing his eyes, he wished that he had remained on the
island.
As his charge began trying to isolate
himself, the guide spoke quietly to the four carriers. “Come now, turn this
way. Our charge would rather take the quietest way than the shortest.”
The better part of the next hour had
passed by the time Miran, who earlier succeeded in dozing off, was awakened by
the sudden flash of light caused by his guide’s swift removal of the curtain
shading him. The man explained himself without offering an apology. “My lord,
we have reached my uncle’s door.”
Miran
said nothing in reply immediately, but only threw his arm up to protect himself
from the glare coming on him over the other man’s shoulder.
When he was
ready to look up, he saw that they had already entered a courtyard bounded by
high walls. Looking immediately for the doorway of the house, he saw a servant
silently standing there, apparently awaiting orders. Wasting no time, Miran
confronted the man.
“Is your master at home?”
The servant’s manner surprised the
prince, as the man’s reply, delivered almost casually, was “And who am I to say
that he is at home to?”
At this answer, Miran and his guide
spoke almost in unison.
“I am the king’s son! Count yourself
fortunate I will not tell your master of your manner here.”
“Him you do not know, though he is as he
says. But me you have seen more than once, sandal-scraper. Tell your master at
once that we are waiting.”
Without so much as a word of apology to
either the prince or the master’s kin, the servant disappeared within the
house, looking visibly displeased at the necessity of actually doing something
at this time.
While they awaited the master’s
appearance, Miran and his guide stepped into the shade of the doorway which the
disagreeable servant had vacated. A few words from the boat-master sent the
crewmen who had been bearing the litter back from whence they came, Leaving
Miran and the boat-master alone in the courtyard.
Several anxious moments had passed
before a different servant emerged from the depths of the building. This man
was perfectly civil, saying simply “If you will follow me, my lords, my master
is waiting to see you.”
“Well that is nice of him.” replied the
boat-master “And will he rid himself of that other fellow who was guarding the
door when we arrived? If I was rich I would more highly of myself than to have
such an insult watch my door.”
“The master will do as he wishes. Come
along, please. You are keeping him waiting.” The servant turned on his heel and
began to walk deeper into the house. The boat-man, however, could not resist
the urge to get in the last word.
“And if he knew the man on his doorstep is the heir to the throne, he would
be out here to serve us himself. Now take us to him.”
The merchant’s house was a minor maze of
rooms, and Miran and his guide were led through several different ones, all
richly furnished, before coming to a doorway which opened onto a covered
walkway like those in cloisters, which in turn surrounded a vibrant garden in
which the master and his family could be seen enjoying the relative mildness of
the space in which they sat. The merchant was deep in a thick book, and took no
notice of the arrival of his nephew or the prince until the servant had
announced them.
“Master, may I present to you your
brother’s son, Ledarren. Also a man with him, who calls himself the son of the
king.”
Looking up only when the introductions
had been made, the merchant snapped his book shut and handed it over to the
servant. “Take this to my room.” Turning his face toward his guests, he said
“You, my boy, know as well as I do how you deal with me. Come to me with
something I can sell, or I will not allow you to stay five more minutes under
my roof. As for this man, I know not his face or his name. Who am I to believe
that he is the man he calls himself?”
“Well, my uncle, do you believe the word
of the lady whom you take in your charge to the capital every month? You know
she is of the royal blood. This man, as she surely must have told you once at
least, is her brother whom the king desired hidden. He now desires to return to
his home with all speed. Knowing that you had charge of his sister, I brought
him to you at once. Will you do as he asks or will you incur the wrath of the
king?”
Only now rising from his seat, the
merchant answered his nephew as if he had been insulted. “You and your crew of
wharf-rats have the same charge that I take on, do you not? Of course I know
the lady comes from the palace. As for her brother, only you and I have the
honor of her confidence concerning him, and that you also know. If this man is
the same, he will get home. You, however, will leave my presence now.”
“And it is gladly that I do so.”
Retorted the sailor, as he turned on his heel. Offering Miran a salute, he
strode out without once looking back at his uncle.
Left alone, Miran faced his host with a
sigh. “If you require proof that I am indeed the prince, I am unable to give
you any. Your nephew assured me that you would take me at my word on the
strength of your respect for my father. Is this true?”
Signaling that a servant should bring
them refreshments, the merchant replied “There are no other noblewomen hiring
my caravan every month, and neither have I ever set eyes on you before. She has
honored me with the knowledge of her purpose, and because of that I knew that
the prince would be coming to me before this month had passed. I see her face
in you also, and so I have full confidence that you are the prince. As such, my
lord, my caravans are at your service.”
By this time, a servant had come
alongside them, carrying two chilled drinks on a platter. The nobles each took
one, and carrying them, began to walk in the large garden, side by side.
“Have you had, sir, any news of my
father or my mother? Whether they are in health or not?”
“I cannot say yea or no, my lord. News
cannot travel more than one or two days faster between here and Gaimaron than
my own caravan can, and that takes six or seven days if all goes well.”
“But still your news is less stale than
mine. Your nephew’s boat came out to me only once in a month, and I did not
always care to speak to him. In fact, we did not. I spoke only to my sister,
and she did not always come herself.”
“I understand you all too well, my lord.
My nephew has never learned respect. As for my lady Miranda, to visit you took
a month of her life in the travel alone. She could not come to you often
without arousing confusion in the palace.”
“When last I heard, my lord, the king
and queen were both still in the world. Come, give me the honor of your presence
at my table. I will send word to my drivers that you have come and wish to
depart at first light tomorrow.”
“As you wish. If I knew anyone else in
the city at all, I would be slow to reject your offer, knowing of your good
standing in the eyes of the eyes of my sister.”
*****
Railon dismounted from his horse and
mopped his brow with his free left arm, as he held the animal’s reins with the
other. Steady on his feet, he simply stood and gazed at the great walls of his
brother Torlan’s capital, Gaimaron, a sprawling metropolis which had grown up
alongside the river Ishbana in the days of their forefathers deep in the past. Twenty
years had passed since he had departed for parts unknown through these same
great gates, and Railon thought that he could finally afford to return to his
own people now, for surely the mad warlord who had hunted him in years past had
by now forgotten that he still lived.
His idleness before the gate was not due
exclusively to the hopes and memories which had again risen to mind at the
sight of a wall long unseen. The gates had not yet opened for the day, and
Railon was in the midst of a line of people who had come toward the city for
their own purposes from all directions. Dressed as he was in plain traveler’s
garb, he was confident that he would not be recognized by any common man unless
he were to introduce himself. Only a few days ago, he had passed through the
city of Trevlendair, where he had been surprised to see his brother’s banner
flying from the roof of the governor’s villa.
The quiet of the early morning was
broken suddenly by the sound of great horns, blown by men stationed in the
towers which housed them to watch for any that might toward the city for good
or ill. Just as suddenly, in the same moment the gates began to open and the
line of people waiting outside assembled themselves to pass through. Railon
made no attempt to move any faster than those behind him required, determined
to enjoy his return as much as he could. As he was in no great hurry, he simply
meandered through the streets observing the life of the city with a curious
eye. His brother had turned out a wise king, it seemed. Everywhere Railon
looked, there was peace and prosperity, and nary an empty building to be seen.
When two hours had passed since his
entrance into the city, Railon began to feel hungry. Fortunately, he found
himself within yards of a busy tavern when this feeling came upon him, so,
tying his horse to the post in front of the building, he made his way inside,
passing several old men enjoying pipes and small talk in the quiet shade of the
awning. At this early hour, there was hardly anyone in the place, and Railon
was soon refreshing himself with some of the best Gairadane fare he had ever
tasted outside the palace itself. On finishing, he took two coins from his bag,
set his mug over them so that they were hidden, and walked away. This behavior
had been the custom in Gairadane since he had been a young boy, and he cared
not whether it had changed; it would be his way.
Having eaten, Railon emerged from the
tavern newly resolved to go straight to the palace and meet his brother, for he
had twenty years of stories which he no longer wished to keep to himself a
moment longer than he felt necessary. There was no need to ask anyone he passed
to remind him where the palace stood, for the gilded roof on it stood yards
above the surrounding buildings, making it clearly visible to all those walking
the streets.
Railon rode slowly until he came to the
gate, which stood open. He could not, however, pass through, because the
portcullis had not been raised. This was remedied in short order though, as the
two men whose task it was to do this began as soon as they became aware of his
presence. As they worked, one called out “Who are you, and what business do you
have with the palace, traveler?”
Still astride his horse, Railon answered
“You, my friend, have good eyes in your head. I am a traveler indeed. Are you
old enough to remember the lord Railon? For I am that man, who left for distant
places long ago.”
“Aye, my lord. I remember you, who used
to spend more time in the taverns than here in the palace. It may be a good
thing yet that you did, for the king is not well.”
“The king is not well? Then waste no
more of my time. I must see him with all speed!” The moment the barrier had
been raised high enough for him to pass through, Railon rode in dismounted,
making straight for the doors without another word to the guards, and leaving
his horse there for them to attend to. Opening the doors for himself, he soon
found himself face to face with a young woman in a dress of pale gold. Seeing
immediately that she was no serving-maid, unless Torlan had fallen into such
extravagance as that, he stopped and saluted her.
“My lady, I have not seen you before.
Froom whence have you come to grace these halls?’
“Neither have I ever seen you before,
sir, so I would know the same of you. For my part I come from nowhere but these
halls alone. I am the princess Miranda. I wait not for you, but for my brother,
who I hope will come soon.”
“Ah, you are the princess, Miranda? And
you have a brother? I also come from here, though I left before you had come
into the world. I am your father’s brother Railon. I hope he has spoken of me
before. The guards say he is not well. Perhaps my arrival will help in his
recovery.”
Signaling to a servant, Miranda replied
“Yes, my lord uncle Railon. It is true. My father and my mother both are ill,
and I know why. He has spoken of you to me, though little but to ask if you had
come. He will be glad to see you. This servant will lead you, if you like. I
will stay to watch for my brother.”
“Very well, fair and noble niece. I take
my leave of you to attend at your father’s side. Be well.” Thus departing
Miranda, Railon followed the servant, though he knew the halls of this palace
as if he had trod them only yesterday. When at last they had come to the king’s
room, the servant stopped and knocked, announcing the visitor.
“Sire, a man who calls himself your
brother Railon has come.”
The voice of an old and tired man
answered from within. “My brother, is he? There was only one. Send him in
here.”
At this, the servant pushed open the
door of the room, and Railon entered. He found Torlan, not lying abed as he had
expected, but standing and looking out of the west-most window of his room. He
turned at Railon’s entrance, setting on the sill a masterfully carved
representation of a mounted warrior and leaving it as if it was something he
had no wish to share.
Railon approached his brother with
measured steps, giving no sign that he had seen the carving. “Hail, my brother.
I know well that I have been away longer than is wise, but I have returned, to
travel no more, and I am happy to see that you are yet alive to meet me.”
“Alive I am still, my brother, but
perhaps not for long now. Only one thing is keeping me on my legs, and that is
a last sight of my son whom I sent away like a coward. If I could have his
forgiveness for that, I would pass on in peace.”
Moving to set a hand on Torlan’s
shoulder, Railon said “Then there is hope for you yet, I say. I met your
daughter in the hall when I arrived. She spoke of waiting for your son.”
As he spoke, Torlan began to make his
way past Railon to reach the bed in the center of the room. Noting this, Railon
gave him a shoulder to lean on as he walked. “My daughter, Miranda? She saved
me from death many times in the years that have passed. She has been the light
in these dark days of my queen and I. But I fear she has lost her taste for
dying elders and quiet halls. Many times I have called for her and she was not
to be found.”
Helping his brother settle himself on
the bed, Railon answered “Do not despair, Torlan my brother. I have no doubt
that your desert flower thinks always of easing your days. I think you will
know this soon. And now, if I may give my respects to the queen?”
“I do not think you could. She wants
none but her own maids about her in this state, not till she feels her last day
has come. Send your words by Miranda if you must. Surely she visits her mother,
even if she leaves her father to fade alone. Bring me that carving I left by
the window. You should see it before we part.”
Railon spoke no word in reply. He simply
crossed the room twice, carrying back the carving he had seen Torlan holding
when he had first entered. Torlan took it from him and displayed it as if
Railon had not already gotten a close look. “This is my son to me. Nothing more
than a block of wood he has carved to look like any man on a horse. There are
many more, and not all riders, but this one is the one I have kept with me to
remind me of him. The rest remain with my wife and daughter.”
“It is fine work. It shows his will, and
that he has skill he may yet use. It is a good symbol of a son worthy of your
name.”
Speaking in sadness rather than anger,
Torlan answered “I would have you go now, brother. Your words have done me more
ill than good.”
Knowing what it was that Torlan was
referring to, Railon respected his wishes and departed the room in silence,
giving a military salute to the ailing king as he did so. From the king’s room,
he went straight back to the hall where he had first met Miranda. Approaching
her where she sat before a small loom which had not been there when first he
came, he said “Your father says that your mother will see not see me, but that
you may be able to visit her in my stead. If you would convey my respects and
good wishes to my lady the queen, I feel that I must go back out into the city.
You have great strength to live as you do here. I bid you good day. I shall
return on the morrow to see whether your father is any the better for my having
come back.”
“Farewell, uncle. Each passing day
brings health and cheer closer to these halls. It shall not be long before all
is well again.”
“I know that you mean you have sent for
your brother to return here. But now you must pray that you have not left it
too late to do the good you wish.”
“I know it well, and I pray with all my
heart that I have not. Peace be on you till you return.”
“I wish the same to you.” With these
words, Railon departed the palace the palace to find lodging for the night in
some inn nearby. He gave little thought to the quality of it, for his mind was
burdened with the pain his family had been bearing through all the years he had
been away. As he lay down on the straw bedding in the poor man’s hostel he had
chosen without care, he murmured to himself “I should have returned for them.
This is my place, here and now.”
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