And there were more coils. A second monster appeared, this one in a rage, to judge by the darting movements of its head. Like a gigantic snake, it rose, then struck at the waves, diving, to leave sections of its roped body still agleam in the viscous air.
Its head emerged again, setting the Good Hope rocking. The two creatures joined forces. Careless in their obscene sport, they writhed through the water. One lashing tail smashed against the side of the caravel, breaking planking and treenails.
Then both beasts were gone. The waters lay flattened where they had been. They had obeyed the summons of the dolphins and now were making back towards the depths of the ocean. Although their appearances before the eyes of men were rare, the great creatures still formed part of the cycle of living beings which had adapted to the Great Year of Helliconia.
At this stage of their existence, the great serpents were asexual. Long past was their period of intense mating activity. Then, they had been flighted creatures, and had squandered centuries in amorous anorexy, feeding on procreation. Like giant dragonflies, they and their kind had flirted above the world’s two lonely poles, free of enemies or even witnesses.
With the coming of the Great Summer, the aerial creatures migrated to the seas of the south, and in particular to the Sea of Eagles, where their appearance had led some long-dead and ornithologicaliy unversed seamen to name an ocean after them. On remote islands like Poorich and Lordry, the creatures shed their wings. They crawled upon their bellies into the brine, and there gave birth.
In the seas the summer would be spent. Eventually the great bodies would dissolve, to feed assatassi and other marine inhabitants. The voracious young were known as scupperfish. They were not fish at all. When the chills of the long winter came to prompt them, the scupperfish would emerge onto land and assume yet another form, called by such ill names as Wutra’s Worm.
In their present asexual state, the two serpents had been stirred into activity by a recollection of their distant past. The memory had been brought them by the dolphins, in the form of a scent trace, infused into the waters by the queen of queens during her menstrual period. In confused restlessness, they coiled about each other’s bodies; but no power could bring back what had gone.
Their ghastly apparition had knocked any desire for fighting from the bellies of those aboard the Union and the Good Hope. Gravabagalinien was a haunted place. Now the invaders knew it. Both ships crammed on all possible sail and fled eastwards before the storm. The clouds covered them and they were gone.
The dolphins had disappeared.
Only the waters raged, breaking high up the Linien Rock with dull booms which carried along the beach.
The human defenders of Gravabagalinien made their way back through the rain to the wooden palace.
The chambers of the palace echoed like drums under the weight of monsoon rain. The tune kept changing as the rain died, then fell with renewed vigour.
A council of war was held in the great chamber, the queen presiding.
‘First, we should be clear what kind of a man we are dealing with,’ TolramKetinet said. ‘Chancellor SartoriIrvrash, tell us what you know of Io Pasharatid, and please speak to the point.’
Whereupon SartoriIrvrash rose, smoothing his bald head and bowing to her majesty. What he had to say would indeed be brief but hardly pleasant. He apologised for bringing up old unhappy things, but the future was always linked with the past in ways that even the wisest among them could scarcely anticipate. He might give as an instance…
Catching Odi Jeseratabhar’s eye, he applied himself to the point, hunching up his shoulders to do so. In the years in Matrassyl, his duty as chancellor had been to discover the secrets of the court. When the queen’s brother, YeferalOboral of beloved memory, was still alive, he had discovered that Pasharatid — then ambassador from his country — was enjoying the favours of a young girl, a commoner, whose mother kept a house of ill-repute. He, the chancellor, also discovered from VarpalAnganol that Pasharatid contrived to look upon the queen’s body when naked. The fellow was a scoundrel, lustful and reckless, kept in check only by his wife — who they had reason to believe was now dead.
Moreover, he wished to retail a rumour — perhaps more than a rumour — gathered from a guide called the Pointer of the Way, whom he befriended on his journey through the desert to Sibornal, that Io Pasharatid had murdered the queen’s brother.
‘I know that to be so,’ said MyrdemInggala, dismissively. ‘We have every reason to regard Io Pasharatid as a dangerous man.’
TolramKetinet rose.
He adopted military postures and spoke with rhetorical flourishes, glancing across at the queen to see how his performance was being received. He said that they were now clear how Pasharatid was to be feared. It was reasonable to assume that the scoundrel was in command of the Union and, by dint of his connections, could enforce his orders on the commander of the Good Hope. He, TolramKetinet, had evaluated the military situation from the enemy’s viewpoint, and estimated that Pasharatid would move as follows. One—
‘Please make this brief, or the man will burst in upon us at this table,’ said CaraBansity. ‘We take it that you’re as great an orator as you are a general.’
Frowning, TolramKetinet said that Pasharatid would decide that two ships could never take Ottassol. His best plan would be to capture the queen and thus force Ottassol to submit to his demands. They should anticipate that Pasharatid would land somewhere to the east of Gravabagalinien, wherever a favourable beach presented itself. He would then march on Gravabagalinien with his men. He, TolramKetinet (who struck his chest as he spoke), declared that they must immediately muster their defences against this anticipated land attack. The queen’s person was safe in his keeping.
After a general discussion, the queen issued orders. As she spoke, rain started to drip down on the table. ‘Since water is my element, I cannot complain if the roof leaks,’ she said.
MyrdemInggala advised that defences should be built along the perimeters of the palace grounds and that the general should draw up an inventory of all weapons and warlike impedimenta available, not forgetting the armoury of the Vajabhar Prayer.
Turning to SartoriIrvrash, she ordered him and Odi Jeseratabhar to depart from the palace at once. They might have three hoxneys from the stables.
‘You are kind, ma’am,’ said SartoriIrvrash, although the expression on his volelike face suggested he thought otherwise. ‘But can you spare us?’
‘I can if your companion is fit to ride.’
‘I don’t think she is fit.’
‘Rushven, I can spare you as Jan could spare you. You advised him on the plan of divorcement, didn’t you? As for your new consort, I understand that she is or was a close friend of the villainous Io Pasharatid.’
He was taken aback. ‘My lady, there was much botheration… Many questions of policy were involved. I was paid to support the king.’
‘You used to claim that you supported the truth.’
He searched his charfrul absentmindedly, as if looking for a veronikane, then settled for rubbing his whiskers instead.
‘Sometimes the two roles coincided. I know that your kind heart and the king’s spoke for the phagors in our kingdom. Yet they are the chief cause of all human troubles. In summer, we have the opportunity to rid ourselves of them when their numbers are low. Yet summer is the time we squabble among ourselves and are least capable of seeing them as our ultimate enemy. Believe me, ma’am, I have studied such histories as Brakst’s Thribriatiad, and have learned—’