Himuili grunted. ‘These big iron beasts are all very well, but I see no sign of their lethal breath. I mean this substance you call the fire drug.’
Pyxeas smiled. ‘That’s kept under lock and key elsewhere. I, Pyxeas, offer my apologies. It has been a state secret of the Northlanders for centuries, and now is a secret shared only with Carthage.’
‘I do know it came from Cathay originally,’ Himuili said, probing.
‘That’s true,’ Pyxeas said. ‘In fact Cathay scholars discovered it entirely accidentally. They were seeking an elixir of life, a drug to banish death for ever. Well, what they came up with is an elixir of death, I suppose. A quirky gift of their gods. And that is why it is known as a “drug” to this day.
‘General, I heard you talking of symbols to my great-nephew. Of course you’re right. Carthage seeks to impress you today. You are a military man. Think of the future, sir. Imagine a more powerful eruptor, capable of smashing down a city wall with a single stone. Imagine an eruptor that can fly through the air like a bird. Or imagine an eruptor small enough to hold in the hand of a single warrior. You think this is fanciful? Soon Carthage will have all this, as you never will.’
‘We know we are beaten, scholar,’ murmured the old priest. ‘Speak gently.’
Now, after the weapon manufactory, the party was led past another workshop where a much more positive symbol was under construction. In a lofty hall a dozen artisans worked on a tremendous statue of Jesus Sharruma, the Hatti god. For now it was a rough marble form, but Nelo knew the plan was to decorate the god as richly as had been the holy image brought from Hattusa. Old Angulli made the crossed-arms sign of the palm leaves, and bowed down, muttering a prayer.
Carthalo said smoothly, ‘You can see how we labour to heal the wound we inflicted. The new god will include the smashed fragments of the old.’
‘It’s true,’ Angulli said. ‘I supervised the collection myself, especially of the remains of the core wooden sculpture created by the hands of Him. The fragments are splashed with the blood of our soldiers — but that only sanctifies them further.’
‘We have invited your best sculptors and artists to work with our own — we have given you every facility. And when it is done, you understand, we will offer you the statue of your god — together with the bones of His Mother, which treasure has been saved from Northland and the ice.’
‘I have heard of this,’ Angulli said. ‘It is an extraordinary gesture. On behalf of my people, of my god, I thank you for this.’
‘When He is complete, Jesus Sharruma can lead you to your new home.’
Hastayar said restlessly, ‘It’s easy to say that. But where are we to go? We had no plans beyond the conquest of your city, I admit.’
Carthalo said, ‘We are not monsters. We will take your sick, your young, your old, all those who cannot walk, even though our own resources are strained. The rest of you must go.’
‘But, I say again, where? I don’t imagine you’d welcome it if we marched east into Egypt, your breadbasket.’
Carthalo glanced at Pyxeas, who stepped forward. ‘Not east,’ the scholar said. ‘West. Go west from here, along the coast-’
Himuili snapped, ‘Until we run out of land and find ourselves facing the ocean. Then what?’
‘Then go west again,’ Pyxeas said. ‘Take ships across the ocean.’
‘We will help you,’ Carthalo said.
Pyxeas smiled. ‘Though I’ve never made the journey myself, we Northlanders have been crossing the Western Ocean for millennia. We will guide you.’
Hastayar seemed baffled. ‘And when we have crossed the ocean — what then?’
‘There are new lands waiting for you,’ Carthalo said. ‘Whole continents, where you can build your next Hattusa.’
Himuili scowled. ‘Lands with people in them already, that’s what I’ve heard.’
‘But with room for more,’ Pyxeas insisted.
And Nelo, looking at him, wondered if that was the first time he had ever heard his great-uncle tell a flat lie.
At length the group walked on, heading for the great buildings at the summit of the Byrsa, and the formal sessions.
Nelo walked with Pyxeas. ‘You didn’t tell the truth,’ he said accusingly. ‘You told the Hatti that the western continents have room. No, they don’t. Especially now the winters are taking their grip, for they must be suffering over there as we are over here.’
‘Well, true, that was a lie I told the Hatti. But I balanced it by telling the Carthaginians a lie too.’
‘What lie?’
‘That the Hatti will never have the secrets of the fire drug. As soon as their great fleet of ships is ready to sail, I intend that they should be given the secrets of the drug. With that advantage none of the peoples of the western lands will be able to resist them.’
Nelo stared, shocked. ‘Why would you do such a thing?’
Pyxeas sighed. ‘It was a difficult decision to make. Of course it is difficult. The suffering that will follow from this act, the thousands that will die. I — we, for the other Northlander elders in exile concurred — we are playing games on a continental scale. But we have to be rid of the Hatti, you know. There isn’t room for them here, especially not if we are to build our own city, a New Etxelur. Sharing Africa with the Carthaginians will be bad enough. And then there is Mali, south of the desert, rich from its gold mines, which has been relatively spared by the longwinter so far. Now the mansa is making what some regard as aggressive noises towards its northern neighbours. We have enough to handle here. Let the People of the Jaguar deal with the Hatti.’
‘I can’t believe you will give away precious Northlander lore.’
‘But the Hatti would probably soon steal it anyway. And besides, the fire drug knowledge is nothing. A shiny bauble, a whiz-bang toy that distracts small minds, like those of princes and generals. Once, you know, the great treasure of Northland was flint, a particularly fine lode that was mined from Etxelur. That was what men crossed the world for! Now nobody cares for flint at all. But since the age of Ana our true treasure has been Northland’s deep and ancient collective memory, our profound understanding of the world and its cycles — even as those cycles scatter us across the globe. Which is why I must return to Northland, by the way.’
‘What?’ Nelo stopped and stared at him. ‘Uncle, are you mad? The weather was bad enough last year when I travelled down with my mother. It may not even be possible to make the return journey now. Your journey to Cathay nearly killed you!’
‘Ah, but I live on.’
‘Now you want to do it again?’
‘I must, Nephew. I brought back much lore from Cathay. I have since reached certain conclusions. . I must consult any scholarship that survives at Etxelur, and I must reach the Wall Archive before it is lost to the ice altogether. For we must build an Archive in New Etxelur, wherever it is founded, and we must stock it with the heritage of the past. To preserve the idea of Northland, and our learning and scholarship.’
Snow swirled down, thicker, heavy flakes that beat like chill butterflies against their faces. They walked on, side by side.
‘I will come with you,’ Nelo said impulsively.
Pyxeas studied him. ‘Are you sure? I have Avatak.’
‘He is a good man. He will be better with me at his side. There is nothing for me here.’
Pyxeas, limping as he climbed, clapped Nelo on the shoulder. ‘Very well. But make sure you secure your drawings first. They must be preserved too. That mad Roman was right, that they are a true first-hand record of the last war in history. .’
Talking, arguing, they climbed the hill, cloaks clutched tight around their bodies. The snow fell thicker, settling on the rooftops of Carthage.