They made their way inside the ring of towering islands. Near the center of the frozen enclosure lay a seventh island, as unlike its companions as they were unlike Arsudun or Sofold. It was almost flat, rising to a peak of barely fifty meters at its highest point. All around, docking piers extended onto the ice from its shore.
Ethan had noticed docks on the surrounding islands also. But judging from the vast number of rafts tied up here, this had to be the center of commercial activity.
Crowning the high point of the island was a three-tiered stone castle as impressive as that of Wannome. Smoke drifted to the west from flues and chimneys.
“What a magnificent place,” Ethan murmured. He searched for better words, but they escaped him. Occasionally he wished for the tongue of a poet instead of a huckster.
“Aye, young feller-me-lad. A more perfect settin’ for a harbor would be hard to imagine. And all they’ve got to do is defend those connecting walls. No enemy’s going to climb over those mountains.”
Williams was studying the heavily forested slopes. “Lumber rich, too. Without transportation problems. They need only cut a tree down and it will slide most of the way to the ice.”
“Truly Captain Midan-Gee did not deceive us.” Ta-hoding was already hunting for an open landing. “This is a wealthy, powerful state.”
“A good place to begin the confederation,” Ethan added.
Hunnar snorted skeptically, stalked away. He still held only the slimmest of hopes for the human’s bizarre idea that the Tran could agree on anything except their hereditary fear, suspicion, and hatred of strangers.
Williams suddenly clapped his hands together, starting like a little boy who’d just found a coin in the street. The survival suit gloves muffled the sound of the clap and what wasn’t smothered was carried away unheard by the wind, but Ethan saw the movement.
“See something interesting, Milliken?”
“Not that, not that, Ethan. I just realized what this place is!” That unspecific announcement rekindled Hunnar’s attention. “Poyolavomaar is a caldera.”
“A what?” Hunnar, naturally, did not recognize the Terranglo term. But neither did Ethan.
The diminutive teacher tried to explain. “Some time in the past, Sir Hunnar, these peaks we see now rose even higher, and this circular harbor we now traverse was a solid mountain several satch high. It was a volcano, like the smoking mountain you knew as The-Place-Where-The-Earth’s-Blood-Burns.
“And like that volcano, this one too blew up in a cataclysmic explosion, leaving only fragments of its outside wall. A central cinder cone started to build a new mountain inside the hollow left by the old one, but never got started before the flow of magma—molten rock—stopped. The soft cinders wore down quickly, leaving the central island we’re heading for now. The original volcano was probably more than twice the height of the surrounding island peaks.”
It was discomfiting to realize they were traveling through the throat of a ghost mountain and that somewhere far below, plutonic pressures could even now be building up enough energy to erupt unexpectedly. Ethan was glad when the small, streamlined ice raft pulled up alongside them. It gave him something else to concentrate on.
One of the Slanderscree’s mates exchanged words with the operators of the small vessel, then reported to Ta-hoding.
“Harbor pilot,” said the captain with evident satisfaction. “They are sophisticated here, though the pier they have assigned us is barely half our length.” No matter. ’Tis a trouble we’ll likely face wherever we go.”
As sails were taken in, the great icerigger followed the pilot raft toward the northeastern side of the central island. Other ships gave them plenty of room, their crews crowding railings to stare as the huge raft chivaned past.
Once more the anchors were released, and the docking procedure employed successfully at Arsudun was repeated. The Slanderscree was pushed slightly westward by the wind before the anchors brought her to a complete stop.
Ethan, September, Hunnar, Williams, Elfa, and a soldier named Tersund assembled to greet the harbormaster, who didn’t take long to appear. He was short for a Tran, almost Ethan’s size, and wore a strange coat of archil and argent done in diamond patterns, the diamond shapes varying in size. Like all Tran torso-wear it was slitted at the sides to permit the dan to move freely, and fastened with silver braid at shoulders and upper thighs. Belts of some snakelike skin formed an “X” across his chest. He picked absently at his left elbow.
“I hight Valsht,” he said in a thin, reedy voice that nevertheless carried an air of authority, “master of Poyolavomaar commerce. I extend warmth and greetings.” He performed an elaborate weaving of paws which Ethan didn’t recognize.
Hunnar launched into introductions and explanations.
When the redbearded knight had finished, Valsht responded almost as if he were anxious to be rid of them, though it was probably only his naturally nervous character reacting normally.
“This confederation you speak of and the reasons for it are not for a simple servant like myself to ponder on. ’Tis a matter for Tonx Ghin Rakossa, Landgrave of Poyolavomaar, Bringer of the Fair Wind and Solace of the Six Peaks, to decide. I am instructed to conduct you immediately to the grand presence.”
That little speech, which sounded rehearsed despite Valsht’s evident attempt to make it appear extemporaneous, tickled warning thoughts in Ethan’s mind. He shrugged them away. Tran-ky-ky was making him suspicious of every stranger they met. If he’d been able to see that thought in Ethan’s mind, Hunnar would have enjoyed a knowing laugh.
The harbormaster relaxed slightly, straining to see into every corner of the icerigger. “You appear to have been on a long voyage.”
“A modest journey,” admitted Hunnar.
“We are a state of much commerce.” Valsht said this matter-of-factly, without boasting. “Ships come from many thousands of satch distant to trade and exchange their goods here in Poyolavomaar. We have,” and he rolled his brilliant yellow eyes in a manner which Ethan had come to know as the Tran equivalent of a sly wink, “many facilities for weary travelers. Reasons why our city is such a popular place to trade, for is not trading a tiresome business and respite after a hard day a necessity rather than a luxury? I am sure your crew would enjoy the sights and availabilities of our city.”
“Your hospitality is most welcome. We accept.” Hunnar turned, called up to the helmdeck. “Captain, we are given invitation! Give three-quarters of the crew leave to visit the city. They have earned it. The remaining fourth may go when the first quarter of leave-takers returns.”
Ta-hoding indicated his agreement. The order was relayed to the mates, who in turn dispersed it among their subordinates. Prolonged shouting and cries of delight echoed from various sections of the ship as each knot of sailors received word of their permission to go ashore and relax.
The decision to grant liberty having been made, the greeting party followed the harbormaster up the pier and into the town, Tran traveling on icepaths while the humans elected to leave their skates on board and walk alongside.
Shouts and insults, hellos and damnations, promises and lies filled the freezing air around them. They issued from booths, stalls, cabarets and cloaked doorways, knots of huddled Tran and isolated craftsmen and children. Even the beggars appeared well fed. Signs of prosperity and ruthlessness coexisted, and the average expression was one of mellow avarice.