Constant maneuvering in the high wind had finally cracked several of the top cross-spars and weakened the repaired foremast. Ta-hoding also wanted to fix the still-amputated bowsprit, and there was no telling what the storm had done to the awkwardly repaired runner. They still had a long way to go and you couldn’t tell when you’d need every square centimeter of sail and solid, dependable runners.
The little informal council met once again—on a much less anxious note than the last time. Suggestions were easily made, as easily rejected. It was finally agreed that they would take the time to put in at the first town or village which offered the raft protection from the westwind, a decent harbor.
Ethan was on deck the next morning when the lookout gave the cry, so he was one of the first to see the monastery of Evonin-ta-ban. He joined Ta-hoding as the refuge came into full view, shining dark in the light of the fast-rising sun.
“Odd-looking sort of place,” said Ethan. “What is it? We haven’t passed anything like it before. Surely it’s not a hunting or farming community.”
“I do not know what it is, noble sir,” the captain replied uneasily. “Truly, I have ne’er seen the likes of it before. But Dagstev, the lookout, was right about the harbor. It looks to be sufficient… at this distance, anyhow. There do not appear to be any ships within, so it cannot be a trading community. Very, very strange. Perhaps… perhaps we’d best not land here, noble sir.”
“Glassfeathers. You’ve got to learn to face the cosmos with a more open mind, Ta-hoding. One of these days you may even skippership between the stars.”
The captain’s reply was direct and left no room for semantic nitpicking.
“Not if all the devils that ever were got behind me and pushed, Sir Ethan!”
“Why not, captain? Your own ancestors probably had the power of flight.”
“And had the good sense to give it up, too,” Ta-hoding countered religiously. “Give me a good ship with sharp runners, smooth ice beneath her keel, and a strong wind astern and I’ll be quite satisfied. I leave the skies to those who wish them. And say nothing about their sanity, however questionable.” He concluded on a note of finality and commenced barking landing orders to the crew. The Slanderscree was angling for the harbor entrance and Ethan decided to leave the captain alone.
One by one the wide sails were reefed in. He went below, roused September from his lingering breakfast and informed Hunnar, the du Kanes, and several others of their incipient landfall.
Hunnar joined him and they ascended to the bow. Together they stared over the broken bowsprit.
“Ta-hoding said he’d never seen anything like it, Hunnar.”
“Nor have I, friend Ethan, nor have I. But I find its aspect only unusual, not threatening. Though whoever built it surely had an eye to its defense. It seems impregnable. A strange place indeed.”
Such as it was, the harbor was simply a natural gap in the crust of the island. Fingers of dark, worn rock extended on two sides to embrace the slowing Slanderscree.
Except for some flat land to the right of the harbor, the entire island consisted of several sheer, jagged peaks that shot straight out of the ice to a height of four and five hundred meters.
Low vegetation struggled in the shelter of the shadowy cliff-face. A band of the ever-present pika-pina was just visible as they entered the harbor, extending from the west side of the mountains into the wind. The flat area to their right appeared to be under intensive cultivation.
Three-quarters of the way up the vertical basalt, cradled in a notch between the two highest peaks, sat an odd jumble of multi-tiered structures which seemed to grow from the naked stone. The architecture was elaborate, far more so than anything Ethan had observed to date.
Turrets and battlements he knew from Wannome, but these buildings also boasted spires, minarets, and even true domes—the first he’d seen on the planet. What looked to be a long, surprisingly spacious series of ramps and stairs began near the base of the cliff and ascended via a number of switchbacks to the lowest of the precariously situated structures.
The single dock gave every indication of being carefully kept and maintained, if not often used. There were no ships tied up to it and none in the harbor. But the preservation and nearby cultivated fields were signs that the place was inhabited. At least they’d have a place to tie up and could forgo the trouble of utilizing the bulky ice-anchors. In the lee of the skytickling crags there was hardly a hint of wind. It was almost calm.
September joined them silently, staring upwards until he risked a neck-crick.
“Whoever put that pile of vertiginous masonry together, friend Hunnar, spent more than spare time at it. Without the aid of lifters and impellers, and in this climate, I’ll not hesitate in calling it a tremendous piece of raw engineering. Going to be a respectable hike to the front door.”
“You think we’ll be going today?” asked Ethan. “I could not venture a prediction,” put in Hunnar hastily, before the big man could verbally commit them to another arduous enterprise. “But if you will lower your eyes you will see that our arrival has not gone unobserved.”
A figure was coming toward the dock from the base of the stairway. Apparently male, the tran’s stride was purposeful but not hurried. Open greeting, or forewarned is forearmed, mused Ethan. They watched the native with interest.
He seemed in no way unusual. While his beard was longer than Hunnar’s and whiter than Balavere’s, the welcoming committee of one showed no other signs of advanced age. He was of average trannish height and built slimmer than most of the tran on board the raft.
He wore only a long white fur, done up in a sort of toga arrangement, instead of the now familiar tran outer garment that snapped closed at the shoulders. It and its wearer were devoid of personal ornamentation—unless you counted the body-length staff in his right paw.
At first Ethan thought it was wood, but as the native came closer he saw that it had been carved from some porous green stone. More importantly, the tran didn’t seem the least bit afraid of them. That suggested once again either honest friendliness or the presence of ten thousand spearmen hidden in the rocks. As it developed, the more reasonable guess was correct.
The landing ramp was put across. Hunnar, Ethan, and September debarked while the sailors and soldiers on deck and in the rigging continued their tasks. Each kept a curious eye on their oddly-clad host’s approach.
Ethan was thinking it would be a good idea to have Ta-hoding present to handle any language difficulties. As it developed, the captain’s linguistic abilities weren’t needed.
“I am Fahdig, gentlesirs,” he said. “And this is the monastery of Evonin-ta-ban. You are welcome here.”
“Our thanks,” replied Hunnar. “I hight Sir Hunnar Redbeard, and these,” he indicated the two humans, “are visitors from a far place, noblemen of another land: Sir September and Sir Fortune. We ask to remain within your protecting harbor for a few days to effect needed repairs. If there is a harbor fee we can pay…”
The other gestured with the stone staff.
“There is no fee. The facilities of the monastery are open to any reasoning man. Few have ever been turned away wanting. But it is for the Brotherhood to decide and not I.”
“I didn’t know you had religious orders,” whispered Ethan to Hunnar. The staff-bearer overheard.
“Know I not what you mean, strange knight. The Brotherhood is an association of free spirits and minds, gathered in this place to preserve the knowledge and histories of the universe against the onslaughts of the Dark One. We are scholars, sir, not sycophants.”
“Starseeds,” mumbled Ethan. “Wait til Williams and Eer-Meesach find out we’ve stumbled onto a local society of researchers.”