Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [368]
No land was to be seen. Batalix was set. Of the ships which had escorted them from harbour as guard of honour, only one remained, sailing two leagues to leeward with its flags streaming in the wind. Almost lost in blue distance was a cluster of herring-coaches.
So delighted was he at being able to stand without feeling wretched, so loud was the song of canvas and shrouds, that he scarcely heard the greeting addressed to him. When it was repeated, he turned and looked up into the faces of Dienu and Io Pasharatid.
‘You’ve been ill,’ said Dienu. ‘My sympathies. Unfortunately, Borlienese are not good sailors, isn’t that so?’
Io said quickly, ‘At least you feel better now. There’s nothing like a good long voyage for the health. The journey is approximately thirteen thousand miles, so with favouring winds we should be there in two tenners and three weeks – off Ottassol, that is.’
He devoted himself over the next few days to taking SartoriIrvrash on a tour of the ship, explaining its working in the last detail. SartoriIrvrash made notes of what little interested him, wishing in his Borlienese heart that his own country had such expertise in nautical matters. The Uskuti and other nations of Sibornal had guilds and corps which were in general principle similar to those of the civilised Campannlatian nations; but their maritime and military guilds excelled all others in numbers and efficiency, and had / would (for the tense was conditional-eternal-subjunctive) triumphantly survived the Weyr-winter. Winter, Pasharatid explained, was especially severe in the north. Over the coldest centuries, Freyr remained always below the horizon. The winter was always in their hearts.
‘I believe that,’ said SartoriIrvrash solemnly.
In Weyr-winter, even more than in the Great Summer, the peoples of the ice-bound north depended on the seas for survival. Sibornal therefore had few private ships. All ships belonged to the Priest-Sailors Guild. Emblems of the guild decorated the sails of the ship, making of its functionalism a thing of some beauty.
On the main sail rode the device of Sibornal, the two concentric rings joined by two undulant spokes.
The Golden Friendship had a fore-, main-, and mizzen-mast. An artemon projecting over the bowsprit was raised only in favouring winds, to speed progress. Io Pasharatid explained exactly how many square feet of sail could be hoisted at any time.
SartoriIrvrash was not entirely averse to being bored by a stream of facts. He had devoted much of his life trying to ascertain what was speculation, what fact, and to have a constant flow of the latter was not without attraction. Nevertheless, he speculated as to why Pasharatid should go to such lengths to show friendship; it was hardly a predominant Sibornalese characteristic. Nor had it been in evidence in Matrassyl.
‘You stand in danger of tiring SartoriIrvrash with your facts, dear,’ said Dienu, on the sixth day of their voyage.
She left them where they were standing, tucked back at the highest point of the poop, behind a pen containing female arang. Not a foot of deck but was used for something – rope, stores, livestock, cannon. And the two companies of soldiers they had aboard were forced to spend most of the day, wet or fine, standing about on deck, impeding the movements of the sailors’ guildsmen.
‘You must miss Matrassyl,’ said Pasharatid, speaking firmly into the wind.
‘I miss the peace of my studies, yes.’
‘And other things as well, I imagine. Unlike many of my fellow Uskuts, I enjoyed my time in Matrassyl. It was very exotic. Too hot, of course, but I did not mind that. There were fine people with whom I came in contact.’
SartoriIrvrash watched the arang fighting to turn round in their pen. They provided milk for the officers. He knew that Pasharatid was coming to his point at last.
‘Queen MyrdemInggala is a fine lady. It is a shame that the king has exiled her, do you not think?