Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [370]
‘What the purpose of this deviation might be, I shall not enquire – not wishing to risk further lectures from my personal demon, Pasharatid. But it may at least permit me to glimpse that horrid expanse which makes up the alpha and omega of the world.’
In the night came a ferocious storm which was on them without warning. The Golden Friendship could only heave to and weather it out. Immense waves burst against the hull, sending spray high into the spars. There were also ominious knockings which resounded through the ship, as if some giant of the deep was asking to be admitted aboard – so thought the ex-chancellor of Borlien, as he clung terrified to his bunk.
He doused the single whale-oil light in the cabin, as orders demanded. In the noisy dark he lay, by turns cursing JandolAnganol and praying to the All-Powerful. The giant of the deep by now had firm hold of the ship in both hands and was rocking it as some maniac might rock a cradle, in an attempt to pitch the baby out upon its nose. To his later astonishment, SartoriIrvrash fell asleep while this decanting process was at its height.
When he roused, the ship was silent again, its movement barely discernible. Beyond the porthole lay more mist, lit by meagre sunshine.
Moving to the companionway, past sleeping soldiers, he stared up at the sky. Tangled among the rigging was a pallid silver coin. He looked upon the face of Freyr. Back to memory came the fairy story he had enjoyed reading in the queen of queens’ company to TatromanAdala, about the silver eye in the sky that had sailed away at last.
The duty man called soundings. On the sea floated floes of ice, many carved into absurd forms. Some resembled stunted trees or monstrous fungi, as if the god of ice had taken it into his head to devise grotesque counterparts to living nature. These were the things that had come knocking at the heights of the storm, and it was a cause for gratitude that few bergs were half as big as the ship. These mysterious forms emerged from the mist, only to recede again into abstraction.
After a while, something made SartoriIrvrash shift his attention and look up. Across a narrow stretch of water were two phagor heads. The eyes in those heads stared not at the passing ship but at each other … There were the long face with its misanthropic jaw, the eyes protected by boney ridges, the two horns curving upwards.
And yet. No sooner had he recognised the beasts than SartoriIrvrash knew he was mistaken. These were no phagors. He was seeing two wild animals which confronted each other.
The movement of the ship caused the mist to swirl apart, revealing a small island, no more than a tussock in the sea, yet with a steep little cliff on the near side. Perched on the island’s barren crown stood two four-legged animals. Their coats were brown. Apart from their colour and their stance, they markedly resembled ancipitals.
Nearer view diminished the resemblance. These two animals, for all that they were challenging each other, had none of the stubbornness, the independent look which characterised phagors. It was, in the main, the two horns which had caused SartoriIrvrash to jump to the wrong conclusion.
One of the animals turned its head to look at the ship. Seizing the instant, the other animal lowered its forehead and rammed forward with a powerful shoulder movement. The sound of the blow reached the ship. Though the animal had moved no more than three feet the whole weight of its body from its rear legs on was behind the butt.
The other animal staggered. It tried to recover. Before its head could go down, a second butt came. Its rear feet slipped. It fell backwards, struggling. It struck the water with a great splash. The Golden Friendship drifted onward. The scene was hidden in the mist.