Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [517]
‘Why did you follow? Are you leading Gardeterark after you?’
‘Shokerandit is ill. Will you help me?’
He turned and called towards the boat.
‘Besi! Come out. It’s safe.’
Besi Besamitikahl, wrapped in her furs, emerged from under a tarpaulin where she had been sheltering and came forward. She had listened almost without astonishment as the captain, in one of his ranting moods, had outlined his scheme to snatch Asperamanka from the wrath of the Oligarch – as he dramatically put it. He would go such and such a way to meet the Priest-Militant, and would ride with him to the coast, where Besi would have a boat waiting. This boat would be lent by courtesy of Eedap Mun Odim. She must not fail him. Life and honour were at stake.
Odim had listened to this plan, as the girl related it, with delight. Once Fashnalgid became involved in an illegal enterprise, he would be in Odim’s power. By all means he should have a little boat, with a boatman to crew her, and Besi should sail round the bay and meet him and his holy companion.
Even while these arrangements had been made, the laws of the Oligarch were pressing down harder on the population. Day by day, street by street, Koriantura was falling under military control. Odim saw all, said nothing, worried for his herd of relations, and made his own plans.
Besi now helped Toress Lahl to carry the stiff body of Luterin Shokerandit into the boat. ‘Do we have to take these two?’ she asked Fashnalgid, staring down with disfavour at the sick man. ‘They are probably infectious.’
‘We can’t leave them here,’ Fashnalgid said.
‘I suppose you want us to take the yelks too.’
The captain ignored this remark and motioned to the boatman to cast off. The yelks stood on the shore, watching them depart. One ventured forward into the mud, slipped, and withdrew. They remained staring at the small boat as it faded away over the water in the direction of Koriantura.
It was cold on the water. While the boatman sat by the tiller, the others crouched below the tarpaulin, out of the wind. Toress Lahl was disinclined to talk, but Besi plied her with questions.
‘Where are you from? I can tell by your accent that you’re not from here. Is this man your husband?’
Reluctantly, Toress Lahl admitted that she was Shokerandit’s slave.
‘Well, there are ways out of slavery,’ said Besi feelingly. ‘Not many. I’m sorry for you. You could be worse off if your master dies.’
‘Perhaps I could find a boat in Koriantura which would take me back to Campannlat – once Lieutenant Shokerandit is safe, I mean. Would you help me?’
Fashnalgid said, ‘Lady, there will be trouble enough for us when we get back to Koriantura, without helping a slave to escape. You’re a good-looking woman – you should find a good billet.’
Ignoring this last remark, Toress Lahl said, ‘What kind of trouble?’
‘Ah … That is up to God, the Oligarch, and a certain Major Gardeterark to devise,’ said Fashnalgid. He brought out his flask and took a long swig at its contents.
With some reluctance, he offered it round to the women.
From under the tarpaulin, Shokerandit said, slowly but distinctly, ‘I don’t want to go through this again …’
Toress Lahl rested a hand on his burning head.
Fashnalgid said, ‘You’ll find that life is essentially a series of repeat performances, my fine lieutenant.’
The population of Sibornal was less than forty percent that of its neighbour Campannlat. Yet communications between distant national capitals were generally better than in Campannlat. Roads were good, except in backward areas like Kuj-Juvec; since few centres of population were at a great distance from the coast, seas acted as thoroughfares. It was not a difficult continent to govern, given a strong will in the strongest city, Askitosh.
A street plan of Askitosh revealed a semicircular design, the centre point of which was the gigantic church perched on the waterfront. The light on the spire of this church could