“And yet, when I saw a boat before, when I was young”-I frowned, recalling that evening on the shore when I had stood with my father watching that first airboat pass over us-“then all the animals in Whitefish village fled. Even the gulls quit the sky.”
“What do you say?” Cleton asked.
“I’m not sure.” I felt the furrowing of my brow. “Only that it seems … odd.”
“That the Changed do not feel what Truemen feel?” he asked, and chuckled. “Daviot, they’re lesser beings than you or I; not really that much more than the animals from which they come.”
“But that’s my point,” I said. “That even the animals sense the danger. These seemed … unaware … or not at all afraid.”
Cleton’s shoulders rose in a dismissive shrug. “Kerym’s trained them well,” he said. “No order was given to cease their rowing, so they continued at their duty.”
“Perhaps.”
He was an aeldor’s son-he had far more experience of the Changed than I: I allowed him the point, but I was not convinced. I did not understand why, but I felt sure there was more to it. I could not explain my conviction. Indeed, I could not truly name it conviction; rather, it was an amalgam of what I had observed, or thought I observed, and inchoate suspicion. I could put it in no better words, and for then I bowed to Cleton’s judgment. Besides, we had much else to concern us, as Pyrdon reminded us.
His face was gone again pale, and he wiped at his mouth, his breath sour with his puking as he stared to the west and said in a soft, horrified voice, “There were three. In the God’s name, there were three! And they’re headed for Durbrecht.”
“I think they’ll not damage the College.” Cleton made a joke of it for Pyrdon’s sake, I thought.
“But it’s not the time.” Pyrdon was too shocked to allow the jest. “The last Coming was but-what?-thirty years ago. It’s not the time.”
“It was a little over twenty-nine,” said Cleton, no longer laughing. “But still I think they’ll not harm Durbrecht.”
Pyrdon tore his gaze from the sky and faced us. “How can you be so sure?” he demanded.
His eyes asked Cleton for reassurance. I found his mood communicated to me and realized I hung on Cleton’s answer. He said confidently, “There’s powerful magic in Durbrecht. Remember the Sorcerous College is there, too.”
“And the Sentinels there.” Pyrdon flung an arm to the east. “And they did not halt the Sky Lords.”
“Aye, there’s that.” Cleton faltered a moment, less assured, then said, “But still, the greatest of our mages reside in the College of Durbrecht, and they’ll know by now the airboats approach. Likely the Sentinels were taken by surprise-Durbrecht shall not be.”
Pyrdon mulled this over. I could see that he wanted to accept it. No less did I, and when he nodded I felt relieved, as if his agreement took some weight from me. Then Cleton murmured. “And we’ll find out soon enough. All well, another day should see us there,” and I realized he was far less convinced by his own arguments than he pretended.
I could think of nothing to say.
I was roused from a dream in which I stood immobile on a becalmed galley as the sky above me filled with the Sky Lords’ airboats and a crew of Changed applauded the arrows that rained about me. It was a moment or two before I shook off the sensation of impotent horror and recognized Pyrdon. He said, “Come; look,” and there was such awe in his voice, I sprang immediately to my feet and followed him to the port side of the Seahorse. Cleton was already there, staring intently into the gray-white mist that hung above the water. It was not yet dawn, and the world was lit with the opalescent glow that presages the arrival of the sun. The forward running light cast a red illumination that reminded me of the Kho’rabi balloons. Pyrdon pointed and said, “There.”
I followed the direction of his outflung arm and gasped, for only a short distant off it seemed the skeleton of some vast primordial beast thrust from the channel.
Massive ribs curved upward, thick and black against the glow of the false dawn. The mist was damp and deadened smell, but even so I caught the aftermath of burning, as though a tremendous fire had been not long ago doused. Amongst the ribs I saw dark, solid objects that I did not at first recognize as the bodies of dead men.
Cleton said, “One airboat at least failed to reach Durbrecht.”
His voice was hushed by the enormity of the monolithic wreckage, and I said nothing, only nodded, staring. I wondered how many Kho’rabi knights had that boat carried, most sunk under the weight of their armor, those I could see caught amongst the burning spars of their vessel.
Pyrdon said, “The God be praised.”
I watched the wreckage go by, calculating the length of the airboat against that of the Seahorse. The Sky Lords’ craft was four times, or more, our length.
Cleton said, “I wonder how the others fared.”
“Destroyed like this, the God willing,” said Pyrdon.
I turned to observe the skeleton as it slipped away astern. It was soon lost in the mist, and then the zodiacal light faded and I fetched my cloak from the deck as the morning grew chill.
We none of us felt able to sleep after that awesome sight and stood on the foredeck wrapped in our cloaks as the sky behind us brightened. The sun rose, and before long we came in sight of Durbrecht. I felt my jaw drop.
The Treppanek curved slightly north here, a low headland sheltering a wide bay. Atop the higher ground stood a wall that ran inland to sweep westward in a vast semicircle before returning to the shore. It encompassed all the sprawling city, and at each end there stood a pharos, like an aeldor’s keep in miniature. Penned within these ramparts there stood such a multitude of buildings as dwarfed all the towns I had seen on our journey. Madbry, Ynisvar, and Cambar might all have been set down here and gone unnoticed, so large was this marvelous place. On the riverside there was a harbor, jetties extending out from the long line of the wharf, myriad craft rocking at anchor, the dockside abustle. Farther back, past the docks and warehouses, splendid structures glittered in the early morning sun. I saw wide avenues, the greenery of parks, and spread across the rising flank of the hinterland, three enormous complexes of buildings. One I felt sure must be the College of the Mnemonikos, the others that of the sorcerers and the palace of the city’s commander, the koryphon.
I started as Cleton nudged me and said, “Close your mouth, Daviot. Or would you swallow it all?”
I nodded and smiled, and went on staring. To my left I heard Pyrdon say softly, “In the God’s name, I have never seen its like.”
“Save for Kherbryn, it has no like,” said Cleton, and grinned hugely. “I believe we shall enjoy ourselves here, my friends.”
I nodded again, lost for words, watching rapt as Kerym brought the Seahorse into the wharf and the mooring lines were made fast.
Cleton needed to nudge me again before I shifted from my observation, reminded that I had best secure my gear, which did not take long, so that by the time the gangplank was run out, we all three stood waiting, eager to go ashore.
I halted on the wharf, unsure what we should do next, thinking I should say something to our captain. For all I did not like him, he had surely brought us here safe and swift, even were it less for our sake than the winning of his wager. He resolved that problem readily enough, for he came after us down the gangplank and said, “Well, you’re here and my duty done. I bid you farewell.”
He ducked his head and turned to go, halted by Cleton, who demanded, “What do we do now, captain?”
Kerym frowned with ill grace and said, “Someone from the College will be here soon enough. Wait for him.”
He delayed no longer but waved and walked away, soon lost in the bustling throng. Cleton said, “Doubtless he’s anxious to collect his winnings. Well, no matter, save I’d not stand here like some lost sheep.”
“What else should we do?” asked Pyrdon.
Cleton’s eyes roved over the anchorage, settling on a tavern. “We could find ourselves breakfast,” he suggested.
“Is that a good idea?” Pyrdon shifted nervously from foot to foot. “What if the College sends for us and we’re not here?”
“I imagine we can find our own way to the College,” Cleton said. “Likely we’re early, and not yet expected.”
Pyrdon frowned, clearly ill at ease. Cleton grinned at me and asked, “How say you, Daviot? Do we stand here like goggling bumpkins, or eat and quench our thirst?”
I was tempted, though I was quite happy to study the activity around us, and thought Pyrdon correct in his caution. I mused a moment, then said, “Perhaps it were wiser we remain, Cleton. Likely the College knows of our arrival.”
“I shall stay here,” said Pyrdon firmly.
“Then does someone come for us,” said Cleton, “you can tell them Daviot and I may be found in yon alehouse. Eh, Daviot?”
He grinned a challenge. I looked a moment at the earnest Pyrdon, then at the smiling Cleton, torn between sensible caution and the promise of adventure. Cleton’s cheerful disregard of authority was infectious. I shrugged and said, “I am hungry.”
“Then come on,” Cleton said, and waved an expansive arm, “and I shall buy you breakfast.”