Читать книгу The Heavenly Lord’s Ambassador. A Kingdom Like No Other. Book 1 - Андрей Кочетков - Страница 12

The road to wild Lumdyrbag plains turned out to be less difficult than the friends had expected. They started out by sailing down the Fela on a comfortable quadridera. River transportation in the Empire had long been established and widely used. All the way to the delta, both banks were settled densely with towns, villages and farmers’ carefully tended fields. As they approached Samran, the capital of the province of Iristenia, the banks grew wilder and more overgrown, and the river began to divide its waters into a multitude of tributaries. In the old times, bands of criminals and other outcasts had hidden entire villages here in the thick canebrakes, away from the eyes of imperial authorities. Now, the criminals owned lovely estates with elaborate staircases leading to their second-floor entrances, as was the local architectural tradition, and the descendants of the outcasts had given up their rebellious traditions and lazily gathered harvests of peaches and figs growing in the gardens of the delta’s new aristocracy.

Leaning against the ship’s side, Sorgius was rambling on about the Iristenian clans that were losing influence because of the arrogance of their leaders and their inflexibility in even the smallest matters, but Vordius was not really listening to him. He and Fenia were both standing on tiptoe and looking to the north. Their noses picked up the salty air of the Sea of Dragons wafting over the yellow houses of the city.

According to the history books, the sea got its name during the era of the Twelve Kingdoms because of the giant cheley fish – brightly colored sea monsters with huge, poisonous dorsal fins that inhabited it. The clever fishermen who managed to catch the scary-looking fish passed them off for enormous sums of money by claiming that they were sea dragons. Demand for the exotic fish eventually led to their extinction, except perhaps in the deepest part of the sea, but the name “Sea of Dragons” stuck. Some people still called it the Northern Waters, but unlike the Southern Waters (the Misty Sea), the Sea of Dragons was rarely crossed by bloated merchants, and the only military ships in the area were limited to a dozen patrol liburns – small fry by the standards of any real navy. The Sea of Dragons was isolated from the Great Ocean, and its shores were inhabited by barbarian peoples who rarely came to the attention of the Empire: Anshary in the west, who had lived there even before the arrival of the Torgs, Markutan in the north and Sotrays in the east. The southern coast and Untrasun, the only large island in the sea (which housed one of the Emperor’s most beautiful – and least visited – residences) belonged to Herandia. However, the guardsman and his friends were headed in an entirely different direction. Turning course to the east from Samran, the unwieldy merchant ship slowly bobbed up and down over the lazy waves, causing Sorgius to hang his head over the side from time to time.

“He’s not much of a merchant!” Fenia wrinkled her nose. She preferred to stand in front of the mast with her face to the wind. It whipped her red hair in all directions, but she did not even notice. The sailor whose job it was to keep an eye out for reefs and shallows hung around behind her. For some strange reason, he couldn’t get up the nerve to make her move.

“The sea is beautiful!” Vordius exclaimed in the voice of a false romantic. He pushed aside the sailor and took his place behind Fenia, standing so close that the top of her head hit his chin every time the boat rolled. “Is this your first time on a ship?”

“Yes,” Fenia answered dryly, closing her eyes.

“Look, a dolphin!” Vordius pressed on. Bending forward, he leaned against the nose of the ship, nearly crushing poor Fenia.

“Where?” she shouted, almost jumping for joy.

Vordius cursed and rubbed his nose.

“I’m sorry, did I get you with my head?” the young woman asked remorsefully.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, smiling to show that all was forgiven.

“Then move over. I’m going to go check on our Vuravian. He may need something,” she said and flitted away.

Vordius shook his dark curls. “Go ahead. Good riddance!”

Just then, the little sailor – who had finally regained his rightful spot – gave a shout. Vordius turned and saw the captain running forward.

“What’s he yelling about?”

“What do you mean?” the captain replied. “It’s Urbiv. We’ve arrived at our destination, Enel officer.”

“Is that possible?” Vordius was doubtful. “We’ve been at sea for less than a week.” He turned and examined the coastline. “Where is the dock?” There was none. The port was nothing but a few sad buildings sitting lopsided on a low beach.

“How will we moor?”

The captain shrugged. “It’s shallow here.”

“You mean we have to jump into the water?”

He heard a sigh in response. “That’s what we do.”

“Like a bunch of pirates.”

“I don’t know about that,” the captain said, eyes wide. “I’ve never seen any.”

“Lower the rowboat!”

“It’s full of holes.”

It was useless to argue. Irate, Vordius turned and made his way to the improvised tent at the stern to give his companions the news. To his great surprise, they took it philosophically. Fenia just chuckled at the thought of swimming to shore, and Sorgius was so seasick that he didn’t care.

When they looked over the side of the ship, they saw that the water was truly shallow enough for them to walk. The captain had skillfully brought the ship alongside a sandbar that acted as a natural jetty.

“Take him first,” said Fenia when the guardsman attempted to give her a hand. Muttering, Vordius threw Sorgius over his shoulder and carried him to shore like a nomad with a stolen bride.

“Don’t jostle me like that or I’ll throw up again!” Sorgius moaned. “I can’t stand the sight of all this water!”

Vordius stopped and turned his friend around, now carrying him like a bride who had agreed to the arrangement.

“How sweet!” Fenia waved from her perch riding piggy-back on the captain’s back. “Don’t forget to invite me to the wedding!”

Without a word, Vordius dropped Sorgius in the water and stomped off toward the shore.

The Vuravian stood up shakily and, rubbing his hip, shuffled after them.

“Don’t be offended. He’s just jealous,” said Fenia with a chuckle.

They received a less than hospitable welcome. Instead of a guard post or even a duty officer, they found a handful of men sitting between ramshackle buildings on the shore. The men were tied to each other with clumsily made wooden hobbles and were trying just as clumsily to get a fire going. A sheep bleated from inside a building somewhere nearby, and the air was heavy with the awful odor of animal skins.

“What is all this?” Vordius asked edgily.

One of the men seated on the ground looked up at the newcomers and slowly removed the wooden yoke from his neck. Then he stuck a piece of dried grass in his dirty mouth and began picking his teeth.

“What nonsense!” Vordius shook his head.

“Agreed,” Fenia declared. “The men are sitting on the ground while the sheep are inside.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Vordius said stiffly, trying to avoid the girl’s eyes.

“Slavery is against the law in the Empire,” Sorgius commented.

“Where did you read that, you silly man!” Fenia put a hand over her mouth, but they still heard her giggle.

“I’ll figure out what’s going on here,” Vordius muttered. He began to pick his way around the men seated on the ground. “No guards!” he said, as he watched where he put his feet.

“Why bother with guards?” asked Sorgius, who was skipping along to keep up with him. His seasickness had disappeared as quickly as it had come. “They can’t escape, what with the sea on one side and the wasteland on the other…”

Eventually, they found the guards house. They would have mistaken it for a stable if it hadn’t been for the symbol of the sun over the door.

“Anyone here?” Vordius called out as he bent over to enter the low door. He heard nothing but silence. After a while, their eyes got used to the dark and they saw a body sprawled lifelessly on a desk, covered with a blanket. Shaking his head, Vordius strode over and kicked the desk, which had had its legs shortened.

“Stand at attention and state your name!” he shouted.

Startled, Fenia grabbed Sorgius’ shoulder tightly with her fingernails.

“Ouch!” he whispered without taking his eyes off the show.

The body on the desk began to move slowly, like thick oil in a jug when it is carried, and eventually it sat up.

“Who’s here?” came the question in broken Herandian.

“Imperial inspector tencor Vordius Onato. With my entourage.”

“Oh my!” the body became somewhat animated. “Your papers, please.”

The civil servant opened Vordius’ papers and, without introducing himself, began to run his eyes over the mandate and the travel certificate.

“I wonder if he knows how to read?” Sorgius whispered to Fenia. “He looks to be at least half Sotray.”

“Looks good,” the man stated.

The man had a narrow face, like all Sotrays, but his nose fell short and its color indicated that he was a heavy drinker. Looking over his left shoulder, he said something in his own language. There was no response. Groaning, he stood up and hobbled through a doorway behind the desk and called out again.

This time, something happened. A skinny, dark-haired young man with a thin moustache and angry eyes appeared. The companions couldn’t exactly see his eyes in the half-dark, but they felt the electrical charge that entered the room with him, like a string about to pop.

“Follow him” the first man waved them away and lay back down on the desk.

“But what about…” Vordius tried to object, but he realized that the man had already reached the extent of his communication ability and his official powers. “Fine,” he drawled, and gestured for his friends to follow along with him.

The young man had left the building and was walking away from the sea, toward the wasteland. He paid no attention whatsoever to his Herandian guests.

“Hey! We need horses!” Sorgius cried, to no effect.

“Maybe he doesn’t speak Herandian? Fenia proposed. “We need to get our things. The sailors won’t guard them forever!”

The young Sotray turned suddenly. “Then go get them!” he barked.

“I can’t believe this!” Sorgius stared.

Vordius scowled and put a hand on his sword. “Stop right there!” he called out, quickening his pace.

The Sotray turned again and stared at him. Vordius was flabbergasted. He had never seen an underling behave this way before.

“Where do you get off being rude to us?” he said finally. “I’m an officer in the Imperial Guards.”

The Sotray stared him down and spat at his boots. “So what? You have a woman with you. Why do you want a free angyrs to carry your bags? I’m not a donkey.”

Vordius pulled himself up to his full height and boxed the man on the ear so hard that he flew back several paces.

“You have some nerve!” he growled, breathing heavily and trying not to show it. “No discipline whatsoever!”

The young Sotray had more surprises in store. Jumping up and shaking his head, he gave a guttural yell, grabbed a long dagger from his belt, and leaped at Vordius before the guardsman could draw his sword.

Sorgius let out a despairing wail – he was sure his friend would fall in the next instant with an awful stomach wound, followed rapidly by his own death.

But once again, fate showed them all that it could juggle their lives indefinitely. The Sotray, his hand raised to strike, stumbled – although there was nothing he could have stumbled over – and fell face-first at their feet. Vordius finally drew his sword, but it was unnecessary: a brand-new arrow protruded from between the shoulder blades of the discourteous son of the wilderness.