Siristrou, son of Balko, son of Mereth of the Two Lakes, High Councillor of His Ascendant Majesty King Luin of Zakalon, glanced through the unfinished letter, gave it to his servant to pack with the rest of the baggage and made his way out of the tent to where the horses were picketed in a patch of scrub. Heaven only knew how or when the letter would get delivered anyway. It would, however, look well to have kept a fairly continuous record, as showing that he had the king and his interest constantly in mind. He had allowed himself a mention of the nasty drinking-water, though saying nothing of his disordered stomach and of the flux which he daily feared might turn to dysentery. A discreet suggestion of hardship would be more telling than too much detail. He would not mention his blood-blisters: and still less the nervous anxiety that grew upon him the further they travelled from Zakalon towards the unknown country on the other side of the river. Knowing the king's own hopes, he had taken care to express confidence in the prospects for trade. Indeed, these now seemed reasonable, and even if they turned out otherwise it would do no harm to have seemed initially hopeful of better things. In his heart, however, he wished that the king had not selected him to lead this expedition. He was no man of action. He had been surprised to be chosen and, disguising his misgivings as modesty, had enquired the reason.
'Oh, we need a detached, prudent man, Siristrou,' the king had answered, laying a hand on his arm and walking him down the length of the long gallery that overlooked the beautiful Terrace of the Bees. 'The last thing I want is to send some quarrelsome soldier or greedy young adventurer on the make, who'd only upset these strangers by trying to grab all he could for himself. That would be the way to get bad blood at the outset. I want to send a learned man with no craving for personal gain, someone who can make a detached assessment and bring back the truth. Do that, and I assure you that you won't be a loser by me. Those people, of whatever kind they are – things ought to be handled so that they can trust and respect us. By the Cat, they've sent far enough to find us! I don't want to see them merely exploited.'
And so, to the murmur of the bees in the golden rod, he had accepted his appointment.
Well, that was fair enough; and to give him his due, Luin was a man of just and sound judgment – if you like, a good king. The trouble lay, as usual, in giving practical effect to his excellent ideas. When it came to the point, quarrelsome soldiers and greedy young adventurers on the make would have been so much better at crossing wildernesses and deserts and would have felt so much less afraid than a detached, prudent councillor of forty-eight, a schoolman with a taste for metaphysics and the study of ethics. There'd be precious little in that line where he was going. The manners and customs of half-civilized peoples had a certain interest, to be sure, but this was ground which he had covered quite sufficiently as a younger man. Now, he was primarily a teacher, a student of the writings of the sages, perhaps even shaping to be a sage himself – if he survived. It was all very well for the king to say that he would not be a loser. He did not really need anything which the king had to give. Luin, however, was not a man whom one disobliged and it would not have been safe to thwart his wishes by refusal or even by seeming too hesitant.
'I don't so much mind being cut to pieces by barbarians,' he said aloud, slashing with his whip at a thorn-bush, 'I do object to being bored1 (slash),' wearied'' (slash), 'condemned to tedium' (slash) -
'Sir?' said his groom, appearing from the picket-lines. 'Did you call?'
'No, no,' said Siristrou hastily, feeling self-conscious as he always did when caught talking to himself. 'No, no. I was just coming to see whether you're ready to start, Thyval. We're supposed to reach the crossing today, as I think I told you. I don't know how far it is, but I should prefer to reach the other side in daylight, so that we can get some idea of the place before darkness sets in.'
'Yes, sir, I reckon that's sense right enough. The lads are just getting their things together now. How about the mare, sir? Lead her with the mules?'
'You'll have to, if she's still lame,' answered Siristrou. 'Come and tell me as soon as you're ready.'
In fact they reached the east bank a little before noon, after no more than five hours' march. Upon setting out, they had at first struck almost due north, turning away altogether from the pools and flashes marking the southern confines of the desert and filling the broad, treacherous flat which comprised the shore of the river beyond. Tan-Rion, after struggling to be understood, at length took a stick and drew a plan on the ground. Pointing first to this and then south-westward over the sand, he managed to convey to Siristrou and his companions that in that direction the river made a great bend, so that its course half-encircled them, lying not only to the south but also to the west of where they now stood. Some way above the bend on his plan he scratched a line to represent their intended crossing; and once more pointed, this time north-westward, to show the direction in which it lay.
In these parts spring had not yet turned to summer, but nevertheless the day soon grew hot and the wind freshened enough to blow the sand about unpleasantly. Siristrou, trudging beside the lame mare, dropped his head, half-closed his eyes and, as the sand gritted between his teeth, tried to think about his metaphysics pupils in Zakalon. One had to count one's blessings. At least there was no lack of tepid water to wash the sand down. Tan-Rion was in excellent spirits at the prospect of return and led his men in singing Yeldashay songs. It was good, boisterous stuff, but hardly music to Siristrou's taste.
Suddenly he was aware – and felt pleased to have been the first to see them, for his eyes were not all they had been – of distant figures on the sand. He stopped and looked ahead more intently. The country, though still desert, was no longer flat. There were slopes and long, steep dunes, speckled with the shadows of the white stones lying on them, motionless and timeless in the sun as only desert hills can appear. At a point to the left was a cluster of huts – a kind of shanty town, raw and new in appearance; and it was here that the moving figures could be seen. Beyond, the ground fell away invisibly and there seemed to be a kind of reflected glitter in the air. Through the still-more-distant horizon-haze – and he screwed up his eyes, but could see no better – there loomed a greenness which might be forest.
An hour later they halted on the left bank of the river and looked across to the town on the western side which Tan-Rion called Zeray. About them gathered a wonder-struck crowd of soldiers and Deelguy peasants, inhabitants of the shanty town and labour-force of the ferry on this bank. All evidently realized that these strangers had in truth come from a distant, unknown country, brought back by Tan-Rion, whom they had seen set out three months before. The shrill jabbering grew, and the shoving, and the pointing, and the exclamations of astonishment as it was grasped that the long-nosed beasts wore man-made harness and were obedient to men, like oxen.
Siristrou, determined to show no nervousness in the close-pressing hubbub, not one word of which he could understand, stood silently beside his horse's head, ignoring everything until Tan-Rion, approaching, requested him to follow and began literally beating his way through the crowd with the flat of his scabbard. They scattered, laughing and gabbling, like children, in a fear that was half pretence and half real, and then fell in behind the newcomers, dancing and chanting as Tan-Rion led the way to a larger hut which did duty for the Deelguy officers' quarters. He gave a single bang on the door and strode inside. Siristrou heard him shout a name and then, himself wishing to show detachment as the crowd once more closed round him, turned to gaze across the river at the town on the other side.