"Here," said Erlaan. Ullsaard opened his eyes to find the prince standing over him with a jug of water and a cup. He sat up and took them with a nod of thanks.
"Now I remember why Askhos forbade hard drink in the legions," Ullsaard said with a grimace. He downed two cups of water swiftly and emptied the remaining contents of the jug over his head with a gasp.
"Thank Noran, it was his idea," said Erlaan, sitting down next to Ullsaard. "He was throwing up over the stern when I last saw him and was begging for some water. I thought you might appreciate some as well."
"You don't approve of drinking?"
"Nothing wrong with indulging now and then," Erlaan said with a shrug and a grin. "I know I've not had much experience of life, but I've had a few wine-filled evenings. I've learnt that they're best reserved for when one has nothing to do for several days after."
"True, too true," said Ullsaard. He studied the prince and scratched a bearded cheek. "I got into something of an argument with your great-uncle."
"You were drunk?"
"No such excuse. No, he just annoyed me."
"I wouldn't worry too much about that, he annoys everybody. I'm pretty sure he and my grandfather used to have fights all of the time. I don't think he's ever got over the sad fact of his birth."
Ullsaard raised himself to one elbow.
"What do you mean?"
"Second-born of the Blood," explained Erlaan. "As soon as my father was born he was next in line, meaning Nemtun was not going to become king. I think that's why he couldn't stand to stay in Askh and decided to lead the legions duskwards."
"I hadn't considered that," said Ullsaard. "Must be hard knowing that you're never going to be at the top no matter what you do." "You seem to handle it without any problem." "What? I'm not of the Blood."
"Which means that you'll never be king, either. It's not a problem for you, why should it be a problem for Nemtun? And Uncle Aalun is very supportive of my father. He doesn't seem to be jealous."
"Maybe you're right. Maybe it is just jealousy." Ullsaard saw small wooden houses crowding the banks of the river, fishing boats bobbing up and down on their moorings outside. The Greenwater was even wider here and barely a sound could be heard from the banks. His head throbbed again, the previous night's drinking not quite ready to free him of its effects.
"Believe me, it is jealousy," said Erlaan. "Askhos was always careful never to give his followers any reason to doubt the right of the Blood to rule. My father has always told me that although being of the Blood gives us the right to rule, the reputation of the Blood depends upon all of us to rule with dignity and fairness. It is not only a privilege, but also an honour that needs to be lived up to."
"One that I am sure you will," said Ullsaard, guessing that Erlaan was worrying again about his inheritance. It would be better to change the subject than listen to more of the prince's self-indulgent woes. Unfortunately, Ullsaard couldn't think of anything Erlaan wouldn't complain about.
"I should leave you to recover in peace," said Erlaan, mistaking Ullsaard's silence. The general affected a grateful smile and lay back with his eyes closed. Erlaan's footsteps receded across the deck and Ullsaard drifted again into sleep.
VII
They sailed past the slate-roofed buildings of Paalun and continued upriver, the mountains of Nalanor and Askhor growing larger every day. The vine terraces and grassy meadows of Okhar gave way to Nalanor's crop-rich fields, swathes of gold and green as far as the eye could see. Here the Greenwater narrowed, the current growing stronger. The wind kept strong across the flat plains of Nalanor, but every dusk and dawn it stilled and the sailors brought out the oars for a watch to keep the ship at its steady pace.
The tedium of the voyage gnawed at Ullsaard and he became irritable. Without the needs of command to distract him with its everyday inconveniences, the general realised just how repetitive life could become. There were no disciplinary matters to oversee, no provisioning requests, no scouting parties to send or officers to instruct. Every few days, Ullsaard ordered the captain to put into the bank to allow the ailurs some exercise. Ullsaard, Noran and Erlaan would ride along the bank, easily keeping time with the ship, and board again in the evening. The general enjoyed these short excursions, and listened patiently to Noran's exploits in Askh or Erlaan's hopes for quickly finding some suitable wives. He let their babble wash over him, paying just enough attention to answer the occasional question or respond with suitable comment when it was required.
The Greenwater curved dawnwards towards the Askhor Mountains and the banks grew steeper, reed beds giving way to chalky cliffs cut with zigzagging paths. River traffic grew with each day they came closer to Nalanor's capital, Parmia. The grey city dominated the hills to coldward of the river, across five mounts that dropped steeply to the shores of Lake Parmia. The Greenwater disappeared into the inland sea and the wind died, broken up by the surrounding ring of hills. The crew bent their backs to the sweeps for five watches out of eight, as the steersman guided the galley around other ships and the low, tree-filled islands that broke the lake's surface.
The ship stopped in Parmia for two days while the captain exchanged some of his cargo for Nalanorian goods. Ullsaard and Noran had no desire to repeat the fiasco of Geria and stayed on board lest Governor Adral became aware of their presence. They left the city without incident and carried on dawnwards along the Greenwater, every day bringing them closer to the docks at Narun and the border of Askhor.
Narun
Summer, 208th Year of Askh
I
Though it lacked the general splendour of Askh and could not compete with the sheer size of the Askhor Wall, Narun was perhaps the greatest achievement of the Askhan Empire, at least in Ullsaard's mind. Just hotwards of the sprawling docks the Greenwater ceased to be a river; for three miles the river broke into a dozen channels created by a series of lock gates and dams. Each channel was divided and divided again into a criss-cross of canals and aqueducts, creating a huge gridded area of waterways, wharfs and dry docks.
Teams of abada trudged in circles around capstans to open lock gates or pump water along the aqueducts. Thick-beamed cranes — more than ten times as many as were found in Geria — loomed over the still waters, more beasts of burden chained and roped to the sprawling network of pulleys and levers. Swarms of dockhands busied themselves on the ships' decks and wooden quays, loading and unloading, a constant stream of wagons and handcarts arriving and leaving with the goods of the empire. A stepped hill had been built to duskward, rising in twenty levels reached by winding ramps, each tier filled with cavernous warehouses.
Along the waterside overseers cajoled and bullied their teams with cudgels and curses, warning off rivals with hoarse shouts. They haggled unloading fees with ships' masters as they passed and called out to Ullsaard's ship to make dock at their quay. Pilots sat in boats on the water, offering their services to captains unfamiliar with the maze-like harbour.