Pirates Of Gohar

Chapter 7

Thrayket IV of Gohar might be a hard man to talk to, but he was also one who kept his promises. After a few days in the villa, Blade began to realize that in fact he was both «guest» and «prisoner.»

The villa had a staff of five-the gray-haired man, the two girls, a cook Blade never saw but who produced delicious meals three times a day, and a gardener who kept up the grounds. They gave him impeccable service, but practically no information about Gohar or even about themselves. The man was a close-mouthed professional servant, the two girls were obviously frightened of talking out of turn, and the gardener was a deaf-mute. Not a natural one, either-his ears had been pierced and his tongue cut out. His silent presence was a useful reminder of the iron hand which might lie inside Thrayket's velvet glove.

The villa stood within an acre of lush garden, and was watched politely but continuously. If Blade took more than a few steps beyond the invisible boundaries of the grounds, Goharan soldiers seemed to spring from the ground or drop from the trees. They were always polite, but they always included archers with bows strung and arrows ready. Even if he'd felt himself in real danger at the villa, Blade would have looked for safer ways of escaping.

Blade felt hemmed in, but he didn't lack company or even information. Of course, all the information was from «official» sources, no more likely to be reliable in Gohar than anywhere else. Most of the Goharans who talked to Blade were intelligent and well-informed, however, and he learned a good deal.

Much of what he learned simply confirmed what he'd been told aboard Blue Swallow. Some of it was new, such as the fact that Gohar was not on the best terms with its daughter city of Mythor, at the southern end of the Sea.

Blade learned this from Prime Minister Kloret, who paid him a call on his fifth day at the villa. The man's appearance surprised Blade. He looked a good deal more like a soldier than a politician-tall, broad, hard-muscled, with a short stabbing sword on a belt over his silky-yellow robes and a long scar along his exposed left arm. In fact, if you added about thirty pounds and a beard, Prime Minister Kloret would look like Prince Harkrat's brother.

After the initial exchange of polite greetings and compliments, Kloret got down to business. The people of Mythor had developed a foolish resentment against the rule of Gohar, he said. This resentment had been festering like a boil for nearly a century, but the wise and moderate rule of Thrayket kept matters from coming to a head.

«This I can believe,» said Blade. «The justice of a ruler like Thrayket would soothe the temper of a wild bear.»

«Bear?»

«A forest-dwelling flesh-eater from England.» Blade gave a vivid description of a grizzly on the rampage. «We hunt them for sport.»

Kloret seemed impressed. «We have nothing like this in any land we know.»

«The world is large,» said Blade with a shrug. «No doubt my England is not only a thousand years in your future, but in another part of the world.»

«No doubt.» This time the Prime Minister seemed polite rather than impressed. He continued with his recital of grievances against Mythor. «But the years gather thick upon Thrayket. In time he must pass to his fathers. I pray that this day will not come upon us soon, but it will come.»

«I join in those prayers,» said Blade. That was both polite and true. He suspected Thrayket's death would cause a crisis in Gohar, and he'd rather not be caught in the middle of it. He also suspected that Kloret was hoping for such a crisis, for reasons of his own.

«There is not the same trust in Harkrat that there is in his father,» said Kloret. «No doubt this will pass when people see his wisdom and justice, but much mischief may be done before then.» He looked as if he expected Blade's agreement, so Blade nodded. «Indeed, some evil men in Mythor are already playing upon this distrust of Harkrat. They wish to persuade their fellow citizens to revolt against the rule of Gohar, to make Mythor an independent city.»

«That seems foolish of them,» said Blade. «The two cities must stand together against the Pirate Folk and the Maghri.»

The Maghri were a race of barbaric horsemen who lived to the southeast of Mythor, and occasionally raided its frontiers.

«You and I see as one,» said Kloret, with a smile that just missed being disgustingly smug.

I doubt that, thought Blade. But I don't know exactly what lies you're tell me. For the moment, it's safer to agree.

«Now,» said Kloret. «I will not ask you to thrust yourself into our affairs. You could do no good, and put yourself in danger. But I would ask that you tell me, from your knowledge of what is to come-does Mythor revolt or not?»

Blade had seen the question coming. He threw his answer back at Kloret almost before the man stopped talking.

«I cannot tell you enough to do you any good,» he said with a regretful smile. «You know how confused and twisted are the tales of Gohar and its time, which have survived to the time of England. Mythor is not even mentioned. There are tales of revolts of one city against another, some successful, some not. Perhaps one of these tales refers to Gohar and Mythor, but not all the Historians of England together could tell which one.» Blade now hardened both his face and his tone of voice. «Also-even if I knew, I would not tell you.»

Kloret didn't draw his sword, but the expression on his face made Blade wonder why not. He went on. «You might use the knowledge to change the course of history. We are not allowed to say or do anything which could cause that.»

«Yet you are allowed to tell us that you come from the future. Isn't that information itself enough to change our actions?»

There were several possible answers to that question. Blade chose the one he hoped would most quickly end the conversation. He wanted to learn as much about Kloret as he could, but not at the risk of making an enemy of the man this soon.

«Our first Historians weren't even allowed to say who they were,» he said. «We feared exactly what you've just described. Some of our people fell among races less civilized than the Goharans. They died by torture to keep their secret.»

«Honor to their memories,» said Kloret. At least he was still ready to be polite.

«Yes. In time a few of our people let the secret slip-and nothing happened. The Historians began to understand that time is so solidly rooted that no small force can affect it. Time is like one of those mountains north of the city. An earthquake can shake it and change it, but one man or even a hundred men kicking it aren't even noticed.»

Kloret laughed. It wasn't a particularly pleasant laugh. «And telling me what happens to Mythor would be like an earthquake?»

«It probably would be. I certainly can't afford to take the risk.»

«We could put the truth of your tale to a rigorous testing. I trust you know this, Blade.»

«I do. I trust you also know that this would do you no good. Remember the other Historians who died rather than reveal the great secrets.

«If I died, other Historians might come to Gohar and learn of my fate. They might take vengeance, and certainly they would blacken your name for all time.

«If I didn't die, I would return to England with the tale that the men of Gohar are cruel and treacherous. Do you want to replace the legends in our books with that sort of fact?»

«No.»

«Good. I also suggest that you not repeat this sort of threat. I understand that you made it out of your great concern for the future of Gohar, and I do not call you an enemy because of it. But if you talk to me this way again, I shall have to speak to His Radiance about it.» Blade knew that Kloret's response would tell him something about how much real power Thrayket still held.

Apparently the Emperor's name still carried a good deal of weight. Kloret sighed. «No, Blade. There is no need to speak to the Emperor about this. I shall not raise the matter again. But-I am glad that at least you understand why I did it.» He seemed to be almost pleading for a sympathy Blade wasn't prepared to show.

«Good,» said Blade again. Then they talked politely of the weather and compared Gohar's wines with those of Blade's own time. After a few minutes of this face-saving conversation, the Prime Minister turned to leave.

Blade watched him go, once again aware of the strong resemblance between the Prime Minister and the heir to the throne of Gohar. It was hard to believe that no one had noticed it, but certainly no one had mentioned it in Blade's hearing. Was there some ancient scandal here, ranking as a state secret to be kept from the ears of the man from the future? Quite possibly.

It also seemed quite possible to Blade that he'd made an enemy of Kloret. However, he seemed the kind of man it was safer to have as an open enemy than a false friend who might knife you when you weren't looking. In any case, if the Emperor was still ruler in fact as well as in name, that might be enough protection.

If not, there was always Mythor. If Kloret was telling the truth, the people there might be glad to hide a man who needed to stay away from the rulers of Gohar. But was Kloret telling the truth?

The other people allowed to see Blade during his thirty days in the villa didn't help him answer that question. They mentioned Mythor freely, but only when it was a question of trade or history. The question of a rebellion might not just be Kloret's imagination, but it very well could be another state secret to be kept from Blade.

After a while, talking with the people who had a «security clearance» became amusing, and then boring. Blade's position as a man who could carry news back to the future helped keep him safe. It also helped make sure that most of the people who came to see him wanted to make sure the English Historians knew their names, deeds, and virtues. They didn't seem to care whether they'd held any important position or done anything noteworthy. All they wanted was Blade on their side, and some of them weren't particularly subtle. While under the Emperor's protection, Blade could not easily be threatened. So people tried bribery.

Blade found himself being offered women and girls, men and boys, gold and silver, jewels, spices, wine, drugs, and every other imaginable form of wealth or pleasure. He began to feel like a politician surrounded by all the special-interest groups in the world at once. At times he thought of taking up one or two of the more outrageous offers, just to see if the people would deliver. More often, he began to wonder if he'd made the right choice in calling himself a man from the future. Being dragged into Gohar's religious politics might have been easier and perhaps even safer.

Prince Harkrat visited twice. Those visits were a positive relief to Blade, even though his shoulders and back were bruised and aching afterward from the prince's bear hugs and bear slaps. The prince was happy to talk to Blade as one warrior to another without worrying about what the English would know of him a thousand years from now.

The first time, they talked of nothing but women, wine, and war. Blade gave an edited description of warfare in the twentieth century, and explained that he couldn't tell anymore without breaking the Historians' laws.

«Of course, of course,» said Harkrat cheerfully. «Don't worry about that. We're a long way from knowing the magic needed for those chariots without horses and those ships without rowers or sails. If it isn't known in Gohar it isn't known anywhere in our time. So even if we could build the chariots and ships, we wouldn't need them. Don't worry, Blade. Your English secrets are safe, and you'll have my word on that if anyone argues.»

On the prince's second visit, the talk was more formal, because Harkrat brought his wife Elyana.

«Only one wife, you understand,» Harkrat said. He seemed slightly ashamed, as if Blade might question his virility for not having the six wives Goharan law permitted him. «My father insisted.»

Thrayket was wise. Given free rein, someone as full-blooded as Harkrat might sow enough children across Gohar to hopelessly confuse the succession and breed civil war.

Elyana was tall for a Goharan woman, nearly reaching her husband's shoulder. She was dark, with a plump, almost plain face but a truly magnificent figure draped to advantage in a heavily embroidered robe of silk-like tissue with a pearl-studded belt and sandals. She was also obviously intelligent and alert, with a quick, even sharp tongue-and not held back from using it by her husband. This was something of a surprise to Blade, since even among the highest nobility Goharan women were given little freedom and less education.

Elyana began the conversation with a question about books in Blade's England, and kept things moving after that. Within a few minutes, Harkrat was leaning back in his chair, trying not to look too obviously bored. He had the easily recognizable expression of the husband who knows little and cares less about what his wife is discussing.

With a fine sense of tact and timing, Elyana changed the topic just as her husband showed signs of real impatience. Now both prince and princess talked of the feast they'd give for Blade when the thirty days came to an end.

«Don't know what my father's thinking,» Harkrat said. «I never have, I probably never will. He doesn't talk much. But we'll have the feast no matter what he does. Either we'll welcome you among us, or send you back to England in a good mood. That's all I'm going to do to get on your good side, in spite of what all those other damned fools are offering.»

«You've heard some of the things I've been offered?»

«Of course. I'd have to be deaf not to, considering how some of them have talked, and cursed you for being-whatever you are.»

«Perhaps he's just incorruptible,» said Elyana, smiling.

Harkrat rumbled with laughter. «He's not human if he is.»

«You may be right, but I could hope you're wrong,» she said. «And who knows? Things may be so arranged in England that an honest man can rise high.» She didn't smile as she said this, and both Blade and her husband noticed it. There was a moment's silence, then Harkrat put an affectionate arm around his wife.

«Lovely one, I believe in a lot of things, including-«Here he listed several parts of Elyana's body, so that she blushed and feebly tried to pull away from him. «But not even HemiGohar can make a world where honest men can prosper in a palace. So I'll go on believing that Blade's got something hidden in his boot. I do believe that it's nothing dangerous to us, though. Fair enough?»

«Oh, I agree with you,» said Elyana. Her smile was back, but only Blade noticed that it was pasted on like a fashion model's. Then prince and princess rose, and Elyana held out a hand to Blade. As etiquette required, he kissed his fingertips, then pressed them to the palm of her hand.

«Until we meet again.»