island, you know,’ he said to Xivu and Caxa, ‘with neighbours of yours. From across the ocean. Well, originally, that’s where their fathers came from, and it’s said that Kirike himself brought them here. We call them the Ice Folk. Maybe you’ll know some of them.’
‘Father,’ Deri said patiently, ‘they’re hardly likely to know one another. The Ice Folk come from the Land of the Sky Wolf, which is many days’ sailing north of the Jaguar country. These are whole continents we’re talking about.’
‘Oh, pick, pick, pick, you’re just like Vala. I’ll take you up country,’ Medoc said to Xivu. ‘Before you have to go on to Etxelur. I’ll show you the Ice Folk – our forests of birch and pine – it is a beautiful island, surprisingly rich. We could set off right now, if you like—’
‘Oh, no, you couldn’t,’ Vala snapped. Still cradling her bowl of spiced meat, she put her free arm around Caxa. ‘You come with me. I’m sure you’d like to change those brine-stained clothes; I know just what salty leather against your skin feels like. Mi! Come and see if you’ve got some clothes this little one can borrow. Would you like something to eat? Other than fish, I mean . . .’
Deri followed, then Xivu, and at last Tibo.
‘Tomorrow for the walk, then,’ boomed Medoc, oblivious to the fact that everybody was ignoring him, and he trailed into the house after the others.
14
It took only a few days’ sailing before Qirum’s boat reached the mouth of a river called the Na by the local people, and thus recorded in his periplus. This was the southern shore of the western country called Gaira. They arrived on the afternoon of a warm early summer day.
They came to a fishing village sprawled untidily along a rocky strand. The shore above the waterline was cluttered with overturned boats, and small squat wooden houses, racks of drying fish, a big open-air hearth that smoked languidly. Beyond the beach, forest rose up, dense. More boats were out on the deeper ocean, to the south.
A child playing in the surf at the water’s edge was the first to spot their sail. Naked, no more than four or five years old, she ran up the beach to the houses, calling out. Soon adults emerged to watch Praxo’s crew furl their sail and row in towards the shore. One man came down to the water where they would land, but others hung back.
‘Take care,’ Praxo said to the rowers. ‘Let me do the talking. I can speak the local jabber, a bit of it anyway. See how they’re hanging back from the shore? See that mother gathering in her children? We’ve come a long way west, and these parts aren’t as infested by sea raiders as back east, but they have their problems, and they’re wary. By the way, this isn’t Troy. You can’t assume that every woman you meet is a whore. You’ll get your share in time, have no fear, lads. But not yet.’
The ship pulled into the shore, and they all jumped out at Qirum’s command, Kilushepa included, splashing in knee-deep surf. The men lined up and hauled the ship until its flat base scraped over the beach. Then they relaxed, panting, and reached for their water flasks.
The man who’d come to meet them stood before Qirum and Praxo. He was young, under twenty, and he wore a tunic of coarsely spun linen, a short cow-hide cloak, and boots covered in fish scales. He was dark, his face round, his hair black. He tapped his chest. ‘Vertix,’ he said. ‘Vertix.’ He spoke on in his own coarse tongue, but there was Greek, Egyptian and even Hatti in the mix, Qirum could tell. ‘Show? Show way? Food, water? Guide?’
Praxo started to negotiate with the man. Kilushepa stood with Qirum. ‘What does this fellow want with us? Can you understand any of what he’s saying?’
‘He’s asking to be taken on as a guide. A navigator.’ He pointed up the river valley, which narrowed as you looked inland, cutting through a forested landscape. ‘We’re going across land. Otherwise
‘Father,’ Deri said patiently, ‘they’re hardly likely to know one another. The Ice Folk come from the Land of the Sky Wolf, which is many days’ sailing north of the Jaguar country. These are whole continents we’re talking about.’
‘Oh, pick, pick, pick, you’re just like Vala. I’ll take you up country,’ Medoc said to Xivu. ‘Before you have to go on to Etxelur. I’ll show you the Ice Folk – our forests of birch and pine – it is a beautiful island, surprisingly rich. We could set off right now, if you like—’
‘Oh, no, you couldn’t,’ Vala snapped. Still cradling her bowl of spiced meat, she put her free arm around Caxa. ‘You come with me. I’m sure you’d like to change those brine-stained clothes; I know just what salty leather against your skin feels like. Mi! Come and see if you’ve got some clothes this little one can borrow. Would you like something to eat? Other than fish, I mean . . .’
Deri followed, then Xivu, and at last Tibo.
‘Tomorrow for the walk, then,’ boomed Medoc, oblivious to the fact that everybody was ignoring him, and he trailed into the house after the others.
14
It took only a few days’ sailing before Qirum’s boat reached the mouth of a river called the Na by the local people, and thus recorded in his periplus. This was the southern shore of the western country called Gaira. They arrived on the afternoon of a warm early summer day.
They came to a fishing village sprawled untidily along a rocky strand. The shore above the waterline was cluttered with overturned boats, and small squat wooden houses, racks of drying fish, a big open-air hearth that smoked languidly. Beyond the beach, forest rose up, dense. More boats were out on the deeper ocean, to the south.
A child playing in the surf at the water’s edge was the first to spot their sail. Naked, no more than four or five years old, she ran up the beach to the houses, calling out. Soon adults emerged to watch Praxo’s crew furl their sail and row in towards the shore. One man came down to the water where they would land, but others hung back.
‘Take care,’ Praxo said to the rowers. ‘Let me do the talking. I can speak the local jabber, a bit of it anyway. See how they’re hanging back from the shore? See that mother gathering in her children? We’ve come a long way west, and these parts aren’t as infested by sea raiders as back east, but they have their problems, and they’re wary. By the way, this isn’t Troy. You can’t assume that every woman you meet is a whore. You’ll get your share in time, have no fear, lads. But not yet.’
The ship pulled into the shore, and they all jumped out at Qirum’s command, Kilushepa included, splashing in knee-deep surf. The men lined up and hauled the ship until its flat base scraped over the beach. Then they relaxed, panting, and reached for their water flasks.
The man who’d come to meet them stood before Qirum and Praxo. He was young, under twenty, and he wore a tunic of coarsely spun linen, a short cow-hide cloak, and boots covered in fish scales. He was dark, his face round, his hair black. He tapped his chest. ‘Vertix,’ he said. ‘Vertix.’ He spoke on in his own coarse tongue, but there was Greek, Egyptian and even Hatti in the mix, Qirum could tell. ‘Show? Show way? Food, water? Guide?’
Praxo started to negotiate with the man. Kilushepa stood with Qirum. ‘What does this fellow want with us? Can you understand any of what he’s saying?’
‘He’s asking to be taken on as a guide. A navigator.’ He pointed up the river valley, which narrowed as you looked inland, cutting through a forested landscape. ‘We’re going across land. Otherwise
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