“Nothing quite like them,” I said. I was greatly impressed by their beauty. Soon they, too, were grouped around the Meeting Stone and we were able to catch a few words of the ceremony. Each person gave his or her name. Each described his or her intention in coming to the Massing. This done, one of the Baron Captains declared: “Until the morning!”
The response came: “Until the morning!” Then they all went their separate ways, back to their own ships.
I had strained to hear the Ghost Women announce their names. I had heard nothing which even remotely resembled the sound of “Ermizhad”.
That night we were guests of the students, sleeping in their already cramped quarters, constantly inhaling ash, besieged by draughts, rolled from side to side by sudden movements of the hull which, although it did not travel, was still subject to peculiar shudderings, like someone in a disturbed sleep. It sometimes seemed to me that the Frowning Shield was in tune with my own state of mind.
Again my sleep was constantly interrupted by nightmares. I heard the Ghost Women chanting, still, but no longer in my dreams. I could hear them in their own camp. I longed to go to them but the one time I rose, with the intention of going over the side once more, both von Bek and Jurgin took hold of me and stopped me.
“You must be patient,” von Bek said. “Remember your promise to us.”
“But they are calling for Sharadim. I need to know what they want.”
“They want her, surely. Not you.” Von Bek’s voice was urgent. “If you left now Armiad and his men would be bound to see you. They’d feel within their rights to kill you. Why risk that when tomorrow you can approach them under the terms of the Massing?”
I agreed that I was being childish. I forced myself to lie down again. I lay there, looking up through the gaps in the roof at the occasional spurt of glowing cinders, the grey, cold sky, trying not to think of Ermizhad or the Ghost Women. I slept a little, but sleep only allowed the voices to sound louder in my ears.
“I am not Sharadim!” I cried out at one point. It was dawn. Around me the students were stirring. Bellanda made her way through the sleeping bodies. “What is it, Flamadin?”
“I am not Sharadim!” I told her. “They want me to be my sister. Why is that? They do not call me. They do call me—but they call me by my sister’s name. Could Sharadim and Flamadin be the same person?”
“You are twins. But one is male, the other female. You could not be mistaken for her…” Bellanda’s voice was a little sluggish with sleep. “Forgive me. I suppose I’m talking nonsense.”
I put out my hand and touched her. I was apologetic. “No, Bellanda, it is I who should apologise. I talk nonsense a great deal of the time at present.”
She smiled. “Then, if you think that, you cannot be completely insane. You say those women were chanting all night for Princess Sharadim? I could not hear them so clearly. It sounded like an incantation. Do they believe Sharadim is a supernatural creature?”
“I cannot say. Until now I have always recognised the name I hear in my dreams. I have responded to it. I was Urlik Skarsol, then I was a variety of other incarnations, then Skarsol again and now Flamadin. The fact is, Bellanda, that I know in my bones they should be calling me!”
But because this sounded like egomaniacal ravings (and might have been) I stopped myself from continuing. I shrugged and lay back in my blanket. “Later,” I said, “I shall have the chance to answer them face to face.”
And I slept a little longer, dreaming only pleasantly of my life with Ermizhad when together we had ruled the Eldren.
By the time I awoke again everyone else was already up. I stretched, stumbled to the communal washing stands and tried to clean oily grime from my body.
When I next looked towards the Massing Ground I was surprised and impressed by what I saw.
In some parts little groups of people stood engaged in eager conversations. I saw two bears squatting beside a Ghost Woman displaying charts and all three talking vigorously. Elsewhere the bright awnings of market stalls offered an illusion that this was no more than an ordinary country fair, while the lie was given by a pen in which two awkward and bad-tempered lizards, standing upright on their hind legs and resembling a kind of dinosaur, snapped with red mouths at two Maaschanheemers who were pointing out aspects of the saddles and harness on these beasts and questioning their owner, a tall Draachenheemer. Doubtless the lizards gave that folk its name.
All manner of weird livestock was on display, as well as animals more familiar to me. There were certain goods which I failed completely to identify but which plainly were in great demand.
The noise of all these exchanges was loud but reasonably good-humoured. Many people walked in small groups, neither buying nor selling, but merely enjoying the spectacle.
Over near the great ark, vessel of the Ursine Princes, a less pleasant aspect of the day could be seen. Here were frightened teenage boys, stark naked and chained together, being inspected by Ghost Women. I could scarcely believe that the Eldren had become so corrupt as to be slave-owners and cannibals.
“Are these the people you claim are so much nobler than human beings?” said von Bek. He spoke sardonically, but he was plainly disgusted by the sight. “I can hardly find help for my own mission here, if such things are commonly permitted.”
Bellanda joined us. “The Ursine Princes rule a realm where the humans are savages. They kill and eat one another. They buy and sell one another. So the Princes feel it is an ordinary custom amongst humans and do not see why they should not benefit. The boys are well treated—by the bears, at least.”
“And what do the women do with them?”
“Breed from them,” said Bellanda. She shrugged. “It’s no more than a reversal of a situation commonly found amongst our own people.”
“Except that we don’t cook and eat our wives,” said von Bek.
Bellanda said nothing.
“For all that,” I said, “I am now going down there. I intend to approach the Ghost Women and ask them some questions. Surely that is permitted?”
“Permitted to exchange information,” said Bellanda. “But you must not interrupt a bartering while it is in progress.”
We disembarked from the hull with a crowd of others who were interested in the sights and who casually inspected the variety of goods for sale. With von Bek in my wake, I headed directly for the area near the white ships where the Ghost Women had pitched their tents and enclosures of tightly woven silk. Finding no-one outside, I walked to the largest of the pavilions. The opening was unguarded. I entered. I stopped in some consternation.
Von Bek behind me said: “My God! A cattle market indeed.”
The place stank of human bodies. Here the slavers had brought their wares to be inspected. One scarred, wide-eyed soul especially impressed me. Some were presumably embarrassed or ashamed by their calling. Others preferred to strike their bargains in relative privacy.
In the gloom of the tent I saw at least a dozen pens, their floors covered with straw, and within the pens were boys and youths, some of whom bore the marks of every kind of cruelty, while others were proud, holding themselves with straight shoulders and glaring into the unseen faces of the Ghost Women who looked them over. Many more were simply passive, as docile as calves.
But what really shocked me was the sight of Baron Captain Armiad, evidently in the process of striking a bargain with one of the ivory-clad women. A ruffian, who was plainly not of the usual hull’s complement, held a string of about six boys in a kind of continuous rope halter about their necks. Armiad was pointing out their virtues to the woman, making jokes to her which plainly she neither understood nor cared to hear. Doubtless he had discovered a more lucrative means of ridding himself of some of his surplus population and, since the other Maaschanheemers hated trading in slaves, felt himself safe enough from scrutiny.
He looked up in the middle of a greasy grin, saw von Bek and myself looking at him, and shouted with fury. “Spies as well as outlaws! So t
his is how you’d be revenged on me, when I discovered your perfidy!”
I held up my hands, trying to show him that I was not about to interfere with his business. But he was incensed. He knocked the rope from the hand of his hireling. He strode towards me. And he would not stop yelling.
“Keep the damned slaves!” he screamed at the surprised Ghost Woman. “Have them for your supper tonight, with my compliments. Come, Rooper, we have changed our plans.” He stopped when he reached me. His face was bright red. He glared up into my eyes. “Flamadin, you renegade. Why did you follow me? Did you hope to blackmail me? To shame me further in front of my fellow Baron Captains? Well, the truth is that I was not selling those lads. I had hoped to free them.”
“I am not interested in your affairs, Armiad,” I said coldly. “And I am even less interested in your lies.”
“You say I lie?”
I shrugged. “I am here to speak with the Ghost Women. Please continue with your business. Do whatever you care to do. I have no wish to have anything further to do with you, Baron Captain.”
“You still take a haughty tone for a would-be kin-killer and a disgraced exile.” He lunged at me. I stepped back. From out of his uncharacteristically simple tunic he drew a long knife. Weapons were banned at the Massing, I knew. Even von Bek had left his gun with Bellanda. I reached out to grab his wrist. He dodged back. He stood there panting like a crazed dog. He glared. Then he rushed me again, the knife raised.
By this time there was a cacophony in the Ghost Women’s pavilion. Half a dozen age-old laws had been broken at once. I tried to hold him off me, calling to von Bek to help.
My friend, however, had been attacked by Armiad’s ruffian and had another knife to contend with.
We found ourselves backing from the great tent, yelling for help and at the same time trying to make Armiad and Rooper see some kind of sense. They were serving themselves badly and attracting unwanted attention.
Suddenly a dozen men and women had fallen on us and dragged Armiad and his henchman back, twisting the knives from their hands.
“I was defending myself,” said Armiad, “against that villain. These knives were carried by the pair of them, I swear.”
I could not believe that anyone would accept his story, but now a thick-set Draachenheemer spat on the ground at my feet. “You know me, I think, Flamadin. I was one of those who chose you for our Overlord. But you spurned us. And worse. It is good for you, Flamadin, that no blood may be spilled here. If it were not for that, I’d take a knife to you myself. Traitor! Charlatan!” And he spat again.
Now virtually all the gathered people were staring at me with loathing.
Only the women, their emotions unreadable behind their ivory masks, looked at me in a different way. I had the impression that they had suddenly recognised me and were taking a considerable interest in me.
“When the Massing’s done, we’ll find you soon enough, Flamadin!” said the Draachenheemer. He strode back into the tent which hid the slave pens.
Armiad was plainly almost as surprised as I had been that people were prepared to believe his story. He gathered his clothing together. He drew himself upright. He snorted and cleared his throat. “Who else would dare to break our ancient laws?” he asked the crowd in general.
There were some, evidently, who did not believe him. But I think they were outnumbered by those who already hated me and would believe me guilty of a dozen additional crimes, as well as those already published!
“Armiad,” I said again. “I assure you I had no intention of meddling in your business. I came to visit the Ghost Women.”
“Who but a slaver pays a visit to the Ghost Women?” he asked of the crowd in general.
A broad-beamed old man made his way through to us. He carried a staff almost twice his height and his ruddy features were stern with the importance of his office. “No arguments, no fights, no duels. These are our ways. Go you your ways, good gentlemen, and bring no further disgrace upon us.”
The Ghost Women were no longer interested in anyone but me. They were staring hard now. I heard them talking between themselves. I heard the name “Flamadin” on their lips. I bowed to them. “I am here as a friend of the Eldren race.”
There was no response. The women remained as impassive as their ivory masks.
“I would speak with you,” I said.
Still there was no response. Two of them turned away.
Armiad was still blustering, accusing me of beginning the whole affair. The old man, who called himself the Mediator, was adamant. It did not matter who had begun the dispute. It must not continue until after the Massing. “You will both be confined to your hulls under pain of death. That is the Law.”
“But I must speak with the Ghost Women,” I told him. “It is what I came for. I had no intention of getting into a brawl with that braggart.”
“No further insults!” insisted the Mediator. “Or there will be further punishment. Return to the Frowning Shield, good gentleman. There you must remain until the Massing is done.”
Von Bek murmured, “You can do nothing now in sight of all these people. You will have to wait until tonight.”
Armiad was giving me an unpleasant grin. I thought he had already planned my demise. I guessed that few now would blame him if he was forced to imprison me and sentence me to death as soon as the Massing was over. His thoughts were so primitive they were not difficult to read.
Reluctantly, however, I walked back towards the hull with Armiad. We were escorted by the Mediator and a mixed group who had evidently been elected by the whole assembly to uphold the Laws. It was not easy to see how I was going to be able to leave the hull and find the Ghost Women.
I looked back over my shoulder. They were standing in a group staring after me, all other dealings forgotten. It was plain that they would be more than interested in a visit from me. But what they wanted of me and what they expected to do with me, I had no idea.
In the hull Armiad let the Mediator’s people lead us to our original quarters. He was still grinning. Matters had gone well for him, after all. I did not know how von Bek and I were to be accused or what we would be accused of, but I knew that Armiad already had a plan in mind.
His final words as he stalked away to his own rooms were a gleeful: “Before long, good gentlemen, you’ll be wishing that the Ghost Women had kept you and were stripping the flesh from you before your eyes and eating your parts while the rest of you slowly roasts.”
Von Bek raised an eyebrow. “Anything would be more enjoyable than your own cuisine, Baron Captain.”
Armiad frowned, failing to understand the reference. Then he glared, almost on principle, and was gone.
A few moments later we heard the outer bars go down over our doors. We could still get to our balcony, but it would be a long and difficult climb to the decks below and there was no certainty that Armiad had not deliberately left that means of escape open to us as a means of trapping us. We would have to plan carefully now and see if there was a less obvious means of escape. It was likely we had a night to ourselves, but we could not be sure.
“I doubt he’s as subtle as you think,” said von Bek. He was already casting about for something he could use as a rope.
For my part I needed to think. I sat on the bed, automatically helping him knot the blankets together, while I reviewed the events of the morning.
“The Ghost Women recognised me,” I said.
Von Bek was amused. “So did most of the entire camp. But you do not seem to have a great many here who approve of you! Your refusal to honour tradition seems a worse crime, to many here, than your attempt to murder your sister! I am familiar with such logic. My own people are often guilty of the same thing. What chance do you think you’ll have, even if you get off this hull? Most of the others, with the possible exception of the Ursine Princes and the Ghost Women, would be in full cry after you. Where would we escape to, my friend?”
“I must admit I have thought of the same problem
.” I smiled at him. “I had hoped you might have a solution.”
“Our first task must be to review all possible escape routes,” he said. “Then we must wait until nightfall. We’ll achieve nothing before then.”
“I’m afraid it was not greatly to your advantage,” I said apologetically, “throwing in your lot with me.”
He laughed. “I do not believe I had a great deal of choice, my friend. Did you?”
Von Bek had a way of improving my spirits for which I was enormously grateful. Once we had debated all routes to freedom (there was none which seemed very useful), I lay back on my bed and tried to fathom why the Ghost Women had looked at me with such curiosity. Had they, ironically, mistaken me for my twin sister Sharadim?
Night fell eventually. We had decided on our original means of escape, via the balcony and across to the nearest mast, from there down the rigging. We had no weapons of any kind, von Bek having given his pistol to Bellanda. All we could hope for would be to escape our pursuers even if we were seen.
So it was that we found ourselves in the chilly air, seeing a hundred different fires in the distance, hearing the sounds of people of all different races and cultures, some of them not even human, as they celebrated this strange Massing. Von Bek had made a kind of grappling hook from some wooden furniture. The intention was to throw this into the nearest tangle of rigging in the hope that it would hold. He whispered to me to be ready to pay out our home-made rope as soon as he gave the word, then he swung the thing out into space. I heard it hit, hold for a moment, then fall free. Another four or five casts and it seemed to find a good purchase. I let the rope run through my hands until von Bek gave the order to stop. He began to tie the remainder to the gallery rail.
“Now,” he murmured, “we must trust to luck. Shall I go first?”
I shook my head. Since this affair was a result of my obsessions the least I could do would be to take the chief risk. I clambered to the other side of the balcony, took hold of our rope and began to swing, hand over hand, towards the rigging.