The Karasor Page 3

  Fengtai was beside himself with wonder. “Is such a place even possible or am I dreaming?”

  “It is impressive,” Narikin agreed. “They say it’s one of the biggest ships ever created, second only to an Enoth Thunderhead.”

  The patrol ship docked among the frigates and they had to walk the rest of the way. It took them more than half an hour to reach the examination hall where the written tests were to be held. They passed Claught drives bigger than the fabled trains of the Saron Empire, saw huge wheels and steam-driven pistons that opened and closed Exarch disks fifty feet across. They passed workshops, factories and barracks full of thousands of engineers and soldiers. The iron-walled corridors were so long they disappeared to a point.

  Eventually, Narikin and the other recruits reached a hall with a hundred small desks in neat rows. Lieutenant Nayaika called them to attention. “The first test is about to begin,” he said, standing at the front. “There will be no talking from now on.”

  There was a scramble for the desks and Narikin found himself in the front row. There was a thick booklet and a pen waiting for him. Lieutenant Nayaika sat down at a table at the front and said, “Answer all the questions as best you can. You have two hours. You may begin.” There was a large clock behind him, ticking loudly.

  The test was long but relatively simple. The first section was about general knowledge, Pentī to start with and then the Third Sphere. The second was even easier; just spelling and grammar. The last was about mathematics; trickier but not beyond his ability. He filled in the answers and put his pen down. He looked up at the clock and found he had an hour to spare. He wondered if he’d missed a section. He checked but found it was complete. He glanced to his left and right and saw his companions frowning over the questions, some still stuck in the first section. He wondered how Fengtai was doing. He hoped the fisherman’s son wouldn’t be dropped just because he couldn’t work out the area of a circle or didn’t know who Tragacanth the Gold was.

  The walls of the hall were painted with islands from the great ocean of Pentī; he recognised the pagodas of his home among them. Behind Nayaika, the Takla Makan was sailing through a cloudy sky with its purple flags flying.

  Even though he had seen the luxurious apartment his father kept, he had expected the rest of the battleship to be grey and functional. But he realised the Kyzylagash was as much a part of home as any other place in the empire; why should it be austere when it could remind the crew what they were fighting for?

  Lieutenant Nayaika was looking at him. He looked cross, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly to question whether Narikin had really finished or had given up.

  Narikin pushed the paper towards him. The lieutenant stood, came around his table and bent to whisper, “Have you finished?”

  Narikin nodded and the lieutenant took the paper away, went back to his seat and began to go through his answers. After ten minutes, he looked up again and gave Narikin a slight nod. He turned to somebody sitting or standing at the other end of the hall and a moment later an assistant crept to the table. There was a brief exchange of quiet words and Narikin’s paper was removed from the room.

  Narikin wondered what it meant. A few minutes later, another officer appeared. He was even more imposing than the lieutenant. He was tall and his head was bald. His beard was trimmed to frame his mouth. He wore a silk robe with a sash but it seemed to Narikin he was more used to wearing armour and carrying a sword. He spoke to Nayaika and the latter nodded towards him.

  A slight smile appeared on the newcomer’s lips; more words, a look of surprise on the lieutenant’s face, and then the bald man was gone again.

  Narikin had a nasty feeling he had been recognised. The bald man had looked familiar. He racked his brain for the rest of the final hour but couldn’t recall meeting him.

  Lieutenant Nayaika called time and the scratching pens stopped. The recruits were told to follow the assistant to the mess-hall where they could relax while their papers were marked.

  Narikin found Fengtai in the crowd. He didn’t need to ask how well he thought he’d done; his face was downcast and he shook his head, “I ran out of time,” he said. “If I’d known they were going to test my intelligence, I wouldn’t have bothered to enlist.”

  “I’m sure there’s nothing that you couldn’t be taught,” Narikin replied.

  Together, they walked to the mess-hall. The other recruits seemed similarly forlorn about their performance and Narikin felt embarrassed. He didn’t like to say he’d found the questions rather simple and elementary.

  The mess-hall was a sea of tables and chairs, served by a kitchen that was simply palatial. They queued and were given a bowl of rice and a beaker of green tea before sitting down at one end of a table. The other diners took no notice of the recruits. There was talking and laughter. People came and went in large groups; shifts clocking off or on.

  Fengtai brightened after a sip of tea, “Oh well,” he smiled. “It’s been a pleasure to see the Kyzylagash, even if they do send me home.”

  “You don’t know you’ve failed yet,” said Narikin.

  He shrugged, “I was never the brightest at school - even when I was paying attention.”

  “We don’t know what the test was trying to prove – it may have been to determine which branch of the navy you’re best suited for rather than a means to weed you out.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “What good is knowing history if all you want to do is load a launcher or fire a torpedo?”

  “That’s true,” he agreed. “I don’t think I got any of those questions right. Do you know who ‘Tragacanth the Gold’ is?”

  “He’s the King of Quill.”

  “Really…?”

  Narikin nodded, “He came to the throne sixty years ago, when he was just a boy. It’s a curious thing about the Quill; the next in line is always the last child and not the first. They think it’s better to have a long reign rather than a short one and by training the elder children to be advisors and counsellors, they believe it creates stability in their empire rather than the kind of competition you see elsewhere.”

  Fengtai was looking at him with admiration, “You might not be very physical,” he said. “But I can see why the sergeant chose you.”

  It was Narikin’s turn to shrug, “I don’t think it will make much difference.”

  “Why not...?”

  A cry of ‘officer-on-deck’ rang out across the mess-hall and there was an explosion of chairs being scraped across the floor as everybody got to their feet. The bald man had entered and was looking across the room with his hands on his hips and a definite air of searching for somebody.

  “Narikin Karasor,” he shouted. “Which of you is Narikin Karasor?”

  Narikin stood up. His mouth was dry again as he raised his hand and gave the officer a little wave. “Me,” he said, his voice sounding tiny in the absolute silence of the hall. “It’s me...”

  “Come here...”

  Narikin trotted across and stood in front of him. “I am Narikin Karasor...”

  “Prince Narikin Karasor...?”

  Narikin hesitated, “Yes...”

  The bald man gave a low bow until his hands rested on his knees, “If my lord would come with me, your father wishes to speak with you.”

  Narikin’s heart stopped. Five hours of freedom – that was all the time he’d had. He didn’t wonder how his father knew, no doubt he’d been watched from the moment he left the palace, but the fact his father was on the Kyzylagash came as a shock.

  He followed the bald man out of the mess-hall and there was an eruption of noise behind him. No doubt everyone would be questioning poor Fengtai – had he known he was dining with a prince, they would be asking. Was he related to him? Was he his bodyguard?

  Narikin remembered where he had seen the bald man before. His name was Subarsi, captain of the Kara Kum, and he had attended a reception at the palace after talking to his father about the affray with the Taira. The rece
ption had been a formal affair and Narikin had been tucked away on the top table, miles from anyone. But apparently Subarsi had noticed him, despite their distance from each other. He had probably wondered who the little weed was, sitting so close to the great Shōgun Karasor.

  He asked, “When did my father arrive?”

  “He has been here all morning, my lord.”

  “I didn’t know he’d left the palace.”

  “He has matters to discuss with your cousin, Captain Kruvak.”

  “I didn’t know Kruvak was here either...”

  “He will be returning to the Third Sphere soon, sir.” He stopped suddenly, “My lord, may I ask what you were attempting to do?”

  “I was trying to join the rangers,” he replied, feeling like a child standing in his parent’s shoes.

  “But why...?”

  Narikin sighed, “Captain Subarsi; what’s it like in the Third Sphere?”

  The captain smiled, “I don’t think we have enough time for me to describe it, my lord; there’s so much of it.”

  “Precisely; apart from occasional trips to Kuchī Island, all I ever see is Kimidori. Even when I come here or visit the Takla Makan, I have to wear the veil. I wanted to see more of the constellation. I know it was a mistake to try and sneak away but I saw an opportunity and took it.”

  “There are many who would say a life of luxury is not to be thrown away so easily, my lord.”

  “A cage is still a cage, even if it’s made of gold.”

  Subarsi gave him a small bow and they continued down the long corridor until they reached the Shōgun’s rooms. The captain slid the door open and stepped aside. Narikin entered.

  The floor was covered in a rush mat and he automatically slipped off his shoes just as Amah had always told him to. The walls were paper screens painted with more scenes of Pentī in pastel shades of green and blue against a muted yellow background. There were two chairs facing him. Captain Kruvak, in silk shirt and purple trousers, sat in one. His father sat in the other, his face covered, with his hands hidden in his sleeves.

  Kruvak was handsome and according to his sisters, the best-looking captain in the clan. He had high cheekbones and dark-purple eyes. His hair was loose and long, cut in a ragged style to within an inch of his shoulders. When he smiled, they said, the room seemed to light up. Words like ‘rogue’ and ‘rascal’ were often used to describe him but his enemies never underestimated his abilities.

  He had won many honours but he was too out-spoken for the complicated politics of the empire. He had argued with the other clan leaders over the future of the empire. It was his belief, like Narikin’s, that it was a mistake to create a wall between them and the other species of the Third Sphere. He had fought alongside the humans during the Hundred Year War, he said, and could see no reason why there shouldn’t be peace and trade between them. But the other clans didn’t trust the governments of Saron or the Tun Emperor, the miners of Xramarsis or the senators of Zamut. When he wouldn’t obey the will of the council, the old emperor had banished him from Pentī Prime.

  Narikin bowed to his father and then the ranger before he knelt on the mat before them.

  There was a tea service on a small table between the two chairs. Kruvak put his cup down.

  “Cousin,” he said, looking at Narikin with amusement. “I never thought you’d want to join the rangers, not as long the rings of Pentī still circle the planet...?”

  “No, cousin,” said Narikin. “I don’t suppose you did.”

  “Whatever were you thinking?”

  “I’m not sure I was thinking at all.”

  “No,” said his father, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. “Did you think I wouldn’t be told or did you hope to get away before I found out?”

  “Apologies, father,” Narikin replied, bowing his head to the floor. “I was caught up in the moment and volunteered before thinking of the consequences.”

  “Another of his failings,” the Shōgun said to the captain.

  Kruvak gave a little nod and said to Narikin, “Your father does not sing your praises very loudly. According to him, you would rather read history than become part of it.”

  “My father is very wise,” Narikin replied.

  “Why would you risk becoming an outcast like me rather than remain here where it is safe and where, in time, you will become the most important member of our clan?”

  Narikin looked at his cousin; was he being given a chance to state his case? He glanced towards his father but the Shōgun made no sign. He felt a moment of hope but it was quickly crushed; he had no cogent argument for leaving Pentī other than one he’d given Subarsi. He could have talked about patriotism and duty but that would sound meaningless in the context of his position as future clan-leader.

  Until this moment, he had not thought of a plausible role he could perform on board the ranger’s ship. They had no use for an unworldly prince even if his calligraphy was excellent and he could recite the poetry of a dozen masters verbatim. “I don’t know,” he said.

  “We are sorry to have taken up your time,” said his father. “I am sure the other applicants are more capable of meeting your needs than my son.” He was about to stand but Kruvak put up his hand to stop him.

  “Uncle, I would like to hear the truth first.” He frowned at Narikin, “Do you know what it means to leave Pentī Prime and enter the Third Sphere?”

  Narikin felt annoyed, “Of course not - I don’t know what the Third Sphere is like except from what I’ve read in books and I suspect many of them contain half-truths and lies. I have never seen a human with my own eyes let alone quasi-humans or any of the other wonders that are said to inhabit Evigone. I can name every world in the Third Sphere and tell you the story of its founding, but the taste of its food, the smell of its air and the touch of its earth will forever be a mystery to me if my father has his way.”

  There was an awful silence. It was just as well Narikin couldn’t see his father’s face behind the veil. But Narikin didn’t care. He was angry and humiliated and just wanted to go home now. He bowed his head in shame.

  “Your father tells me you have never been trained with a sword or educated in war...?”

  “I have read books on strategy and tactics.”

  “Which ones?”

  “I have read the works of Mi’Kale, the Sagan Strategies, and the Articles of Dombox. I have studied the Hundred Year War and the history of Pentī before unification. I know the names of all the formations and manoeuvres. But I admit, my physical skills are lacking.”

  “Have you sat beside a pond and stared at the reflections of trees in the water?”

  Narikin smiled and answered without thinking, “Many times, especially in the autumn when the leaves are golden. I like to watch the carp rise on a still day, the ripples spreading across the surface, and see them glide like the birds in the reflection. And in spring, when the blossom is out, I sit under the trees and memories of the snowflakes in winter come back to me…”

  Kruvak turned to his uncle, “With your permission, I will take him.”

  Even hidden, Narikin could tell his father’s jaw had dropped. “Are you sure?” was all he could say.

  “I can find a dozen potential warriors with strength and martial prowess but very few come to me with poetry.”

  “But he is the heir to the Karasor throne; his failure will reflect badly on all of us...”

  “He hasn’t failed yet, Uncle. Subarsi says he scored a perfect one hundred percent in the written tests. Even if he wasn’t family, I would consider him.”

  “But how can you be convinced by words about blossom and carp?”

  “I never under-estimate the power of words; War Master Jamadar was a poet before he joined the Kyzyl Kum and you know he’s the finest tactician in the fleet. Our journeys are long and often tedious.” He sipped his tea. “A mind that cannot cope without the excitement of action is almost as useless to me as a coward who cannot face danger.”

  “M
y son is no hero,” said his father bitterly.

  “He has never been tried until today, my lord.”

  “But look at him...”

  “‘Even a leaf can travel far’,” the captain quoted. “He will have to do his basic training with the other recruits but the sooner he joins me on the Kyzyl Kum the better. He will learn more by my side than on the Kyzylagash and you never know, Uncle, he might surprise you yet.”

  “I have grown used to disappointment, nephew; but do what you want with him.” He turned his head towards Narikin, “Do your duty; do not shame the clan and return to us a better prince than the one that kneels before me now.”

  It was not the best endorsement his father could have given but Narikin bowed his head, “I will succeed, father.”

  When he looked up again his father was already leaving the room. Did his father think so little of him that he couldn’t lift the veil even for a moment to wish him well?

  The door slid shut and Kruvak sat down again. “No tears for this parting?”

  “Just two,” said Narikin, “One for my friends and one for my dog.”

  “I think your father was more anxious than you give him credit for.”

  “I will try not to disappoint him.”

  “You didn’t disappoint me and for the foreseeable future, I am more relevant to your needs. Come, cousin, sit and take tea...”

  Narikin got off his knees. A steward brought in a fresh cup and took away his father’s.

  “Why did you ask the question about the pond?”

  “I wanted to remind your father of the story of the Lord Na’Lithan asking Azederac that same question when he appeared before him on Wicopy.”

  “But in the story, Azederac tells him he sees only his reflection and he’s punished for his pride.”

  “Exactly; you proved the opposite. You don’t want to join the rangers for your own ambition but to serve our people. It was a good answer.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of the story.”