The Karasor Page 7

  “That’s not true,” said Fengtai. Usually he was passive and sympathetic but this time he spoke angrily, “You have no idea what it means to us to have you here among us. You have chosen to serve with the rest of the clan, you have left your comfortable life behind and you’re here, eating the same food, sleeping in the same kind of cabin, struggling with the rest of us to improve so you can be of use to the empire. Most of us will never even see your father, let alone speak with him. He will never notice us. He will never know the sacrifices we make on his behalf. But you will and that means everything to us.”

  “I’m sorry,” Narikin apologised. “I didn’t realise.”

  “Just don’t give up,” said Fengtai, handing him his towel. “It does not matter how many or how few sit-ups you can do; there will always be somebody who is stronger or fitter, no matter how hard you try. But we only have one prince and he needs to be the best he can be, for his sake if not for ours.”

  Humbled, Narikin wiped his face, “I will get better,” he promised, to himself as well as to Fengtai. “I will not give up.”

  They looked at the clock. It was nearly midday.

  “It’s time to eat,” said his friend, smiling again. “Shall we take the lift or do you want me to carry you up the stairs?”

  “I think I can manage the stairs. Maybe later, when my body finally gives up, you could bury it for me.”

  Fengtai grinned, “I don’t think your father would be very pleased if I did that. I’m sure there are ceremonies for the death of a prince...”

  “It would save him the trouble.”

  As they walked towards the doors, they saw Captain Subarsi watching them. They bowed to him and he said, “I would speak with you after you have eaten, my lord. Come to my rooms when you’re ready.”

  It took all Narikin’s remaining strength to get back to their cabin. He had a shower and some rice and fish in the mess-hall, and then he hobbled along the corridor to find Subarsi’s rooms. Along the way, he had to ask several passers-by if he was going in the right direction but eventually he arrived in the right place. The captain welcomed him and then they sat down on the cushions on the floor together while the steward served tea.

  “I listened Fengtai’s speech,” said the captain. “I thought it was very appropriate.”

  “He was right; I was being very selfish. Growing up in isolation from the rest of the clan led me to believe I would continue to be un-regarded when I came here. I am not looking for any special attention but I didn’t appreciate how my presence here might be viewed by the rest of the recruits. I was humbled by Fengtai’s words.”

  “Good - humility is a useful lesson so learn it well.”

  “My father thinks I have too much.”

  Subarsi sighed, “Our father was hard on me and my brother Jamadar too. He still is. Even though I’m a captain and he’s achieved the rank of war master, our father sees nothing but faults. I don’t think he’s ever acknowledged our successes, not even to himself. It is the old way; iron becomes stronger with beating and not with kind words. But take no notice. All that really matters is the opinion of those that stand with you. Never betray your companions, never let them down and always put them first; that is the true way and the rest is just words.”

  They drank their tea in silence for a while. The room was very plain and simple, one of the many suites reserved for visiting captains. Narikin had stayed somewhere similar when his father had brought him to the Kyzylagash before – and had made him sit alone, unable to take the veil off as punishment for speaking. He’d had the effrontery to ask for the lavatory.

  “Has my father asked you to keep him informed about my progress?”

  “He has,” Subarsi admitted.

  “What will you tell him about my abilities in the dojo?”

  “They are ‘improving’.”

  “What if he asks Lieutenant Nayaika?”

  “He won’t but I’m sure Nayaika would say the same. We will say nothing about dancing or the captain’s daughter.”

  “Thank you – I wouldn’t want to cause a rift between my father and Captain Haku if Amah was dismissed.”

  “Her father is a great warrior. Your father chose him to be his protector and the captain of his household guard because he is the very best. I’m glad he decided to share his skills with his daughter. Out of respect for them both, I would keep their secret.”

  Narikin bowed his head, “Thank you, captain. It never occurred to me that she was anything more than my dance teacher. She has known me all my life and yet I know nothing about her.”

  He thought about their time together, the stories she used to tell and her arms around him when he was hurt or felt afraid. Her beautiful face was more familiar to him than his mother’s. He missed her and was ashamed to realise she had no idea where he was or what he was doing. “Is it permitted to write letters home?” he asked.

  “Of course,” said the captain. “I’m surprised you haven’t done so already.”

  “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own concerns, I didn’t give it any thought.”

  “Write your letters but be careful what you say; no doubt your father will get to know their contents.”

  Narikin agreed, “There’s very little that escapes his notice – especially my faults.”

  Subarsi shrugged, “Thus far, your lack of confidence is the only fault I can detect.”

  “You’re not my father – he sees fault with the sun rising and the colour of the ocean.”

  He smiled, “If you cannot please him, stop breaking your head on a rock. You are going to be a ranger, far from Kimidori and your father’s court; the people you should worry about are the people beside you, not the ones that have no bearing on what will come next.”

  “As head of the clan, my father is the future.”

  “He is ‘the wind that blows the sails’ but you must steer the boat.”

  Narikin smiled, “Your brother wrote that, didn’t he?”

  Subarsi bowed, “You have read Jamadar’s poetry...?”

  “A little but I’m not familiar with it; I have read his book on war, though. I thought it was very good and I learnt a great deal from it.”

  “I have another lesson I wish you to learn.” He nodded to the steward and the latter brought a pile of slim books and placed them on the mat between them. “These are copies of the logs, the collected experience, of the ranger captains. I know you have read the standard works but these are practical accounts that give the kinds of details not dealt with elsewhere. Some of the captains were interested in the fauna and flora of the Third Sphere, some its people, some its civilisations; each one has a unique perspective and information you won’t find in your library back home.”

  Narikin’s eyes lit up, “I have heard about them but my requests to see them have always been denied.”

  “They are sacred to the rangers. We never let them leave our treasury.”

  “But I can take them to my cabin...?”

  “It is vital that you know as much as possible before you join the Kyzyl Kum. These books are the best preparation you can receive this side of the Great Barrier.”

  “Thank you, Captain; I will enjoy reading them.”

  “Perhaps it is also an opportunity for you to repay the kindness of your cabin mate; the logs of the captains are reserved for the officer cadets and not shared with other ranks. I am sure Fengtai will appreciate the opportunity to study them as much as you.”

  “Yes, Captain, and thank you.” The steward brought in another pile to add to the first and he began to wonder how he was going to carry them.

  “I warn you,” Subarsi said with a smile, “Some are very badly written; many of the captains were better at the art of war than the subtleties of calligraphy. I’m sure the mistakes will make you shudder at their ignorance.”

  “I will try and look beyond the physical manifestation,” Narikin said with a smile, “And dwell upon the spirit of the message, just as the Lords teach us.”

>   Subarsi burst out laughing, “Quite right too; now go and explore - steward, help the prince with the books if you would be so good.”

  They bowed to each other and Narikin left, eager to make a start. This was one task he felt confident he could master.

  Back in his cabin, Narikin sorted the logbooks into piles. There were ten sets in all, each bound in fish-skin, written by several different captains from the ranger fleet. Each set, on average, was divided into five years of missions.

  Fengtai looked down from his bunk, eyes full of wonder. “If I’m going to pass the written examination, these might really help me,” he said.

  “Then come and look at them,” said Narikin.

  Fengtai climbed down quickly and sat on the floor, cross-legged, beside him. He took one of the books and began to look through it. “This one has pictures,” he smiled, relieved to find it wasn’t all words.

  Narikin began with one of Subarsi’s. He discovered, as the captain had hinted, it was badly written and barely legible. It was no more than a list of places the Kara Kum had visited and people they had met, along with a few notes on the conduct of the crew. There was very little context for any of the entries; no mention of their orders or the purpose of each mission. He felt disappointed; he had been expecting more of narrative, like a saga.

  However, he did discover how widely the Kara Kum travelled. During her last mission, she’d left the base on Sarillon, travelled west across the Equatorial Sea, stopped at Mjöhir and Kaishaku, visited an outpost in the Saron system of Narghile, travelled north to Ginnan and west again as far as Hatago. Then she turned east and took the gate at Zori for Hubblenook in the Second Sphere. He took the next gate to Clundleby and spent a day selecting new equipment.

  “My camera came from Clundleby,” he said to Fengtai. He looked across at the hook on the door where he had hung it in its case.

  Fengtai looked too, “What does it do?” he asked. “I saw you with it when we met but I didn’t like to ask.”

  “It’s a device for taking pictures, images, like your very own painter in a box.”

  “Like these pictures?” He showed Narikin the sketches of monkeys and apes he had been looking at.

  “Better; the pictures taken by a camera are ‘real’, like moments of time captured and held forever rather than from the hand and memory of an artist.”

  “Do you have any of these pictures with you?”

  “Just this one,” he said, getting up and retrieving the photograph of Tosa and Chikutei from the case.

  “It’s very realistic,” the fisherman’s son agreed.

  “I’m going to write home and ask Amah to send me some more.” He remembered he had no writing materials or even money to buy them. But he could ask, he thought; being a prince did have some advantages.

  From the Clundleby system, the Kara Kum took the gate back to Pentī. Her encounter with the Harima Nada was brief and to the point: ‘They attempted to block us; they failed. The starboard hull was hit and Gunner Ushinawa was lost. I have sent my condolences to his family.’

  He read the entry to Fengtai. “Are you sure you still want to be a gunner?”

  The fisherman’s son nodded, “The ocean is no safer; I’ve lost countless ancestors to storms and gales.”

  Narikin had never thought about the dangers fishermen faced. As far as he’d been aware, fish were collected from the ocean as easily as fruit was picked from tree. He had not imagined people could die.

  “Look at this,” said Fengtai, holding up a sketch of an animal neither of them had seen before.

  “What is it?”

  He looked at the label, “A ‘giraffe’,” he said. “I wonder what it’s for.”

  Narikin shrugged, “I don’t know but in the Bestiary of Na’Hum, it says all animals provide balance and harmony; each and every species is a part of the whole, from the smallest bacterium to the largest cetacean.”

  “It’s very tall - perhaps it balances the shorter animals?”

  “Perhaps it does...”

  “And look at this,” he showed Narikin a picture of a goat. “I think the Third Sphere must be more dangerous than we thought; this one has an evil look in its eye.”

  “Like the symbol for the Quelchemon-Zarktek,” Narikin agreed, “Let’s hope we don’t meet a herd of them.”

  Then Fengtai read the notes. “Oh,” he said, pointing to the words that explained goats were harmless and good to eat.

  “Oh,” Narikin smiled, and they both burst out laughing.

  7 – Letters from Kimidori

  The photographs and a note from Amah arrived soon after he sent his letter home. There were too many pictures in his collection to send all of them so she had picked out a selection. She knew him so well, they were the ones he would have chosen too. The note expressed surprise and pride that her ‘sweet child’ had chosen to join the rangers under the nose of his father. The palace was in up-roar about it. His mother was insisting he should be dragged home. Chikutei had laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. But his father had been strangely silent on the subject, choosing to take his meals alone rather than eat with the rest of the family. She hoped he wasn’t ill.

  Narikin took his father’s absence as a bad sign. Whenever he was angry, he always chose to go into solitude rather let anyone witness his fury. The idea his father might be worried for his son’s well-being never entered his head – this was a matter of duty and Narikin had chosen to be disobedient. It would end in embarrassment and shame for the family as a whole. How would the great Shōgun Karasor be able to face the other clans when his weakling heir failed spectacularly – better if didn’t come back from the Third Sphere at all.

  However, Amah’s letter wished him well and everyone else at the palace hoped he would succeed. He believed she was being honest but doubted if his sisters cared a jot. They barely noticed when he was there and had probably forgotten about him already.

  He showed his photographs to Fengtai. Amah had sent the pictures from the last roll of film, taken with his new lens. He hadn’t had time to look at them closely but now he could see they were a big improvement on his earlier work.

  “That’s my uncle,” said the fisherman’s son, astonished, pointing at the boat in the bay with Sukoshi Island in the background. He peered closely at the image, “I can see his face and the scarf he always wears when he leaves to go fishing.”

  The detail was excellent and Narikin was pleased. “He was yards from the shore – I didn’t think it would be so clear you would be able to recognise him.”

  “This a strange kind of magic,” said Fengtai, shaking his head.

  Narikin described the principles behind photography, from the expensive light-sensitive film to the equally light-sensitive paper he used. “It’s just chemistry,” he said.

  “And this is why Captain Kruvak wants you on his ship? To make more of these pictures...?”

  “That’s what he told me. I don’t know how I’m going to develop them without my equipment though – it’s all in my workshop at home.”

  “Perhaps they’ll dismantle and transport it to the Kyzyl Kum for you...?”

  “Perhaps they will – but the enlarger is very delicate and could be damaged if they don’t treat it properly. I would rather do it myself.”

  “If you have time,” Fengtai added.

  The second week was almost over. It was difficult to keep track of the days but he knew there were not many left before he would have to leave the Kyzylagash, either for home or for the Third Sphere. He still had no idea which it would be. He knew he needed more time to get fitter if he was to serve on the Kyzyl Kum but he also knew Kruvak couldn’t wait that long. His ability with the camera was needed now, not later. There was also the question of whether his father would let him go.

  A letter from Shōgun Karasor arrived not long after Amah’s. It was uncomfortably vague. He spoke about the Emperor’s decree that Narikin was no longer to be sent in his stead and how that reflected poorly on
his son’s performance on the Takla Makan. But he’d already said as much when Narikin had returned, shortly before letting him visit Kuchī Island. So why was he repeating himself?

  He took the letter to Subarsi. The captain wouldn’t read it because the Shōgun’s personal seal was on the envelope, so Narikin read it to him. When he was finished, he said, “He told me this before, why is he telling me again?”

  “He could be absolving you of your duties back home to make it easier for you to join us and leave your old life behind.”

  “I never had any duties except to sit in a chair and remain silent. But I suppose you could be right.”

  “He mentions the Emperor – perhaps His Majesty has commented on your decision?”

  “That would seem likely – he wanted me to know more about the Third Sphere when we last met.”

  Subarsi looked at Narikin, “The Emperor has spoken to you...?”

  “I had to stay behind and answer his questions when my father made me take his place.” A thought occurred, “You know, he did suggest I should find a way to visit the Third Sphere. He said it might be instructive and was interested to know if it would change my opinion on the subject of whether we should maintain our empire or not.”

  Subarsi was still trying to digest the news that Narikin had spoken to the Emperor. Narikin continued, oblivious to the captain’s look of incredulous wonder, “I don’t suppose he thought I would try and join the rangers though. A diplomatic mission perhaps, not that my father would ever agree to it; something with more comfort and less running up and down stairs... Are you all right, Captain?”

  “You have spoken to the Emperor...”

  “We broke protocol and took our veils off. I must say I’m very surprised at how young he looks. I wish I could have taken a picture of him to show everybody – I’m sure his face on a thousand posters across the empire would be very encouraging.”

  “I’m sure it would,” Subarsi laughed. “But I wonder how many outside his court have had the honour of speaking to him let alone seeing him in the flesh?”

  “Not many,” Narikin admitted.