Pirates Of Gohar

Chapter 4

Blade was wrong about the Goharans taking no prisoners when they fought the pirates. The men the galley left behind aboard the small merchantman quickly cleared her deck of pirates, then boarded the pirate ship alongside. By the time the rammed pirate ship sank, the galley's men were well on the way to capturing the last enemy. A few more minutes, and some of the pirates started jumping overboard, to drown themselves or be shot by archers. Many of the rest tried to surrender, and about twenty succeeded.

By the time Blade learned this, the pirate chief he'd stunned had recovered consciousness and would have been sitting up if he hadn't been bound hand and foot. Now that he could get a close look at one of the pirates, Blade realized that they were both more and less human than he'd realized. In addition to the red-scaled skin and the webbed clawed hands and feet, they had no hair and oversized, slightly pointed ears. On the other hand, they had basically human proportions-Blade had seen plenty of men with equally massive torsos and short thick legs. The faces were definitely human, except for oddly thin lips and broad noses with nostrils like slits. The genitals were entirely human, and there were no spines or gills.

At this point in Blade's examination, the pirate's wide dark eyes not only opened but focused on the Englishman standing over him.

«You did me-no good-saving me,» the pirate chief said. He spoke Goharan, but so softly and with such an accent that Blade could understand him only with difficulty. Fortunately the pirate also spoke very slowly.

«I don't kill brave fighting men when they're no danger to me,» said Blade.

«You didn't, but-the Island of Shells-will.» Apparently he noticed Blade's blank expression, since he went on at once. «Island-the Goharans send us there to dive-and die.»

«You can escape from any prison, but not from being dead.»

«Not escape from-dishonor.»

Blade didn't laugh. He didn't want to hurt the pirate chiefs already battered feelings, and in any case he'd never found anything to laugh at in the notion of «honor.» Some of the things people called honor were fairly silly, and so were many of the things they'd do to protect it. Still, there were things Blade himself would die rather than do or let be done, and even those who sneered loudest at «honor» probably also had their limits.

Blade nodded. «Perhaps. But among my people it takes more than merely being captured to lose honor. It's dishonor to become a faithful servant of your captors, but I don't see you doing that.»

The pirate chief managed a feeble smile, showing yellowish, ridged triangular teeth. Then he looked Blade up and down. «Your-people? You-not of Gohar?»

«No, I-«

«Ehhhh.» It was something between a sigh and a groan. «Then-guard yourself. The men of Gohar-if you are not of them-you may come to the Island yourself. I-«The chief broke off suddenly and closed his eyes, pretending to be unconscious. Blade had already heard the footsteps approaching behind him, and was turning.

It was the ship's captain. He'd taken off his helmet, but he still wore his mail shirt, now spattered with blood. A crude bandage was tied across his right cheek. He laughed and slapped Blade on the shoulder.

«Sorry I didn't get to you before this. You've done well-before today I wouldn't have said any man could do what you've done. You must have been telling the truth about not wanting to kill my men.»

«I was telling the truth about the rest, Captain-«

«Nemyet's enough of a name for anyone who's done me good service. And you?»

«Blade of England.»

«Well, Blade, if you are from the future, I don't see any reason why we shouldn't tell you about ourselves. What do the English know about Gohar and the Bloodskins?»

At this point a sailor came up to help Nemyet take off his armor. This gave Blade a few minutes to make up a plausible version of Gohar. He didn't need any longer. Lord Leighton had once paid him a somewhat backhanded compliment by saying: «You know, Richard. When you retire from the Project you could make a fortune in advertising or as public relations man for some politician.» (In Lord Leighton's vocabulary, «politician» was virtually a four-letter word.) «You can tell bigger and better lies in less time with a straighter face than any three other men I've ever known put together.»

«It's all a matter of practice, sir,» Blade replied, with a bland smile. This was not only tactful, but true. He'd started training his imagination with cover stories while doing intelligence work, and gone on explaining his origins to people in more than twenty different Dimensions. This was simply the newest occasion for practicing an old skill.

«Well, we know that Gohar was founded by people who came across a great desert from a land between two river valleys…» Blade went on speaking rapidly and borrowing details wholesale from the history of the Phoenicians and their colony Carthage, the Romans, the classical Greeks, and even the Byzantine Empire. By the time Captain Nemyet had his armor off, he was smiling. By the time Blade reached a twisted description of the Punic Wars, the captain was laughing so hard he had to grip the railing to keep from falling.

«Blade, Blade, Blade,» he gasped, tears running down his cheeks. «You English may know everything even the gods do about war. But when it comes to knowing where you came from, and how your fathers lived-«He broke off again, in more laughter.

Finally Nemyet wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his sweat-darkened shirt and called for wine. «Blade, you've more to learn than I can tell you, I think. I'm a sailor and a trader, not much for sitting with books all day. Back in the City, you'll find lots more of those. But I can tell you enough so you'll know just how much you don't know. Fair enough?»

Blade put out his hand and Nemyet took it. «Very fair. If I can, I'd also like to talk with the captain of the galley, and with the pirate chief here.»

The captain frowned. «Don't know about Degyat. He's likely to be busy enough with his ship and men, until we reach the City. I'll put in a word for him seeing you afterward, though. As for him»-a thumb jerk at the pirate chief-«what can a man have to say to one of them?»

Blade decided to turn the matter into a joke. «Probably not much. But you've said we English don't know much about your time. There are other people in my time beside the English. Who knows? Maybe the Bloodskins were fathers to one of them.»

For a moment Blade thought his joke had backfired. Nemyet stiffened and his face twisted up as if he'd smelled something foul. Then his eyes widened as he understood Blade, and he laughed.

«The Bloodskins the fathers of true men? Blade, you English will believe damned near anything! For the love of HemiGohar, stay away from the street vendors in the City. They'll sell you the Crystal Bridge, or even the Emperor's palace!» He turned away, chuckling to himself and still muttering, «Men coming from the Bloodskins! The Bloodskins!»

Blade looked toward the pirate chief, hoping to see some reaction. Either the pirate was really unconscious again, or he was determined not to give his captors the satisfaction of seeing him react to their insults.

It took the rest of the day to put the convoy in order. There were live pirates to be chained below and dead ones to be thrown overboard. There were dead sailors to be prepared for burial and wounded ones to be tended. There was cut rigging to be set up again, bloodstained planks to be scrubbed down with sand and sea water, cargo to be checked for damage. There was plenty of work for everybody, Blade included. After that everyone was too tired and hungry to talk, so after a meal of salt fish and porridge, Blade rolled himself up in a blanket on the floor of Nemyet's cabin and fell asleep.

The next morning, Captain Nemyet began Blade's history lesson.

Compared with the confusion in some Dimensions, Blade found this world almost simple. Gohar, the City, was the capital of an empire of the same name, with most of its territory at the northern end of what was called the First Sea. At the southern end the First Sea opened into the Ocean. Near the straits into the Ocean was the city of Mythor, founded as a colony by Gohar several centuries ago.

North of Gohar lay mountains, from which three rivers flowed into the Sea near the City. To the east of the Sea lay a land of forested hills, and to the west broad plains. Beyond the straits to the Ocean the coast stretched away to the southeast. The Goharans had explored as far as the mouth of an enormous river.

The prosperity of Gohar was based on carrying the trade of all the peoples around the First Sea and along the explored shore of the Ocean. From the mountains to the north came metal-copper, tin, iron, and silver. From the plains to the west came meat, hides, and fine horses. From the forests to the east came wood, resins, furs, and a stone Blade recognized as a form of amber. From the kingdoms scattered all along the Ocean shore came slaves, tropical woods, exotic animals, spices, and gold.

All of these things found their way into the holds of Gohar's ships, and most of the profits of carrying them found their way to Gohar. The Goharans were the first people in this Dimension to build seagoing ships. They still had more and better ships than everyone else put together.

Three hundred years ago, Gohar founded Mythor on its bay near the straits to the Ocean. This gave the City a port nearer the Ocean, letting it expand its trade with the kingdoms there. The merchant ships of Gohar could not sail close to the wind, but fortunately the winds of the Sea blew mostly from the north in the autumn and mostly from the south in the spring. So Gohar's ships sailed south to Mythor late in the year, spent the winter trading on the Ocean, then sailed homeward in the spring.

The First Sea stretched slightly less than two thousand miles from north to south, and about five hundred from east to west. Near the middle of it, a rocky peninsula jutted out from the western shore, narrowing the Sea to barely half that width. On that Peninsula lived the Sarumi, also known to their enemies as the Pirate Folk or Bloodskins.

«The gods cursed them and would not let them live among true men,» said Nemyet. «So they ran to the mountains. Then, after we built Mythor, the gods cursed us in their turn, giving the Pirate Folk ships to prey on us.»

Blade mentally translated Nemyet's account. The Sarumi hadn't been able to survive in the face of competition from better-armed and more numerous «true» humans. They'd fled to the peninsula, where the Sea protected them on three sides. They'd been able to survive there, and even increase in numbers until population pressure began to affect them. By that time they'd gained some skill in building and handling ships, so they'd done what the Vikings did-went to sea to find their fortunes. An old and grim story, played over and over in too many Dimensions.

Something in Blade's expression seemed to suggest skepticism to Nemyet. The captain shook his head. «Blade, perhaps you don't believe me because of our victory yesterday. I swear we were lucky. We were six, and we had the galley and Degyat, who's one of the best. We also had you.»

He went on to explain that most of the time either the merchant ships had no escorts, or the pirates were so numerous it didn't matter. At least one ship out of every five that sailed from either Mythor or Gohar during the past five years never reached her destination.

«We could gather the ships together more often, if there were more galleys. But the Emperor doesn't seem to care, and Prince Harkrat- «He broke off and looked around somewhat nervously, then shrugged and was silent.

So there were Goharan politics involved in the problem of the pirates. Blade wasn't surprised. He also didn't expect to be told the details, at least not by Nemyet. Fortunately Goharan politics, no matter how tangled, wouldn't start affecting him seriously until he reached Gohar the City. Between him and it lay another ten days' sailing, with no enemies but the Pirate Folk. Dealing with them was a fairly simple matter.