Juliet McKenna - Northern Storm

For Ernie and Betty,

for all they do to ease my working life

and all they do to enrich our sons lives.

What does this sunrise bring, beyond another day of trying to read all the faces turned to me? What omens might there be as to whether or not Ill meet whatever challenges are set before me before sunset? Will I fail? Who will I failmyself or these people who never foresaw that I would become their ruler? Idly rubbing a hand over his close-trimmed beard, he glanced from side to side to see if any portent offered itself in any arc of the compass, firstly in the pale skies of the early morning, the clouds iridescent as mother-of-pearl. Dropping his gaze, he studied the indigo waters broken by ruffles of foam and mysterious swirls of lighter blue. The waters rose and fell as gently as a sleeping childs chest. No sign of any sea serpent lurking in the channels between coral and sand. No whale rising unexpectedly from the distant deeps further out. No detritus floating in our path as portent of good or ill. There are no omens that I can see. The future is as bare of signs to guide me as the empty ocean.

A dutiful voice interrupted his fruitless survey.

Were nearly there, my lord Chazen Kheda, the helmsman announced, sitting alert on his stool on the raised platform at the stern of the little galley. One brown hand rested on the steering oar, his dark eyes fixed on the man standing in the prow. The ships master kept an alert watch for reefs and skenies beneath the waves, his dun cotton tunic and trousers flattened against his muscular body by the breeze. In the belly of the ship, the rowers bent and hauled and sent the Yellow Serpent speeding through the water, three men to a bench, each with his own long oar lashed to its thole-pin. With the crew of the warlords vessel drawn from the most practised oarsmen, they barely needed the regular drone of the pipers flute amidships to keep their strokes even, making light of pulling the long, lithe vessel against the wind.

Were in good time, as always. Kheda eased his shoulders beneath the weight of his chain-mail hauberk and adjusted the silk scarf around his neck before raising his voice so that the rowers on the open deck below could hear him. The Yellow Serpent has served me well throughout this voyage. As I have served this domain, I hope. But this voyage is all but over and I will have a whole new set of challenges to meet when I return to what I suppose I must call my home now.

Seen any omens for our day? A man whose bald head barely topped Khedas shoulder held out a round brass and steel helmet with a chain-mail veil hanging down to protect the wearers neck and shoulders. Diamonds around the gold brow band spat defiant fire back at the strengthening sun.

I wont want that till we land. Kheda relished the breeze brushing his short-cropped, tightly curled hair as he kept his eyes on the rapidly approaching drifts of foam that ringed the few scraps of sandy land in the midst of the reefs and sandbanks. Sparkling beaches circled dense clumps of midar shrub pierced here and there with stands of nut palms. The trees waved exuberant fronds of lush new growth, still drawing on the water hoarded by the earth since the drenching of last years rains.

The final outposts of your domain, my lord Chazen Kheda, before the countless islands of the

Aldabreshin Archipelago yield to the boundless southern ocean. The shorter mans tone was faintly mocking.

Not so boundless, Dev. Kheda shot a glare at him. We know all too well there must be land beyond the horizon to spawn our enemies.

Dev affected not to see Khedas irritation as he adjusted the broad brass-studded belt around his sturdy waist, armour jingling softly as he shifted his bare feet on the smooth planking. His hauberk was plain, wholly made from polished steel rings, in contrast to Khedas which boasted a diamond pattern of brazen links and engraved metal plates inset to protect his vitals from piercing arrows or murderous sword-thrusts. The fine leather of the warlords belt was invisible beneath golden plaques embossed with intricate sprays of canthira leaves.

Have there been omens of battle ahead, my lord? the helmsman asked with alarm. Do you think some new wave of invaders will come to support those still trapped in the western isles?

Kheda smiled easily to calm the mariners fears. Theres been no such sign.

Fool. Watch what you say. These men of Chazen havent known and trusted you since your birth or theirs. You cannot rely on them to read your words aright, or keep them to themselves as those of Daish would have done.

We will throw the last sorry remnants of those savages into the sea soon enough. Let the currents carry their bloated corpses back to wash up and warn their kin against quitting their own shores again. As he continued in the same confident tone, Kheda waved one hand airily and the uncut emerald on the heavy silver ring he wore glowed vividly in the brilliant light.

Well be getting back to clearing out the last of the invaders, will we, as soon as weve completed this interminable tour of every last rock and reef? Dev demanded abruptly.

Kheda glanced at him, face stern. Dev, as a barbarian,

Ill allow you more leeway than I would any true-born Archipelagan, but use that tone to me again and I will have you flogged. Better yet, I will do it myself.

Do you remember what I told you? That one of my father Daish Reiks precepts of leadership was never make a threat youre not prepared to carry out? You can be sure thats no idle warning, barbarian.

He looked into Devs dark eyes but couldnt read anything there. No matter. The barbarian looked away first.

My lord, if you please, wheres the Mist DoveV The helmsman was still gazing resolutely over the heads of the rowers on their serried benches towards the Yellow Serpents burly shipmaster on the prow platform. A flurry of foam blew up over the prow as the knife edge of the brass-sheathed ram sliced through the waves.

Staying well clear. Kheda looked back astern to see the heavy trireme that had accompanied them slowing in the more open waters, oars idling. The weapons and armour of the fighting men aboard glinted in the sun.

And if by some mischance I have failed to note any portent of some new assault by the savages, we have steel and hatred to use against them. But lets not tempt the future with such thoughts. Theres been no sign of any new invasion. You had better turn your attention to what awaits you here, and whatever portents for your rule of this domain thatll be set out for all to see.

Shallow enough to negotiate the encircling corals, the light galley headed towards the largest of the scatter of low islands. The ragged fronds of the tallest trees were stirring in the rising breeze and the channels between the islands were thronged with little boats.

So where exactly are the pearl beds? Dev studied the shipmasters raising their sails, the divers busy on deck checking the weighted ropes that would take them down to the sea bed and the lifelines that should ensure they would survive to enjoy the fruits of their labours. Lookouts on each boat sharpened broad-bladed shark spears and viciously barbed gaff hooks.

They shift from year to year. Kheda watched the youths and young girls trading their sweat and muscle for the right to learn the skills of diver and sailor. Some were wading out to the skiffs carrying food and water on their hearts; others were stowing the stacks of baskets waiting to bring the years greatest bounty up from the deep.

And sometimes the pearl oysters vanish altogether. What manner of omen would that be?

The tremor that ran through Kheda had nothing to do with the surge beneath his feet as the Yellow Serpents rowers bent over their oars. Pearl skiffs scattered as the galley headed towards a wide beach where a veritable village had been thrown up. Huts built from woven panels of palm fronds were roughly thatched with bundles of coarse grass tied with tangling vines. The greenery was barely faded but Kheda knew it wouldnt be long before the punishing sun parched roofs and walls to a yellowy brown. Then the pearl harvest will be over and the huts will be left to the sand lizards and the sooty shrews hunting sickle snakes and scorpions. The pearl gulls and coral fishers will plunder the roofs for their own nests and prey on unwary shrews to feed their young. The dry season will bleach these huts to frail straw and the rainy seasons storms will rip them apart. Therell be barely a sign that there was anything here when the last full moons of the year ahead of us will summon the divers to search the reefs for the shifting pearl beds.