Waterborn

this priesthood served the Changeling directly, though they were not related to him. Those who were of the Changeling's blood ruled the city.

This girl he was seeking, then. She was a part of the River. Who could her enemy be? Why did she call him?

'Do the Waterborn have any enemies?' Perkar asked.

That startled the young priest. 'What do you mean? Barbarians like yourself, I suppose. Foreign tyrants who wish to conquer our city. Foes of the Waterborn are the foes of us all.'

'None in the city? Criminals, treacherous men?'

The priest shook his head. 'Absolutely not.'

Perkar thought he had enough to absorb for the moment, and though the boy seemed to have warmed a bit to talking, he had not become much more pleasant.

'How long have you been a priest?' Perkar asked.

'I was initiated three years ago, and have attained the third stitch,' he said, some pride glowing through the words.

Perkar nodded. 'You seem very young to have such responsibility. Congratulations.'

The boy—dark, of course, like everyone in Nhol—became a peculiar shade of purple. 'I am twenty-two years of age,' he snarled.

'But… your voice,' Perkar stammered.

The priest appeared to be trying to decide whether to swallow his tongue. 'I forgive you because you are a barbarian,' he finally said in a tight voice. A tight, eleven-year-old voice. 'Priests of the River are… removed from certain gross physical realms.'

Perkar stared at the man in horror as that sank in. 'You…' He didn't say it, didn't say gelding, for he had no desire to become engaged in a duel at the moment. He finally settled for a polite 'Ah.'

The man continued to glare at him for a moment, adjusted his robe and kilt, fiddling with the incense.

'Do you mind,' Perkar said, uncomfortable now, 'do you mind if I watch the boat for a while?'

'For what reason?'

'I want to see if it will move again. That would be interesting, I think.'

The priest snorted. 'Do what you will. It doesn't violate any laws, though I must caution you against approaching the boat. It belongs to the priesthood.'

'I'll just watch then,' he assured the priest, and sat down next to the wall. He was not certain why he did so, not sure why he shouldn't. It seemed reasonable that the boat would go where the River wanted him to, in which case he was where he belonged. Of course, he might be too late for whatever-it-was, or, without him in it, the boat might have wandered about aimlessly. Still, the immense palace was only a stone's throw away; the canal vanished into a black hole with a steel grate, and he suspected the water went into the royal dwellings themselves. Perhaps that was all the boat meant by being here, that he should enter the palace. Surveying it critically, Perkar could not imagine scaling its walls or avoiding the many guards and soldiers who would likely question him. In that case, he shouldn't be here, he should be back at the Crab Woman, pursuing the possibility that some noble might hire his sword. That was probably the only way he was likely to enter such a daunting fortress. And if he got in, if he found this girl, what then? She was the River's child, or at least of his blood. Here she was in his city. What would she need with him, a 'barbarian' from a thousand leagues away? And most critically of all, when he found her, would he kill her or save her? He wondered, briefly, if he could kill a little girl, and was overcome by a sudden, almost dizzying burst of anger. Yes, he thought, remembering the ghost of his king, Eruka's empty eyes. Yes, if it will thwart the River I can kill anyone.

He was turning all of this over in his mind for at least the third time, when a great, deep voice rang out, just down the street.

'That has to be him,' it said. Perkar was startled to see the Giant—or another man much like him—striding toward him. With the Giant was a small, wizened man in dark blue robes. It seemed that he had seen those robes back at the Crab Woman, too, and so it stood to reason they had followed him here intentionally. He scrambled to his feet, hand on Harka's hilt.

The old man was bald, Perkar could now see, though he had tied a sort of cloth around his head. It was he, not the Giant, who spoke when the two stopped before him.

'Gray eyes, light hair, pale skin,' the old man muttered. 'Well, well.'

The Giant shook his massive head, parted his lips to reveal what resembled a mouthful of knucklebones. 'There are many strangers at the docks. It is just a coincidence.'

'Hezhi can tell us,' the old man said. 'If he isn't the one, what have we lost?'

'Everything, perhaps. Foreigners are thieves and cutthroats.'

Perkar felt that he had been spoken of in the third person for long enough. 'What are you two talking about?' he demanded.

The old man looked mildly surprised. 'You speak our language passing well, for one from so far away, from the Cattle-Lands.'

That stopped Perkar's ready retort. 'You know my people?'

'By reputation only. I have read one or two of your…' He frowned. 'Higaral?' he said at last, a question.

Perkar blinked. 'Ekaral,' he corrected. 'Songs.'

'Yes. An officer of the Second Dynasty sailed up-River some time ago and lived with your folk for a while, wrote down a few of your Ekaral because he thought they might interest someone, I suppose.'

The Giant growled and then looked abashed when the old man shot him a sharp look. The elder nodded, though, as if in agreement with whatever sentiment the Giant conveyed.

'We can talk about that later. Tsem reminds me that we have no time to discuss poetry. The other men in the Crab Woman told us we might find you here. I want to engage your services.'

Perkar nodded. 'So you are my destiny, caught up with me finally. Do you, by any chance, know a girl, perhaps twelve years old, with black eyes and a pointed chin?'

The Giant's jaw dropped, but the old man glanced furtively at the priest near the boat.

'Elsewhere,' he hissed. 'I wish to discuss this, but elsewhere.' He gestured for Perkar to follow, and the Giant beckoned as well, with somewhat more insistence. Perkar pursed his lips, his only hesitation. This was what he was here for.

 

 

'There is much to explain,' the old man said as they once again approached the docks. 'Many questions I have for you, as well, but precious little time. So I must ask the most important ones first.'

'My name is Perkar Kar Barku,' Perkar informed him.

'Yes, yes.' The old man nodded. 'I am Ghan, and the half Giant is Tsem.'

'Ghun, Tsem,' he repeated.

'Ghan,' the old man said sharply, 'not Ghun.'

Teacher, not priest. And the Giant's name meant Iron.

'Ghan,' Perkar repeated apologetically. But he marked that— this old man seemed no friend of the priests.

'You mention a young girl,' Ghan went on sharply. 'What do you know of her?'

Perkar considered his answer, but settled on telling at least part of the truth. 'Not much. I dream about her, that's all. I have dreamed about her for months.'

'You have been in Nhol for that long?'

Perkar shook his head ruefully. 'I only just arrived.'

'Why did you come to Nhol, Perkar?'

'I didn't have much choice,' he answered. 'The River brought me. It is a long story, an Ekar, but you say we don't have much time. So, shortly, the River took hold of my boat and brought me here.'

Ghan raised his hand. 'Did this make you bitter? Do you resent this?'