Iron Winter

‘Of course you were. And I intercepted your note to him. Well, he picks up my mail when I’m away Unfortunately Xavu is out of town, and has been gone for months. Too long.’

Pyxeas frowned. ‘Is he in trouble?’

‘Possibly. Or exploring some new opportunity. These are turbulent times, my friend; things change constantly, and communications are terrible. Either way, he’s not here. And besides he couldn’t have helped you — not old Xavu.’

Rina snorted. ‘You’re sure of that, are you?’

Uzzia smiled at her. ‘You want to get all the way to Daidu, don’t you? The writ of the Khans isn’t as strong as it used to be, what with the drought and the bandits. It would have been too much for dear old Xavu. But you’re in luck.’

Rina’s eyes narrowed. ‘In Xavu’s place — you? Is that what you’re offering?’

‘I’ve made many journeys east. I’ve even been as far as Daidu, once. Yes, I believe I could get you there, even in these troubled times.’

‘For a price!’

‘That goes without saying.’

‘You are a woman,’ Rina said coldly.

Pyxeas stiffened. ‘Many of our great Northlanders were women, niece. From the great Ana onwards.’

Uzzia smiled. ‘I’m stronger than some men, and smarter than most of them. The secret of my success. Trust me.’

And, looking at her, Avatak realised he did trust her, completely, after just this brief meeting. He really believed she could do what she claimed.

Pyxeas leaned forward. ‘But why, madam? Why would you do this? There must be easier ways to make a profit. Why would a Hatti wish to guide two Northlanders to Daidu?’

She seemed impressed by the fact that he’d asked the question. ‘You go beyond haggling over fees to ask me why. I hope you’ll do me the courtesy of letting me ask you the same.’

He nodded curtly.

‘I do this because I sense opportunity here. In you. I want to achieve more with my life than scraping a bit of petty profit in a place like Hantilios. I am Hatti, yes, but more than that. I am of the royal line.’

Rina snorted laughter. ‘Everybody in New Hattusa says they’re of the royal line.’

‘Perhaps they are,’ Uzzia said evenly. ‘Our dynasty, my family, is thousands of years old, the only dynasty ever to have ruled the Hatti empire. After so long, yes, perhaps every Hatti save the slaves has royal blood. But in my case, the divergence from the root stock is only a few generations back. My grandmother was Tawananna, which is a word that means senior queen. She was pushed aside by enemies at court. We remember, my family.’

‘And you would have your place back,’ Rina said, sneering.

Uzzia kept her gaze on Pyxeas. ‘You say you are a man of learning. I have read history, and I have learned the story of a previous Tawananna, called Kilushepa, who more than two thousand years ago was pivotal in a stratagem that saved the Hatti, and indeed Northland.’

Rina frowned. ‘You speak of the Trojan Invasion. Yes, Northland was saved. Yes, otherwise my ancestors would have been enslaved, Northland ploughed up for crops. But we were saved through a terrible act we call the Black Crime. It is a history that shames us.’

‘Then you should be glad your ancestors were stronger-minded than you are, madam, or you would not be here to indulge in that shame. As for the Hatti, we venerate Kilushepa. She is remembered as a hero; she made the Hatti great again, where we might have been forgotten. Erased. And at her side was a warrior princess called Mi, said to have been a Northlander. Imagine that!’

‘And you want to be a new Kilushepa — is that it?’

‘Not that. But the Hatti kings have little contact with Cathay. Who knows what might come of such a venture, especially at times like this? Ambition is easily mocked, but times of crisis are also times of opportunity. What one must do is to seize that opportunity when it comes along. And I sense,’ she said, turning to Pyxeas, ‘that in you that opportunity might have come knocking on my door.’

Pyxeas smiled. ‘On Xavu’s door, strictly speaking.’

‘Now your turn,’ she said bluntly. ‘You are an old man, yet you want to make a journey halfway around this hazardous world of ours. You must want to achieve something very badly.’

‘I do.’

‘Tell me what that is.’

And he began to speak of the weather.

Avatak recognised Uzzia’s expression; she was like a student struggling to keep up in one of Pyxeas’ classes. ‘And why must you go to Daidu to pursue this?’

‘Because the scholars in Cathay — and they have managed to continue their work under the Mongol dynasty — have been making complementary studies to mine. Measurements of other aspects of the world, the atmosphere — oh, it is too much to explain without my scrolls! Suffice it to say that I believe that putting together my studies with the science of Cathay, specifically of a scholar called Bolghai with whom I have corresponded-’

Uzzia held up a hand. ‘Tell it more simply. Tell me why you want to go to Daidu. The real reason, the core of it.’

He thought for a moment, baffled by the question.

Avatak said, ‘He wants to save the world.’

They were all staring at him, Rina open-mouthed, Pyxeas oddly moist-eyed.

And Uzzia — Uzzia was excited. The Hatti woman leaned forward. ‘When can you leave?’

‘Mad,’ Rina said. ‘You’re all mad. Do you have any more of that mulled wine? The sooner I’m back home in Etxelur the better, though the mothers only know what the weather must be like there. .’

14

For Crimm, as for most people, the day of the Autumn Blizzard started normally, like any other day With no warning of what was to come.

That morning, when Crimm got to the dock on the Wall’s ocean face, Ayto, his navigator, was already waiting, with, Crimm counted, only two missing of the Sabet’s ten-man crew, their gear at their feet, a heap of provisions on the growstone ledge beside them. Not a bad turnout for a blustery, blowy autumn morning. At least there hadn’t been any frost, for once, and up here the growstone footing was always sound.

The Sabet herself looked solid enough, but she had had to be tied up outside the shelter of her berth, a deep notch cut into the Wall growstone, for the level of the sea had now dropped so much that she would have grounded at low tide if they’d tried to take her in. The engineers were talking about hacking into the growstone to deepen the berths, but that was only worth doing if the sea level wasn’t going to rise again — or indeed if it didn’t fall further. Well, Sabet had brought Crimm and the crew, and Uncle Pyxeas, safely back across a berg-strewn sea from Coldland, and had been out almost daily in the months since then. Crimm would have been happier if she could have had a spell in dry dock, but it had been a tough summer, and Northland needed as much cod as could be hauled in, so here they were. This morning, in fact, most of the fleet was already out on the deep ocean.

Ayto, bundled up in a heavy fur, was glaring out to sea. He was over forty years old, about five years older than Crimm, and his face, weathered, scarred by his years on the ocean as well as his boisterous life on land, was crumpled with suspicion. Crimm, respecting Ayto’s experience, stood by him, inspecting sea and sky. The ocean was the colour of steel, flecked with white where it churned under the wind. Waves broke against the impassive Wall, throwing up spumes of spray over the fishermen. The wind itself, coming straight from the north, was not exactly warm, though not as cold as it had been. But the northern horizon was obscured by mist and a bank of thick grey-black cloud that seemed to churn as Crimm watched.

Ayto moistened a finger and lifted it to the wind. ‘Northerly. Wet.’