Brian Aldiss - Helliconia Summer

An old Thribriatan tribesman in elaborate braffista headgear was parading two gorilloid Others on chains. The creatures attracted several onlookers. Away from their arboreal habitat, their behaviour was uncouth. They most resembled—so one of the courtiers said—two drunken courtiers.

The froglike Prince Taynth Indredd was standing under a yellow sunshade, being fanned and smoking a veronikane as he watched the Others perform some limited tricks. Beside him, laughing uproariously at the captives, was a stiff girl of some eleven years and six tenners.

“Aren’t they funny, Unk?” she said to the prince. “They’re quite like people, except for all that fur.”

The Thribriatan, hearing this, touched his braffista and said to the prince, “You like see me make Others fight each other?”

The prince humorously produced a silver coin in the palm of his hand.

This if you’ll make them rumbo each other.”

Everyone laughed. The girl screamed with humour. “Unkie, how rude you are! Would they really?”

Mournfully polite, the tribesman said, “These beasts have no khmir like humans. Only every tenner make love, do rumbo. Is more easy make fight.”

Shaking his head and laughing, the prince retained his coin. It was as he turned away that MyrdemInggala addressed him. His small companion drifted off, suddenly bored. She was dressed as an adult, and her cheeks were rouged.

When the queen decently could, she left JandolAnganol and Taynth Indredd talking, and crossed to the fountain to speak with the girl. The latter was staring moodily into the water.

“Are you looking for fish?”

“No, thank you. We have much bigger fish than that at home in Oldorando.” She indicated their size in a childlike way, using her hands.

“I see. I’ve just been talking to your father, the prince.”

The girl looked up at her interrogator for the first time, with an expression of contempt. Her face astonished MyrdemInggala, so strange was it, with huge eyes fringed by abnormally long lashes, and a nose like the beak of a little parakeet. By the beholder, thought the queen, this is a half-Madi child! What a funny little thing! I must be nice to it.

It was saying, “Zygankes! Taynth my father! He’s not my father. Whatever made you think that? He’s only a distant cousin by marriage. I wouldn’t have him for a father—he’s too fat.” As if to strike a pleasanter note, the girl said, “In truth, this is the first time I have been allowed to travel away from Oldorando without my father. My women are with me, of course, but it’s terribly boring here, isn’t it? Do you have to live here?”

She squinted as she peered up at the queen. A characteristic in her face made her look at once pretty and stupid.

“You know what? You look quite attractive, for an old person.”

Keeping a serious face, the queen said, “I have a nice cool reservoir, sheltered from view. Would you like a swim? Is that permitted?”

The girl considered. “I can do what I like, of course, but I don’t think a swim would be ladylike just now. I am a princess, after all. That always has to be considered.”

“Really? Do you mind telling me your name?”

“Zygankes, it is primitive in Borlien! I thought everyone knew my name. I am the Princess Simoda Tal, and my father is the King of Oldorando. I suppose you’ve heard of Oldorando?”

The queen laughed. Feeling sorry for the child, she said, “Well, if you’ve come all the way from Oldorando I think you deserve a swim.”

“I’ll swim when I please, thank you,” said the young lady.

And when the young lady pleased was next morning at dawn. She found her way to the queen’s quarters and woke her. MyrdemInggala was more amused than vexed. She roused Tatro and they went down with Simoda Tal to the reservoir, accompanied only by their maids, who bore towels, and a phagor guard. The child dismissed the phagors, saying that they disgusted her.

A chill light lay across the scene, but the water was more than tepid. Once, in JandolAnganol’s father’s time, carts of snow and ice had been brought from the mountains to cool the reservoirs, but considerations of manpower and the stirrings of Mordriat tribes had terminated such luxuries.

Although no windows but her own faced over the reservoir, the queen always swam in a filmy garment which covered her pale body, Simoda Tal had no such reservations. She threw off her garments to reveal a stocky little body prinked with dark hairs, which stood out like pine trees on snowy hillsides.

“Oh, I love you, you’re beautiful!” she exclaimed to the queen, rushing up as soon as she was naked and embracing the older woman. MyrdemInggala was unable to respond freely. She felt something inappropriate in the embrace. Tatro screamed.

The young girl swam and surface-dived close to the queen, repeatedly opening her legs as she performed in the water, as if eager to assure MyrdemInggala that she was fully adult where it was most important to be.

At the same time, SartoriIrvrash was being wakened from his couch by an officer of the court. The guards had reported that the Sibornalese ambassador, Io Pasharatid, had left on hoxneyback, alone, an hour before Freyr-dawn.

“His wife, Dienu?”

“She is still in her quarters, sir. She is reported to be upset.”

“Upset? What does that mean? The woman’s intelligent. I can’t say I like her, but she’s intelligent. Botheration… And there are so many fools… Here, help me out of bed, will you?”

He drew a gown round his shoulders and roused the slave woman who had served as his housekeeper since his wife died. He admired the Sibornalese. He had estimated that at this time of the Great Year there were possibly fifty million humans living in the seventeen countries of Campannlat; those countries could not agree with each other.

Wars were endemic. Empires rose and fell. There was never peace.

In Sibornal, cold Sibornal, things fell out differently. In the seven countries of Sibornal lived an estimated twenty-five million humans. Those seven nations formed a strong alliance. Campannlat was incomparably richer than the northern continent, yet perpetual squabbles between its nations meant that little was achieved—except religions which thrived on desperation. This was why SartoriIrvrash hated the job of chancellor. He had a contempt for most of the men he worked for.

The chancellor had paid bribes, and knew as a result that Prince Taynth Indredd had brought to the palace a chest of weapons—the very weapons discussed yesterday. Clearly, they were designed as bargaining power, but what the bargain would be remained to be seen.

It was not improbable that the Sibornalese ambassador had also gained news of the chest of matchlocks. That could account for his hasty departure. He would be heading north, towards Hazziz and the nearest Sibornalese settlements. He should be brought back.

SartoriIrvrash sipped a mug of pellamountain tea which the slave woman brought and turned to the waiting officer.

“I made a fabulous discovery yesterday regarding hoxneys, which influences the history of the world—a remarkable discovery! But who took account of it?” He shook his bald head. “Learning means nothing, intrigue is everything. So I have to bestir myself at dawn to capture some fool riding north… What a botheration it is! Now. Who’s a good hoxneyman near at hand? One we can trust, if such exists. I know. The queen’s brother, YeferalOboral. Fetch him, will you? In his boots.”

When YeferalOboral appeared, SartoriIrvrash explained the situation.

“Fetch this madman Pasharatid back. Ride hard and you’ll catch him up. Tell him—something. Let me think. Yes, tell him that the king has decided to make no commitment to Oldorando and Pannoval. Instead, he wishes to sign a treaty with Sibornal. Sibornal has a fleet of ships. Tell him we will offer them anchorage in Ottassol.”