Gene Wolfe - On Blue's waters

We have elephants, but they will not trample our enemies. The booming of the guns frightens them, just as it does me. The elephants frighten our horses, who are not afraid of guns. What a whorl!

Elephants frighten our prisoners as well, as I soon saw. We have twenty-two, everything from grandfathers with wrinkled faces to boys who cannot yet have reached puberty. When I saw that they were afraid of my elephant, I had three of them sent up the ladder one by one, so that I could question them upon its back. Chota helped me greatly at times, explaining the customs and idioms of Han. She had brought along the pickled parsnips, pilav, and some other food; our prisoners’ mouths watered as they watched her eat. They are as hungry as she was, I think. Food is scarce, so Hari Mau has allowed them very little.

Now that I come to think of it, I was told that one had been captured only an hour or so before we got there.

I have been busy all day, trying to catch up on matters that should have been attended to while I was with our troopers. (What would I not give for Hammerstone now! Olivine, lend us your father, please.) Most important: I have sent Bahar and Namak downriver in a boat, each with his little case of cards. Bahar is to buy rice and beans-whatever is cheap and filling-and he is just the man for it.

Namak will try to hire men who will fight alongside us. They will have to be men who have their own slug guns, since guns are in very short supply. (I wonder how they are coming in New Viron, making their own? Certainly the one that Marrow gave me was serviceable enough.) It is probably for the best-we must have men who can shoot. Hunting can be a cruel amusement and it often is; but it is the best training in the whorl for a trooper.

I hope Bahar sends something back for us soon. Food is very scarce, and of course everything north along the Nadi is gone, all those rich farms.

Hari Mau came from the front to confer. It is an hour’s ride now. He had made sketch maps. Our left flank is quite secure, he says, an impenetrable marshy forest. (What can a man who has not been on Green know about that?) Our right is on the river, and in spite of all that he says I am worried about both.

He was worried about Chota, so much so that I made her go back to the women’s quarters for a while. Nobody trusts her, poor child.

Nobody but me.

Prisoners in despair, he says.

Even war has benefits, even being wounded and more than half expected to die. Maybe nothing real is wholly good or bad. (But real is not the word. Tangible? ) I still long for home and Nettle’s pardon, should she be so moved as to give it; but the pain in my side kills the pain of that, and I have been mercifully busy. Which is the god of busyness? Scylla, perhaps, if there is one. Scylla tossing up waves to dance in sunlight and starlight. I have written so much about our life on the sloop, and nothing about that, yet aside from Seawrack of the golden hair it is what I recall the best from all those days-the ceaseless, restless waves gleaming with reflected stars and dyed by Green. What blessings mere busyness brings us!

I have hatched a plan and have been seeing that it is carried out for half the day. We have been driven back again and again. Several of our river workers were injured by flying rock, and one died. Both those are facts. We are trying to combine them.

A note reports that four of our prisoners have killed themselves. This must be stopped. I have ordered the remaining prisoners brought here to me by noon tomorrow. I want another look at them.

Talked to the prisoners with Chota present as before. At first we learned nothing new. I ordered a good hot meal prepared for them and spoke to them again afterward, and was lucky enough to get to the bottom of it.

First, food is scarce on their side. It must be brought from Han on pack animals, horses and mules, because of the Cataracts. They think that we have plenty, and that they have been starved on Hari Mau’s orders.

Second, they think the whole war is a plot to make them lose their land. They are small farmers for the most part, just like our own troopers, and one of them accused Evensong (Chota) to her face, calling her the Man’s woman and making her furiously angry. She tried to get me to have him killed. I told her he is precious to me, and have asked for a truce instead.

Truce agreed to. I sent Rajya Mantri to tell the Hannese we wanted to exchange prisoners, all that we have for all they have. They would not agree, but we got eighteen of ours for eighteen of theirs. The important thing is that those men are back where they can talk to their fellow troopers. The retreat is all arranged, and should be just far enough to get them over the buried kegs.

At every odd moment I find myself thinking about that “impenetrable” forest, and remembering the forest at the mouth of the big river, the jungles on Green, and so forth-the tangled trees on the big sandspit I was writing about before Han invaded us.

When we found the mouth of the river, all three of us thought that the search was almost over. I got out the map Wijzer had drawn for me and showed it to Krait, and he agreed to search for Pajarocu whenever he went hunting. Supposing that we would be there in another week at most, Seawrack and I agreed that she would remain behind to look after the sloop. I explained at some length that a great deal might still go wrong even if the lander flew into the sky without crashing and told her to assume me dead if I had not returned within a month.

It has been nearly two years now, I believe. More, perhaps. How is it that her song reaches me?

The river was broad and slow, but after three days’ sailing it became obvious that the stretch before the first fork was a good deal longer than Wijzer had indicated. When I saw a town (a cluster of huts, really) on the south bank, I put in there, intending to barter for blankets and a few other things we needed, and sail on that day. We ended by staying four. Once you stop, you and your journey are at the mercy of the god of the place. I have learned that, at least, from all my traveling. Nevertheless, I must stop this writing right now and get a little sleep.

Wound healing, I believe. I feel better (less feverish) and there is certainly less inflammation. Less drainage, too. Phaea be thanked. Or whomever.

All the temple bells are ringing. A great day! We have driven them back.

The retreat did not go quite as planned, but it was good enough. I stood upon the head of my elephant and watched the whole battle, although everyone said that was too dangerous, even Mahawat, who drives him for me and stood beside me dancing with excitement.

The Hannese rushed forward as we had hoped, waving knives and swords, yelling and shooting. Our men ran, then turned and fired when they reached their new positions. That was the point that had worried me. I had been afraid they would keep on running, but only a handful did. There was a hot fight then for about an hour before the buried powder went off.

They were very big charges, much bigger than we had ever used in blasting rock, and we had packed jagged flints around the kegs. The plan was to have our men rush the enemy after the explosions, and send in the horsemen only if the enemy broke; but Hari Mau sent them in at once, seeing that the enemy would break at once. It was very strange for me, standing high up there in front of the long platform that holds my silk tent, because I could see that the horsemen should go immediately. I had no way to give the order, but trumpets blew as if I had, with the final notes lost in the thunder of the hooves, and after that it was lances and swords and needlers and dust, the flag dipping and leaning and always seeming about to fall, but advancing! Advancing! Advancing!

And blood, always blood, although there was great deal of that already.