John Dalmas - Return to Fanglith

Now there was a different viewpoint for me! I was learning to relax and enjoy the situation. Give me a little time and maybe I'd make a good adventurer after all!

The next day wasn't all that enjoyable though. For one thing, I felt as if l should have slept a few more hours. And the weather had changed; it was beginning to be windy again, but out of the south this time-a warm wind gritty with sand. The sirocco, they called it, out of Africa. By the time we'd climbed into our saddles to help fetch Arno's horses, it was a stiff breeze, damp and almost hot. We chewed grit, breathed grit, and got grit in our eyes. Nobody there seemed very happy about it.

It could last for days, they told me, though it might be gone tomorrow. If it ever came to a vote, I'd vote for gone tomorrow.

The country behind Mileto was rough, with draws and little canyons, and Arno's herd was scattered in several loose bands with some young locals keeping track of them. There were three stallions, thirty-seven big mares, and thirty-three foals-a lot of horses. It took us till afternoon to get them all down out of the hills and penned near the wharf. There Arno selected sixty to take to Palermo this trip. That was all the ship would hold-the biggest horse ship available in Reggio.

Then we went back to the tower-the donjon, they called it-and actually bathed! The Normans were quite cheerful about it-not only Arno, but Brislieu and their squires. They even had soap, and what the soap lacked in quality, the Normans made up for with scrubbing.

It was the first time I'd had my clothes off since before I'd boarded the ship at Marseille. There were red blotches-bug bites-all over my body; it was pretty impressive. They didn't bother me the way they had at first though. And the Normans didn't have the blotches. It was as if the body quit reacting much to them after a while.

When we'd gotten rid of the grit temporarily, we had a meal. Then Arno and I sat alone in the shelter of a garden wall to talk. I'd thought he might present me to Roger's wife, but he didn't. I decided that one, he didn't know how to explain me; and two, he didn't want them to know what sort of resource I was.

What we did do was talk about the kind of kingdom or empire he'd run, if he had one. First of all, he said, he would establish his sovereignty over the Greeks- the Byzantines. Then he'd bring the cleverest artisans and weapons makers of Byzantium to his court, which would be at Palermo. At the same time, he'd send me back to the heavens to get more of our powerful weapons, an idea that fitted in with my own.

Also, he would not, he said, allow the barons to build castles; it encouraged them to defy the king. He'd let each subject people rule themselves by their own laws and leaders, after swearing fealty to him as their sovereign. Guiscard had begun to do this, and was finding that it greatly reduced revolts and other unrests.

And again following Guiscard's example, he would appoint Jews and Greeks to administer the offices of government. They had the knowledge, could read and write and compute; and besides, he said, Normans had no genius for the job.

I decided that Arno had the makings of a good ruler.

"But look," I told him, "today you won't even trust me to hold the speaking amulet in my hand. Yet later, you're going to trust me to leave this world in the skyboat?"

"Of course," he said. "Things will be different then."

"Different how?"

He didn't answer for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to tell me. "First, I shall require your oath," he said at last, "and then I shall marry your sister. She and our children should be assurance enough that your oath will be kept."

I guess my expression must have told him what kind of jolt that was, because he added: "Do not be concerned. I shall always treat her honorably and respect her ways, requiring only that she be baptized. Admittedly I have scarcely spoken to the lady, but I have often thought about her, remembering what she looked like, and how brave she proved in the teeth of your enemies in Normandy. Thus not only have I yearned for her in seeming hopelessness, but I admire her greatly."

I didn't say anything; it seemed best not to. And I guess Arno decided he'd said too much, because after a quiet minute or so, he excused himself and left. I don't suppose it ever occurred to him that Deneen might have other ideas, might tell him to go jump in the whirlpool Charybdis. At the very least.

The ship from Reggio didn't arrive that afternoon, and I could see why: a south wind was a head wind. It wasn't practical to sail south in the gritty teeth of the sirocco. We'd see what tomorrow brought. Meanwhile the servants would have to feed the horses hay.

That evening we ate with the other knights and sergeants and their squires in the dungeon, twenty-one of us in all. I was the only one who didn't wear a hauberk at the table. It was a strange tradition. But at least no one wore their helmet.

When Roger was at home, Arno told me, Roger and his family customarily ate dinner with the troops. At other times his family ate separately, which apparently was different from Norman custom. In any case, the food was a lot better and more varied than it had been at Roland's castle in Normandy.

Also, there was wine instead of sour beer, and when the eating had slowed down a little, there was storytelling. One of the knights, Rollo, wanted me to tell about India, but I could see that getting awkward. I wasn't sure I could lie fast enough, or convincingly enough, or

keep my lies consistent. So I told him I could speak of it only in my own language. Rollo decided that was an insult, and challenged me to fight-he'd drunk at least three or four big cups of wine, while I'd been getting through the evening on just one.

I wanted to avoid a fight if at all possible, for two reasons. Make that three reasons. Even if the fight started without weapons, I wasn't sure it would stay that way. Second, I didn't want them to know about hand-foot art; it was my secret weapon. And third, I don't like to fight. But Arno handled the situation; he got up and said it was unseemly to ask a holy monk to fight. And when the marshal of the house troops agreed with him, Rollo didn't push it.

Meanwhile it had gotten dark outside, and the lighting was poor, of course-a dozen of the crude oil lamps. Some of the troops went to their sleeping places and lay down; I decided that was a good idea and followed their example. After an hour I was still awake, still listening. The stories were interesting, and I was following the Norman with only a little trouble now and then where I lacked a key word or concept. The lamps had burned low or out, all that was left of the hearth fire was embers, and the last three or four men finally gave it up for the night.

I remember thinking that I wished Deneen would call. Minutes later I was asleep.

The reason she hadn't called was too much mental activity in the hall, which made it impossible for Bubba to read my thoughts. I'd been asleep long enough that the lamps and hearth fire were entirely dark when the remote spoke in my ear.

"Larn! Larn! Wake up. I've got something important to tell you."

Something important to tell me? The thought that hit me was that they'd detected an Imperial cruiser.

"Not that bad," she said. "A complication, not a catastrophe."

"What complication?" I thought to them.

"I was doing a routine check of ship's systems a while ago, and the fuel slugs have serious peripheral crystallization."

I thought I knew what could have caused it, or at least contributed to it: prolonged and constant operation in mass-proximity mode. I knew for sure what would happen if it wasn't reversed: It would get worse. And the further crystallization advances, the faster it advances, until beyond some critical point, you can't activate FTL mode anymore. If that happened to us, we could be stuck on Fanghth forever.