The Blue Moon - 3. Chapter 3

Melgyera
The river Frothy, Andiol Empire

Melgyera Dimossai looked up from the book. The boy was delirious again. Reading was the only amusement in the small cabin, but the patient kept interrupting her with his tossing and turning.

Why couldn't the sick rest in peace and silence, like in books? Melgyera loved to read, especially novels about brave warriors and wanton women who tried to allure them. It was just annoyingly difficult to immerse oneself in a novel's world of battle and seduction in a stale, disease-ridden cabin. She would have enjoyed reading on deck, with the fresh river breeze fanning the pages. Unfortunately, the patient could not be left alone for long.

The boy seemed weaker than when they first came aboard. He had opened his eyes only a few times, and even then he spoke in a feverish confusion. The boy had repeated some names, of which Melgyera had recognised 'Mom' and the name of that other young scoundrel. Both boys were troublesome cases, no matter how much Zal claimed to sense something unusual about them.

Melgyera was not interested. A carefully prepared mission in Ipalos had been ruined by those two scamps. Zal had gotten close to his target, but the governor had fallen in the meantime. Besides, getting close was not enough for Zal in his searching. Once again, they had been pushed back to the starting point; Faceless had fled, and another opportunity to catch it was unlikely to come soon. It rankled Melgyera, badly.

At the same moment, the boy turned on his side - surely in pain - and the blanket fell from his chest. Melgyera sighed and got up to straighten the blanket. Nasty-looking bruises and scratches covered the patient's bare skin. Melgyera had applied healing ointments to the worst of the bruises, believing it would help. There would be no scars to mar the young body. That was good, because she had to admit that Zdain Monteilon was beautiful to look at.

Though Melgyera did not care much for adolescent boys. They lacked the rugged handsomeness she adored in grown men. Like Marl, for example, whose rough-hewn features she would gladly study for days on end.

In the same way she had once devoured Anden Telon's face with her eyes, even though he had not been particularly handsome. Funny how Anden had looked nothing like Melgyera's male ideal, but she had loved him more than she had ever loved anyone else. Much more than Marl, for whom she felt very differently.

But Anden had died years ago. And even if he had still been alive, there would have been no point in harbouring romantic feelings for him. Anden's heart had beaten for another, and Melgyera would never have stood a chance against this rival.

Eistaf Negos, how much Melgyera had heard about that ruthless man. Eistaf, Lufudon, Mocvann, Cors, Chab and Bendac - six traitors who had brought the Brotherhood to ruin. They were the reason why Zal continued his wandering life, and why Anden had set out on his quest to the dreader's Bewitched Land.

Even now, the traitors were hiding somewhere. They were waiting for Zal to make a mistake or to linger too long. Then they would strike, and Zaltarim Fizol would meet its end, as Anden did.

Zal was the last hope of the resistance. He was everything, but still not enough on his own. That's why they would anchor in the port of Maidor, even if Melgyera sensed that the stop would be useless.

She did not doubt Zal's intelligence, but was it wise to meet Maidor's eccentric scientist? Izaskar Ksellendor had always been unstable, Zal had told Melgyera. The man had not become calmer with age. In fact, he had become crazier. Barking mad even.

According to Zal, it had been too long since his last stop in Maidor and Izaskar might still know something useful. Zal had once described Izaskar as the smartest person he had ever met, and on a good day he might be able to help them.

With the new information, the situation had changed in a worrying way. Therefore, Zal had to discuss things with a peer, and of course there was none other than the mad Izaskar. Only the two of them were left of the Laftakom Greyhand's Brotherhood - no one else was to be counted, not even Taihan.

Melgyera wanted to return to the world of her book, but reading was no longer an option. It was impossible to banish all the unpleasant thoughts. They lurked at the back of her mind, attacking her all at once: the traitors, Anden, Melgyera's youth in Nao-Kartheon...

It's not time for Nao-Kartheon, not now! She shook her grey head and looked at the patient. The fever would not go down, even though Melgyera had already used every remedy at her disposal. It would be a miracle if the boy was still alive when the next day dawned.

The thought felt remotely bad. Having seen too much violence and suffering, Melgyera was no longer able to mourn every child who died. On the other hand, the loss of her own patient was painful. It was always harder to face death when you thought you had something to do with it.

The other boy would certainly go mad if his friend did not survive. Those two seemed close, probably childhood friends or something like that. Hopefully Zal would be able to keep the blond-haired Josel at bay when the news of Zdain's passing reached him. Of course Zal would. The problems he could not solve, usually no one else could either.

One such case was Marl Gaidok. Melgyera would have had her right arm chopped off if she had been able to restore Marl to his former self.

Twelve long and sorrowful years, during which Marl had not been able to shake off the burden of his grief. It was impossible for the large man to forgive himself for his terrible mistake. How much better things would be now if Marl had chosen differently that night.

The seasons had changed, but Marl had not learned to live with his self-reproach. His heart was so badly shattered that neither Zal's wisdom, Ragart's merriment, nor Melgyera's tenderness could mend it.

"Everything possible has been done for him," Zal had said many times when Melgyera, in her most desperate moments, had begged Zal to help Marl. As usual, Zal was right, but that did not stop Melgyera from trying her feminine ways. But the gentle caresses she gave Marl at night were no comfort to a man overwhelmed by grief.

Since there was no way to ease the pain that gnawed at Marl, it was necessary to try not to add to it. That was why they tolerated Marl's silence and the gloom that killed the joy around him, why they had gone to great lengths to make the outside world believe that the famous Marl Gaidok was missing or dead. For the same reason they avoided the area around Silver Castle on their travels. Silver Castle, in whose deserted halls the ghosts howled - the ghosts of Rheena and the twins. Rheena and the twins, whose names they never spoke aloud in Marl's presence.

If Marl was nothing but a ruin of the young hero who had once led armies into battle, what about Melgyera herself? A crusty old hag, a caricature of the stunningly beautiful girl she had once gazed upon in the mirror. That girl had hoped for so much from the world and from life, a whole lot more than a bitter, lonely old age.
Age had done its work for all of them. Even Zal's years had not been kind to him. Melgyera remembered a different Zal, less serious and more trusting of people. Taihan's departure had changed a lot.

Only Ragart was able to conjure up the occasional glimpse of the former Zal. Although Melgyera was sometimes annoyed by the chattering merchant, he was a good addition to their group, despite his foolishness. Whenever Ragart made Zal laugh at one of his silly jokes, Melgyera was willing to forgive the man's dirty talk and exaggerations about his own trading skills. Besides, Ragart was intelligent, capable and knew a lot of things that even Zal had no idea about.

Zal could not have found a better replacement for Taihan Xo'jox than Ragart Zapp. But he was not her. Oh, Taihan, I wish you'd forgive Zal. If only you'd come back, Melgyera thought, and the image of the round Southlander woman flashed through her mind.

Just then Zdain gasped, waking Melgyera from her musings. She pushed him gently onto his back. His bare shoulders felt hot, and when Melgyera reached for the sheet, she found it soaked with sweat.

The poor boy would not live much longer, Melgyera thought sadly, and placed a cold pack on her patient's forehead.

* * *

Josel

They stood in the bow of Princess because that was the best vantage point. Josel watched in amazement as the town opened up before him. Or was it even a town, Zal had spoken of a fortress. Either way, Josel had never seen anything like it. He wished he had listened more carefully during his geography lessons at school, so that he could have prepared himself for Maidor, which made both Paidos and Ipalos pale in comparison.

Just as Zal had described, the fortress was built on a spit of land around which the river made a long bend. But what Zal had not said was how impressive Maidor was. Behind the gleaming white walls, dozens of graceful towers glistened pink in the sun like rose petals, reaching higher into the clouds than such slender structures should ever have. There must have been twenty of storeys, but in addition to their height, they were so beautiful that they made Josel shiver.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" he asked Ragart, who was leaning against the board beside him.

He looked at Josel, giving a laugh. "You have to see the rose quartz towers of Maidor with your own eyes. Even the best story can't do them justice."

"Rose quartz? You mean..."

"Yes, they are covered with that precious stone. Izaskar has good taste, doesn't he?"

"That's awfully expensive!"

"Whatever you think is expensive. Maidor collects tolls from the ships on the river, and that's how Izaskar keeps his little community going. I could tell you more about their sources of income, but Zal wouldn't like that."

Josel grunted. He had gotten used to this, because there was always old Zal who refused to reveal more than a few sentences. Still, Josel had no choice but to press Ragart for information.

"How did they manage to build those? I mean, shouldn't towers that high and narrow collapse into the ground?" he wondered.

"One would think so. But the truth is different. Those towers won't even budge, no matter how the storm winds shake them. As you get closer, you can see a number of intricate details, such as footbridges connecting the towers, and balconies that look like they were built on top of nothing. This is all Izaskar's invention. The oldster may be mad, but he's also one of Andiol's sharpest minds. An astronomer and mathematician without equal. You know what mathematicians do, don't you?"

"Of course, in our school..."

"I don't mean the kind of maths you do in school," Ragart interrupted. "The invisible dimensions of space, straight and sharp angles, volumes and masses swirl in Izaskar's head. Schoolchildren or shopkeepers don't calculate such things. Only Izaskar's muddled brain could create the formulas that keep those towers in place, defying ordinary human intelligence."

When Josel could think of nothing else to say, he turned back to admire the approaching fortress. Princess had slowed her pace - perhaps the captain wanted to give the passengers time to admire the majestic towers a little longer.

By now they were close enough to make out the complex shapes of the buildings. They had a series of tapered, rounded and angular details that still seemed symmetrical. When Josel squinted, he could also see the curved footbridges connecting the towers in the distance. He could not yet make out the people, but half a dozen pink flags fluttered on the ridge of the wall. They had a pattern embroidered in grey…

"If you look at the flags, there's a telescope in the middle," Ragart enlightened. "Izaskar Ksellendor's emblem. What else would you expect from an astronomer?"

Princess steamed on, her paddle wheels rattling towards the end of the headland. Ragart had told Josel that the port of Maidor was on the other side, better protected from the storms that sometimes rage from the far southern sea.

At the end of the headland they came across two small boats, almost like dinghies. Josel first thought they were fishing boats, but Ragart corrected him: "Pilot boats. Their job is to inform the port of any incoming vessel so they can be ready. Despite the fact that we have been seen from the top of the wall for a long time. Izaskar wants to make sure that no ship passes without paying the toll. Payment can be made either to the pilot boats or, better still, by stopping at the port, which gives the locals a chance to extort more money from the crew. They are greedy people and think they are special. I don't like visiting here. In fact, none of us do, but as Zal told you, it's necessary for us to meet old Izaskar."

"How does Zal know Izaskar?"

Ragart pursed his lips and rubbed his forehead. "They are... let's say acquaintances from years ago. That's all."

This time Josel was not going to let Ragart off so easily. He saw Marl walk to the other side of the bow and nodded his head at the large man. "So tell me, is he the famous Marl Gaidok?"

The chubby merchant gave a short snort. "Since you seem to have figured it out, there's no point in denying it. But be careful never to mention it in front of Marl."

"But why? What is he hiding?"

"That's none of your business," was Ragart's reply.

At the same time, a sort of hollow, hooting signal was given from the other pilot boat, to which Princess quickly responded by blowing twice on her foghorn.

The exchange of honks made Ragart turn back to Josel. "That means we'll be anchoring in the harbour. And so we shall, because Timos is a wise man. Once upon a time, some foolish captain tried to cheat the pilots and sail upstream without paying. After the guards caught him, that captain never sailed again. After all, few people sail without eyes. Proof that you don't mess with the locals."

"Aren't they bound by the laws of the Empire?" Josel asked, unsure and a little shocked. Or was Ragart making fun of him again?

"In practice, they are not," the merchant replied. "Maidor is like a state within a state, and the rules for Izaskar are different from those for ordinary citizens. The Imperial Family is grateful to those who do favours for our beloved Andiol. And when the favours are great enough, the rewards are too."

"Why have I never heard of Maidor or these things before? We're not even that far from Paidos. How can a place that isn't really part of Andiol be this close? And what do you mean by favours?"

Ragart barked a mirthless laugh. "Do you think the emperor would want your schoolbooks to gossip about the Negos family voluntarily giving away a piece of imperial land? What kind of chain reaction could that cause? The Afamatians are difficult enough, not to mention the Ksingis. The favours Izaskar has done - don't bother asking me about them, I won't answer."

Of course you won't answer, Josel thought, shaking his head in annoyance. He was fed up with Ragart's secrecy. He was also puzzled by the world outside Paidos, which was becoming increasingly complex.

"I think I'll go to see what Zal is doing. You stay here. The harbour is worth a look," Ragart added, leaving the foredeck.

Josel stayed to watch as Princess circled the headland and made her way to the other side. The rose quartz decorated town was also impressive on the harbour side. The houses were imaginatively shaped, like extraordinary works of art without being ridiculous.

As they passed the shore fairly close by, it was easy for Josel to scan the people on the dock. Mothers watched over playing children, workers were doing their errands, a stooped man was pushing a cart piled high with lumber. Everything looked very ordinary, except for one thing. At first Josel thought he was mistaken, but when he looked at any person on land, regardless of age or sex, they were bald. To get an explanation, he had to wait for Ragart to return.

When they were almost in the harbour, the merchant stomped back on deck from inside the ship. "Have you noticed anything peculiar about the appearance of the people here?"

"Yes, but why?"

"When old Izaskar began to go bald, his subjects shaved their hair as a sign of compassion and solidarity. The most frightening thing is that no one was forced to cut their hair, yet everyone did it.

For nearly twenty years, no one in this town has had hair on their head, not even women or children. If anything, that says a lot about the people of Maidor," Ragart said, rubbing his bald head. "I could almost fit in," he chuckled again.

"Except no one in Izaskar's realm is that stocky," Timos Soldeimon, who had appeared behind Ragart, remarked with a burst of laughter.

Ragart did not look hurt, but shot back: "Once again, our lazy captain has left the helmsman in charge of his hulk."

"Bah, you silly landlubber. Princess doesn't need a skipper to steer her. She's such a nimble ship that even a butterfingers like you could turn her wheel."

Ragart guffawed, his belly wiggling. Then he began to ask if Timos had any requests for gifts from the port. After a moment's thought, the captain added a fresh newspaper, moustache wax and a bag of pipe tobacco to the list.

Josel asked the captain: "Aren't you coming ashore at all?"

The answer was not what he had prepared for. "I haven't set foot on the land for thirteen years," Timos said, choking up.

"Thirteen years? How is that possible?" Josel wondered and noticed Ragart looking away.

"A man's troubles usually have a woman in them - this one too," the captain replied. "I really hope, Charmer, that you never see that blonde harpy again."

"Again… Who do you mean?" Josel asked.

"Timos," Ragart interrupted. "Let's go and see that wristwatch of yours. Interesting novelty! If we can agree on a price, I might buy it. I'm tired of digging in my pockets to check the time. The inventor of such a device will change the world."

Captain Soldeimon glanced at Josel apologetically, but Ragart, who had already grabbed his shoulder, directed him towards the mess hall door. There was no point in bothering them any longer.

Josel was left to wonder. Who he should never see again? At least it meant one thing: They know something about me that I don't.

* * *

Thombs, the first mate at the helm, beat the last fathoms past the jetty into the harbour and soon Princess was next to the quay. Josel watched as the bald-headed dockers came to tie the ship to the bollards.

As everything was being prepared for landing, Zal and Melgy arrived on deck, dressed in clean clothes.

"This is going to be hard, you'll see," Melgy muttered. Zal just nodded, before they both fell silent.

Josel took a few quick steps towards them. "If Melgy goes to town, who will take care of Zdain?" he asked, addressing his words primarily to Zal. It had already become clear who would give the final orders.

"The captain stays here," Zal replied. "He will arrange for a doctor to come aboard to examine Zdain."

"If the boy dies while we're gone, you can blame the local quack," Melgy interjected.

Enraged, Josel glared at the grey-haired woman, who stared back with her cold eyes.

Zal tried to reassure by saying: "He's not going to die. Besides, you'll stay on the ship, Josel."

That was an option Josel had not considered. "I don't want to stay here! I've been stuck in this stupid boat for far too long." He'd been waiting to explore the strange town of Maidor, and now Zal was going to rob him of that chance.

"Don't argue with Zal!" Melgy barked, looking like she was about to slap Josel in the face.

Then Ragart, who had quietly moved closer, intervened. "Josel could be useful to us. Another pair of eyes and ears wouldn't hurt," he suggested, looking at Zal.

Zal measured them both with his sharp eyes, until he said: "So be it, but you, Ragart, will look after him."

"I'll take as good care of him as I do of my fat coin purse," the merchant promised, and was rewarded with a grateful smile from Josel.

* * *

As they stepped down the swaying gangway from the deck to the pier, Josel wondered if he had been selfish in leaving poor Zdain behind. Although it had not been the sheer desire for a change that had made him so eager to go ashore so badly.

It was necessary to witness the meeting with Izaskar. It might reveal more of the secrets Zal was desperately trying to hide. Old Zal must have something very important to tell Izaskar, and Josel was going to find out what it was.

On the dock, Zal summoned his black pet bird - the same one that had led the flock of jackdaws to attack Jolanda. Soon the large corvid flapped its wings and flew to the skies, as if to protect its master from enemies. It made Josel wonder if the journey to Maidor was safe after all.

* * *