Sedko brought them to a private suite. It was scattered with divans, pillows, carpets, and low tables, and opened into several small cabins. Like the rest of the Cremelena, the whole thing was walled with logs, and the gaps between were filled with clay, with many windows along the forward wall overlooking the sea. There was even one of those ovens that you could sleep on. As the travelers entered this room, Sedko said they should relax before dinner.
“Eh? Verily, the mere thought of another morsel of food will make me burst asunder.” Diaresso stumbled onto a silk divan and groaned.
“Well, like I told you, here in Kitezh we eat a lot and we drink a lot,” Sedko said. “Now listen. I’ll see you all in a few hours. If you need anything, just clap your hands or ring a bell or make some noise or something. In the mean time, I suggest—no offense—you freshen up a little before you meet all the different grandees coming to dinner tonight. You can wash yourselves here and find plenty of clothes to change into.”
“I hope you don’t think I’m being too impertinent,” Samonas said, “but I wonder if I might be permitted to wander about the ship? I’m rather curious about its design.”
“Sure,” Sedko said. “If you want, I can find you a guide.”
“That really won’t be necessary,” Samonas said. “I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way about.”
“Alright, well, go wherever you want. People here are pretty friendly. Most of ‘em, anyway.”
With a wink, Sedko left their luxury suite, slamming the door behind him. Samonas and Gontran exchanged glances. Then Samonas shrugged and opened the door to leave.
“Hey,” Gontran said. “Do me a favor. Stay out of trouble.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it!” Samonas left.
Gontran glanced at Diaresso—who was already snoring—then explored the different rooms connected to the suite. One of these was a private bathroom, complete with a hot shower, as well as a toilet that used running water—though you had to pump the water yourself. Gontran pulled off his dirty, sweaty, salt-caked clothes, tossed them onto the floor, and jumped into the steaming shower, groaning with ecstasy as he soaped the filth from his flesh.
How did I even end up in this place? Just a few days ago I was on the Island of Creation. I’m a regular Sinbad the Sailor…
When Gontran emerged and toweled himself off, he looked at the pile of old clothes from Trebizond on the floor and felt disgusted at the idea of putting them back on. He almost wanted to toss them overboard. Again he was tempted to abandon the uprising and either return home or make a new life for himself in Kitezh, but it was too early to decide.
Barely know anything about this place.
Another room connecting to the suite was a walk-in wardrobe with many different kinds of clothing suspended on hangars or folded inside chests of drawers. Shrugging, Gontran put on a glimmering silk tunic, belted his pistol-sword to it, and stuffed his hundred and twenty golden nomismas into its pockets. Several heavy fur coats were also hanging here, each worth almost as much as a castle, at least back in Metz. He threw one on and couldn’t believe how warm and comfortable it felt. Soon he was roasting, however, and replaced the coat on its hangar. The rooms were heated by water pipes in the floor, but he would need this kind of heavier clothing when he ventured outside. As he combed his lank hair, he realized he also needed a barber. His scraggly beard was also in need of a trim.
Just as Gontran was about to throw himself into the divan in one of the private cabins and groan with yet more pleasure at the fact that he was relatively safe and free to relax—at least for now—Samonas opened the suite door.
“You,” he said. “Whoever you are—I wonder if I might have a word with you.”
“Jesus, I was just going to sit down—”
“It’s about the automatôn,” Samonas said. “She’s vanished.”
“Seriously?”
“You really ought to know this by now—I’m never not serious.”
Groaning, Gontran put the fur coat back on. They left Diaresso sleeping on the divan in the suite, exited the Cremelena, and crossed the city streets to the dock at the stern where the Paralos was moored. Climbing aboard, Gontran indeed saw that, just as Samonas had said, Talia was gone.
“You think she fell over the side?” Gontran said.
“Impossible,” Samonas said. “She was so heavy we could barely move her, remember?”
“You checked belowdecks?”
“My good sir, do you really think me quite so incompetent?”
“Well, you still can’t remember my name—”
“Back in Trebizond, if you will recall, I was in charge of supplying a city of thousands—”
“It might have been that Tarkhan guy. He seemed like he had a real hard-on for her—”
Samonas winced. “I must ask you not to speak in such an inappropriate manner.”
“We can ask Sedko.”
“I can’t say I trust that fellow, not in the slightest. He strikes me as the sort who never does anything without expecting some kind of monetary reward.”
“He’s a more successful swindler than any of us could have dreamed of. He also taught us a lot, tucked us under his wing for awhile. But I wouldn’t want to work for him now. You’d wind up doing a lot of unsavory things.”
“But really, we ought to focus on finding Talia.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“The people of Kitezh aren’t even aware of how she’s alive and possesses her own mind. They’ll merely barter her as they would a statue. Who can even say what her fate will be? They might even melt her down and mint her as a series of coins. She was terrified of becoming a slave, but this is a far worse destiny. And all her friends on the Island of Creation will slumber in eternal unconsciousness if she fails them…”
“But it’s kind of her own fault. She didn’t even tell us she was running out of coal.”
“Oh, nonsense, it wasn’t exactly hard to guess, given the circumstances. Now, I know what you’re thinking—”
“Even if you don’t know my name.”
“—We can’t turn our backs on her. She agreed to help us in exchange for our helping her. Escaping the Island of Creation would have been quite out of the question without her assistance. And you recall the rather advanced nature of her fighting skills. She could be useful.”
“Long as she doesn’t run out of gas.”
“Indeed, she is so powerful, and yet so delicate, a fine contradictory existence. Nonetheless, we must locate her. We haven’t a moment to lose.”
“Be my guest. Sedko said you had the run of the place.”
“You aren’t going to help?”
“We can find out where she is at dinner,” Gontran said. “Sooner or later she’ll turn up.”
Samonas crossed his arms. “I simply can’t understand your nonchalance regarding this matter.”
“She’s a machine, Samonas, and we don’t even really know where her true loyalties lie. You weren’t there when that huge mechanical snake almost ate me. Sometimes I think you should listen to Diaresso more. Like he said, there’s a chance that if she and her friends get enough coal, they’ll kill us off in order to protect the secret of their island.”
“I will never understand the behavior of barbarians. All you ever talk about is honor, yet it seems it’s really because you haven’t got any. You murder each other for stealing so much as a single gold coin, yet you only pay trifling fees for killing one another, is that not so? These are the blood debts of Gallía, are they not? Steal a loaf of bread, and you’ll be sentenced to death, but if you kill a man, you’re only liable to flip a few coins in the general direction of the poor sot’s family.”
“Talking like that would get your head cut off where I’m from.” Gontran wrapped his muscular arm tightly around Samonas’s narrow shoulders. “But lucky for you, I’m a nice guy, and I’m so tired all I can think about is taking a nap.”
Samonas pushed him away. “Luck has simply got nothing to do with it. I’m going to find the automatôn, even if you’re not.” He climbed over the side of the Paralos and onto the dock, then shuffled toward the gate that led inside Kitezh.
“Don’t forget about dinner!” Gontran shouted. “Sedko told us we had to dress up!”
“I’m not eating another bite of food until I’ve found her.”
“Why do you even care about her so much?”
“She is a marvel beyond dreams,” Samonas said.
Gontran followed him through the gate, but by the time he reached the streets of Kitezh, Samonas had disappeared. Yet Gontran made no effort to find him. Such was his fatigue from all the adventures of the last few days that—almost without even thinking about it—he made his way back to his suite in the Cremelena, where Diaresso was still snoring, and passed out on one of the divans—only to be awaken, seemingly the same instant, by someone with soft hands and long elegant fingers shaking his shoulders.
“My good sir!” Samonas said. “I’ve found her!”
Gontran groaned and turned over on the divan, his eyes stinging with sleep, the weight of a mountain of exhaustion crushing his body.
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“I need your help,” Samonas said. “And your friend’s. She’s simply too heavy for me to lift on my own.”
“Let me finish my nap.”
“It was just as I feared—just as I predicted. She’s been dismantled. That rude fellow we first met when we came here—he was going to melt her down. But thankfully none of the damage seems to be permanent. I think I can put her back together again…”
“Humpty Dumpty.”
“What?”
“Humpty Dumpty!” Gontran stood and walked to the bathroom, where he splashed his face. Then he poured himself a cup of water from a pitcher on one of the low tables and drank, feeling slightly more awake.
“You think you’re so smart and well-educated.” Gontran turned back to Samonas. “Yet you don’t even know about Humpty Dumpty.”
“What in God’s name is Humptios Dumptios?”
“He was this giant egg,” Gontran said. “Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a big fall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again.”
Samonas stared at Gontran.
“Perhaps you’re right,” Samonas said. “You ought to rest up a bit more.”
“It works better in English,” Gontran said. “There isn’t much rhyme or rhythm to it in Greek.”
“We must awaken your friend here,” Samonas said. “The good fellow has the strength of a regular Atlas…”
“Good idea.” Gontran shoved Diaresso’s shoulder. “He’s definitely slept enough. If he sleeps any more, he’ll never wake up.”
“Whatever is it that you may desire?” Diaresso groaned, his eyes still closed. “I would be happy to requite and require.”
Gontran and Samonas looked at each other.
“The good fellow rhymes in his sleep!” Samonas said.
“Dearest Tamar, flame of my soul,” Diaresso continued. “The sweetest honey who makes me whole.”
“I’m not your honey,” Gontran said. “At least not yet.”
“We have work to do,” Samonas said.
“Always work,” Diaresso said. “Never rest. I wither away at thy behest.”
“Such indeed is our existence as we dwell upon this vale of tears,” Samonas said. “And the sooner you accept it, the better!”
“Speaking of nursery rhymes,” Gontran said, still a little drunk from fatigue, “work, you know, it really does make Jack a dull boy—”
Suddenly the door to the suite slammed open, and Sedko stood there arrayed in glimmering patterned silk, his arms akimbo.
“Well, well, well,” he said. “Look what the cat dragged in. Only Gontran here’s dressed for dinner. No offense, but the rest of you look just as lousy as you did earlier today. My guests aren’t going to be too happy—they’ll be insulted! If you hurry, you might be able to—”
“My good sir.” Samonas bowed. “We’ve run into something of a problem. You see, one of our—well, something of great value has been stolen from our ship.”
“What do you mean?” Sedko said. “Did one of my guys mess with your stuff?”
“A sculpture we were transporting has been removed,” Samonas said. “And I believe the fellow who first greeted us here to be the culprit.”
“Baghatur Tarkhan,” Sedko said. “That bastard. Yeah, this wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had issues with him. He’s a new hire.”
“I was only just able to get a glimpse of our, er, sculpture before that fellow pushed me away rather violently and impolitely from his lodgings. I was hoping we might be able to—”
“Let’s make a deal,” Sedko said. “I’ll take care of this while the rest of you get ready for dinner. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds good to me,” Gontran said.
“And me as well,” Samonas said.
“Alright, you get your friends freshened up, I’ll go bust some heads,” Sedko said. “You want me to have that sculpture of yours delivered here?”
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Samonas said, bowing again.
“Consider it done. And I apologize, by the way. This won’t happen again. I guarantee it.” Sedko bowed, then walked down the hallway.
Samonas gently shut the suite door after him. Gontran showed Samonas the shower and how to pump the water. While Samonas washed himself and even started to sing with joy—this was the first time he had ever experienced a hot shower—Gontran made Diaresso sit up, then gave him some water.
“In my dreams I was so utterly distant from this place.” Diaresso blinked his heavy lidded eyes. “Far in space and time, perhaps even further in possibility, for the war was over, and peace reigned supreme across the world. Tamar had joined me in Tomboutou—she helped me free my wife Mariam and sons Ali and Afel from my brother Tamaga’s slavery. My family in turn accepted her, and she them.”
“Mariam,” Gontran said. “Your first wife.”
Diaresso nodded.
“I don’t know how you guys do it,” Gontran said. “One woman’s enough trouble, but some guys have, like, five wives at the same time. How do they all get along?”
“Who’s to say they do?” Diaresso said. “Do a husband and wife always ‘get along’ with their children and servants?”
“Is that how you view all those extra wives? As servants?”
“Not in the slightest. Your thoughts are bound by the curtailed horizons of the infidels. You think my wives are my servants, but I am in reality their servant. I would spend all my days listening to the stories of my wives, if I could. There is even a saying concerning this subject among our people.”
Gontran rolled his eyes.
“‘The Peul’—that is a nomadic folk—‘the Peul wants only two things in life: to own all the animals in the world, and to listen to stories told by his pretty wife at night.’”
“Sounds good,” Gontran said, thinking: get me out of here.
“Listen,” Gontran added. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“Yes?” Diaresso said.
“It’s about Tamar.”
“Oh?”
“When you two were saying goodbye…she winked at me.”
“Ah, yes, that is a quality of hers I have been forced to live with. What am I supposed to do? She loves men. She cannot get enough of them. And, as for me, if I cannot have her to myself, I must settle for having her only sometimes.”
Gontran stared, unable to believe that he was hearing Diaresso talk like this.
At that moment, Samonas emerged from the bathroom. Except for the steam pouring out of the doorway and wreathing him, he was nude, and his skin gleamed with moisture. Both Gontran and Diaresso averted their eyes from Samonas’s genitals.
That answers that question, Gontran thought.
“I have found heaven upon Earth,” Samonas said. “It is called a ‘hot shower.’ And it has made me reconsider certain of our notions concerning the subject of nudity.”
“Could you please put on some clothes or a towel or something?” Gontran said.
“I would marry many women, yes,” Diaresso said. “But no eunuchs.”
“I’m still a man, my dearest fellow,” Samonas said, striding to the walk-in closet. “You can see quite clearly that I am still in possession of quite a bit more than most men, when it comes to both my fore- and hind-quarters.”
“Eunuchs are neither men nor women,” Diaresso said. “They are something else entirely.”
“Something necessary to our society, and something beautiful in our own right.” Samonas disappeared among the clothes in the other room. “A gift to all creation.”
“Your turn.” Gontran nodded to Diaresso. “Let’s try not to piss off our host more than we already have.”
By the time Diaresso had finished showering and dressing, Kitezhi servants were hauling pieces of Talia into the suite and depositing them on the floor. Samonas, who was dressed in silk and shining in the light of the red and purple sunset beyond the windows, had already begun reassembling her with the help of tools he had requested from the servants. At this point Sedko returned.
“Hey, I still can’t tell you how sorry I am,” he said to his guests. “This Tarkhan guy, let me tell you, he’s gonna pay. Do you need anyone else to help you put this thing back together?”
“I believe I possess the requisite skills,” Samonas said. “But you have my thanks.”
“If there’s anything else you want me to do, just say the word,” Sedko said. “Now if you wouldn’t mind, dinner started almost an hour ago…”
Samonas knelt before Talia’s pieces lying on the wooden floor, checking to make sure they were all there. “You search all your life for something, for someone, and then at the end of your journey, when you finally find her, you discover that she has been totally dismantled—that she may have been no more than a fantasy or a dream.”
Like the uprising, Gontran thought. Like that philosophy Herakleia was into—Mazdakism. Like getting out of this game. Even the dream has been shattered into a million pieces.
“Well, that’s all well and good,” Sedko said. “Very deep. Maybe you could tell our guests about this at dinner?”
“I suppose so.” Samonas stood back up.
As he and Diaresso walked into the hallway, Sedko told Gontran that he had made the most interesting friends.
“You can keep them if you want,” Gontran said.
While they walked the hallways to the dining room, Sedko noticed that all three of his guests had swords belted to their sides.
“Now is that really necessary?” he said. “Our guests are going to take offense. Even if they’re armed, too.”
“It’s necessary,” Gontran said, in that instant remembering everything he had been through since first arriving in Byzantium.
Because of this odd behavior from Sedko, Gontran almost expected to be ambushed when he walked inside the dining room, but instead he found the carpets covered with platters piled with food, and the cups filled with different kinds of liquor he had only distantly heard of—a kind of fermented honey called medu for the Varangians, while the Turks drank milky foaming kumis from gilded bowls. As for the Jewish Khazars, they preferred the sweet wine of the Romans, and sipped from jewel-studded glass goblets.
To Gontran’s surprise, he and Diaresso and Samonas sat together among these ‘grandees’—called boyar in the Varangian language, though they often addressed one another as nyez, which meant ‘prince’—and had a good time, enjoying the spectacular food and drink, as well as pleasant, welcoming conversation. Kitezh was a mercantile republic in miniature, a mobile Venetia, and these were the members of its ruling council, some of whom expressed more than polite interest when Samonas broached the possibility of opening trade links with the new Republic of Trebizond in exchange for military support. Half the people present were men, the other half women, and among the women was Sedko’s wife, whom he introduced as ‘Vasilissa the Wise.’ She was among the most beautiful people Gontran had ever seen, and looked as though she had walked out of a fable, with her long flaxen hair bound in a ponytail that was dyed blue at the tip.
When the sun had finally set outside the windows, leaving only the dusk and the lamps for light, and when almost everyone was flushed with drink and roaring with laughter—the door to the dining room slammed open. Tarkhan was standing there. Everyone stared at him as his eyes rolled back into his head and blood dripped from his gaping mouth. He fell forward onto the floor, his armor clanging, his massive body seeming to shake the entire ship. Standing behind him was a tall, broad, armored Roman soldier wearing black. Gontran recognized him. This was the man he had shot at the First Siege of Trebizond—the one Alexios and Herakleia said had murdered Dionysios back in Konstantinopolis.
Narses. That was his name.
As he strode inside the dining room, the drunken grandees stood and drew their swords. Effortlessly Narses knocked them aside—throwing the grandees so hard to the floor that they stayed there. His skill with his hands alone was so great that his own sword remained in its scabbard, his eyes shining with a ferocity that cast blue shadows in the dining room.
Soon enough, Samonas and most of the grandees were cowering by the walls, unable to escape through the doorway, which was blocked by Latin knights who wore white shirts with red crosses over their armor. Gontran and Diaresso were still sitting by the windows at the far end of the room with Sedko and Vasilissa, however, as Narses walked toward them across one of the carpets, kicking the food and drink aside.
Gontran and Diaresso stood and drew their weapons, but these flew into Narses’s hands, as though carried by the wind. He tossed them aside, then resumed walking toward his quarry. Sedko stood, uncovered a miniature loaded crossbow hidden under his embroidered sleeve, and loosed the crossbow bolt at Narses—who caught it and then tossed it away.
“What the hell is this?” Sedko said. “You don’t have any right to—”
Narses raised his hand, and Sedko fell to his knees, coughing and spluttering. Vasilissa glared at Narses, stood, and walked toward him—swinging her fists and kicking her legs so quickly Gontran was unable to follow her movements. Yet Narses redirected her attacks against herself so that she fell back to the floor, gasping and drenched in sweat beside Sedko—who had recovered, in the meantime. Narses now turned his blazing eyes to Gontran.
“I know you.” With one hand, Narses lifted him into the air by his neck. Gontran’s health ticked down. 49, 48, 47…
He punched and kicked, but Narses’s grip was like iron. Diaresso also tried to help his friend, but with just one arm Narses knocked him away, all the time keeping his shining eyes on Gontran.
“You are friends with Alexios,” Narses said. “Tell me where he is.”
Gontran was struggling to escape and choking.
“Tell me now,” Narses said, and his blue eyes grew so bright that Gontran’s skin began to burn.