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shall we cross it?" he asked no one in particular.
A good question, the Greek thought. The nearest ford would be hundreds of
miles north. It would take a demigod to bridge the Shaum, and who on the
wood-scarce steppe knew anything of boatbuilding?
Skylitzes bared his teeth in a smile. "How well do you swim, Pikridios?"
"Over that distance? At least as well as you, by Phos."
"The horses are better than either of you," Arigh said. "Come on." He led them
down to the bank of the Shaum, dismounted and stripped, then climbed back on
his horse. The rest of the embassy party did likewise. Arigh directed, "Ride
your lead beast out until he has to swim, then slide off and keep a good grip
round his neck. I'll go last; here, Psoes, you lead my string with yours. I'll
take just the one animal and make sure nobody else's horses decide to stay on
land." He drew his saber, tested the point with his thumb.
Gorgidas hefted the oiled leather sack in which he kept his precious
manuscript. Catching the Arshaum's eye, he said, "I'll hold on with one
hand this has to stay dry." The nomad shrugged; if the Greek cared to take
chances for the sake of some scratchings, that was his affair.
Surveying Goudeles' pudgy form, Lankinos Skylitzes said,"You'll float better
than I do, anyhow, pen-pusher." Goudeles sniffed.
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Gorgidas twitched the reins and urged his mount forward. It tried to swerve
when it realized he wanted it to go in the river, but he kicked it in the ribs
and kept it on a straight course. It swung its head back resentfully. He
booted it again. Like a bather testing the water with one toe, it stepped
daintily in, then paused once more. "Ithi!" the exasperated Greek shouted in
his own tongue. "Go on!" As he swung a foot free of the stirrups for another
kick, the horse did.
It gave a frightened snort when its hooves no longer touched ground, but then
struck out strongly for the far bank. Seen from only a few inches above the
water, that seemed impossibly far away. Back on the eastern bank, a trooper's
remount balked at entering the Shaum. Arigh prodded it with his sword. It
neighed shrilly and bolted in, dragging the two beasts behind it along
willy-nilly.
The Shaum's current was not as strong as Gorgidas had expected. It pulled the
swimming horses and their masters south somewhat, making the journey across
the river longer than it would have been, but did not really hamper their
swim. The water was cool and very clear. The Greek could look down to the
rocks and river plants on the bottom. About halfway through the crossing he
started in alarm the dun-colored fish rooting about on the bottom was longer
from nose to wickedly forked tail than his horse was. "Shark!" he shouted.
"Nay, no sharks in the Shaum," Skylitzes reassured him. "They call it a
mourzoulin hereabouts; the Videssian name is sturgeon."
"I don't care what they call it," the Greek said, frightened out of curiosity.
"Does it bite?"
"No, it only has a little toothless sucker-mouth for worms and such."
"Salted, the eggs are very fine," Goudeles said with relish. "A rare
delicacy."
"The flesh is good smoked," Prevalis Haravash's son added. "And from the swim
bladder we make what is the word for letting some light through?"
"Translucent," Goudeles supplied.
"Thank you, sir. Yes, we make translucent windows to fit into tent panels."
"And if it had a song, I suppose you'd use that, too," Gorgidas said darkly.
The ugly brute still looked dangerous.
Prevalis took the Greek seriously. "On the plains we use everything. There is
too little to waste." Gorgidas only grunted, keeping an eye on the sturgeon,
or mourzoulin, or whatever it was. It paid him no attention. After a while, he
could not see it any more.
By the time the western bank drew near, his arms were exhausted from holding
the mouth of his leather bag above water, even though he had taken to
switching it from one to the other. That also meant his grip on his horse was
not what it should have been. The shore was only about thirty yards away when
he and the animal parted company. He thrashed frantically and felt his feet
scrape bottom; the steppe pony was still too short to touch. Now it was his
turn to help his horse. Sighing with relief, he did so, and led the beast and
his remounts up onto the land of Shaumkhiil. Save that the river was behind
him, it seemed no different from Pardraya to the east. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]