Chapter nine

Gorodnikov

 

After lunch there had been an absurd meeting in the major’s office between Viola and Dom. The elf had described very carefully, as if explaining something rather complicated to a dull child, all about mail paper. In turn, Dom, the apprentice mage, had to pretend that he had never heard of the things before. He was happy with the resulting confusion: it was fine by him if his ‘superior’ thought him an utter fool.

He knew exactly where to go to get some mail paper; it would take him an hour or so to get it on a hired horse and it would involve visiting one of his favourite people in the world. However, this would be far too quick to be plausible for an incompetent functionary and so he decided that he would have to make an afternoon out of it. He would walk the long way along the harbour wall and on into the Elven quarter. 

 

Gorodnikov was a city in three parts: the sprawling human buildings on high ground to the east, the harbour in the middle, and the ancient elven city on the island of Psephos to the west.  The two species mixed quite readily in the offices and warehouses around the harbour, but there was less intercourse within the other two areas. None of this worried people very much, except perhaps the poorer humans – there were very few poor elves – but the city remained prosperous and so people generally rubbed along.

The government buildings were just on the eastern side of the harbour, which roughly summarised local politics – the governor was human, but he had a Visneorian name and a lot of smart elven friends.

The walk from the civic centre to the sea took about three minutes. After that, Dom turned right and strolled along the low, wide, harbour wall. Ships spread out in front of him in an apparently infinite range of shapes, sizes and colours. He could tell the provenance of many of them:  fast clippers from Paror, designed to cross the Central Sea in just a few days; huge cargo ships from Babalia, bringing dried fruit, green bananas and spices; smaller ships from the cities of the Oket federation carrying meat and hides; and among them, the beautiful Visneorian patrol vessels, small and sleek, with their lovely purple sails. These were two of the very few things he had ever missed about his home city when in Amansk – the boats in the harbour and the endless sea.

He walked slowly on, completely ignoring the noises of loading and unloading coming out of the warehouses. His eyes were fixed on the blue-green ocean.

He finally came to the toll bridge that spanned the strait between Psephos and the mainland. The toll man waved at him as he approached. They chatted briefly about the recent wars, and the spring weather, and then he paid the toll and strolled across the bridge.  Behind him was light and heat from the warehouses, and in front of him was the cool stuccoed elegance of the elf town. He had never been able to say which he preferred.  

 

Dom’s gods-father was a mage.  He had no idea how he had acquired a gods-father, particularly given that he had absolutely no clue who his parents were, but here he was, Castanus Mulus, if not perhaps quite the wisest Mage in the city then most certainly the oldest. He was a round and jolly elf, and looked about sixty. The thing was, however – he’d been like that for thousands of years.  

Castanus was delighted to see his gods-son. He yanked him in from the front door of his tiny town house and gave him a giant, very un-elven, hug.

‘Dominic!’ he boomed, ‘lovely to see you again so soon!’

Although they had not seen each other for five years at least, Dom wasn’t put off at all. He was used to this.

They parted and Castanus looked his gods-son up and down.  

‘You’re taller than me!’ continued Castanus, in mock affront, ‘how can that be?’

‘Children are as fast as weeds’ said Dom, quoting an old elven children’s rhyme

‘And grown-ups as dull as oaks…’ continued Castanus, ‘or in my case yews…’

Dom was dragged into the sitting room and plonked down on the most comfortable chair. Castanus continued to grin with pleasure.

‘You’ll be old enough to drink now, then…’ said Castanus, delightedly.

‘I suppose so’ said Dom, a little hesitantly. His gods-father had a reputation for avid experimentation when it came to food and drink. Castanus opened up a large cabinet and pulled out a bottle full of bright green liquid.

‘This is the stuff!’

‘What is it?’ asked Dom

Castanus laughed. He filled two fat wine glasses with the viscous liquid and passed one over to Dom.

‘Don’t ask….’

Dom picked up his glass and sniffed it. It smelled of distilled apple and molasses. He dared to sip it. It tasted worryingly marvellous. He did have to get back at some point, though, and, he had at least two important things to say. One glass couldn’t hurt though, could it?

Castanus sat down opposite Dom and drank half of his glass in a single gulp. He burped moderately politely.

‘So, what’s your news?  Why are you here? What’s going on in your life? How’re Lily and Toby? Have you seen the Governor? Tell me everything…’

Dom knew that this questioning might go on all day, and so he had better say what he needed to say first and then make a quick exit. He looked straight at his gods-father, willing him to be serious.  

‘I know, Cassie…’

Castanus looked puzzled, but concerned, perhaps even slightly shocked.  

‘What do you know, dear Dom? You look very solemn…’

‘I’ve felt it. I have looked into the future’

‘Ah, you have, have you?’ said Castanus, smiling sadly, ‘and what exactly did you see?’

Dom squeezed his hands together in front of him, almost as if he were praying. This was the first time he had revealed this to anyone, and Castanus was the only person whom he trusted with the information.

‘I saw no edges, Cassie, no limits, no borders. It is just eternity stretching away like a dark sea in every direction’

Castanus put his hand on top of Dom’s clenched fingers. His voice was soft and quiet.

‘It was only a matter of time, my dear, I suppose…’ he murmured ‘…and when did this happen?’

‘You know when it happened,’ said Dom, fiercely but not unkindly, ‘at the same time as it happened to you’

‘Well’ said Castanus, withdrawing his hand, ‘that was a long time ago…but I take your point’

 ‘How old are you, gods-father?’

‘I’m a first born. I’m almost as old as the oldest human, and I suppose, assuming good luck, of course, that I will be here after all the humans are gone’

‘And will I be too, then?’ asked Dom, knowing the answer.

Castanus barely nodded.

 ‘A Mule’s sentence, gods-son…. for better or worse…’

Dom studied Castanus’s face carefully. It was weary, but not unhappy.  Somehow he had made his own life bearable.  Castanus looked away. He took another gulp from his glass, noticed that it was now empty and got up and filled it again. 

‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’ asked Dom, still without rancour.

Castanus considered this, leaning against the drinks cabinet. He walked over to Dom and stroked his head. Then he drained his glass very rapidly and returned to the green bottle sitting on the sideboard.

‘Because I wanted you to remain a sweet little human boy for as long as possible…’ he said, as he poured himself another glass, ‘…that’s why’.

Dom sighed.

‘Is it really terrible?’ he asked, his heart pounding in apprehension.

Castanus filled his glass again, this time right to the brim.

‘No, of course it isn’t. It’s just a long haul, hard work and it’s full of disappointments. For us, other people are always a great disappointment…’

Several pennies began to drop in Don’s mind.

‘I can see now why you’re my gods-father. I often wondered why they’d chosen a hybrid’

Castanus laughed.

‘Mules need to stick together. Everyone else leaves so fast’

Dom thought of Lily. How long would she live? Seventy years, eighty at the most. It was just the blink of an eye – it was scarcely even a passing skiff in his vast sea. It could never be long enough, but then could anything?

‘Why is it?’ he asked, ‘why has this happened?’

 ‘Because inventing humans was undoubtedly feckless and mixing up humans and elves was a monstrous crime against nature… ’

‘Do you mean that?’ Dom asked

‘Well yes, I do’ chuckled Castanus, ‘but I really don’t mind being a monster; particularly as it’s no-one’s fault’

‘Except our parents,’ muttered Dom ‘who clearly couldn’t control themselves’

Castanus shook his head. He almost looked cross.

‘Really, Dominic, don’t be so ungracious.  My parents loved each other deeply, and so did yours…’

‘How can you know that?’

‘Because producing a mule requires a lot of love’

Dom looked confused. Castanus grimaced in mock embarrassment.

‘How can I put this delicately? Well… umm… the probability of…  conception…. is only about one in a thousand;  and so that only happens when people love each other a lot, I’d imagine…’

‘Oh’ said Dom, ‘I didn’t realise that…’

‘Anyway, I knew your parents extremely well, and trust me, they were unbearably inseparable, bless ‘em’   

‘I believe you…’ said, Dom, still slightly petulantly, ‘but ours is not an inheritance that I would have chosen freely’

‘Well, most inheritances are a mixed blessing, and who knows what ours will bring. We do have, however, as long is necessary to find out, of course…’

Castanus’s gaze was fixed on Dom’s. His eyes still gleamed but his jovial face was lined with concern.  

‘I know this is hard to bear, but barring catastrophe I will always be here, gods-son. I promised your mother and father that I would look after you, and I plan to fulfil that promise’

‘And you still won’t tell me who they were, despite everything?’

Castanus, who was still standing, drained the glass one more time.

‘No, dear boy, I won’t and I can’t – not even after three glasses of hooch. It was a sacred promise, but I will help in any other way that I can…’

Dom finally got to the bottom of his own glass and stood up. It was time to wade back into time’s swift stream, which mortals are foolish enough to think is all there is of reality. He refocused his mind. He had expected his gloom to linger on him, but to his surprise, his spirits were rising again. He knew that that might just be the alcohol, but nonetheless, he still had a job to do.

‘Actually, that’s why I’m here.’ he said, smiling, ‘beloved and venerable gods-father:  I need a favour’