Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Tags: #Fantasy, #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Horror, #Vampires, #Transylvania (Romania), #Krakatoa (Indonesia), #Volcanic Eruptions
Dark of the Sun (3 page)
Zangi-Ragozh’s house was in an extensive park, set back from the road and surrounded by a high wall. At the gate he got out and tipped the bearers before entering the grounds of his compound, then paused to ask the gatekeeper if anyone had called.
“Yes. The foreign merchant Lampong-Chelai is waiting for you. He arrived a short while ago.”
“Thank you, Sung,” said Zangi-Ragozh. “I’ll just go talk to him now.”
“Do you expect anyone else?” Sung called after him.
“I had not expected Lampong-Chelai,” said Zangi-Ragozh. “But no, I expect no one else until my guests arrive for dinner. Oh, Ro-shei will be back shortly, with musicians and dancers.”
“I will see they are admitted,” said Sung.
Zangi-Ragozh nodded and walked up the long, curving path that led to his house; around him, the gardens were murmuring in the cold wind, many of the trees with bare branches, and only a few, hardy shrubs showing much color. As he reached the front of his house, Zangi-Ragozh paused to survey the building, then trod up the broad, shallow steps to the door, where his steward, Jho Chieh-Jen, admitted him promptly.
“You have a visitor,” he announced.
“So Sung informed me,” said Zangi-Ragozh. “I suppose you have seen to his comfort?”
“He is in the main salon; I have sent in oil cakes and bitter mountain tea.” Jho ducked his head respectfully. “If you would care to see him now?”
“I’ll go,” said Zangi-Ragozh, waving away Jho’s offer of escort. He noticed that the Roman painted-plaster panel was askew on the wall again and reminded himself to reweight the frame so it would hang evenly. As he opened the door to his salon, he straightened the red-edged cuffs of his black-silk sen-hsien. “Good day to you, Foreigner Lampong-Chelai. I trust fortune smiles upon you.”
“Good day to you, Foreigner Zangi-Ragozh,” said his guest, rising from a rosewood chair near the window. He was a middle-aged man, round-faced and plump, also in a sen-hsien, as law required, but one of persimmon-colored silk decorated with embroidery in the style of Vijaya, his home: Lampong-Chelai was the Chinese version of his name, just as Zangi-Ragozh was of his.
“I am delighted to see you,” Zangi-Ragozh went on, following the dictates of good manners, “and I wonder what I am to have the honor of doing for you?”
“I was hoping I might ask a favor of you,” Lampong-Chelai admitted, getting down to business without the usual social persiflage expected of morning visitors. “As you must know, there have been reports of rough seas and other dangers in the vicinity of Krakatau, the large volcano in the middle of the Sunda Passage.”
“I know the mountain you mean, and I have been one who has had reports concerning the troubles there,” said Zangi-Ragozh, aware that his visitor was truly worried.
“Ah. That makes my visit a little easier.” He sighed. “It seems that some traders are avoiding ports in the region, and that is causing many problems for the merchants in the area.”
“I can well imagine,” said Zangi-Ragozh.
Lampong-Chelai paced the length of the salon, then came back toward Zangi-Ragozh. “And no doubt you have seen how it can damage trade far beyond fears justified.”
“I have; but I have also seen situations when the dangers exceeded fears, as well.” He kept his tone completely neutral, not wanting to offend this fellow-foreigner.
“I believe this may be one such instance where the postulation of danger is far beyond any actual risk,” said Lampong-Chelai. “You know how the stories of such things are exaggerated. You must have seen volcanoes from time to time and know what one can expect from them—not like the merchants who have only traveled the rivers and never venture more than two days upstream. Volcanoes can be unpleasant; mostly they smoke and bellow, but nothing much happens.”
“True enough,” said Zangi-Ragozh. “But occasionally, they do erupt.”
“Yes, yes, they do. And for a while it is inconvenient,” Lampong-Chelai declared. “Then it is over, and the world goes on.” He came up to Zangi-Ragozh. “The same thing will happen now. In a year at most, the mountain will be still again.”
“I hope that may be so,” said Zangi-Ragozh.
“And those merchants who are not frightened out of our waters will be the ones to profit the most, taking advantage of the timorousness of others, who have not the foresight to seek out regions where trading has declined, and taking up the slack that exists,” said Lampong-Chelai, finally reaching the point of his discourse. “You can be among those who make this temporary misfortune into a shining opportunity, for your perspicacity will be long-remembered by the merchants whom you aid now.” He was becoming enthusiastic, using his hands for emphasis. “I can’t approach any Chinese merchant about this without going against the foreigners’ laws, but you may hear me out and benefit from the fortuity.”
Zangi-Ragozh heard him out, standing still while Lampong-Chelai made his way around the salon again. “Of course, this would also benefit you and your business,” he remarked while his visitor marshaled his next round of arguments.
“Yes, and it would spare a great many tradesmen a year of lean earnings. There may be some hazard at present, but those who do not let fear stop them will rejoice later, when times are better. We remember such gestures in Vijaya, as the merchants will in Sunda Kalapa, and we express our gratitude in real terms. All those ports are languishing now, because superstitious Captains avoid us in favor of more tranquil seas. If you would guarantee to keep your ships coming to the ports on the South China Sea, the Java Sea, and the Sulu Sea, we Champa may hope to prosper again when the danger is over.” He came to a stop near the windows that looked out on a small formal garden.
“I have ships in those seas even now,” said Zangi-Ragozh. “The Captains have the authority to decide which ports to visit, but they have an itinerary, and I expect them to keep to it except in an emergency.”
“A prudent provision,” said Lampong-Chelai. “But your Captains may panic and turn back northward if they hear too many ill reports.”
“Some of my ships have gone to trade with India and Burma,” said Zangi-Ragozh. “They will have to come through the South China Sea to reach this port, and they are not likely to turn away from ports where they have done good business before, not unless there is a concern that overrides their desire for profits. Their shares are decreased when they fail to—”
“I know, I know. It is the same with all traders,” said Lampong-Chelai impatiently. He made fists of his hands and glowered at a place just over Zangi-Ragozh’s left shoulder. “If your Captains panic, you may lose a great deal of money.”
“So I might,” said Zangi-Ragozh. “But I would rather lose money and save ships and the lives of sailors than risk too much in the name of gain.”
“But you
won’t
,” Lampong-Chelai insisted energetically. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You need not risk anything. There is profit to be made, especially now, when so many of the southern ports are seeking merchants to trade with, for they need to find markets and will show favor to those who help them in these trying times. The merchants who will not go to the ports of Sumatra and Java and others in the region are being superstitious fools. They are shying away from nothing—
nothing!
This volcano, Krakatau, is often spewing rocks and emitting odors and causing the sea to froth. Every year something happens that puts the timorous to flight. And every time it happens, sailors are frightened by it and stay away from many ports, even some distant ones, for fear of what might—and that
might
is a remote one—happen.”
won’t
,” Lampong-Chelai insisted energetically. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You need not risk anything. There is profit to be made, especially now, when so many of the southern ports are seeking merchants to trade with, for they need to find markets and will show favor to those who help them in these trying times. The merchants who will not go to the ports of Sumatra and Java and others in the region are being superstitious fools. They are shying away from nothing—
nothing!
This volcano, Krakatau, is often spewing rocks and emitting odors and causing the sea to froth. Every year something happens that puts the timorous to flight. And every time it happens, sailors are frightened by it and stay away from many ports, even some distant ones, for fear of what might—and that
might
is a remote one—happen.”
For a long moment, Zangi-Ragozh said nothing. Finally he gave a little nod. “Very well. I’ll consider what you have told me, and if it is in accord with the opinions of my Captains, I will do what I can to encourage them to keep to their itineraries. Better than that I cannot promise, what with the time it takes to get messages to my ships.”
Lampong-Chelai took a long breath. “I am most grateful to you, worthy foreigner. You have given me cause to hope for my business and my people. If you are willing to tell your friends among the Chinese merchants that tales will not deter you from attending to your voyages, they may follow your example. If enough of them continue to trade in our region—”
Zangi-Ragozh held up his hand. “No. I may choose to order my Captains to continue—at their discretion—but I will not attempt to influence the Chinese. First and foremost, they would not listen to me. Second, if any mishap occurred, I would be held responsible. That could lead to ruin and prison if their ships came to harm on what they deemed to be my account. As you are well-aware,” he added with a stern look.
“They wouldn’t hold you responsible,” said Lampong-Chelai.
“Wouldn’t they.” Zangi-Ragozh shook his head, recalling an incident from his past when precisely that had occurred. “I am not prepared to gamble on that.”
“Well, at least you can keep such cautions to yourself,” Lampong-Chelai said, doing his utmost to recover himself; he had seen something in Zangi-Ragozh that had shocked him, an implacability he had not realized the foreigner possessed.
“I would be a fool to do that,” said Zangi-Ragozh calmly; his eyes were intent.
“But you can help us—all merchants must be willing to stand with other merchants, or we will all be the tools of the tax collectors and the customs agents. You are one of the most successful of us foreigners, and we must act—” Taken aback at his lapse in conduct, he went to the table where the teapot stood, and he poured the last of the tea into his cup while struggling to restore his composure. “I thank you for hearing me out. You have been most gracious. I fully comprehend your reservations.”
“I have not promised to continue to order my ships to visit the ports in question,” Zangi-Ragozh pointed out, his dark eyes still unfathomably grim. “I have said only that I will recommend that my Captains do so unless in immediate peril. I will defer to their judgment in matters of safety. They are the ones braving the oceans, not I, and they will have to face the dangers when they arise.” He looked away, his discomfort at the thought of so much water making him queasy.
“Yes. I understand. I still thank you. Not many will even do me the courtesy of listening to me.” Lampong-Chelai drank the tea and smiled.
Zangi-Ragozh inclined his head. “Very well. So long as we understand each other.”
“We do,” said Lampong-Chelai, setting the cup down with care, and attempting to conceal the nervousness that had taken hold of him. “You have many beautiful things, foreigner. I have rarely seen so many.”
“I have gathered them for many, many years,” Zangi-Ragozh said, not mentioning that the many years were counted in centuries.
“Obviously you have the favor of the God of Fortune. May he continue to guide you.” Lampong-Chelai fitted his hands together. “I won’t trespass on your good nature any longer.” With that, he started toward the door. “Your steward may see me out.”
“He could. Nevertheless, I will have the pleasure of saying farewell to you at the front door,” said Zangi-Ragozh, preparing to follow his visitor out into the hallway, and all the while wondering how dire things were in Sumatra and Java that a Champa merchant from Vijaya should come to plead for them.
Text of a writ of manumission from Zangi-Ragozh, presented to Dei-Na, and recorded in the office of the Magistrate’s Archives of Yang-Chau:
Be it known throughout the city of Yang-Chau and all the Middle Kingdom, that the twenty five-year-old concubine Dei-Na is herewith granted her freedom by the foreign merchant Zangi-Ragozh, who purchased her from her father; the wheelwright Ma Fan-Long, on the ninth day of the fortnight of the Frost Kings in Dei-Na’s eighteenth year, for the sum of four gold bars and two unpolished emeralds, is now and perpetually a free woman, with no bonds or other considerations mitigating her freedom.
This Dei-Na has been a most devoted concubine, and her devotion deserves every emolument to which she may be entitled under the rule of the Magistrate and the will of the Emperor. Any attempt to lessen what I provide or to diminish her provision in times to come impugns the honor of the Middle Kingdom as well as my own, and for that reason I am moved to provide a fund to vindicate her liberty and to permit her to enjoy her possessions and privileges in peace, without arbitrary impositions of the demands of court, of Magistrate, or of relatives. She is to be entitled to the support of such counsel as she requires in order to preserve what she has been granted.
There are no limits or conditions attached to this release, which is total and without qualification or hindrance. Her status is that of any freeborn woman without obligation to her family or to anyone seeking to make a claim upon her. She is not being returned to her father or any member of her family, and they have no cause for pursuing any hold on her for they accepted full payment for her from me seven years ago, and a document to that effect is recorded at the Tribunal. I, Zangi-Ragozh, who paid for her, guarantee her freedom and independence, and ensure that no one may vacate the unconditional terms of this writ, save the Emperor himself, in accordance with the law of the land.
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