Read Online Helliconia: Helliconia Spring, Helliconia Summer, Helliconia Winter by Brian Aldiss - Free Book Online
Authors: Brian Aldiss
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symbol of Akha, a kind of two-spoked wheel. His hide boots came halfway up his calf. Behind him stood a phagor, a black and white woven band tied round its hairy white brow.
‘Pay attention to me,’ growled the captain. But Yuli found his eyes ever drifting towards the silent phagor, wondering at its presence.
The ancipital stood with an air of taciturn repose, ungainly head thrust forward. Its horns were blunt; they had been sawn short, and their cutting edges dulled with a file. Yuli saw that it had a leather collar and thong about its throat, half-concealed under white hair, a sign of its submission to man’s rule. Yet it was a threat to the citizens of Pannoval. Many officers appeared everywhere with a submissive phagor beside them; the phagorswere valued for their superior ability to see in the dark. Ordinary people went in fear of the shambling animals that spoke basic Olonets. How was it possible, Yuli wondered, for men to form liaisons with the same beasts who had imprisoned his father – beasts that everyone in the wilds hated from birth?
The interview with the captain was dispiriting, and worse was to come. He could not live unless he obeyed the rules, and they appeared interminable; there was nothing for it – as Kyale impressed upon him – but to conform. To be a citizen of Pannoval, you had to think and feel like a Pannovalian.
So he was consigned to attend the priest in the alley of livings where he had his room. This entailed numerous sessions at which he was taught a ritualised history of Pannoval (‘born from Great Akha’s shadow on the eternal snows …’) and forced to learn many of the scriptures by heart. He also had to do whatever Sataal, the priest, told him to do, including the running of many tedious errands, for Sataal was lazy. It was no great consolation to Yuli to find that the children of Pannoval went through similar courses of instruction at an early age.
Sataal was a solidly built man, pale of face, small of ear, heavy of hand. His head was shaven, his beard plaited, in the manner of many priests of his order. There were twists of white in the plaits. He wore a knee-length smock of black and white. His face was deeply pocked. It took Yuli some while to realise that, despite the white hairs, Sataal was not past middle age, being only in his late teens. Yet he walked in a round-shouldered way suggesting both age and piety.
When he addressed Yuli, Sataal spoke always kindly but remotely, keeping a gulf between them. Yuli was reassured by the man’s attitude, which seemed to say, This is your job and mine, but I shall not complicate it by probing into what your inner feelings are. So Yuli kept quiet, applying himself to the task of learning all the necessary fustian verses.
‘But what do they mean?’ he asked at one point, in bewilderment.
Sataal rose slowly in the small room, and turned about, so that his shoulders loomed black in a distant source of light, and all the rest of him flowed into encompassing shadow. A dull highlightgleamed on his pate as he inclined his head towards Yuli, saying, admonishingly, ‘Learning first, young fellow, then interpretation. After learning, then less difficulty in interpretation. Get everything by heart, you hardly need it by head. Akha never enforces understanding from his people, only obedience.’
‘You said that Akha cares nothing for anyone in Pannoval.’
‘The important point, Yuli, is that Pannoval cares for Akha. Now then, once again:
‘
Whoso laps Freyr’s bane
Like a fish swallows ill bait:
When it groweth late
Our feeble frames he will burn
.’
‘But what does it mean?’ Yuli asked again. ‘How can I learn it if I don’t understand it?’
‘Repeat it, son,’ said Sataal sternly. ‘“Whoso laps …”’
Yuli was submerged in the dark city. Its networks of shadows snatched at his spirit, as he had seen men in the outer world catch fish with nets under the ice. In dreams, his mother came to him, blood flying
‘Pay attention to me,’ growled the captain. But Yuli found his eyes ever drifting towards the silent phagor, wondering at its presence.
The ancipital stood with an air of taciturn repose, ungainly head thrust forward. Its horns were blunt; they had been sawn short, and their cutting edges dulled with a file. Yuli saw that it had a leather collar and thong about its throat, half-concealed under white hair, a sign of its submission to man’s rule. Yet it was a threat to the citizens of Pannoval. Many officers appeared everywhere with a submissive phagor beside them; the phagorswere valued for their superior ability to see in the dark. Ordinary people went in fear of the shambling animals that spoke basic Olonets. How was it possible, Yuli wondered, for men to form liaisons with the same beasts who had imprisoned his father – beasts that everyone in the wilds hated from birth?
The interview with the captain was dispiriting, and worse was to come. He could not live unless he obeyed the rules, and they appeared interminable; there was nothing for it – as Kyale impressed upon him – but to conform. To be a citizen of Pannoval, you had to think and feel like a Pannovalian.
So he was consigned to attend the priest in the alley of livings where he had his room. This entailed numerous sessions at which he was taught a ritualised history of Pannoval (‘born from Great Akha’s shadow on the eternal snows …’) and forced to learn many of the scriptures by heart. He also had to do whatever Sataal, the priest, told him to do, including the running of many tedious errands, for Sataal was lazy. It was no great consolation to Yuli to find that the children of Pannoval went through similar courses of instruction at an early age.
Sataal was a solidly built man, pale of face, small of ear, heavy of hand. His head was shaven, his beard plaited, in the manner of many priests of his order. There were twists of white in the plaits. He wore a knee-length smock of black and white. His face was deeply pocked. It took Yuli some while to realise that, despite the white hairs, Sataal was not past middle age, being only in his late teens. Yet he walked in a round-shouldered way suggesting both age and piety.
When he addressed Yuli, Sataal spoke always kindly but remotely, keeping a gulf between them. Yuli was reassured by the man’s attitude, which seemed to say, This is your job and mine, but I shall not complicate it by probing into what your inner feelings are. So Yuli kept quiet, applying himself to the task of learning all the necessary fustian verses.
‘But what do they mean?’ he asked at one point, in bewilderment.
Sataal rose slowly in the small room, and turned about, so that his shoulders loomed black in a distant source of light, and all the rest of him flowed into encompassing shadow. A dull highlightgleamed on his pate as he inclined his head towards Yuli, saying, admonishingly, ‘Learning first, young fellow, then interpretation. After learning, then less difficulty in interpretation. Get everything by heart, you hardly need it by head. Akha never enforces understanding from his people, only obedience.’
‘You said that Akha cares nothing for anyone in Pannoval.’
‘The important point, Yuli, is that Pannoval cares for Akha. Now then, once again:
‘
Whoso laps Freyr’s bane
Like a fish swallows ill bait:
When it groweth late
Our feeble frames he will burn
.’
‘But what does it mean?’ Yuli asked again. ‘How can I learn it if I don’t understand it?’
‘Repeat it, son,’ said Sataal sternly. ‘“Whoso laps …”’
Yuli was submerged in the dark city. Its networks of shadows snatched at his spirit, as he had seen men in the outer world catch fish with nets under the ice. In dreams, his mother came to him, blood flying
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