Dark of the Sun (Saint-Germain #17)

Dark of the Sun (Saint-Germain #17) Page 5

It was midmorning on a cold, clear day that was crisped by a whipping north wind. Zangi-Ragozh and his men, wagons, and horses waited on the wooden pier for the ferry to take them across the Crane River, one of several southern forks of the Huang Ho; immediately ahead of them was a farmer with four goats. Behind them, a Mongol merchant with a train of ponies carrying casks and bales of goods was bound northward for his homeland. After the Mongol came an enclosed carriage of splendid design, heavily curtained and ornamented, drawn by four handsome Celestial horses and guarded by five armed out-riders: the equipage and escort of a noblewoman. Finally, there were three scruffy men with a heavy wagon drawn by a hitch of six asses.

"At least the rain and snow have stopped, now we're out of the mountains. This wind is bad enough. Look how choppy the water is," said Yao as he watched the progress of the ferry coming toward them from the opposite bank.

Zangi-Ragozh was already feeling a bit queasy, and he turned away from the river, saying, "At least the ferry is large enough for most of us." He patted the neck of his gray, hoping the mare would not pick up his nervousness. He brushed the hilt of the sword that hung on his saddle, hoping he would have no cause to use it.

"The crossing will be tedious," said Yao. "But once it is done, it's done. This is the end of winter, and the weather will change soon."

"Yes; spring is coming," said Zangi-Ragozh. "Our return trip should be much easier than this has been." He swung around in his saddle and studied the approaching ferry, making note of the degree of splash and bounce its present passengers endured.

"Unless there is more fighting," said Ro-shei. He was mounted on a broad-backed chestnut with three white feet.

"The new Wen Emperor Yuan is pledged to stop all fighting," said Zangi-Ragozh with a nice mix of respect and doubt.

"So we will all hope," said Yao, fiddling with the end of his whip. "Battle and bad weather are always hard on the horses."

"And on us," said Jong, who was suffering from a head-cold.

"We will be able to turn south again soon, into milder climes than this," said Zangi-Ragozh. "You will not have to freeze every night."

"Just so I do not inflame my lungs," said Jong, his sniff turning to a cough.

"I have something that might ease your illness; it is in my chest of medicaments," said Zangi-Ragozh. "I think it would help you to recover."

"Ro-shei has said you have made a sovereign remedy," said Jong. "Is that what you mean?"

"Yes," said Zangi-Ragozh. "The herbs you have taken have helped, and I would recommend them myself, were it not that you are developing inner heat. When that occurs, the sovereign remedy may be necessary if you are to avoid dangerous fevers." He recognized the worry in the startled look Jong gave him, and he went on, "I can see it in your face; your color is high."

Jong turned away from him. "I have herbs for it."

"And certainly the herbs will help you ease your discomforts," said Zangi-Ragozh, knowing his remedy would not be readily trusted, particularly since it was made from moldy bread. "Still, this remedy I offer can reduce the incidence of fever and the weakness it brings."

Jong was about to speak, but his words were drowned in a loud peal of what sounded like distant thunder. As the goats bleated, all the horses skittered, the laden ponies fretted, and the asses at the rear of the line brayed and rolled their eyes in alarm. The unearthly noise rolled on eerily, a counterpoint to the sudden cacophony, then was gone; the animals remained edgy, showing the whites of their eyes and straining at their leads and harnesses.

"And not a cloud in the sky," said Gien when the ominous, deep-throated grumble was over; he looked up and blinked in awe. Then, as an afterthought, he made a gesture toward the empty heavens.

"There must be a distant storm," said Ro-shei.

"Or a battle," said Yao. "In the mountains."

The travelers looked about uneasily, and finally the merchant leading the ponies forced out a laugh. "Whatever it is, it has nothing to do with us."

Jong tried his best to chuckle. "The Thunder God is parading with his drums, and it is well for us to be wary; it could mean rain in the mountains, and floods here. A big storm, no matter how far away, may raise the river by nightfall." He put his hand to his mouth as he coughed.

"Then all the more reason to cross as soon as we may," said Yao, keeping his attention on the approaching ferry. "If you must pay more to cross, Zangi-Ragozh, then I ask you to do it." He fidgeted nervously, holding the reins of his wagon-team so unsteadily that two of the horses began to toss their heads in protest. Yao forced himself to be steady. "The noblewoman behind us undoubtedly will commandeer a favorable place for herself, and this crossing is not a short one; the men accompanying her will insist that she have the ferry to herself, but today that would be folly, as well the ferrymen know. I don't want to be trapped on this bank if there is a flood coming."

"Your point is well-taken," said Zangi-Ragozh, reaching into his sleeve for a string of silver cash. "I'll be ready to pass this along as soon as the ferryman is ready to load us on." The amount was fairly lavish, and one that most travelers would not be willing to pay for something so simple as a place on a ferry.

"There looks to be a good number of travelers and their stock for the ferry, perhaps too much for a safe crossing if all get aboard," said Gien, frowning at the prospect of more delay. "The noblewoman is only one concern."

"Then let us offer the ferrymen our help in preparing their craft for the crossing," said Ro-shei at once. "That should incline them to give us a good place for the next crossing no matter how foreign my master and I may be."

"That should serve our purpose very well, possibly as much as the money," said Zangi-Ragozh; he was not looking forward to the ride to the opposite bank, for running water always left him feeling ill and disoriented.

"Then we will do it," said Yao. "I don't want to lose another day standing here waiting for the ferry to cross. We are going to arrive later than we are expected, in any case."

Zangi-Ragozh looked about him, relieved to see that his men were willing to extend themselves in this way. "Very good. You, Yao, if you would speak with the ferryman, we may manage better than if either I or Ro-shei should make the offer."

Yao nodded. "Foreigners aren't always as well-received as Chinese, especially in times like these, with dynasties changing and borders shifting. It is fortunate that the language here is comprehensible for us, for it makes us less strange. In some parts of the Middle Kingdom, I would seem as foreign as you." He saw the others nod and did his best to take on an air of authority.

"I will reward your service," said Zangi-Ragozh, and glanced at the Mongol merchant with the pony-string behind him.

The man muttered something in lower-class Chinese about generations of turtles all the while pointedly ignoring the foreigner in the black leather cloak. He had thrown back the wolf-fur hood of his long jacket, and his rough-cut hair whipped about his face.

"Here," said Yao sharply to the Mongol, "let's have no insolence."

The Mongol spoke again, in his own tongue, spat, and turned away.

Zangi-Ragozh knew enough of the language to be able to say, "I intended no slight to you, worthy traveler. My company and I are under orders from Chang'an to make haste there, and our journey has been longer than anyone expected it to be, so we are trying to make good time now."

The Mongol stared at Zangi-Ragozh, dumbfounded to hear Mongolian come from a Western foreigner. "Where did you learn to speak?"

"Your language?" Zangi-Ragozh considered his response, selecting the most basic answer. "I studied it for a time at Cambaluc and Kumul."

The Mongol regarded him thoughtfully. "Your ancestors have not lived for four hundred generations with turtles."

Jong sputtered an oath. "Is that what you said?"

The Mongol shrugged. "I admit I was wrong. He is no kin of turtles." He cocked his chin toward the river. "The ferry is almost here."

Zangi-Ragozh knew that an accusation of living with turtles was one of the most profound insults any Chinese could be given, so he said in Mongolian, "Since I am a foreigner, I am not offended."

The Mongol looked at Jong and Yao. "I was mistaken in my-"

The sound of a tuneless horn announced the arrival of the ferry, and all the slights were forgotten as the waiting line of travelers jostled for position to get onto the ferry, all the while leaving space for those crossing from the northern bank to disembark. One of the asses became vexed and lashed out with hooves and teeth, only to be called to order with a series of blows from a drover's whip.

As the front of the ferry was let down to make a ramp for the passengers, four of the six ferrymen jumped ashore and began to collect the fares from those waiting. Zangi-Ragozh held out the string of silver cash, saying, "This is to ensure passage for my wagons, my men, and our horses."

The ferryman stared at the money. "This is much more than the usual cost."

Yao intervened. "We are on an urgent mission, and it is worth paying a little more not to have to wait any longer than necessary."

"Yes," said Zangi-Ragozh. "If you have to require any of those here to wait for the next crossing, we would prefer it not be our company."

"We will assist in loading the ferry," Yao said. "And if you need any assistance during the crossing, we will provide it." He glanced at Zangi-Ragozh. "It is your order, is it not?"

"Yes, if the ferrymen or the waterman require any aid," he answered.

"That may speed matters along." Yao lowered his voice. "If more money is needed, let us know at once."

"I'll tell the master waterman," said the ferryman, slipping the string of cash onto his wrist before going to speak to the Mongol.

"What do you think?" Ro-shei asked as the ferrymen went on about their work, one guiding travelers off the ferry, the other two tending to those about to board.

"I think he is satisfied," said Yao. "We will be taken across this trip."

Zangi-Ragozh's gray began to sidle and he tightened his hands on the reins. "I had best dismount, so I can lead her onto the ferry," he said, and disengaged his right foot from the foot-loop, swung his leg over the mare's rump, kicked his left foot out of the foot-loop, and took hold of the saddle to lower himself to the ground. The mare minced in place, huffing her displeasure. "Be calm, Shooting Star," he said, going to the gray's head and stroking her cheek until she lowered her head, her nose touching his shoulder. "Are the leads for the spare horses well-tied?" he asked Ro-shei. "We do not want any trouble loading them onto the ferry."

"I'll check," he offered, and prepared to do as he said.

"No. Gien should attend to it." Zangi-Ragozh spoke more loudly than before.

"If that is what you want," said Gien, and he scrambled to follow these orders.

"It is not what I want, it is what will calm the horses. They're restive," said Zangi-Ragozh.

"Because of the thunder," said Jong, and coughed.

"If that is what it was," said Zangi-Ragozh.

"What else could it be?" asked Yao.

"I do not know," Zangi-Ragozh said, and prepared to follow the farmer and his goats onto the ferry, taking care not to rush the animals ahead of him. Reaching the ramp onto the deck of the ferry, he guided his horse carefully, steeling himself against the discomfort of the river's current. In spite of his native earth lining the soles of his boots, he felt sapped of strength, and he took hold of the railing at the side of the ferry to steady himself, keeping his mare's reins tightly in his grasp. He heard the rest of his company begin to move, and he took satisfaction in realizing that by midday he would once again be on solid ground.

Ro-shei came up beside him, leading his chestnut. "Do you need anything?" he asked in Byzantine Greek.

"Dry land and a willing partner," said Zangi-Ragozh with a faint, wry smile.

"You will have the dry land soon enough. The willing partner is up to you." Ro-shei looked over his shoulder at their wagons being crowded forward, their spare horses lined up behind the wagons. "Jong is not well."

"Yes, I know," said Zangi-Ragozh, leaning on the railing but keeping his gaze fixed on the far bank. He held his mare's reins securely so that she had to stand quietly.

"The fever has reached his lungs."

"It has," Zangi-Ragozh agreed. "His herbs have kept the fever in check, but he is too worn-down, and now he is in real danger."

"Will you order him to take your sovereign remedy?" Ro-shei asked.

There was a flurry of scuffles among the animals as the noblewoman's escort came aboard behind the Mongol and his ponies, taking care to surround her carriage so that no one would catch so much as a glimpse of her. This was followed by a hurried discussion among the ferrymen and the master waterman, and then the oldest of the ferrymen pronounced the craft fully laden and blew his horn, signaling that the ferry was about to cast off.

The scruffy men with the ass-drawn wagon shouted their exasperation at being left behind as the ramp was drawn up and secured; one of them went so far as to threaten to shoot the master waterman if they were not taken aboard.

"If the ferry is over-loaded, it will sink," shouted the oldest of the ferrymen as they pulled away from the shore.

"You could make room for us!" bellowed one of the men on the shore.

"Next crossing!" the ferryman promised him, and turned his back on the shore, giving his attention to the chain a short distance below the water that marked the line of passage to the other side.

The master waterman hung on the tiller, his massive shoulders hunched with holding the ferry on course to the opposite shore. All but two of the ferrymen worked their long poles, digging them into the bed of the river and trudging the length of the barge to propel it forward; the fifth stood in the flat prow of the boat, prepared to reach down into the river to snag the chain if they should start to drift off-course. Water splashed onto the deck of the ferry and was swept off by the youngest of the ferrymen, using a stiff broom and a shallow pail to accomplish his work.

"It's choppy," said Yao, addressing Zangi-Ragozh from the driving-box of his wagon.

"That it is," said Zangi-Ragozh, not wanting to dwell on the state of the river.

"I've been in much worse crossings," Yao boasted. "This is only bouncing a bit. I have seen it when the boats bucked like wild horses."

"No doubt," said Zangi-Ragozh, swallowing hard.

"The waterman knows his trade," Yao went on approvingly. "See how he holds the course."

"He does his work very well," Zangi-Ragozh said, sagging against the railing.

"Shall I take your reins?" Ro-shei offered, switching the reins of his chestnut to his left hand and holding out his right for the mare's.

"If you would. I will only make her more uneasy if I continue to hold them." He gave the reins to Ro-shei and wobbled as the ferry lurched over a rough patch of water.

"Are you all right, my master?" Ro-shei asked, attempting to hold the two horses and assist Zangi-Ragozh at the same time.

"I will be," he answered.

Yao watched this with ill-disguised dismay. "Is something wrong?"

Zangi-Ragozh managed a wave of dismissal. "Nothing dangerous. Those of my blood are inclined to sickness on the water."

"A strange affliction," said Yao.

"Certainly an inconvenient one, but not dangerous," said Zangi-Ragozh.

"All sickness can be dangerous," said Yao, adding the reproof, "You may cause harm to us, if you are ill."

"You will see how quickly I recover when we arrive on the far bank," Zangi-Ragozh assured him.

Yao was not yet satisfied. "You have crossed streams and rivers before and I saw no sign of this weakness."

"Those crossings were short, or the water was not flowing as strongly as this river," Zangi-Ragozh said, and clenched his jaw. He wanted to lie down out of the sun, on his bed that lay atop a chest of his native earth, but he knew this would create suspicions he did not want to address, so he remained where he was and did his best to resist the vertigo that pulled at him.

"Still, it is a strange affliction for one who travels as much as you do," Yao observed.

"I fear I must agree," said Zangi-Ragozh, and fell silent while the ferry continued on across the river. By the time the ramp was let down, he was dizzy and did not trust himself to mount his mare until his company was some little distance from the river. Walking the half-li restored him somewhat, so that he was able to vault into the saddle with the appearance of his habitual ease.

Ro-shei, who had been walking beside him, also got onto his chestnut, remarking as he did, "I believe we can reach Tai-Sho by nightfall, if the weather remains clear."

"Tai-Sho is a reasonable distance," Zangi-Ragozh agreed. "Just over four li, as I understand."

"That is about right," said Gien.

"Then if we keep up a good pace, we should arrive shortly before sundown." Zangi-Ragozh had raised his voice so that Yao and Jong could hear him clearly.

"Yes," said Yao. "If the road is clear and there are no other delays." He paused. "They say there are robbers in the woods hereabouts."

"Then we will have to be careful going through them," said Zangi-Ragozh, and patted the curved Persian sword that hung from the pommel of his saddle. "Get the weapons out of the wagon and make sure you all have a sword and a dagger."

"I'll tend to that," Ro-shei offered.

"Thank you, old friend," said Zangi-Ragozh as he took his place ahead of the two wagons and the spare horses. He made a point of sitting very straight and being as alert as he possibly could, for it would not be provident to appear truly weakened by the river crossing. He shaded his eyes with his hand and put his mare into a jog-trot.

"The swords and daggers are distributed," said Ro-shei a bit later as he rode up next to Zangi-Ragozh.

"Excellent," Zangi-Ragozh approved, and settled into the routine of travel, keeping a wary eye out for marauders and other possible outlaws as he led the company through an arm of the forest. "How broad are these woods?" he called back to his companions.

"Almost a li," said Gien. "We should pass through them while the sun is still high."

"Prudent," said Zangi-Ragozh.

When they forded a stream, a while later, they paused to water the horses and to change teams and mounts.

"Does this water bother you?" Yao asked Zangi-Ragozh as he tightened the girth.

"Yes, it does. Not as much as the river did, or the ocean would do, but it makes me uncomfortable," Zangi-Ragozh admitted, patting Flying Cloud before he vaulted into the saddle; he had already secured Shooting Star's lead to the rear of the larger wagon, and so was impatient to be off.

Jong was still buckling on the harness of his second team, his face mottled and his breathing strained. He started to apologize, but broke off in a rattle of tight coughing. He clung to the neck of the nearest horse and tried to bring his spasm under control.

Zangi-Ragozh swung off his gelding and thrust the reins at Gien. "Tie him to the wagon with a lead," he ordered as he went to assist Jong to get into the wagon. "You should lie down and keep warm."

"I will be all right," Jong insisted even as Zangi-Ragozh lifted him with amazing ease onto the narrow cot behind the driving-box.

"As soon as you have had a chance to recover, no doubt you are right," said Zangi-Ragozh as he took Jong's place on the box. "Gien, make sure the harness is properly buckled. Ro-shei, if you will lead us?" He waited until Gien gave him a nod, then he signaled the team to set off.

"You should not be driving a wagon," Yao protested.

"Do you fear I cannot do it?" Zangi-Ragozh inquired. "For I assure you, I can."

Yao looked confused. "Nothing like that. It is just that a man of your position should not drive a wagon. Have Ro-shei do it."

"I think not," said Zangi-Ragozh. "If Jong should become worse, I want to be able to attend to him without delay, which I can do if I am able to watch him. Driving allows me to do this."

Ro-shei brought his horse alongside Zangi-Ragozh's wagon. "I will trade places with you, my master."

"Thank you, but there is no need," said Zangi-Ragozh, his punctilious response so firm that there could be no doubt as to his determination.

The gates of Tai-Sho stood open when Zangi-Ragozh's company arrived and paid the travelers' tax to enter. Directed to the center of the town, they chose the largest of the inns for the night and went about stalling their horses and storing the wagons, then carried Jong to a small room at the rear of the inn that was used for quarantine.

"I will send for a physician," the innkeeper declared as he saw Jong laid on the bed in his isolated room; the man was middle-aged and showed signs of prosperity in his dress that was belied by his pinched mouth.

"There is no need," said Zangi-Ragozh. "I have some knowledge of medicaments, and I am willing to tend him."

"Foreign medicaments!" the innkeeper scoffed. "I will send a servant to Kuo and tell him that he must come promptly." He glowered at Zangi-Ragozh. "This man is Chinese. He must have Chinese medicines."

"If he must, he must," said Zangi-Ragozh. "But I will attend him until the physician arrives."

"That will not excuse you paying for his care," the innkeeper warned.

"He is my servant," said Zangi-Ragozh. "I will be responsible for any charges his care incurs."

"If Kuo agrees, then it is all right with me," said the innkeeper, and summoned one of his slaves to carry a message to Physician Kuo, telling him to assert that the need was urgent and required the physician himself and not one of his apprentices.

The man who arrived with the slave was a blocky individual with thick fingers and a crusty manner and the look of one used to being obeyed. Kuo Li-Dan contemplated Jong as he took his pulse, saying when he had done, "This man is very ill, perhaps beyond saving."

"His lungs are inflamed," said Zangi-Ragozh, "and they are congested."

Kuo looked a bit surprised. "Yes. Fire and wind have invaded him." He tugged on his long mustache. "An astute observation, foreigner. Have you had some training in treating the sick?"

Zangi-Ragozh ducked his head. "I have." He did not mention that he had spent more than eight centuries at the Temple of Imhotep, rising from slave to High Priest in that time.

The innkeeper, who had lingered in the doorway, regarded Zangi-Ragozh narrowly. "A merchant who is a physician?"

"Merchants are often wholly on their own, and if any injury or illness occurs, they must deal with it," Zangi-Ragozh said smoothly. "Knowledge of medicaments has proved extremely useful to me."

"You must be a good pupil, and your teachers more able than many foreigners are," said Kuo. "It has seemed to me that foreigners are not skilled in such matters. They rely upon the power of the Immortals or their powerless gods; they depend upon amulets for magic and not teas for the body." He laid his hand on Jong's chest and put all his attention on what he felt. "I will leave a tea that he is to drink as frequently as he can be roused to drink it. It will balance the heat and cold in his body, which should help him to fight the inflamation."

"While I am sure you are most diligent in your treatment, is there nothing more to be done?" Zangi-Ragozh asked, and went on before Kuo could answer. "For I have a remedy that may be of some help."

"Foreign potions!" Kuo glowered. "What sort of preposterousness are you-"

"It has been helpful before, where there is fever," said Zangi-Ragozh. "As this man is in my employ, I believe I am obliged to do all I can to help him recover from his illness."

Kuo was wary. "You learned of this where you were trained to treat the sick?"

"I did," said Zangi-Ragozh, and did not elaborate. "I have used it on many different injuries and illnesses."

"Has it been beneficial?" Kuo pursued.

"Yes, it has, or I would not recommend trying it," Zangi-Ragozh replied, doing his utmost to remain respectful, but growing impatient with Kuo.

The physician bent over Jong and smelled his breath. "If you can administer your remedy so that it will not keep this man from drinking the tea I will prepare for him, then I will not oppose your using it. I will call tomorrow to see what progress has occurred." He straightened up. "If there is no improvement, it will not be on the account of my tea."

"Certainly not," said Zangi-Ragozh, realizing that Kuo did not expect Jong to survive and was seeking the chance to lay the reason for his demise at Zangi-Ragozh's door.

"So long as you tend to him yourself, I will not send any of my apprentices to treat this man," Kuo announced as much for the benefit of the innkeeper as Zangi-Ragozh. "By midday tomorrow, I will call here again, to see how he is responding. If he takes a turn for the worse, have one of the servants here inform me of it."

"I will be most grateful to you," said Zangi-Ragozh, and took a string of silver cash from his sleeve, removing six of the coins and handing them to Kuo. "This should cover the cost of the tea." It was half again as much as such teas usually cost, and both knew it.

Kuo slipped the money into his wallet and almost smiled. "I will need a large pot," he informed the innkeeper. "And it must be filled with fresh-drawn water."

The innkeeper hastily retreated to the kitchen to follow Kuo's instructions.

"He has been ailing for four days that I know of," Zangi-Ragozh told Kuo.

"When did he begin to cough?" Kuo asked.

"I first noticed it in the evening, three days ago. He may have had trouble during the day, but it was not sufficiently severe to alarm me." Zangi-Ragozh was chagrined by this admission. "With the weather so harsh, coughs are not so uncommon."

"And not all indicate heat in the lungs," Kuo agreed. "Do you have others with you?"

"Three other men," Zangi-Ragozh said.

"Do any of them show signs of the illness?" Kuo had started toward the door. "Should you like me to see any of them while I am here?"

Zangi-Ragozh fitted one hand into the other. "I would be most appreciative," he said, thinking of the extra fees Kuo would earn for this effort. "My men are in the dining room still, lingering over their suppers. You can find them there, all but my manservant, who is a foreigner like me; he is in the stable seeing to our horses and the wagons."

"He sounds to be in good health if he is doing such work," said Kuo, almost out the door.

"I would venture to say that he has less need of your skills than the others," said Zangi-Ragozh, laying his hand on Jong's forehead. "I'll remain here while you prepare your tea."

"That will suit me very well," said Kuo, and left Zangi-Ragozh alone with the suffering Jong. Only when the physician returned with his tea did Zangi-Ragozh slip away to fetch a vial of his sovereign remedy, an opalescent liquid that seemed clear when held up to the light. Kuo was just finishing tipping some of the hot tea down Jong's throat. "Let me look at that," he ordered, holding out his hand for the glass vial.

Zangi-Ragozh held it out. "The stopper has to be unscrewed."

"A good precaution," said Kuo, twisting the stopper and sniffing the liquid. "Nothing noxious, but still, an unusual odor."

"That it has," Zangi-Ragozh agreed, and waited while Kuo made up his mind.

"I can find no harm in it," the physician announced. "But administer it only after the tea is taken."

"Certainly," said Zangi-Ragozh. "I'll keep a record of when anything is given to Jong."

Kuo nodded. "A wise precaution." He made a polite gesture of farewell and went to the door. "I will look in on your other men. If I find nothing to alarm me, I will depart. If either of the two is sick, then I will come to consult you."

"Thank you." He lifted the oil-lamp. "This should burn most of the night."

"Very good," said Kuo, and left Zangi-Ragozh to minister to Jong.

Text of a letter from Captain Tieh Wei-Djieh of the merchant ship Golden Moon at Kuang-Chou to the foreign merchant Zangi-Ragozh at Yang-Chau; never delivered.

To the most illustrious foreigner Zangi-Ragozh, the greetings of his Captain, Tieh Wei-Djieh of the Golden Moon, still at port in Kuang-Chou, at the end of the Fortnight of the Prosperity Lanterns.

I am pleased to inform you that the Golden Moon is once again ready to put to sea, and under other circumstances I would leave port within three days of entrusting this to Zhi Fung-Ho of the courier ship Frigate-bird, but I am disinclined to begin a voyage in such seas and under such skies as those that have marked this place for more than eight days, and I cannot but think that you would concur with my determination were you here to see for yourself what has occurred here. It is a most difficult time, with terrible tides and flocks of dead birds blown on the high winds until they fall into the ocean for sharks to dine on. The sharks themselves are hardly safe in these times.

The tumultuous seas have increased dangerously following a deafening and prolonged explosion that came from the southwest nine days ago. No thunder was ever half so loud as that. It was approaching midday, and the sound was more dreadful than anything I have heard before. The first report was hideous, but there was an ongoing roar that has not entirely ceased yet. As if in answer to this horrendous blast, by evening the seas had risen and done damage to the docks here, making all the sailors I know stupefied with fear. The docks a short distance from the one where we are tied up were reduced to splinters, and the warehouses are hardly more than bits of wood clinging to their pilings. Some people have been washed out to sea, and it is believed that they are dead. The Golden Moon sustained no significant damage, but many other ships were not so fortunate, and dozens of them were broken apart during the first onslaught of the waves. The seas are still running dangerously high, and so nothing much can be done to save or repair the ships, or the docks.

Since that day, the skies have grown dark and remained so, as if storm clouds are gathering. Lightning accompanies them, and they are regarded as the most distressing of all omens. The odor of sulfur is everywhere, and no one can say why, but everyone knows it is a bad sign. Already fish are dying, their decaying bodies washing in on the tide. Some claim that this is the end of the world, and some say it is the gods making war on earth.

I should report that there has been trouble inland here, as well. These dark and lowering clouds have dropped yellow rain that has burned the fields, scalded livestock, and made wells all but undrinkable. Everyone who has gone out of the city says that the farmers are terrified at the thought of what is coming, for they cannot plant their spring crops in fields that are blighted by the yellow rain. I have no information to give about any of your other ships that may have been caught up in this appalling storm. No ships have come into port since the storm began, and no ships have left until the courier decided to depart today. I only hope that I may find some reliable news, which I shall then pass on to you as soon as I have verification as well as rumors to pass on.

In the meantime, I ask the God of Sailors to protect us all, and the Lord of the Sea to quiet the waters so that we may safely return home with our cargo and our men safe.

Tieh Wei-Djieh

Captain, the Golden Moon

(his chop)