A Mighty Fortress – Snippet 37

A Mighty Fortress – Snippet 37

II

Ice Ship Hornet,
Lake Pei,
The Temple Lands

The Earl of Coris had never been colder in his entire life. Which, after the last few months of winter travel, was saying quite a lot. At the moment, however, he didn’t really care. In fact, at the moment, he wasn’t even worrying about the imminence of his arrival in the city of Zion or what was going to happen after he finally got there. He was too busy trying not to whoop in sheer exuberance as the iceboat Hornet went slicing across Lake Pei’s endless plain of ice like Langhorne’s own razor in a scatter of rainbow-struck ice chips.

He’d never imagined anything like it. Even the descriptions Hahlys Tannyr had shared with him over meals or an occasional tankard of beer on the wearisome overland trip from Fairstock to Lakeview had been inadequate. Not for lack of trying, or because Father Hahlys had lacked either the enthusiasm or the descriptive gift for the task, but simply because Coris’ imagination had never been given anything to use for comparison. If anyone had asked him, he would have simply discounted out of hand the possibility that anyone could ever travel faster than, say, fifteen miles an hour. To be honest, even that would have seemed the next best thing to starkly impossible, except possibly in a sprint by specially bred horses. Slash lizards were faster than that when they charged — he’d heard estimates that put their speed in a dash as high as forty miles an hour — but no human being had ever ridden a slash lizard . . . except very briefly in certain fables whose entire purpose was to demonstrate the unwisdom of making the attempt.

Now, as showers of ice flew like diamond dust from the ice boat’s screaming runners and the incredible vibration hammered into him through his feet and legs, Coris had finally experienced what Tannyr had tried to explain to him, and a corner of the earl’s mind went back over the past, wearisome five-days of travel which had brought him to this moment.

* * * * * * * * * *

The sheer, slow, slogging misery of their journey along the Rayworth Valley where it formed the open north-south “V” at the heart of the Wishbone Mountains, had only served to make Tannyr’s descriptions of his iceboat’s speed even less believable. The only redeeming aspect of the trip, perversely enough, had been the snowy conditions with which they’d been forced to cope. The outsized sleighs Tannyr had procured had made surprisingly good time — indeed, better time than carriages or even mounted men might have made over those winter-struck roads — behind the successive teams of six-limbed snow lizards the under-priest had arranged via the Church’s semaphore system.

The snow lizards, unlike the sleighs’ passengers, hadn’t minded the icy temperatures and snow at all. Their multi-ply pelts provided near perfect insulation (not to mention, Coris had discovered at one of the posting houses in which they had overnighted, the most sinfully sensual rugs any man had ever walked barefoot across), and their huge feet, with the webs between their pads, carried them across even the deepest snow. They were considerably smaller than the mountain lizards used for draft purposes in more temperate climes, but they were close to twice the size of a good saddle horse. And while they would have found it difficult to match a horse in a sprint, they had all of lizardkind’s endurance, which meant they could maintain almost indefinitely a pace which would have quickly exhausted, or even killed, any horse.

The snow lizards would have been perfectly happy padding along into the very teeth of a Wishbone Mountains blizzard. Assuming the wind had gotten too bad even for them, they would simply have curled up into enormous balls — two or three of them huddling together, whenever possible — and allowed the howling wind to cover them in a comfortable blanket of snow. Human beings, unfortunately, were somewhat more poorly insulated, and so, even with the snow lizards’ help, Coris and Tannyr had found themselves weather bound on three separate occasions — once for almost three days. Mostly, they’d used Church posting houses, since most of the inns (which seemed to be considerably larger than those to which Coris was accustomed) appeared to have closed their doors for the winter. Not surprisingly, he’d supposed, given how the weather had undoubtedly inspired all but the hardiest — or most lunatic — of travelers to stay home until spring. Even the posting houses had been both larger and rather more luxurious than he would have anticipated, but given the number of high-ranking churchmen who frequently traveled this route, he’d realized he shouldn’t have been particularly surprised by that discovery.

The weather delays had been frustrating enough, despite the comfort of the posting houses, but the shortness of the winter days hadn’t helped, either, even though the snow lizards had been perfectly happy to keep going even in near total darkness. They’d stretched their travel time each day as far as they could, yet there’d been stretches — even in the sheltered and (relatively) low-lying Valley — where the roads had been far too sinuous, steep, and icy for anyone but an idiot to traverse them in darkness. Considering all that, the earl hadn’t been particularly surprised to find Tannyr’s original estimate of how long the trip would take had actually been a bit optimistic.

Despite that, they’d finally reached Lakeview, once again (inevitably) in the middle of a dense snowfall. Night had already fallen by the time they arrived, and the ancient city’s buildings had seemed to huddle together, hunching shoulders and roofs against the weather. Many of the city’s windows had been shuttered against the cold, but the glow of lamplight streaming from others had turned the falling snowflakes into a dancing, swirling tapestry woven by invisible sprites. Their traveling sleighs had slowed dramatically once they reached Lakeview’s streets, yet the darkness and the weather had already urged most of the city’s inhabitants inside, and they’d quickly reached The Archangels’ Rest, the harborside inn where rooms had been reserved for them.

It was a huge establishment, a full six stories tall, with palatial sleeping chambers and a full-fledged ground-floor restaurant. In fact, The Archangels’ Rest dwarfed anything Coris had ever seen in Corisande or even the largest of the out-sized inns they’d passed en route from Fairstock. For that matter, he was pretty sure it was larger than anything he’d ever seen anywhere, short of a cathedral in some capital city. It hardly seemed proper to describe it as a mere “inn,” and he supposed that was why someone had coined the word “hotel” to describe it, instead.

At the moment, however, it was clearly operating with a much reduced staff. He’d mentioned that to Tannyr, and the under-priest had chuckled.

“During the summer, the place is usually packed,” he’d explained. “In fact, they usually wish they had even more rooms to let. Didn’t you notice how much bigger the inns were along the highroad?” Coris had nodded, and Tannyr had shrugged. “Well, that because when everything’s not covered with ice and snow, there are usually thousands of pilgrims using the highroad to make their way to or from the Temple at any given time. All of them need someplace to spend the night, after all, and all the roads to Lake Pei from the south come together here, which makes Lakeview the lakeside terminus for anyone traveling to Zion or the Temple by road, just like Port Harbor is the major landfall for anyone traveling there by way of Hsing-wu’s Passage. Trust me, if you were here at midsummer, you’d swear every adult on Safehold was trying to get to the Temple . . . and that every one of them was trying to stay at the Rest. This time of year, the top three floors are completely closed down, though. For that matter, I’d be surprised if more than a third — or even a quarter — of the rooms which haven’t been closed for the winter are occupied at the moment.”

“How in the world do they justify keeping it open at all, if they lose so much of their business during the winter?” Coris had asked.

“Well, the quality of their restaurant helps a lot!” Tannyr had laughed. “Trust me, you’ll see that for yourself at supper. So they manage to keep their kitchen staff fully occupied, no matter what time of year it is. As for the rest” — he’d shrugged — “Mother Church has a partial ownership in the Rest, and the Temple Treasury helps subsidize expenses over the winter months. In fact, Mother Church has the same arrangement with quite a few of the larger inns and hotels here in Lakeview. And in Port Harbor, for that matter.”

Coris had nodded in understanding. For that matter, he’d realized he should have thought of that possibility for himself. Obviously, the Church would have a powerful interest in providing housing for those performing the pilgrimage to the Temple enjoined upon all of the truly faithful by the Holy Writ.

And, he’d thought just a bit more cynically, I’ll bet the profit the Treasury turns during the peak pilgrimage months is more than handsome enough to cover the costs of keeping the places open year-round.

However that might have been, he’d been forced to admit The Archangels’ Rest had provided the most comfortable and luxurious travel accommodations he’d ever encountered, and the contrast between it and the conditions they’d endured all too frequently elsewhere during their rigorous journey had been profound. He was certain that few of the hotel’s other suites were quite as luxurious as the ones to which he and Tannyr had been escorted, and the restaurant had been just as excellent as Tannyr had promised. In fact, Coris had found himself wishing rather wistfully that they could have spent more than a single night as its guests.

Unfortunately, he’d known they couldn’t, and he’d tried to project an air of cheerful acceptance as he followed Tannyr down to the docks the next morning. From the under-priest’s obvious amusement, it had been clear he’d failed to fool the other man, but despite Tannyr’s lively sense of humor (and the ridiculous), he’d managed somehow to refrain from teasing his charge.

Coris had appreciated the under-priest’s forbearance and he suspected that his reaction when he finally set eyes on Hornet for the first time had constituted a sort of reward for Tannyr’s patience.

He’d actually stopped dead, gazing at the iceboat in astonishment. Despite all the descriptions he’d heard, he hadn’t been prepared for the reality when he saw the rakish vessel sitting there on the gleaming steel feet of its huge, skate-like runners. The mere thought of how much each of those runners must have cost was enough to give a man pause, especially if the man in question had first-hand experience in things like foundry costs because he’d recently been involved in an effort to build a galleon-based, cannon-armed navy from scratch. Again, though, he’d realized, he was looking at an example of the Church’s enormous financial resources.

Iceboats like Hornet weren’t just exorbitantly expensive. They were also highly specialized propositions, and their sole function was to cross Lake Pei after the enormous sheet of water had frozen solid. It was almost four hundred and fifty miles from Lakeview to Zion, and every year, when winter truly set in, the lake became only marginally navigable. Indeed, once it had fully iced over, it was completely closed to normal shipping, and iceboats became the only way in or out of Zion. They couldn’t begin to carry the amount of cargo conventional ships could, so a vast fleet would have been required to ship in any significant supply of foodstuffs or fuel, which meant neither Zion nor the Temple could count on importing large amounts of either from their usual southern sources after the lake had begun freezing in earnest. But at least some freight — mostly luxury goods — and quite a few passengers still needed to cross, regardless of the season. And Mother Church had a monopoly where iceboat ownership was concerned.

Hornet herself looked a great deal like a Church courier galley on enormous skates. There were some differences, yet her courier ship ancestry had been clearly recognizable. And made some sense, Coris had supposed, given that there were occasions — especially early in the ice season — when, as Tannyr had suggested, it wasn’t unheard of for one of the iceboats to encounter a still-open lead of unfrozen lake water. Or, for that matter, to rather abruptly discover that a sheet of ice was thinner than it had appeared. The ability to float in an instance like that was undoubtedly a good thing to have.

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Comments

28 Responses to A Mighty Fortress – Snippet 37

  1. John says:

    this is like…half a snippet at best. nothing useful here. only a few more days to go.

  2. karina says:

    I found it useful to get an idea of the world other than what we’re familiar with. There are a lot of threads here and I’m looking forward to seeing some of them come together.

  3. Peter Z says:

    @2 How would you weave them together or suspect them to be weaved together, Karina? I see three main threads; Corisande’s integration, the issues with the G4’s fleet and Zion politics. Yes, they all tie to Cayleb/Sharley/Merlin, but hey! they are the primary protagonists.

    I see corisnade consolidating around one main theme: sure it sucks to be concored but these guys aren’t that bad after all.

    The G4 fleet will either have to work up to Charisian standards (or as close an approximation as possible) or find a way not to fight. Desnair is telegraphing what it will do. That leaves Thirsk all alone trying to get his crews ready. I doubt the Zion built ship crews are even close to Thirsk’s crews.

    The capper will be Zion politics. If Clyntahn gets his way and rules the roost, the G4 is go down in blazes. The remaining secular rulers will begin to find reasons not to follow the amoral SOB. I suspect that Clyntahn will get the upper hand and use it to force his will.

  4. Maggie says:

    Why do I get the feeling that we just received a look at a really high-end PT boat design?

  5. Michael says:

    I can’t figure out the whole Coris thing at all. From a story perspective, the whole travelogue seems completely useless, and Coris himself seems the sort of character we should only hear about second hand. I’m sure he’ll do SOMETHING noteworthy to make all this screen time worthwhile, but I have no idea what it would be.

  6. mpjenki says:

    I have the feeling a large part of his role is to display the difficulty of winter travel to and from Zion to show how bad the communications loop is during those months if the semephores are taken out. I would not be surprised if the start of a land war against the temple lands started with covert strikes at semaphore towers. Imperial Charisian Rangers maybe? Has a catchy sound if you ask me.

  7. evilauthor says:

    Well, so far Coris is fleshing out Safehold from a pilgrim’s eye view. And who knows, maybe those hotels will become a plot point in the future?

    They “coined” the word “hotel”? If it’s actually the same word in English…

  8. robert says:

    @7 evilauthor.
    I thought that the primary language of the colonists was English.

    There is a relationship/friendship of sorts growing here between these two men and I think Coris’ fate at the Temple will be decided in part based on that relationship. Who knows, Tannyr may save Coris’ hide.

    On that note, has anyone seen a review of this book? The book will be released in a couple of weeks and reviews must be around on the web somewhere.

    @4 Maggie, a PT Boat with sails? Torpedoes under sail? The mind boggles, the belly shakes, the eyes tear, the..never mind.

  9. Maggie says:

    @8: I do this for you Robert, only for you.

  10. robert says:

    @9 Thank you, Maggie. Much appreciated.
    Actually, on reflection, I could imagine a fleet of ice boats being used by Charis to invade the Temple in the middle of winter when least expected. Living where the snow don’t fall, I don’t really expect the cold-hating Charisians to do that. I get frostbite just reading this chapter.

  11. JD says:

    If the ice boats go as fast as this snippet suggests, can they be square rigged? If so, their seagoing square rigged galleys should work a lot better than they do. If they are fore and aft rigged, but … wasn’t that part of the “new” empire type rigs?

  12. JD says:

    I wonder if the powers that be could take a look at (http://museum.gov.ns.ca/mma/AtoZ/rigs.html) and sort out which is who. From the cover at on AMF it looks like basic square rig and full rig going at it.

    JD

  13. Malcolm says:

    a short snippet, a filler really, before Amazon can send it on its way. Be lucky to get it in NZ before the 20th at best… Hope the maps are expanded and updated too. Even the digital Safehold map needs updating. Lets wait and see.

  14. evilauthor says:

    @8 Robert
    The primary (base?) language is English, but when reinventing something they’ve never heard of before (ie, the hotel), they’re unlikely to use the actual phoneme combination of “hotel” unless the word was coined by someone with access to forbidden knowledge (ie, pre-Safehold English).

    So “hotel” is either translation convention for whatever actual word was invented, or David Weber is dropping a hint that there’s someone with pre-Safehold knowledge running around who provided the word “hotel” for larger-than-normal inns.

    And now I’m wondering if “galleon”, “gun”, and “cannon” are actually the English words we know or a translation convention for Safeholdian words…

  15. Translation convention? Consider the 163X series of our host. The Englishmen there are speaking near-Elizabethan English, in which about one word in five does not mean what you might think it did. If you read Shakespeare, you can usually tell what is meant, not knowing all the words. References to things the average American Junior High School of my generation did not want to have discussed in the vicinity of eighth graders are particularly noteworthy for having changed. Chaucer, a substantially larger fraction of all words being different, really needs a commented discussion, and students of my generation would have been really grateful for hypertext.

    Nimue Alban is sufficiently far in the future that her English likely needed a bit of work. Recall what Honor says about David and the Phoenix…in two millenia some of the words have changed. (Actually, that is remarkably small as a fraction.)

  16. Maggie says:

    @14 George, this is why I started collecting old books: I wanted to be able to read what the author wrote, not what an editor assumed the author meant 3 centuries later.

  17. Virgil says:

    okay my question is does Merlin know where Hector’s two children are, and where Corlis and is going? Is he keeping an eye on the two childreen. I mean Charis should really want to keep them out of the hand of the Church as much as possible.

    And when is someone going to build a hot air balloon?

  18. justdave says:

    @15 to me that’s further evidence of how powerful WS is in english culture, 400 years after he wrote we can still read him, he really solidified the language

    as you said GC requires a lot of explanation and he wrote only 200 before WS

  19. Drak Bibliophile says:

    Virgil, Merlin is keeping an eye on them so he and the others ‘in the know’ are aware what’s happening (except Corlis enters the Temple).

    As for doing something to keep them out of the hands of the Church, (minor snerk) we’ll have to wait for the next book.

  20. KenJ says:

    also recall that when Nimue was studying, she had noted that English had shifted over the last 1000 years that in some areas of Safehold, their dialects were almost an entirely new language, despite being spelled the same. Fortunately, (she stated) she happened to be good at languages. Therefore, it is reasonable to believe that what we are reading, and what we would be hearing are two different things, sort of like a Scottish farmer and a swamp-dwelling Cajun trying to hold a conversation while someone educated at Oxford was trying to listen in. Yes they would be speaking “English”- sort of- but would have the darnedest time trying to understand each other and the Oxford guy would probably be hopelessly lost trying to track them.

  21. robert says:

    Actually the Cajun might be speaking a 15th century French of sorts not even understood by a contemporary French speaker. See “The Discovery of France” by Graham Robb, Norton 2007, for a great read on France and the French language from the Revolution to the WWI. And the Scots farmer might be having some old Celtic words strewn about his vocabulary.

    One reason all of us former Junior High Schoolers didn’t understand Shakespeare was that he was inventing words. And while many of those remained in the language, many others did not. By Nimue’s time, on Earth, English was probably one of the two “global” languages. But it had likely changed quite a bit between our time and hers. “Hotel” might have even been lost from the language, but since it is a pretty widely used word in almost all the Western languages today, and even in many Asian languages now, I doubt that it went the way of “fallaciloquence” or other lost English words. But in the absence of any hotels, the word may not have ever been used on Safehold until the church resurrected (sorry) them and the word for them. When the equivalent of the automobile comes to Safehold, will the word motel appear?

  22. robert says:

    Oh, and from Wiki:
    “The word hotel is derived from the French hôtel (coming from hôte meaning host), which referred to a French version of a townhouse or any other building seeing frequent visitors, rather than a place offering accommodation. In contemporary French usage, hôtel now has the same meaning as the English term, and hôtel particulier is used for the old meaning.”

    So much for it being an exclusively English word. The English language motto: We borrow whatever works.

  23. justdave says:

    @20, etal; the Scot and Cajun however will both be able to read and understand the same text regardless of how the speak their dialects of english

    which is exactly the point DW made, the Writ has kept the written language ‘frozen’ for hundreds of years, as WS did for us, while the spoken language has shifted significantly w/o recordings to refer to

    interesting the the MWW has admitted he wishes he’d never used the shifted names, I’m still trying to figure then all out!!

  24. robert says:

    @23 Nobody likes the wacky spelling of the names and I can’t even pronounce some of them, which makes remembering who they are harder. I can’t imagine that Weber has to deal with that for 10 books and he uses voice recog. software to write the initial manuscript. Oy.

  25. jgnfld says:

    @11 ice boats in the 19th century existed that were very much like that described here. I assume most were schooner rigged or more modern, but maybe they were square rigged ones as well. They (any square-rigged ones) obviously couldn’t attain the speeds of iceboats today, but with a good breeze in the winter at 30 or 40 mph (not at all unreasonable in the “open” ocean in the far north), I image 20 or 30 mph wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility.

  26. robert says:

    See
    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Icicle_%28yacht%29
    for the largest ice yacht ever built.

    Trouble is that most of the ice boats we know are open single-seaters. I am shivering just thinking about it.

  27. WCG says:

    I’ve got to say that the only interesting bit of this, so far, has been the brief sea battle.

    And speaking of the wacky spelling of names, what’s up with that? Was this so he could use an evil “Clyntahn” as a character? That’s really dumb, if so. Frankly, it’s pretty dumb anyway. What was the point? When they speak, it’s translated into modern English, so why not translate the names, too?

    With the weird spelling, I’m having a hard time remembering who is who. And I guess I’m having a hard time caring, too. (But none of the current snippets interest me very much, I must admit.)

  28. RHWoodman says:

    @26 — Regarding the weird spelling.

    I agree that the spelling makes it difficult to track characters; however, if you are like me and enjoy letting your imagination transport you to a different time and place, then the different spelling actually helps (helps me, anyway), because it gives that exotic air to the book that allows for suspension of disbelief and imaginative transport to the world of Safehold.

    As for the interest in and of the snippets (or lack thereof), I find that the character development, while it can be tiresome, is both important and interesting. DW almost lost me initially (in fact I think I complained a bit about his early snippets, they were so dry), but as the snippets have rolled on, I have come to appreciate the fleshing out of the characters and of their backstories. Also, in rereading the earlier stories, I have come to realize that when I read the book straight through, the character/back story development parts of the story move much faster in the book than they appear to move in the snippets themselves.

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