The Rings of Salammis

Mala - Part 2

     The amount of traffic increased as they went. Carriages like theirs, most occupied only by a single man or woman sitting with their gaze fixed straight ahead. Smaller rigs that looked as though they were privately owned. Men on horseback and, here and there, larger coaches capable of holding a dozen people that stopped at intervals to let people off and take people on. The buildings were larger and taller here, with a self important look to them, and Thomas was reminded that, although Arnor was the political capital of the Empire, Mala was the financial capital. Inhabited by the kind of people who routinely handled sums of money enough to buy cities, handing it from one to another with no more than a simple handshake. Wealth, and an attitude to wealth, that staggered the imagination. He looked out at the pedestrians again, trying to guess by their appearance alone which of them were the bankers. The lifeblood of the Empire.

     Thomas could sense the power of this place. There was a feeling of strength and solidity here that came from the people rather than the sturdy stone buildings. It was a sense of permanence. The certainty that this place, this lifestyle, would last forever. He tried to imagine it from the point of view of the Agglemonians. Their history was one of almost uninterrupted rise, from a loose federation of cattle ranchers and traders lost in the middle of the Endless Plains, surrounded by ancient and powerful enemies, to the continent spanning behemoth it was today. Surely it was obvious that this was a fundamental evolutionary trend, that the seeds of greatness had been present right from the beginning. They had reached a plateau of world domination that had endured for a thousand years, and if it could endure that long, surely it would endure forever. And this was only the beginning! There were two more continents right here on Tharia, both substantially larger than Amafryka, and when they had been colonised there were other worlds out there. Worlds without end! The manifest destiny of Agglemon would continue to express itself for ever and ever and ever...

     "Are you all right?" asked Matthew, looking at him with concern.

     Thomas realised with surprise that there were tears in his eyes. "Fine," he replied, rubbing them away in embarrassment. "Just thinking, you know. About all that, out there."

     "I know what you mean," said the soldier soberly. "All those people. They've got no idea..." He broke off, remembering the driver. They had to be careful what they said so long as there was anyone close enough to overhear. He could already imagine that he felt a draught caused by his flapping ears.

     A salty smell began to drift in through the windows and Thomas looked up to see gulls circling lazily overhead. They must be getting close to the river. The estuary that was wide enough here to be considered part of the sea. He squinted his eyes against the glare of the yellow sun and saw the masts of tall ships rising above the slate tiled rooves of warehouses and fishmarkets ahead of them. They were going east, directly towards the nearest bridge. Looking ahead, though, he was depressed to see that it was choked with almost stationary traffic.

     "What's going on?" he asked the driver. "Has there been an accident?"

     "No, the tolls always cause a bit of a hold up at this time of day," he replied. "Everyone going home at the end of a busy day, you see. Don't worry, we'll get you to the tower well before sundown."

     "Toll?" said the wizard apprehensively. "Erm, how much is this toll exactly?"

     "For the carriages, five silver crowns, plus one for every passenger. That's ten crowns all in all."

     "And I suppose the passenger has to pay?" said Thomas, thinking of his solitary trog coin. How many Agglemonian crowns did it convert into?

     "Of course. You're the one who wants to cross the bridge, not me. Why? Don't tell me you're short of cash! I've never heard of a poor wizard!" He laughed out loud at his own joke.