At Winter's End by Robert Silverberg

Author:Robert Silverberg [Silverberg, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Speculative Fiction, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780446353977
Publisher: Warner
Published: 1988-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

13 Twinings

WHAT HAD BEEN THE crater of the death-star—for they were certain by this time that that was what the circular basin must be—had now become the capital city of Harruel’s kingdom. The territory of one was identical to the territory of the other, and the rim of the crater was the boundary of both. Harruel had named his kingdom Yissou, and the city City of Yissou.

They were both absurd names, so far as Salaman was concerned. “One should not name kingdoms after gods,” he said to Weiawala, in the cabin they shared. “Better to have named the kingdom for himself, which is probably what he would have done if he dared, and the city the same. At least that would be honest.”

“But giving Yissou’s name to the kingdom places it under Yissou’s special protection,” Weiawala protested mildly.

“As though Yissou were not the protector of all who love him, with or without such little favors from us.” Salaman smiled. “Well, Harruel has become very devout in these later days. Talk to him, and it’s Yissou this and Yissou that, and Emakkis be our guide and counsel, and Friit preserve us, every other word out of him! All this piety sits very poorly on the tongue of a murderous brute like Harruel, I must say.”

“Salaman!”

“I say it to you. Only to you.” And he made mock gestures of submission in the air, as though Harruel had just come into their cabin. “Good day, your majesty! Yissou’s fragrance upon you, your majesty! What a fine day in the City of Yissou this is, your majesty!”

“Salaman!”

He laughed and caught her from behind, his hands over her breasts, and kissed the soft furry nape of her neck.

City of Yissou, indeed! Foolish name devised by a foolish king!

It was not much of a kingdom yet, nor much of a city. At the green heart of the crater, that thickly wooded place where—so Salaman had argued—the death-star had come crashing down long ago, there now were seven crude, lopsided wooden shacks, laced together with vines. That was the City of Yissou. Each of the five mated couples had a rickety shack, and Lakkamai, the lone singleton, had a place of his own. The seventh building, no finer than the others, was the royal palace and house of government. Here Harruel sat in state for an hour or two every day, though there was little for him to do in the way of royal functions. Disputes requiring adjudication were rare in a commonwealth of eleven adults and a handful of children, and there had not yet been any ambassadors from far-off realms in need of formal welcome. But there he sat, playing at being king, at the center of this collection of shacks that played at being a city.

Not much of a king or a kingdom, no. And not much of a city. And yet, Salaman thought, they had done well enough for themselves in a short while. The City of Yissou was a little less than two years old now.

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