THE TIDES OF TIME by John Brunner

Author:John Brunner [Brunner, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

PART SEVEN

THE EXHIBIT

consists in the fragments of a jar that once held wine.

It can never be made whole again

THE MONTH

is October

THE NAME

is Pedro

Nikodemos, nicknamed Chrysocheiros “of the golden hand” owing to the success that usually attended his business ventures, was furious with himself, and even angrier with God. His usual combination of luck and good judgment had utterly deserted him. What should have been the most profitable voyage even he had ever undertaken risked turning out to be an unqualified disaster.

Taking advantage of the exceptionally early advent of the west-to-east trade winds this year—they had shifted exactly at the Equinox, instead of lagging—a handful of bold or greedy Indian traders had set sail weeks ahead of their normal schedule, determined to beat their rivals to Egypt. Their gold and pearls and precious stones could be sold at leisure, but whoever arrived first with seasonal and perishable goods, such as perfumes, incense, spices and dyestuffs, was sure of commanding the highest prices. That was a principle which Nikodemos understood well. His agents on the Red Sea had standing instructions to buy as soon as the traders showed up each year, provided their merchandise was of sound quality, and forward the goods overland to Alexandria as fast as possible. To bring the winter’s first shipload of Indian luxuries to Constantinople, in addition to the regular Egyptian exports of linen, pottery, glassware and papyrus—not that papyrus was so much in demand anymore—implied a huge commercial killing. Declining though that city’s fortunes were, its inhabitants were determined to make the most of this life rather than rely on the promise of a paradise to come.

But this year the early arrival of Indian goods had taken even Nikodemos by surprise. On the day when a warning message was brought to him from the south, his best ship was still in dock, being recaulked and rerigged, and apart from his African shipmaster, known as Porias because only a barbarian could pronounce his proper name, most of the crew who regularly signed with him were still making ends meet in the tourist trade. Those few wealthy families who could afford a summer visit to relatives on Crete or Cyprus preferred, as did Nikodemos himself, seamen with plenty of experience.

Frantic orders, messages dispatched with small hope of reaching their recipients, and the squandering of far too much ready cash, had resulted in him putting his ship to sea well ahead of his chief rival and sworn personal enemy, Kranes. But the latter had stood on the quay and shouted insults as she was being readied for departure.

“What a bunch of water rats you’ve had to make do with! They’ll eat your cargo before you get to any port where you can sell it! If you reach port, and I’m inclined to doubt it—look at your sheets, look at your sails! Hah! You’ll founder before you’re out of sight of land!”

Enraged beyond bearing, Nikodemos had retorted, “I wouldn’t bet on it if I were you!”

“You’re in the mood to

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