Helliconia Spring, Helliconia Summer, and Helliconia Winter by Brian W. Aldiss

Author:Brian W. Aldiss [W. Aldiss, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-5040-4137-9
Publisher: Open Road Media Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Published: 2016-06-25T16:00:00+00:00

The stocky Ice Captain arrived at a city muted by the events recently played out on its stage.

The king’s problems were mounting. Reports from Randonan talked of soldiers deserting in companies. Despite constant prayer in the churches, crops were still failing. The Royal Armourer was having little success in manufacturing copies of the Sibornalese matchlocks. And Robayday returned.

JandolAnganol was in the hills with his hoxney Lapwing, walking through a copse beside his mount. Yuli trotted behind his master, delighted to be in the wilds. Two escorts rode behind at a distance. Robayday jumped from a tree and stood before his father.

He bowed deeply. “Why, it is the king himself, my master, walking in the woods with his new bride.” Leaves fell from his hair.

“Roba, I need you at Matrassyl. Why do you keep escaping?” The king did not know whether to be pleased or angry at this sudden apparition.

“To keep escaping is never to escape. Though what keeps me prisoner I know not. Difference must be between fresh air and grandfather’s dungeon….If I had no parents, then I might be free.” He spoke with a roving eye, unfocussed. His hair, like his speech, was tumbled. He was naked except for a kind of fur kilt over his genitals. His ribs showed, and his body was a tracery of scars and scratches. He carried a javelin.

This weapon he now stuck point first in the ground and ran to Yuli clasping the runt’s arms, crying out in affection.

“My dearest queen, how wonderful you look, so well dressed in that white fur with the red tassels! To keep off the sun, to hide your delectable body from all but this lecherous Other, who swings on you, no doubt, as if you were a bough. Or a sow. Or a broken vow.”

“You make me hurted,” cried the little phagor, struggling to get free.

JandolAnganol reached out to take his son’s arm, but Robayday darted to one side. He tugged a flowering creeper which hung from a caspiarn and, with a quick movement, twined it round Yuli’s throat. Yuli ran about, calling hoarsely, lips curled back in alarm, as JandolAnganol took tight hold to his son.

“I don’t intend to hurt you, but cease this foolery and speak to me with the respect you owe me.”

“Oh me, oh me! Speak to me in respect of my poor mother. You have planted horns upon her, you gardener in bogs!” He gave a cry and fell back as his father struck him across the mouth.

“Cease this unkind nonsense at once. Be silent. If you had kept your sanity and had been acceptable to Pannoval, then you might have married Simoda Tal in my place. Then we would have been spared much pain. Do you think only for yourself, boy?”

“Yes, as I make my own scumber!” He spat the words out.

“You owe me something, who made you a prince,” said the king with bitterness. “Or have you forgotten you’re a prince? We’ll lock you up at home until you come back to your right mind.

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