Black Unicorn by Tanith Lee (best e book reader .TXT) 📕

“Lots of bones and meat and biscuits here,” said Tanaquil.

She sauntered toward the gateway, and all at once the twosoldiers came alive. They clashed over the entrance to the city their crossed spears.

“Halt.”

Tanaquil halted. What now?

“State your business in Sea City.”

“I’m visiting my aunt.”

“You will produce her letter inviting you.”

“I don’t have it.”

“Without such a letter or other confirmation, you can’t enter the city.”

“My aunt will be furious,” said Tanaquil.

The soldiers did not seem distressed by this news. They saidnothing, their faces were blank, and the spears remained locked.

“What are the grounds for entering?” said Tanaquil.

“An invitation in writing from a citizen. A summons by thePrince or other dignitary. The bringing of merchandise into the city. The desire to practice a legitimate business there. One wordof warning,” added the soldier. “Don’t say you mend things. We hear that feeble excuse about twice a day.”

“I see. I didn’t understand.” It seemed to her she had never made a plan so swiftly. “I’m an entertainer. I do magic tricks.”“This may be allowable. The bazaar supports entertainers. But you’ll have to give proof.”

“You mean you want to watch me perform? That’s ratherawkward. You see, I was robbed in the desert. They took everything——my donkey, my bag of tricks—”

“How can you carry on your business in the city then?”

“I do have one thing left,” said Tanaquil. “You see this peeve? Just an ordinary desert creature. But by a clever illusion, Ican make it appear to talk.”

The soldiers turned their mask-like faces on her.

Tanaquil abruptly tugged the peeve’s lead.

The peeve kicked. It parted its jaws. “Rrr!” it went.

Tanaquil coughed. “Sorry. Dust in my throat. Try again—”

She toed the peeve quite mildly in the side.

It spat. “Bad,” said the peeve. “Won’t. Don’t like it. Godesert.” And spinning in the sash it managed a short dash andpulled Tanaquil over. As she and the peeve tumbled on the hardpaving, she heard the soldiers split their masks, giving off guffaws.

“That’s a riot,” one choked. “Can you do it again?”

“Once is enough for now,” said Tanaquil.

“Bite!” cried the peeve, chomping on the sash. “Wup!”

“Yes, that’s really terrific!”

The peeve swore, and the soldiers almost had a fit. Theyuncrossed their spears and clapped Tanaquil much too heartily on the back as she dragged the squalling peeve into the city. “Goodluck, boy. That’s a marvelous turn you’ve got there. We’ll tell allthe lads.”

6

Every exaggerated fantasy Tanaquil had ever had of the citywas outstripped by the facts. Even Jaive had never demonstrated,in the magic mirror, anything like this. It was like being inside anenormous clock of countless parts and pieces. It seemed at oncejumbled and precise, random and ordained. Just like the sound itmade, which was a mix of a thousand sounds, so its shape wasformed out of all shapes imaginable—lines, angles, bumps, cones,rounds—and its basic colors of brown, yellow and white, werealso fired by the noon sun into blooms of paint, fierce blinks ofmetal, and cracked indigo shadows.

Tanaquil did not try to take it in, she simply marched in to it, staring about her wildly, overwhelmed. While the peeve ac companied her in noisy bewilderment—the million scents of thecity had entirely taken up its attention, it growled and whined,snuffled, grunted, and sometimes squeaked. Now and then it ransideways after something or other, and Tanaquil, her concentra tion scattered, was tugged against the brickwork or into the mouths of lean alleyways. She thought of undoing the leash andallowing the peeve to rush off on its own. Perhaps she wouldnever see it again—something dreadful might happen to it. It knew the desert and was as surprised here as she was.

At first, near the gate, there had been few people, only thesmall groups you might come on in a village, women in doorways or at a well, or some men going by with spades over their shoulders. Then the streets, winding into and around each otherbetween the walls and under the arches, opened on a broad white avenue. Palm trees of great height grew along the avenue, andthere were marble troughs of water, to one of which three polished-looking horses had been led to drink. The sides of the avenue swarmed with people of every description, and at the windows

and doorways and on the balconies of the buildings along theroad, were crowds thick as grapes on a bunch. Flights of steps went up too high to see, from the avenue, what was at the top,and up and down them strode and ran the citizens, sometimescolliding. Tree branches curled against the sky from gardens onrooftops. Stained-glass windows flashed as they were constantlypushed wide or closed. The road boomed with voices, and withthe vehicles that went both ways along it, chariots and carts, silken boxes carried on the shoulders of trotting men, and onestately camel under a burden of green bananas.

Tanaquil stalked up the road, pushing through the humanswarm as she had noted everybody else was doing. The peeve, ona very short leash, kept close to her now, its muttering lost in the general uproar.

Soon wonderful shops began to open in the buildings. Shesaw shelves of cakes like jewels and trays of jewels like flowersand sheaves of flowers like lances and, in an armorer’s, lances like nothing but themselves.

She wanted to look at everything, to laugh and to shout. She felt taller than anyone in the crowd. Also she was dizzy. Therewas too much, and she was drunk on it, as the peeve had gotsozzled on smells.

The end of the avenue was an even further astonishment. It expanded into a marketplace, a bazaar, where every single publicactivity known to the world seemed to go on.

Two pink marble lions guarded the entrance, and Tanaquiland the peeve rested against the plinth of one of these while porters, carts, and the banana camel trundled by.

Tanaquil attempted to view the things of the market individ ually, but it was impossible. Her eyes slid from the baskets ofpeaches to the bales of wool to the pen of curly sheep, to the juggler with his fire-work knives and the fortune-teller’s