by Glenda Larke
Tiny alleyways, tiny taverns, tiny rooms in narrow houses, it might have appeared impoverished, but for the glass. Magnificent, boldly coloured glass: thick crystal balls, rough glass panels, delicate blown-glass ornaments, statues with fragile glass insets, tinkling wind chimes of vibrant translucent baubles.
He’d lost his virginity in Javenka-the-Midst, to a town girl, a dark-haired merchant’s daughter intrigued by the idea of a student islander in her bed. For a while, they’d loved and laughed and then… parted, bored, knowing they had nothing more than their temporary needs to bind them.
Go home, Ardhi, she’d said. Find someone who understands your life and where you come from. So he dreamed of Lastri instead.
Below the Midst was Javenka-the-Face, a narrow strip of wealth and prestige bordering the bay. The massive private and public buildings here were decorated with glass mosaics and linked by broad roads, public squares and gardens.
The central hub of the bay was Javenka-the-Port. The five humped islands in the bay, connected by boardwalks to each other and to the mainland, formed the beating heart that enriched the city, pumping the blood of trade and gold and spice along its arteries. The main boardwalk was an engineering miracle, large enough for drays pulled by oxen, tough enough for the heaviest cargoes, a thoroughfare passing over eight bridges to the wooden docks. And ah, those docks: enough berths for twenty-five full-sized merchant ships at any one time.
Everything and everyone a ship could need was found on one of the five islands or along the boardwalk: chandlers and chart sellers, warehouses and godowns, coopers and hoopers and ropemakers, carpenters and sailmakers and blacksmiths. Here, a captain or a ship-owner could hire a docklumper or a buy a chronometer, sign on a ship’s boy or a helmsman, arrange for a cargo to be sent to Karradar or Kotabanta, and auction spices or wool bales or the ballast bricks from his ship.
Lastly, there was Javenka-the-Bay: the water road of the daylight hours, the market of the night, where boats and barges and packets and ferries plied from one shore to the next like water beetles scurrying across a pond, or lingered after sunset to service the anchored houseboats, the floating brothels, the drug dens and gambling flatboats. Constantly on the move were other small vessels: the dhows of itinerant fortune tellers and money lenders and medicine sellers; the budgerows belonging to the abortionists and drug dealers and thieves.
Ardhi watched as the last light of the sun died and the lanterns were lit. Javenka did not sleep at night; it thrived, it hummed, it sang. Like a panther, it was beautiful and languid in the sunshine, yet dark and mysterious and dangerous by night.
Half an hour after the last light faded from the sky, the harbourmaster’s boat glided up to the pilot steps and several men climbed up to be greeted by Lord Juster, Finch and Saker. Sorrel had already gone below. Quietly, he descended and made his way across the deck to the prow and the ship’s heads. The latrine rope that dangled there was slimy, but it was the quickest and quietest way for him to enter the sea without a splash. He swung himself over the edge of the head, grabbed the rope and let himself silently down into the water.
Two hours later Ardhi was knocking at a familiar door. How often had he knocked just this way, rapping on the panelling between the brass studs, wondering just what sort of a reception he would receive? Too often, especially when he’d been in trouble. He’d been so young and foolish then.
The voice that bade him enter was familiar too. Authoritative, with just a hint of a quaver that spoke of increasing age. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him and hesitated to allow his eyes to adjust to the light of several candelabra after the darkness of the passageway. He then placed both palms flat to his chest and inclined his head deferentially to the man seated behind the table in the room.
Confound it. From old friends, he’d borrowed dry clothes and the band to wind a turban–necessary as a sign of respect, for no one went bareheaded before their superiors–but in his hurry he hadn’t wound it tight enough and the headgear was in danger of falling down over his eyebrow. He straightened slowly, careful not to dislodge it.
“Mir,” he said. He used the hereditary title against all usual custom. Inherited status had no place within the university hierarchy, but he wanted to signal that his was not just the visit of a past student to his teacher. He was coming to Istanel because his mentor was a member of the ruling house of merchants.
Istanel rose to his feet, a courtesy he never would have extended to a mere student. “Well! If it isn’t the Datu’s grandson from Chenderawasi.” His gaze swept over Ardhi, lingering on his feet before returning to his face. “It is always a pleasure to see a past student, although it seems we never did manage to teach you to wear shoes, Ardhi.”
“A small failing, Mentor Istanel, I assure you.”
“What brings the heir of my old friend back to this place of learning? I trust the honourable Datu is well?”
“It has been several years since I saw my grandfather, but the last time I was home he was still in good health.” If furious with me, with a fury beyond rage… He would never see him again, he knew that. “The ship I travel upon called into port and I wished to pay my respects.”
“A short visit then?” Istanel waved a hand towards an empty chair and reseated himself. “Tell me what has come to pass. I heard of the death of the Raja, and rumours which were even more unsettling. Rumours about a former student.”
“A rumour does not always speak the whole truth.”
“Indeed not. I believe the death of a Chenderawasi Raja is a complex matter, especially when his heir is too young for his regalia. I know how the governance of your island is structured, and what the death of a Raja means. Oh, do not look so shocked, young Ardhi. I was once, after all, a navigator and helmsman. I sailed once with your grandfather. He took me to Raja Wiramulia’s court. As a result of that visit, and without betraying a trust, I persuaded my family not to pursue direct trade with the Pulauan Chenderawasi except under very strict rules of conduct.”
“You know our… secret.”
“All of it. And I have protected it, as have a few other privileged members of our guild of merchants over the centuries. The rumours I hear now are troubling; fortunately, though, somewhat garbled.”
“I would ask another favour of you. Call it… call it the request of a condemned man.”
“Condemned? You, the Datu’s heir?” He raised a surprised eyebrow. “Such as you are not condemned lightly.”
“No. Nor was my crime a light matter, for all that it was a result of foolishness. However, no man condemned me, nor yet the Rani. It is the sakti that has decreed my fate. It needed sacrifice. Successful in my quest or not, I die when I return.”
Did Istanel’s face change colour then? He thought so, although with such a dark complexion, it was hard to be sure. “It is my choice to go back. And I ask a favour of you in the hope that my sacrifice may ensure success.”
Their gazes locked, and it was the old man’s that broke first. He looked down at his own hands and fiddled with one of his rings. “My knowledge of Chenderawasi sakti is minimal, but I understand it is powerful and not easily thwarted.” There was a long pause before he looked up again to say, “Tell me what you need, Ardhi, and I will tell you if it is within my power to aid you.”
“Have you seen Ardhi?”
Saker, emerging on to the quarterdeck after breakfast the next morning, blinked, taken aback by the irritation in Juster’s tone. “No. I haven’t seen him since last night.”
“Nor has anyone else, apparently. He was supposed to be on watch this morning, didn’t turn up and can’t be found.”
“That’s… odd.” A shiver prickled up his spine.
“Exceedingly. No boats have approached the ship since the harbourmaster came last night. So if he went anywhere, he swam.”
“Why would he want to do that? He would have been going onshore today anyway, wouldn’t he?” He didn’t like the sound of this at all.
“I am giving e
veryone shore leave in shifts, yes. At least I am once we get a berth. What the Va-less hell is he playing at, Saker?”
“Blessed if I know. He’s certainly familiar with Javenka. I imagine he still has friends here. I asked him to help me find a passage to Vavala for Sorrel, but that could have waited.”
“And he agreed?”
“Of course. Well, he was reluctant for Sorrel to go. I think he said something like, ‘If it’s necessary.’ ”
“I trusted the wretch. Maybe I shouldn’t have done. Tell me, what was it he said to me yesterday, when he spoke Pashali?”
“He listed the subjects he studied at the Library.”
“Which were?”
“Navigation and pilotage, astronomy, cartography and… hydrography, I think it was.”
“You’re not jesting, are you?”
“No. Neither was he.”
“Pox on the bastard! I’ve been sending him aloft like an ignorant tar when he could have been using the astrolabe and plotting our course?”
“I did tell you he’d been a student of the Library.”
“I thought that meant he’d been dabbling in native witchdoctory or Pashali alchemy or something!” He took a breath to calm himself. “What in all the foaming oceans is hydrography?”
“Something to do with mapping the ocean and navigation, I believe. You know what the problem is with us folk from the Va-cherished Hemisphere, Juster? If someone doesn’t speak our language well, we think they are ill-educated and stupid. A grave mistake. Believe me, I’ve had to rethink my attitude towards Ardhi several times. And I don’t believe we know one quarter of what there is to know, even yet.”
“Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it! Neither of us expected him to go for a paddle in the middle of the night.”
“Captain, sir?”
Juster turned to look at the speaker. “Yes, Costel?”
“There’s a boat approaching. Came from the harbourmaster’s jetty.”
Juster nodded and waved him away. “Now what? How much d’you bet this has something to do with a missing lascar? Come with me to see what all this is about, Saker. Your Pashali is a long way better than mine.”
“You should have come to my lessons on the way here.”
“Tush! A classroom is no way to learn anything. Most of what I’ve learned has been in a tavern. Or in bed. Lovers make the best teachers.”
“I fear my dedication to learning has its limits.”
“Never mind, a Pashali gentleman I met in Karradar gave me the direction of a certain lady living in Javenka-the-Midst, ravishing by all reports. We could make her acquaintance—” He halted then as Sorrel and Surgeon Barklee emerged from below decks.
“She’s a darling,” Barklee was saying. He was smiling down at Piper in his arms as she pulled at his beard and chortled. “Reminds me of my own cherubs. Two little darlings, I have, one about this age when I left.” He carried her over to the taffrail to watch a passing bumboat laden with fruit and vegetables.
“What’s happening?” Sorrel asked Saker.
“Boat coming in from the harbourmaster,” he said, “and Ardhi has vanished.”
“No, he hasn’t,” she said, after glancing over the bulwarks. “He’s sitting in the harbourmaster’s boat.”
He was too. Saker frowned. Va-damn the fellow. What trouble was he in this time?
A few minutes later one of the harbourmaster’s subordinates was speaking to Lord Juster on deck, having declined an invitation to go below. “Two messages from Notable Xanathra,” he said, referring to the harbourmaster who had not been on the boat. “Your berth is ready on Sorzrava Island, dock six, bollard two. Money to be paid in advance, amount as already agreed, when you tie up.”
Juster looked at Saker, who quickly translated.
“Thank you. And the second message?” Juster inquired.
They all expected it would have something to do with Ardhi, who had come on board behind the Pashali official and was now standing a pace or two away.
“When you leave,” the official continued, “everyone is to be on board. No one is granted permission to disembark in Javenka.”
Juster looked puzzled. “I’m not sure I understand you,” he said, with Saker translating. “We wish to replenish our supplies, and my men would value shore leave—”
“That is not a problem. You misunderstand. It is just that all who arrived on board yesterday, must depart on board. Everyone, including the woman and the child. Otherwise your ship will be impounded and you will not be permitted to sail.”
Juster looked at Saker, perplexed. “I’m still not sure that I understand. Saker?”
“He’s forbidding Sorrel and Piper to take the overland route,” he replied. “If they don’t sail with us when we go, none of us get to leave.”
For a moment Juster stood, unmoving. Then he turned back to the harbourmaster’s representative, his back rigid, his voice as flat as a plank of wood. “These instructions: they come from the harbourmaster?”
“Yes. But you must understand, the harbourmaster is subordinate to the Council of Merchants and Scholars, headed by Mir Alda Attaranzi.” The man bowed. “My message is delivered.”
Having heard Saker’s translation, Lord Juster, never a fool, inclined his head. “Convey our greetings and thanks to the harbourmaster.” He watched the man descend once more into the boat, saluted him, then took two steps across the deck to Ardhi, seizing him by the arm and almost lifting him off his feet. “Who is Mir Alda Attaranzi?”
“Mir is title. Like ‘Lord’. Attaranzi is big merchant family. Alda is…” He searched for the correct word. “Head of that family.”
“Patriarch,” Saker suggested.
“Yes. Patriarch. Attaranzi family rule Javenka, hundred years already maybe, so family patriarch is like Regal.”
“And,” Juster continued through gritted teeth, “would you like to explain how this Mir Alda got to hear about the existence of Sorrel and Piper?”
For a moment Saker thought Ardhi would not reply. Finally, though, he said quietly, “It was necessary. Piper and Mistress Sorrel must go to Chenderawasi.”
At Saker’s side, Sorrel gave a sharp intake of breath and clutched at his arm, her fingers digging deep.
Juster glowered at Ardhi. “And you have very cleverly made it so that it is impossible for them to do otherwise. Get out of my sight, before I toss you overboard–attached to an anchor!”
Ardhi walked to the companionway and disappeared below decks. All Saker could think of was how dignified his exit was, as if he was neither ashamed nor proud of what he had done. He had the resignation of a man who knew there had been no alternative. Not for him.
Juster looked from him to Sorrel. “You could get off the ship glamoured, Mistress Sorrel. Are you still able to hide Piper under your glamour too?”
“Not really. She’s too big. Besides, I can’t stop her from crying or babbling at a crucial moment.” She bit her lip. “But that’s irrelevant surely? The official as good as told you they’ll search the ship to make sure I’m on board when you leave.”
Neither of them had a reply to that.
“I’m going to throw Ardhi overboard one dark night between here and the Spicerie,” Lord Juster muttered. “I command this ship, and he just betrayed his captain. A sailor on board who cannot be trusted is a danger to everyone.”
“You don’t mean that,” Saker said. “You’re no murderer.”
Juster gave a bark of savage laughter. “You jest! You–the man who scolds me for being a privateer? I’ve killed more innocent sailors than I care to think about, just as any soldier does for his country. Ardhi will just be one more on the list.”
“His Va-forsaken dagger is likely to do something to prevent it, and you might be the one yelling for help in the middle of the ocean.”
They all thought about that, then Sorrel raised her chin, looked from Juster to him and back again, and said, “We have no choice. I will go to Chenderawasi with you.”
Releasing her clutch at his arm, she added, “This sorcery of Ardhi’s–it’s powerful. No matter what we do, Piper and me, we always seem to be pushed towards Chenderawasi. I’m becoming more scared of resisting it than I am of acquiescing.”
A visceral fear punched at his heart. What don’t we know? “This business with the harbourmaster? It doesn’t sound like sorcery to me,” he said. “It sounds as if Ardhi went to some of his friends and put pressure on someone higher up the ladder. Good old-fashioned influence. Using one’s friends in high places.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed, but she looked no happier.
“If you think this Chenderawasi sorcery is so powerful,” Juster said slowly, “that’s all the more reason you should try to escape from it.”
“Are you trying to be fair and give me every chance to change my mind?” she asked.
“Never could resist a beautiful lady.”
“Neither a lady, nor beautiful,” she said with her usual prosaic composure. “I like Ardhi. He obviously doesn’t think he’s taking me and Piper into danger. In fact, I would feel more in danger if I try to fight this sakti of his.”
Juster took a deep breath. “I think you ought to talk to Ardhi, Mistress Sorrel. I think you have more of a chance at charming information out of him than we do. He likes you, and he adores Piper. The more we know, the better armed we are. And is that her I hear crying?”
“It is indeed. I left her with Surgeon Barklee, but as much as she charms him, I imagine there’s only so much of a wailing babe he’s willing to tolerate.” She gave a rueful smile, but there was a lightness to her step as she turned and walked away. Or did he imagine that?
Juster said, “He’s not immune to a pretty face any more than you and I are.”
Ardhi? He certainly wasn’t talking about the surgeon. He felt a pang of jealousy, followed closely by a jab of guilt. He had no more rights to Sorrel’s friendship than anyone else. Blister it.