Stark grinned knowingly. “Yes, Trader.” The grin faded. “Think we’ll have much fighting?”
MacKinnie shrugged. “I don’t know. Dougal does, or he wouldn’t be sending me. I don’t do a lot else. I’ll find out more when I meet the Imperial Traders Association reps, I suppose.”
“Yes, sir. When do we get rolling?”
“Soon as possible. There’s nothing to wait for. Not enough time for proper training of the troops, and not much idea of what to train them for anyway. There’s one hell of a job waiting for us if we do get back with what we’re after, but that’s Dougal’s problem. His and Solon’s, and the Magnates.” He looked up to see Mary Graham and Academician Longway approaching.
“That was prompt,” he told her. His smile was forced.
Graham gave a thin answering show of teeth and said, “As soon as you approve the cargo list, Trader, I’ll have the goods taken to the Imperial wharf for loading. It’s all in the warehouses. Have you any other instructions?”
“Yes. Get someone who knows how to make body armor and find out what dimensions are needed. I want a full suit of chain mail for each of us, and that includes you, freelady. And have a variety of swords of the best quality obtainable, all types available, brought for our inspection. We’ll want to choose personal weapons. Guard leader Stark will instruct you on how he wants his men equipped.”
“Yes, sir.” She took a notebook from her pouch and wrote with tiny precise motions. “Is that all?”
“No. Join me for lunch.”
“Yes, sir,” she said in the same tone, then turned to follow Stark to his table.
MacKinnie turned to Longway. “Academician, is there any special equipment you will need?”
“I’m afraid not, Trader. There are many items we could use, but they are all technological and forbidden. I would suggest you have breastplates made for yourself and your men. If the Makassarians have developed archery to any extent, you will need them.”
“An excellent suggestion.” MacKinnie lit his pipe. “Of course we don’t expect to fight pitched battles. I hope we’ll only need armor to protect ourselves from thieves and the like. Still, some decent plate might be useful, if it can be made in time. I’ll tell the freelady.”
“As for the rest,” Longway said, “we know so little about Makassar that it is hard to tell what we should take with us. Notebooks and paper, of course. A few drafting instruments for making maps. Some standard reference works would also be useful. Do you think the Navy will allow books? Does Makassar have movable type?”
“No books,” MacKinnie said. “And don’t ask the Navy about them. Take only handwritten material, and don’t ask the Navy about any specific item without my permission.”
Longway nodded thoughtfully. “If you say so, Trader. I still have some of my personal clothing and trading items to assemble. Am I excused?”
MacKinnie nodded dismissal and went to the table where Stark sat with his men. Todd and MacReedy were quietly drinking ale while Stark issued instructions to Mary Graham. She wrote furiously in her book as he spoke.
Hal had a look of concentration and drummed his fingers against the table as he spoke. “I’d like crossbows, freelady. Good spring steel ones. There’s an armory sergeant, Brighton, in the Orleans garrison who knows how to make them — he used to supply them for our special forces teams. Thirty of those, I’d reckon. They ought to have that many in stock somewhere.”
“Crossbows,” Graham said. “And quarrels?”
“Yes. As many as they have.” Stark paused thoughtfully. “For underneath the armor we’ll want suits of woolsh-hide with the hair left on, good thick stuff. If a man’s going to pound on me with a sword, I want some padding under the chain mail. You go order all that, and I’ll have more for you by the time you get back.”
She nodded and left. MacKinnie sat at the table and poured ale for himself. “She seems to get the job done,” he said. “Maybe she’ll be useful.”
“Never had much use for women on campaign, Trader,” Stark said. “But she doesn’t miss much. I’ll make up my mind when I see the gear, but she’s got it all down in that book of hers and seems to know where to find things in a hurry.”
“Why are we in such a hurry, sir?” Todd asked.
“The Imperial Trader ship is leaving soon,” MacKinnie answered. “We have to be on it or wait for another.”
That’s the official reason, MacKinnie thought. But there’s a better one. If those Navy kids start talking about that library again, to the post commandant, or the Traders, or anyone, eventually somebody’s going to connect us and the library. The sooner we get out of here the better.
It’s a fool’s errand, but it’s worth a try, and the quicker we get back the quicker the Magnates can work on that ship. If we can get them anything, and if they can build one at all.
He knew that Dougal had already suggested that some of the University scientists work on life-support technology, using hints from the stolen novel to guide them. Others could investigate hull designs. But first Dougal would have to secure their loyalty; Prince Samual University was located in Haven, but had been independent, its independence guaranteed by treaties, for centuries. Now that Haven had conquered so many neighbors the University’s independence wasn’t likely to last long, but the rector would hardly take direct orders from King David’s secret police …
That would be Dougal’s job.
But none of it would mean a thing until the secrets of the engines and their energy sources were discovered.
And that’s my job, he thought.
Mary Graham returned for her luncheon engagement, her notebook bulging with subsidiary lists and scraps of paper. MacKinnie held her chair, then examined her with frank curiosity.
She’s pretty enough, MacKinnie thought. And she knows how to dress so as not to emphasize her looks. She gave a lot of thought to that outfit, which means she wants to make a good impression. Why does she want to go on a tomfool expedition like this? There’s only one way to find that out. “You look as if you have some sense,” he said. “Why do you want to come on this insane trip?”
“I think it’s my duty, Trader.” It was obvious that she was choosing her words carefully. If that was an act, she was very good at it. “Citizen Dougal says this could be one of the most important missions in Haven’s history, although he wouldn’t say why.”
“You’re a patriot, then?”
She shrugged. “Not a vehement one. I would like to be part of something important. There’s not much opportunity for that. Not for women.”
True enough. Which was the way things should be. Women on campaign were a nuisance. Although there had been one — he quickly pushed that thought away. He couldn’t think about Laura without pain and anger, and he’d brooded too much anyway. Now he had a job to do, and it was important to keep his mind clear. “And just what do you think you can do for us?” he asked.
“I don’t know, whatever is necessary, I suppose. Many trading expeditions do have secretaries, and my education may be useful to you.”
Nathan laughed softly. “I doubt it.” And I doubt further if you’d do the only thing I think of that might really be useful, he thought. Or will you? She could be a highly trained agent. Haven was said to employ women in their secret-police forces, but the few that Orleans’s security forces had encountered had been obvious, lower class women pretending to be from good families. This girl wasn’t like that. She had the manners of the aristocracy. Like Laura. And Laura had been small, like this girl— Once again he pushed that thought away. “Just what was it you studied at the University, and for that matter whatever possessed you to go there in the first place?”
“I studied a little of everything, Trader. Since there are so few girls in the University, I could study almost anything I liked. My professors didn’t know what to make of me, anyway. Such serious old men, you could almost hear them clucking their tongues when they discovered they were expected to listen to a girl read them paper
s. But since they didn’t take my efforts to get an education seriously, I could study what I wanted to and go to lectures that interested me. Really, it’s a wonderful way to study.”
“You still haven’t said why you went, freelady.”
“Please call me Mary. After all, I do work for you. Don’t I?” She sipped cold wine, and MacKinnie noticed that she did so gingerly. A telling point; girls of her class wouldn’t be accustomed to drinking wine in the afternoon. “Now. Why I went there,” she said. “I don’t know, it just seemed the thing to do. Shocked all my friends … the few friends I had, anyway. They’re all married now, and I’m a terrible old maid. You can just hear them, ‘Poor Mary, she can’t catch a man and hold onto him!’ But I wasn’t interested in that. There’s so little for girls in Haven, anywhere on North Continent, I guess. No adventure. It was explained in one of Academician Longway’s lectures, that the war left so few women on Samual that men kept them at home so no one would see them, and it’s only recently we were allowed to go out on our own. I don’t know if I believe it, but that’s what he said. Certainly I’d like to do something more than just raise children and help my husband get promoted by flirting with his superiors. I thought the University would help, but it just made people think I was a frimp. That’s why I wanted to go on this expedition so badly.” She stopped, out of breath, and smiled nervously.
“So you have no romantic attachments?”
“Not now. I was engaged once. To the son of one of my father’s friends. But that’s all over.”
“What does you father think of your entering the Service and going off to another planet?” MacKinnie appeared to be relaxed, but he watched the girl closely. He was fairly sure that she was just what she seemed to be, which meant that she would probably be more hindrance than help. By her own account, her education at the University didn’t seem to be anything useful to the expedition.
“He gave his approval, Trader,” she said stiffly. “I have all the necessary permissions duly notarized. Are you afraid he might challenge you?” Her eyes flashed briefly, then she thought better of what she had said. “Oh, I didn’t mean that. Please don’t be angry with me, but I get so tired of having to ask Father’s permission for everything I do.”
“I take it you would prefer some such equality-of-sexes nonsense like Therean.”
“Not that equal, Trader. I’ve no wish for the life of a camp follower or a tavern girl. But — surely there’s a place for us in some honorable work. Not all of the secretaries in Haven were born in the charity wards. If freeladies can manage affairs for Magnates and Traders, why can’t they own property themselves? Academician Longways says they did in the Old Empire. Why, there were even women in Parliament and nobody thought anything of it.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Well, it seems a little strange, but why not? We’re not brainless, you know. Not all of us, anyway. Who managed the estates when the men were off on campaign? You know as well as I do that not all of the wives and companions had guardians … if they could manage their property as long as the men were alive, even when they were away for months, why couldn’t they do it after their men were killed?”
MacKinnie laughed and turned his attention to his pipe. “Management is one thing, ownership is another, freelady Mary. If you own something, you can sell it.” And there were city-states where women owned property. Often enough, given the casualties in war, the result was that most of the land was owned by heiresses, and the men sought good marriages as a route to wealth.
None of which was important. It was obvious that Dougal was sending Mary Graham for reasons of his own, so MacKinnie might as well make the best of it. She might even be useful. “How far along is the cargo?” he asked.
She reached into her pouch and shuffled through papers until she found a bulky sheaf. “Here is the list. The items checked off have already been moved to the Imperial landing dock.”
“And the armor?”
“Citizen Dougal has arranged for the Haven armory to prepare the chain mail. They seem to have found something which works, and one of their people will measure us this evening. The tanners will be along to measure us for the underpadding as well. And Duncan and Larue are forging swords to various patterns, and have sent over all the varieties they make. We’ve located crossbows, and they’re making bolts for them.”
“Duncan and Larue,” MacKinnie mused. “I can remember when I was younger, there were whole regiments of cavalry armed with sword and pistol. Battles decided by them” But then, he thought, everything changed. Suddenly there was a new military technology, new tactics based on self-loading rifles and quick-firing guns with multiple barrels, breech-loading field pieces light enough to be towed at a gallop. The whole manner of war changed, to become more impersonal and a great deal uglier.
I learned the new ways, he thought. Learned them well, when a lot of my brother officers wouldn’t. They couldn’t change. Insisted that elan and military spirit were more important than weapons and tactics, and they got their regiments butchered for their pains. I learned the new ways, but I never liked them. He looked up from his reverie. “That’s one company that will profit by this expedition. Assuming we find something worth importing.”
Dougal arrived an hour later. “You will meet the Imperial Traders shortly,” the policeman announced. “We have fresh clothing ready for you in your quarters. When you get changed, we’ll go to Empire House.” The policeman fell in beside MacKinnie, walking with him to his suite. “Be careful with these Imperial Traders. There are two of them, and they both look soft. Don’t believe it; they didn’t get rich by being stupid. Of the two, Trader Soliman is probably the actual leader although they claim to be equals. There is antagonism between the Imperial Traders and the Navy, but I wouldn’t count on it too much. We don’t know the real story, but the Traders seem to be with us against the Navy.”
“Yes,” MacKinnie said. “You told me that the Navy wouldn’t let us go on this trip if the Traders hadn’t pushed them into it.”
“Exactly. The Traders are eager for us to go. Quite generous in their terms. I’m not sure why.”
“When a businessman wants to do you a favor,” MacKinnie said, “I’ve found it a good policy to watch your pocketbook.” They arrived at the door to his suite, and Dougal waited outside.
MacKinnie found a dress kilt, doublet laced with gold and silver piping, and jewelry in the style of the great merchant princes of Haven. When he lifted the clothing, he found cartridges for his pistol had been laid discreetly on the bed. With something approaching relief, Nathan loaded the large-calibre revolver and buckled it on before he realized how out of keeping it was with the rest of his clothing. A quick search of the small leather case he found on the bed with the clothing revealed a smaller dress pistol, its dragonwood handles inlaid with pearl and jade and thin copper strands. He unloaded it and squeezed the trigger several times, pleased with the smoothness of its action. The proofmarks showed it to have been made by the Brothers of St. Andrew, reputedly the best gunsmiths on Samual and certainly the most expensive. Although he hesitated to carry a weapon he had never fired, MacKinnie buckled it outside his doublet, sadly leaving the big service pistol hanging in the closet.
Two sets of guards were on watch at Empire House. Outside the large, walled courtyard, soldiers of King David’s personal guard stood rigidly at attention. A junior officer in a tiny office inside the gates examined their passes, collected their weapons apologetically, and directed them across the lava stone courtyard to the building itself.
Two huge doors swung open as they arrived. The Imperial Marines inside the entryway wore full dress, scarlet and blue uniforms with gold trim, a blaze of color; but the weapons the sentries carried were incomprehensible to MacKinnie. Their rifles looked very functional, but the knobs and dials along the stocks were meaningless — and there were no visible openings in the barrel ends.
MacKinnie expected to be searched again, but instead the Marine noncom l
ooked at a panel of lights and meters and a screen that showed shadowy figures; MacKinnie got only a glance at it, but he thought he saw the outline of his cigar lighter on the screen. In some way the Marines could see through the leather of his pouch …
They waited in silence while the noncom spoke into a handset.
Very efficient, MacKinnie thought. It would be difficult to penetrate this place. Not that it would do any good to take Empire House. The fortress would still remain, and so would that ship in orbit above Prince Samual’s World. No. Dougal’s way was best — except that Dougal’s way doomed Orleans to rule by Haven …
An inner door opened and a young naval officer came in. He had small badges made of a curious substance, not metal but not anything else MacKinnie had ever seen. He gave one to MacKinnie.
“You are to wear these at all times inside Empire House, “the officer said. “My name is Lieutenant Akelian, and I will take you to your appointment.”
“This has my picture,” MacKinnie said.
Lieutenant Akelian looked up in surprise. “Of course. We take photographs of everyone who visits Empire House. This way, please.”
MacKinnie glanced at Dougal. The policeman’s lips were set in a tight line. And no wonder, MacKinnie thought. Akelian was one of the three who had been at the party in the Blue Bottle. But he doesn’t seem to recognize us. Given the amount he drank that night, it’s no wonder …
Akelian led them through brightly lit hallways. MacKinnie had never seen an inside room so well lighted. Electricity, someone had told him. Electric lights. But not from a carbon arc like a military searchlight. The professors at Prince Samual University were experimenting with a new kind of light, as they had experimented with long-distance communications using electricity, but electrical equipment took miles of wire, too expensive to be very practical on copper-poor Samual. They were ushered onto a moving stairway, then at the top led to another door. Akelian opened it to show them a large room.
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