The Sea Watch

by Adrian Tchaikovsky

  ‘Now, what would an Assembler of Collegium be doing trawling the dockside dens and making inquiries after the shipping?’ Tomasso asked, putting his hands together. ‘Be up front with us, Master Maker, is this some private profiteering you’re after, or perhaps you’ve lost a boat at sea, or what is it?’

  A fair question, after all. And maybe if I had been straighter to begin with I’d probably have my answers already without having to come here. ‘Your factor said you were pirates,’ Stenwold answered with a nod at Laszlo.

  ‘Did he indeed?’ Tomasso said, with a sharp look. ‘Well then, perhaps my factor forgets the bounds of polite conversation sometimes.’

  ‘I could have a use for pirates, or those that are familiar with the breed,’ Stenwold said flatly, watching his words break across them. To his credit, Tomasso kept any surprise well hidden.

  ‘It’s true that, in times past, we might have turned a little piracy in these waters, but that was a very long time ago,’ said the bearded Fly, watching him intently. ‘Back then we weren’t sailing aboard the Tidenfree, of course, but a man of your age might just have known us by another name.’

  Stenwold felt a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. ‘Don’t spin that line to me, Master Tomasso, for I do remember a certain Fly-kinden pirate from my father’s day, but you’re no older than me. You’ll have to do better than that if you want me to think you crewed the Bloodfly.’

  ‘Will I, now?’ Tomasso brought out a long-stemmed blackwood pipe, and Despard lit it for him in a flash of sparks from a little steel-lighter. ‘Is Himself sleeping?’

  ‘He is,’ said the girl in the Moth-kinden robes. ‘Peaceful enough.’

  Tomasso jerked his head back to indicate the old man in the bunk. ‘He is the third man to bear the name of Bloodfly, and when he closes his eyes for the last time, as he must soon, I shall become the fourth. You have to understand that, amongst our people, business is a family concern.’

  I don’t believe it. But there was not a hint of guile or mockery on Tomasso’s face, and the rest of them were as solemn as statues. Stenwold looked from Laszlo to Despard, across the others, and back to Tomasso. In his mind were all the stories and ballads of his youth, celebrating the scourge of last generation’s pirates, now that they were safely dead or gone.

  Or perhaps only biding their time . . . ‘If he’s the Bloodfly, where has he been?’

  ‘Where business was better. Collegium became poor pickings for pirates since they built the rails to Sarn and Helleron. We’ve travelled, Master Maker.’ Tomasso pulled on the pipe reflectively. ‘Up and down the Spiderlands coast, we’ve travelled. Taking our chances where the winds took us, following the money. Until, at long last, we find ourselves back here, and with Himself in such a way that it seems to me that I should start making plans.’

  ‘And what do you want with me?’ Stenwold asked him, ‘that you should be willing to help me? I’m no wealthy magnate. What have I got that you could want?’

  Tomasso smiled, the smile of man whose carefully baited trap has finally snapped shut. ‘Respectability, Master Maker,’ he said. ‘And you have that by the barrelfull.’

  Seven

  ‘I’m going on a journey,’ Stenwold explained. Arianna regarded him for a while before trusting herself to comment.

  ‘This is the Failwright business still, is it?’

  ‘And if it is?’

  ‘Don’t you think you’re treating it all a little too seriously?’ she asked him.

  ‘Arianna, it’s been a tenday now since anyone saw Rones Failwright,’ Stenwold pointed out. ‘Since we saw him, as we appear to be the last people to have done so. If Helmess Broiler hadn’t lost in the Lots then I’d probably be up for his murder by now.’

  ‘Fine.’ She folded her arms. ‘When do we leave?’

  ‘Not you,’ he told her firmly. He guessed that Tomasso would not accept a second passenger. His arrangement with the Fly-kinden family was tenuous enough already. ‘It’ll be dangerous,’ he added.

  ‘So I’d be watching your back. It’ll be just like the war.’

  ‘I need someone to keep an eye on things here while I’m away.’

  ‘So get Jodry Drillen to do that,’ she said stubbornly. He saw in her mind then the time he had left her behind for his futile journey to the Commonweal, before the Wasp siege of Collegium.

  ‘I don’t trust Drillen, not enough to act as my eyes,’ Stenwold told her. ‘Would you?’

  ‘So,’ she said. She was angry with him, still looking for a way to crack his resolve. ‘Where now, Stenwold?’

  He was intending to stay silent, but he saw her tensing up. ‘If I told you that a pack of Fly-kinden was going to show me where the pirates are, would you believe me?’

  ‘What have you got yourself into?’ Her face was closed tight now. For a moment he was going to relent. I’ll talk the Tidenfree crew into it somehow, why not? Why not bring her along? He was on the brink.

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ His words came out automatically. That old reassuring tone that had ceased to work on Cheerwell by the time she was fifteen, let alone on a Spider-kinden. I don’t want you to get hurt, he thought, but he knew from experience this was an argument that carried no weight with her.

  His conversation of last night recurred to him, seeming dreamlike now, with a grinning Tomasso hearing him voice his doubts: And I’m supposed to believe that the moment I go hunting pirates, I should find pirates already hunting me?

  ‘Oh no, Master Maker,’ Tomasso had said to him. ‘We’ve had our eyes on three or four of your Assemblers for days now. My Laszlo’s been watching your home. You were just the first that came to the negotiating table, as it were.’

  Stenwold then wondered: Did they kill Failwright? But if so, they were playing more double games than he could interpret. His instincts had told him that these friendly, open, heavily armed folk were being straight with him, solely because they were admitting to so much.

  ‘And what do you mean by respectability?’ he had asked them. ‘Quantify it, Master Tomasso. Has the bottom fallen out of the pirate way of life? My sources say not.’

  The bearded Fly had glanced about at his family. ‘A life of iniquity is all very well, Master Maker. We’ve taken ships off the Atoll coast and the Silk Road and the Bay of the Mark and not three leagues from where we sit, but there’s no future in it and there never will be. We live well day to day, but no better generation to generation, and one day our luck will run out and we’ll either sink or swing. When Himself here breathes his last, it’s down to me to lead the family, and I want to lead them somewhere else than out to sea. You’re a big man in Collegium, Maker. Don’t tell me that you can’t buy us some respectability.’

  ‘In exchange for what?’ Stenwold had asked. ‘What do you have for me?’

  ‘Come with us to where the pirates drop their anchors, Master Maker,’ Tomasso had said. ‘I mean the real pirates, the free thieves of the sea that you won’t find drinking in a Collegium taverna. If the answers to all your questions are to be found anywhere, we can find the people who know them for you.’ He had smiled again, broad and villainous and honest as a knife. ‘Pay us for value received, Master Maker.’ With the unspoken words, and if you don’t pay up, we have ways of making you.

  ‘Stay here,’ Stenwold told Arianna. ‘Stay and keep watch for me. If you want to watch my back, watch it here where I know I have enemies.’

  ‘I’m going on a journey,’ Stenwold explained. The alarm in Jodry Drillen’s eyes was gratifying.

  ‘Going where? For how long?’

  Stenwold shrugged. ‘Two tendays perhaps, three. A sea voyage.’

  ‘A what? Why?’ Stenwold had caught Jodry in the Speaker’s office, where the man was no doubt deciding on the colour of the new furnishings. Now the fat Assembler looked abruptly like the boy caught trying out his father’s outsized sword. ‘Stenwold . . . a sea voyage?’

  ‘For my health,’ replied Stenwold implacably. It was unfair of him
, he knew. He was taking out on Jodry his own guilt over leaving Arianna. Jodry Drillen, new Speaker for the Assembly. He’s earned a little unfairness.

  ‘This isn’t Failwright’s lunacy is it?’

  ‘Why? Is it catching?’

  ‘Stenwold, stop doing that!’ Jodry snapped. ‘You can’t go. I need you here.’

  ‘You don’t need me now. You’re Speaker.’

  ‘Not all the Lots are in.’

  ‘You’ve beaten Helmess Broiler by a comfortable margin already. You don’t need me so badly you can’t spare me for two tendays.’

  Jodry looked wildly about him, putting Stenwold in mind of a big bumbling fly trying to find its way out of a sealed room. ‘The Vekken!’ he got out. ‘Who’s going to deal with them when you’re away?’

  ‘They’re behaving themselves nicely.’

  ‘They’re not! They want to see me!’ Jodry exclaimed. ‘Me and you,’ he added awkwardly after a pause.

  A worm of disquiet twisted inside Stenwold. ‘About what?’

  ‘I’ve no cursed idea. They’re your Vekken.’

  That Vekken accord, the piece of botch-job diplomacy that Stenwold had been working on for so long, was still important. Stenwold’s lifetime had seen two Vekken wars, though he could barely recall the first save as an inexplicable period of fear and commotion during his youth. ‘What have you done to sour them, Jodry?’

  ‘Oh no.’ The fat man shook his head hard enough to make his jowls wobble. ‘Not me. I leave them to you, but this morning I find two of them bothering my secretary for an appointment. You tell me why.’

  Stenwold grimaced. Part of him wanted to leave Jodry to fight his own battles for once, but this situation needed him. ‘We’ll see them immediately,’ he decided. ‘Send a man for them now.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I board ship before dusk, Jodry. If you want my help with the Vekken, then you’re more likely to get it while I’m still on land.’

  After Jodry had sent his Fly-kinden secretary buzzing off to locate one of the Vekken, the Assembly’s most likely new Speaker turned back to Stenwold, and eyed him narrowly.

  ‘What’s got into you?’ he asked. ‘What’s going on?’

  Stenwold stared at him for a long while. I mostly trust you, he thought, but not quite that last bit, Jodry. I’m not so convinced of my own judgement where it comes to assessing my own kinden. He realized, with a start, that Tomasso the pirate had inspired more instinctive trust in him than this Beetle-kinden of notable family who had done Stenwold nothing but good. But Tomasso made no attempt to hide what he is, whereas Jodry’s whole career is based on impressions and pretences. The sour afterthought was unavoidable. And so is my own.

  Jodry was frowning. ‘First you’re about to laugh at me, and now you look like you want to kill me. Stenwold . . . Is this about your niece?’

  ‘What do you know about my niece?’

  ‘I know she didn’t come back from Khanaphes, but Master Gripshod didn’t pass her name to me along with Manny Gorget’s, so I’m assuming she’s still somewhere amongst the living.’ The concern in the man’s jowly face was genuine, in so far as Stenwold could tell.

  ‘Trust me in what I’m doing.’ Stenwold dodged the question nimbly. ‘Trust me that I believe it to be in Collegium’s best interests.’

  Jodry sighed. ‘Well, your record is good in that respect. I just hope that what you believe matches what you actually find there.’

  The Fly-kinden returned just then, and behind him, walking with a smart military step, was one of the Vekken. The city of Vek had sent four ambassadors, men similar enough in appearance to be brothers, short, stocky, strong-framed, pitch-skinned. Stenwold was able to tell them apart now, from long afternoons of unrewarding negotiations.

  ‘Termes,’ he greeted the man.

  ‘Master Maker.’ Something had happened on the Khanaphes expedition to change the Vekken’s view of Stenwold. When their two delegates had returned, and shared their thoughts with their comrades, a breach seemed to have been made in their blank hostility. All of a sudden they could look at him without reaching for their swords and, when he spoke, they listened. Jodry was right in that.

  ‘Now perhaps we can get somewhere,’ the fat Assembler began. ‘You people don’t like me, but you like Maker here, yes?’

  Termes stared at Jodry with antipathy, and Stenwold remarked, ‘They don’t like me, Jodry, they just dislike me less than most people.’

  ‘This is true,’ the Vekken confirmed, his voice clipped and tight as he squared off against the two Beetles. Weight for weight they could have made five of him between them, but Ant-kinden were strong and born to war. They displayed precious little body-language, either, what with living in each other’s minds all the time, but Stenwold recognized an Ant preparing for a fight.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘What’s gone wrong this time?’

  ‘We know that Collegium conspires with our enemies,’ Termes said, righteously.

  Stenwold would have preferred to deal with one of the two who had made the journey to Khanaphes. The sharp edges had been knocked off their hatred, whereas Termes was still spiky with it.

  ‘What enemies does Vek have these days?’ Stenwold prompted.

  ‘We know of the Tseni embassy,’ Termes continued implacably.

  The response threw Stenwold. For a moment he could not even place the word ‘Tseni’. Then his memory supplied it for him: Tsen, that distant Ant city on the far west coast. A city that had no dealings with Collegium or any of the Lowlands, save that it had sent a meagre detachment of soldiers to aid in the war against the Empire, more a diplomatic gesture than any substantial military force.

  ‘Tseni embassy?’ he asked blankly. Of course, although a lot of ground lay between Tsen and Vek, every inch of it would have been fought over at some time or other. Ant city-states were never easy neighbours. ‘Have you heard of such a thing?’ he asked Jodry.

  The man looked awkward. ‘Well, only today, in fact. Three Tseni turned up from nowhere, just walked into the Amphiophos and started asking who was in charge. Whereupon the news reached our Vekken friends, no doubt.’

  Stenwold looked at the dark-skinned Ant. ‘It’s the first I’ve heard of it. If they are genuinely ambassadors, then we’ll hear them out, but they’re not here by our invitation. Do you believe that?’

  Termes’s dark face neither confirmed nor denied it.

  ‘They must be hoping to trade on their contribution to the war,’ said Jodry, matching Stenwold’s thoughts.

  Stenwold signed. ‘Termes,’ he said. ‘Jodry and I will speak to them now. And then, whatever they say, even if they promise us the moon on a plate, we’ll come and talk to you. And then I’m leaving the city for a while – on a matter unrelated to Tsen, Vek or any other Ant-kinden city-state.’ Because, otherwise, if he had simply left without stating that, the Vekken would take it as concrete evidence of betrayal. ‘And Jodry will pledge to make no agreements or decisions on this matter until I’ve returned.’ Or until he gets tired of waiting for the Fly-kinden to bring back my body. He brushed the thought away irritably. ‘You see the wisdom of that, Jodry? After all, you’re our newest Speaker, so you can explain to the Tseni how very busy you are. Your new role must demand a great deal of organization.’

  Jodry gave him a measured nod. ‘Oh, yes. After all, everyone knows how oppressive the bureaucracy here is getting.’

  Termes looked from one to the other, expressionless. ‘Congratulations on your new appointment,’ he said to Jodry flatly, and it was impossible to tell whether he intended humour by it.

  The Tseni were not where they had been left. The elegant rooms found for them in the Amphiophos were not only untenanted but devoid of any sign that the Ants had even been there. Arvi, Jodry’s Fly-kinden secretary, eventually ran them down in the College’s workshops, where they had already started causing trouble.

  Jodry and Stenwold arrived to find them dominating a machine room. A crowd of student
s had been summarily evicted, along with an elderly matriarch who had been teaching them. The three visiting Ant women now held sway over a half-dozen workbenches and a single young Beetle whom they had backed into a corner. He looked slightly familiar to Stenwold.

  They had not drawn a sword, for in this place they hardly needed to. They were strung taut with violence in a way that Stenwold’s kinden were not. Once he laid eyes on them he found that he knew them, and that he had been expecting to. They were not much changed from when he had recently seen them aboard the Floating Game.

  Sneaking into Collegium like brigands, he thought. No formal embassies, no welcoming parties, but three soldiers arriving under cover of a Spider pleasure barge. Even as he entered the room, careless that Jodry was hanging back, he could see the sense of it. I doubt Tseni ships would have much luck sailing past the harbourmouth at Vek, and the landward route’s hardly more appealing.

  They turned even as he entered, noticing how he walked like a warrior, despite the robes. He had not brought his sword, but his stance implied it. He saw three women, alike as close sisters, mirrors of each other as the Vekken delegates were, and no doubt for the same reason. Their skin was like fresh ice, their faces strong-jawed and solid. They had put on a little ornament: simple bands of gold at the forehead, and something in steel and silver hanging about the neck that might be a medal. He assumed it must be a form of show for his benefit, since Ants had no need of insignia amongst their own.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded, and he made it an open challenge. He would get nowhere with these strange Ant-kinden unless he carried the full weight of Collegium invisibly with him into the room.

  ‘War Master, help me,’ the Beetle scholar got out. Although no blade had been drawn he was tucked into a corner as though he already had a point at his throat. Stenwold winced privately at the old title, but on the other hand it would do no harm.