The Sea Watch

by Adrian Tchaikovsky

  Laszlo let out a sharp breath at the sight of her. She was tall and elegant, immaculately dressed in a neatly tailored hauberk of hide, chitin and silk armour. Her shirt and breeches were of striking red, and there were rings aplenty on her hands. The Spider-kinden master of the vessel, surely, and she stared around at the mob of Mantids, not even deigning to draw her rapier.

  ‘What is this?’ Her voice cut clear and crisp through the confusion, and everyone fell silent for it. Danaen snarled and moved in on her, blades extended in a fighter’s crouch. The Spider woman eyed her disdainfully. ‘What is this rabble that comes to infest my ship?’ she demanded. ‘How dare you?’

  Laszlo could sense her Art radiating off her in waves, blazing away at all around her: command, dread and the crushing hammer of her authority. He saw Danaen’s advance falter, the Mantis hunching behind her swords as though warding off a physical blow. Laszlo had never before witnessed a bona fide Spider-kinden Arista unleashing all of her Art and will.

  ‘Leave this ship while you still can,’ the Spider snapped and, incredibly, Danaen took a backwards step. Laszlo felt any words freeze in his throat. This single woman was facing down the entire Mantis boarding party.

  Or not the entire party.

  She began, ‘If you—’ and then pitched backwards so fast that only later did Laszlo register the long-shafted arrow that had struck her. Danaen gave a yell of fury and launched into the dead woman’s bodyguards, her own people following right on her heels.

  That was the end of it. Laszlo had some of Jaclen’s crew secure the few survivors aboard the Migrating Home, whilst Danaen’s people continued scouring the Blade belowdecks for any other latecomers. They obviously considered it a great victory, but Laszlo had long noted that Mantis-kinden seemed to take no great joy from these events once the killing was done. They would sing and drink, he knew, but mostly to commemorate their own fallen. The kinden had made melancholy into a national pastime, and he found them incomprehensible. The Mantids had left the Spider-kinden dead out on the Blade’s decks, apparently as a sign of disrespect. The other fallen, whether their own or the balance of the pirate crew, they pitched into the sea for the crabs and fish to eat their fill of, after stripping them of anything worth taking. By the time Laszlo began his own search of the vessel, the Mantids were standing about, looking grim and private, as though resentful that there had not been more of a fight.

  He entered into the aft cabins, where the Arista had emerged from, and it was not hard to identify which was hers. She had not stinted on her finery, even on this rough vessel, for the walls were draped in coloured silks, and there was a padded couch and a writing desk. He rooted around for a short space of time, collecting some coins and a fistful of papers. There were several documents strewn about, and the scroll tacked out onto the desk was evidently a work half-finished, but none of it revealed a comprehensible word. Each page bore a complex, coloured pattern of interlocking shapes, as though the Spider captain had been engaged in some peculiarly styled abstract art.

  Laszlo nodded glumly. This was Spider code, he knew from experience, and impenetrable unless one knew the secret of it. Because, as a kinden, they were their own worst enemies and fiercest rivals, Spiders usually went to extremes of complexity in disguising their secrets. Why, they said that Spider-kinden pattern encryptions were so fiendish that even they themselves struggled with it . . .

  He paused, frowning at the incomplete missive spread out on the desk. He was no spy, but he imagined that one would have to be extremely skilled just to compose something like that in one’s head. Of course, Spiders as a whole were a subtle lot, but the woman who had ventured forth from this cabin had seemed more forthright than most . . .

  And there it was. His heart leapt with glee when he noticed it. There was a little scrap of parchment pinned alongside the coded message she had been working on, and there, in absently elegant handwriting, was the original: the words that she had been painstakingly encoding, to be destroyed, in some never-to-come future, after she was done.

  My dearest Aderonis, Laszlo read, I am conceiving a loathing for this business. I would rather stay with you and let these villains have their way but, without my reminding them of the family’s direct authority, who knows what they would do? Not what was demanded of them, certainly. Bide well, then, and know that I do think of you, despite the water that lies between us. It will take more than tides and hard weather to keep me away from you.

  He stopped reading. It had, indeed, taken more than that, but a boatload of Mantis raiders could put a hole through anybody’s plans. He wondered who Aderonis was, and what he would think when no word came, and then when word finally did come. The family’s direct authority, he thought unhappily. No mistaking the meaning of that. You did it, Master Maker, he considered. You put one over on the Spider-kinden. I just hope you feel happy with yourself after they find out you killed one of their Aristoi. Killing a tattered renegade like Ebris of the Ganbrodiel would raise no great waves, but a female of the family Aldanrael . . . Could I have stopped the Mantis-kinden? He had not even known that a bow was being drawn on the woman until after the arrow had hit its mark.

  I think the war has just started.

  He stowed the papers inside his jerkin and flitted back out for the decks. Jaclen could continue to Everis, but Laszlo and Danaen’s people would be steering the Very Blade back towards Collegium, because Stenwold Maker needed to hear of this as soon as possible.

  Thirteen

  The name hung in the air after Stenwold had spoken it: Aldanrael. A name grown familiar to the folk of Collegium, a name that spoke of friendship and rescue in dark days. He did not rush the silence but looked from face to face, those few there with him in his study: Jodry Drillen, of course, who was looking as though he had just been stabbed; brooding, bearded Tomasso, keeping his peace before the Speaker; Laszlo and the Mantis, Danaen, as witnesses; the reliably solid figure of Elder Padstock, Chief Officer of the Maker’s Own company; and Arianna.

  She stood behind his chair, her hands on his shoulders. Those hands had twitched as he named the Spider house, and he had merely thought, She understands what this means, crossing swords with the Aristoi.

  ‘Can . . . can you be sure, though?’ Jodry managed at last. ‘Towards the Spiderlands, things are seldom clear, they say . . . don’t they?’

  ‘Things have been well concealed from us for over a year, if Failwright’s notes are to be believed,’ Stenwold replied. ‘We have accomplished that rarest of achievements: we have stolen a march over the Spider-kinden. They did not know we were warned of them until Danaen’s people hacked down their hirelings. There was a Spider-kinden master of the ship that Danaen sailed into harbour, and she left papers.’ Stenwold gave a half-smile. ‘The Aldanrael is named.’

  ‘Stenwold,’ Jodry almost whispered. ‘Stenwold, we can’t . . . you know what this means. There must be another way. You are bringing us to war.’

  ‘No!’ Stenwold snapped. ‘That’s exactly the rumour that Teornis will stir up. That is the muttering that people like Helmess Broiler will raise, who bear neither of us any fond feelings. They will say, “There goes old Maker, desperate for another war so he can play soldier again.” I did not bring us to this, Jodry. I have uncovered a plot, a hidden war against our city.’

  ‘Then what are you proposing?’ Jodry demanded.

  ‘We confront them. We expose what we have discovered, and call their bluff. I’d hope they’d back down, blame everything on someone else, and give up whatever scheme it is that they’re about. Either that or we’ll exchange the Aldanrael for some other house less interested in our shipping. You know how the Aristoi families feud. Believe me, Jodry, I did not go looking for a war with the Spiderlands.’

  Jodry glanced over Stenwold’s shoulder. ‘My dear, what say you? You can perhaps know the mind of your people better than we.’

  Arianna looked down at Stenwold’s bald head, and then across at fat Jodry. ‘I do not think the Aldanrael, o
r the Spiderlands, will simply walk away,’ she told him sadly. ‘You’ve killed one of their own.’

  ‘Can we deal with this quietly?’ Jodry asked. ‘Perhaps we can just get Teornis in a room and talk him round.’ Stenwold could not see Arianna’s expression, but from Jodry’s reaction he guessed that it was not encouraging.

  ‘I’m not sure Teornis and the Aldanrael will let this be settled quietly,’ he murmured.

  ‘But they’re Spiders. I thought they liked all that hole-and-corner stuff,’ Jodry complained.

  Stenwold sighed. ‘Teornis knows we don’t want another war, not so swiftly on the heels of the last. He will hope that we sue for peace, submit to whatever terms he demands, rather than fight. And meanwhile the Empire’s building up forces near Myna. It wouldn’t take much distraction on our part to see the Empress acquire a few more provinces while our back’s turned. Teornis knows all this.’

  ‘There will be panic, uproar. We’ll throw the whole Assembly into a horror, statesmen and merchants and scholars all,’ Jodry said direly.

  ‘But, more than that,’ Stenwold stated, ‘our people have been robbed, some have been killed. Master Rones Failwright, a member of our Assembly, has vanished, and it seems plain that the Spiders did away with him once his voice grew too loud. I don’t think we can hide this, but also I’m not sure that we should. I don’t think the Spiders want a war either, and a show of defiance now may forestall all of that. Collegium must be strong, and we may just face down Spiderlands and Empire both.’

  ‘If you go begging to them,’ Danaen agreed, ‘they will give you only knives. They will cut you and cut you, and make you ask them to cut you again. Spiders must be met with sword in hand. There is no other way.’

  ‘Thank you for that.’ Jodry grimaced. ‘I’d accuse you, Stenwold Maker, of being a man who refuses to take the easy way out of anything. However, in this case, I’m not sure there’s an easy way. I wish you weren’t right quite so often, is all. You’re prepared to handle this at the Assembly?’

  ‘When have I ever shied from bringing unwanted truths before the Assembly?’ Stenwold reproached him.

  ‘Then I’ll call you, tomorrow, first thing.’

  Stenwold nodded and took a deep breath. ‘Chief Officer Padstock.’

  ‘Yes, War Master.’ The woman looked as though she had been waiting for this moment all her life.

  ‘Tomorrow I would like you to assemble your company before the Amphiophos. Take no action unless ordered to, or unless violence is offered you, but I want a reminder that Collegium is more than books and words and coin to be taken.’

  ‘It will be my pleasure, War Master,’ she said, and only then did he realize that she had used the title a moment before.

  Well, perhaps it is time to don that robe once again, he thought, without joy.

  One by one they filed out until, after they had gone, it was just Arianna left there in Stenwold’s study with him. He was fretting with his papers and she knew, from that old habit, that he had more to say.

  Did Teornis know this was coming? she asked herself. Did he broach me because of this? She guessed not, or he would have detailed some more active work for her already, given her some specific instructions. But he knew that he would lock horns with Stenwold, sooner or later. A saying of her people, of her family, returned to her. You cannot stop how fast the world turns. The world had ground her family into pieces. Now she herself would have to stay one step ahead of it.

  Stenwold was regarding her with a slight smile on her face. ‘I know,’ he said.

  Her heart stuttered. He knows? ‘Sten?’ she asked, her voice smooth and easy. There was an art that all Spiders learned, to keep a gap between the mind and face so that no shock to one caused ripples on the other.

  ‘This situation, I know it’s not like going up against the Empire, sword against sword. I know Spiders are a different game entirely.’

  Oh, if only you really did, though. He was proffering her a tiny scroll, a curl of paper barely the size of her little finger. She took it numbly, opened it to find a single line of elaborate script. ‘Welcome to the Dance,’ she read. She had no doubt that it was in Teornis’s own hand. Anything else would have been bad form.

  ‘It came to me via the very messenger I sent to fetch Jodry,’ Stenwold explained.

  ‘You know what this means?’ she pressed. She felt a clutch of tension inside her, but she did not know whether it was for Stenwold’s future or her own.

  ‘I know that “the Dance” is what they call politics, amongst the Spider-kinden, so I suppose Teornis is just telling me that he knows what I’ve done. His people must have recognized the Very Blade as soon as Laszlo brought her into harbour.’

  ‘Oh Sten . . .’ she sighed. ‘You do not understand what he means, not at all.’ Which could cost you your life.

  He frowned at her. ‘What, then?’

  ‘Oh, it’s high praise of a sort,’ she said sadly. ‘He means that, by uncovering this you have proved yourself a peer in his eyes. He considers you a worthy opponent. It means that he will make no allowances for your kinden. You are a Spider to him, and he will not spare you, nor expect you to spare him.’

  ‘Ah.’ Stenwold looked at his hands. ‘Well, that seems plain. Should I be expecting the assassin’s knife, then? Should I start preparing my own food?’

  ‘Oh, that would be poor form,’ Arianna explained. ‘Inelegant. To commission the death of your chief enemy is an admission of defeat – or next to it. Spider-kinden do not simply have their dance-partners killed: they destroy them, piece by piece, until death would seem a mercy. I do not think Teornis will seek to have you killed unless you leave him no other choice by backing him into a corner. Your friends and allies are under no such protection, though. It is a long-standing tradition to attack someone through their household. Take Jodry, for example.’

  ‘Jodry?’ Stenwold shook his head. ‘Jodry’s the Speaker for the Assembly, after all. I can’t see Teornis causing that much trouble just to get to me. In fact, it’s more likely he’ll kill me to inconvenience Jodry, surely.’

  ‘No, Stenwold, no,’ Arianna insisted. ‘What does Teornis care about Beetle ranks and titles? What makes the true adversary is skill, not . . . public office. You are his enemy. You are the man he will dance with. For the rest – Jodry, your Fly-kinden, the Mantis and her crew, that militia-woman – fair game, Stenwold, all of them.’

  ‘And you?’ Stenwold pressed.

  ‘Oh, who knows what Teornis would do with me,’ she said, looking straight into his face and thinking, I am telling you, Stenwold. Listen when I tell you. Understand me! But he did not understand her. There was only concern in his expression.

  ‘I should have you leave the city,’ he started, and raised a hand to cut off her immediate objection. ‘And I know that would solve nothing. Distance is no shield. Instead I must make use of you. Your help here will be the difference between life and death, it seems.’

  Oh, very likely. ‘What do you want from this, Stenwold? What will you count as a victory?’

  ‘Keeping Collegium safe,’ he replied immediately. ‘I do not know what the Aldanrael think to gain from this piracy – they would not risk so much just for plunder. Whatever it is, though, they must walk away from it. My people will be nobody’s prey.’

  ‘And if Teornis offers a compromise?’

  ‘If he does, is it likely to be sincere? Or merely a trap?’

  She shrugged. And I cannot answer that. I cannot see what Teornis seeks either. ‘It may be. But, even so, if he does?’

  ‘Will I treat with him, you mean? I would be a fool not to listen to what he might have to say, but I will not simply bare my city’s back for the rod. Men have died. Ships have been lost. If we offer some meek submission, then we simply invite worse.’

  And that is true also, she thought. ‘Think carefully on what you will tell the Assembly,’ she warned him.

  ‘I know. Words said openly cannot then be unsaid.’ He rubbed at
his face.

  And am I advising him now for himself, or for Teornis? she asked herself. What can I say that is not a betrayal of one man or the other? ‘If you give him no other alternative, he will fight,’ she said. ‘I know the Mantis say we are cowards, my kinden, but that is not true. It is just that direct violence is considered the last and ugliest way of solving any problem. We will take up the sword, if no other choice is left to us, but if you leave him an escape, he may take it. Public face is very important to us. When you make your speech, at least allow him some graceful way to step away. You never know, if the Aldanrael’s plans are still young, they may prefer to abandon them rather than risk a confrontation. Teornis himself may jump at a chance to wash his hands of the matter.’

  ‘I understand.’ Stenwold nodded soberly. ‘I will choose my words carefully.’

  She left him at his desk, staring at a blank parchment.

  Downstairs, she had Cardless prepare her a tisane, while she took stock of her options. Tell Stenwold was one of them, but the time for telling him had now come and gone. She should have mentioned it as soon as they were alone together. She should have mentioned it as soon as he returned from his voyage on the Tidenfree. Every moment that passed took her further away from the moment when confession would bring her absolution rather than blame.

  Can I just walk away and vanish? She knew she could not. She could betray Stenwold, but never abandon him. She could not stand apart, and know that he was facing this fight, and not know what would become of him. If I am by his side, whoever’s side I am on, then there may come the moment when some act from me can . . . Can what? Save or destroy him, which? Teornis would not let her run, either. He would judge her more harshly for taking flight than he would for remaining loyal to Stenwold, although he would not hesitate to be rid of her in either case. Even as Stenwold’s ally, she was valuable to Teornis as a means of applying pressure, while as a runaway she would be despised and worthless – fit only to be hunted down like an animal so that her incriminating knowledge could be capped.