Mamelukes

by Jerry Pournelle

“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” Clavell said. “My Colonel has many ways, and he is a determined man.”

  Torricelli smiled thinly.

  “Your Colonel is a formidable man,” he said. “I understand that he’s never lost a battle. But those were all land battles, Professore. I had not heard that Drantos has a navy.”

  “Signor, for those who can cross between the stars, crossing a few miles of sea should not be difficult.”

  “You require a ship,” Torricelli said simply.

  “I do. But I am not my Colonel. I have no instruments to summon ships from the stars.”

  “And your Colonel does?”

  “You will have heard that he sells goods to the starships,” Clavell said. Now to use just the right words. “He has means to summon his clients.”

  “I see. Do you know the means?”

  “Like all star things, it is simple. In this case a small box one speaks into. I’ve seen it, as of course I’ve seen the starships, but I don’t know how either is made. I have no notion of what Colonel Galloway may ask from the starships, but I tell you again, it would be unfortunate for there to be misunderstandings.”

  “I have a great appreciation for star power,” Torricelli said. He shrugged. “However. You demand explanations. What are my alternatives?”

  “Signor?”

  “I am not master of the Serene Republic. I am leader of perhaps the strongest faction, but that isn’t the same thing. The Serene Republic seldom acts without agreement among the Signory, and we don’t have that at this moment. Bluntly, Professore, I need more time. The Signory are undecided about the future. Things develop that we do not understand.”

  “Perhaps I may be of assistance in that understanding. My Colonel most certainly can be.”

  “I am aware of that, and I thank you for the offer, but the Council has decided that it isn’t yet time to have that sort of discussion with the Warlord of Drantos.” Torricelli grimaced, as if to disparage that decision, then frowned. “So I required time. How may I gain that time? I prefer that you remain well disposed towards the Serene Republic, else I could have you placed under guard,” Torricelli said. “If needs must, I may do that. But you may have friends among my enemies. I could have you held in a dungeon, but that would make you my enemy whereas now you are merely dissatisfied. Or we may both pretend this conversation never took place.”

  * * *

  “So it’s like that, is it?” Jimmy Harrison leaned closer. “So what do we do about it? You sure as hell can’t hire a ship now.”

  “Maybe we could. A fishing boat. Or a grain ship, there’s lots of them, and far as I can see everything’s for sale in this city. Everything. Hell, Jimmy,” Clavell said, “maybe I shouldn’t have gone to see him, but I figured we might as well get some of it out in the open. Now we know.”

  “What do we know?” Harrison asked. “They don’t know what to do with us, and the factions don’t agree so they can’t iron it out. Pretty usual for Nikeis.”

  “Why can’t they agree? We came here to teach sanitation and public health. We’ve done that. Now why can’t we go home?”

  Harrison shrugged.

  “They want more.”

  “Like?”

  “Well, we know they’re interested in gunpowder, and how it’s made.”

  “What little we know we can’t talk about,” Clavell said.

  “So what else do we know? We know there’s something weird happening, with that Torricelli girl claiming there’s a microscope coming here, and she thinks maybe a university will be established here. A university that teaches star science. Only one way that happens, Sarge.”

  Clavell frowned the question.

  “Another starship, Sarge. What else could it mean?”

  “Holy shit. Maybe you’re right!”

  “Course I’m right,” Harrison said. “Surprised you didn’t think of it. Your friend Rosa’s thought of it. You can be sure her father knows it.”

  “So there’s new star people, and they’re not telling us about it,” Clavell said slowly, and Harrison nodded sagely.

  “Looks that way.”

  “Think the Skipper knows?”

  “If not now, he will.” Harrison shrugged. “And the Romans will find out for damned sure. They have spies everywhere.”

  “So how do we tell the Skipper?”

  Harrison shrugged again.

  “You choosing sides?” He poured a full glass of white wine.

  “What the hell do you mean by that? We’re part of Galloway’s outfit. We already chose sides.”

  “Did we? I don’t recall being asked about any of this.” Harrison kept his voice low as they sat in the center of their large reception hall, ornate, lavishly cushioned chairs close together. “I don’t recall being asked about none of it. Yet here we are, whispering in our own house, scared of being overheard by our own servants. Thing is, they are our servants. Maybe they answer to Torricelli and his friends, but they make life easy for us. Soft duty, Sarge.

  “Now you tell me about loyalty, Sarge. I don’t see Bisso and the Ark comin’ in the front door to take us home. What I see is that everyone who comes near us could work for Torricelli, and every damn one of them has a dagger.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We wait, Sarge. Keep our ears open, watch each other’s backs, and keep our mouths shut. That’s all we can do. Better’n what’s happened to the Romans.”

  “You sure about those stories?”

  “No. All I’m sure of is that we never see Roman officers anymore. Used to be they was at parties with us. Now they’re not. Maybe they all went back to Rome, and maybe they’re all in dungeons or dead for all I know.”

  “What else did you hear?”

  “Well, there are rumors about dungeons, but Sarge, mostly what I heard was that they was all sent home just about the time we thought we was leaving. Told to pack up and get out, right then, and there wasn’t any problem finding them a ship.” He shrugged.

  “Makes more sense than killin’ them,” Clavell said. “Rome’s got a navy, and there’s a lot of Romans. Maybe they’ll come looking for us. Cinch they will if the Skipper asks them to. And he will, Jimmy. He will.”

  “Yeah, probably, and so what? Any way it happens, all we can do is wait.”

  “Okay, Jimmy. We wait. I won’t go storming into Torricelli’s place again.”

  “Good.” Harrison looked thoughtful. “Of course, there’s nothing stopping you from talking to his daughter. She still gives you a pash?”

  Clavell nodded slowly.

  “I don’t think she knows, though.”

  “Keep it that way, but talk to her when it’s safe. Maybe she’ll let something else slip. Just remember, she grew up a Torricelli. She started learning this intrigue stuff about the time she was weaned. You won’t learn nothing from her she doesn’t want you to know.”

  “Then what’s the point?”

  Harrison laughed.

  “She’s smart Sarge, but she’s still a pretty girl, and you ain’t all that gone to seed. Maybe what she wants you to know is a bit more than what her old man wants you to know.”

  Clavell frowned.

  “Now you’re really talking a dangerous game.”

  “Maybe. But you know, you could do worse than marry that girl, Sarge. We could both do worse. What if the Skipper can’t get us out of here? We still need something.”

  “He’ll come get us!”

  “Sure, but just suppose he can’t?” Harrison looked thoughtful. “We gotta talk to somebody, I guess. I’ll look around.”

  * * *

  Harrison wore a hook today.

  He used it to support one side of a tray with a pitcher of wine and three glasses, and got the tray to the small table without incident. Clavell had offered to carry it, but Harrison had been insistent on doing it himself.

  Clavell watched as he set out glasses for Clavell and their guest, then slowly filled them. Patience, Clavell thought. He’ll get t
o the point soon enough.

  The guest was average height for Tran, meaning he was half a head shorter than Clavell. He wore typical middle-class clothing for Nikeis: broadcloth doublet, well tailored of a good grade of satin, ruffles at sleeve and throat. Hose, probably cotton, fine thread. Not much jewelry. Dagger with a handle wrapped in silver wire just visible under the jacket. The guest waited patiently while Harrison filled his glass.

  “Okay,” Harrison said then. “Sarge, you remember I told you about a Roman nobleman who was Gingrich’s intelligence officer down south. This is him. Meet Marcus Julius Vinicianus. I saw him in the market the other day, thought I recognized him, so I went out looking for him today.”

  The Roman stood and bowed.

  “Technically I am not a Roman,” he said. “At least not by citizenship, which is why I am free to speak with you—although I don’t think the Signory will be pleased when they find I’ve done so.”

  Clavell stood and returned the bow.

  “Have a seat. Okay, why won’t they be pleased, and what will they do about it?”

  “They’ll be displeased because they wish to control everything,” Vinicianus said. “They will assume I’ve told you things they don’t wish you to know. As to what they will do, I think nothing. I’m very useful to them, and I have many friends among the Signory. The Council of Ten might well have sent an assassin to prevent my meeting you, but they are very practical people. It will do them no good to stop my mouth after I’ve told you what I know.”

  “You haven’t told us anything,” Clavell protested.

  “Ah, but they will assume I have,” Vinicianus said. “And of course, you’ve told me nothing, either. Nor have you paid me.”

  “Paid. What do you want?” Clavell looked at him narrowly, and the Roman shrugged.

  “Good will, mostly. Money is always useful, but I am in no great need at the moment. And I doubt you can tell me anything useful that I don’t already know.” Vinicianus smiled broadly. “Cease your concerns, Sergeant Clavell. I have no desire to toy with you. As I said, I will settle for good will.”

  He raised his glass in a toast.

  “To new friends.” He sipped and set it down. “To begin, I assume you know of the starship.”

  Clavell shook his head slightly.

  “We infer, but we don’t know,” he said. “They haven’t told us anything.”

  “They probably will, once they learn all they can,” Vinicianus said. “The Serene Republic moves slowly in reaching a decision, but when the time comes to act, they can all act as one.”

  “Damnedest system of government I ever heard of,” Clavell said, and Vinicianus shrugged.

  “Perhaps. In any event, it is known that a starship landed on Terra Firma, and left behind three star lords. Well, two lords and a lady,” he corrected himself. “One of those lords is a black man. I see that does not astonish you, so it must be true, there are many black men among the star lords although we’ve seen none with your group.

  “They also left three very large boxes. By large I mean taller than a man is tall, and perhaps four man-heights by two in plan.”

  “Son of a bitch! Sounds like shipping containers to me,” Harrison said, and Clavell nodded.

  “Any idea what’s in them?” he asked.

  “Wonderful things,” Vinicianus said. “All the knowledge of the stars. Books. Weapons. Instruments of science. Wonderful things beyond my abilities to describe.” The Roman shrugged. “At least so my agents tell me. I have never been permitted to see the one that has so far been brought to Nikeis. My agents believe none of the boxes have been opened since they arrived here. They remain sealed, locked with starcraft locks. I doubt a Nikeisian thief could open one, but as they’ve been described to me, a blacksmith could.”

  “One of them is already in Nikeis?” Clavell asked, and Vinicianus nodded. “Where is it?”

  “It rests under guard in the Arsenale,” Vinicianus said. “A curious guard, a guard composed of members of many factions. A guard with a rainbow of opinions and loyalties! My agents tell me that the second box will be lodged in Senator Avanti’s palazzo, not half a Roman mile from where we sit.”

  “Avanti’s house?”

  “Yes. The nephew of Councilor Avanti, the young Senator, was apparently the first person of quality to find the new star people. Unlike the box at the Arsenale, it will be impossible to hide the second box’s arrival. It, too, will be guarded, but with this difference, all of those guards will serve either Councilor Avanti or Councilor Torricelli, and one of the guests in that house is the star lady who brought it here.

  “He and the lady, whose name is Lorraine Sandori, are said to be lovers.” Vinicianus shrugged. “It is certain that she sleeps in the Avanti palazzo, but in which room and with whom is beyond my knowledge at the moment. I should know soon enough, but even more interesting is that the third and last—container—will be brought to Nikeis with the two star lords, a Professore Bart Saxon and Signor Cal Haskins, the black man, as quickly as the ship they have modified to move it can land the second box and return to Terra Firma. After much debate, the Council of Ten has decided to land the last box openly in Palazzo San Marco while the lords are welcomed by the Doge himself.”

  Harrison whistled to himself.

  “I’d give a heap to have listened in to that debate,” he said, and Vinicianus smiled.

  “It would seem pointless to hide it,” he said. “With all the factions which now guard the Arsenale, the whole city will soon know. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it before now, and all the world will know when the second box lands openly tomorrow.” He shrugged.

  “All right.” Clavell regarded Vinicianus coldly. “Now tell me how you come to be here in the first place?”

  The Roman shrugged again.

  “As your friend said upon introducing me, I was given the task of securing information for the star lord Gengrich during the time when he had his own establishment. When he decided to rejoin Colonel Galloway, there was no more work for me to do there. Moreover, Galloway and the Roman Empire are allies, and while the Imperials would welcome my return, it would not be a welcome I would enjoy, so I looked to other ways and places for my living. The Signory are always in the market for information, so this seemed a logical place to come to.” He fingered his fine clothing. “I have not done badly at it.”

  “Seems to me there was another rumor,” Harrison said. “Something about you learning too much, something about Lady Tylara, and you didn’t dare fall into Galloway’s hands.”

  Vinicianus shrugged again.

  “There are always unpleasant rumors. I dare say that if your Colonel wished me dead, I would be.”

  “If’n he could find you,” Clavell said. “But that’s not our problem. I don’t have any orders about you, and I don’t think anyone else does. Jimmy?”

  “Nothing.” Harrison shook his head. “Like I said, there was a rumor about Marcus here knowing too much, but hell, there’s stories like that about everybody, including Major Mason and Sergeant Major Elliot for that matter. So I guess it’s just rumors. Unless you’d care to tell us something?”

  “I fear I know no more than you,” Vinicianus said. “I’ve heard many rumors, of course, but I see no point in spreading rumors. I deal in information, not speculation.”

  “So what did you tell the Signory?” Clavell demanded, and the Roman smiled faintly.

  “As much as I had learned from a season of service with your Captain Gengrich,” he said. “What they thought most important was the way Captain Gengrich made gunpowder.”

  “Gunpowder. You already told them?”

  “Of course.” Vinicianus smiled. “Have you failed to notice that they now collect manure and urine?”

  “Sure. I thought that was because they learned about hygiene from me.”

  The Roman shrugged yet again. It was obviously one of his favorite gestures.

  “Perhaps that is part of the reason, but they’ve built a complex
of compost pens on Santa Barbara island, as well, and they convey manure and urine there. That was how Captain Gengrich made saltpeter.”

  “Saltpeter,” Lance Clavell mused. “So that’s what they’re doing over there!”

  “I would assume so. I haven’t visited the place, nor would I want to. As to hygiene, you gave away what I could have sold. Ah well. They were eager to pay for other information. About star weapons, and your ways of justice. And, of course, all I knew of the rapidly deteriorating conditions in the south, as the waters rise. Captain Gengrich said the summers will rapidly grow longer and hotter. The Signory seemed eager to learn these things.”

  “So you ratted out Gengrich,” Harrison said.

  Vinicianus looked pained.

  “What an unpleasant way of putting it,” he said. “I do require an income, since I could no longer remain in service to Gengrich. I made no oath to My Lord Arnold, but he remains my friend, and nothing I told the Signory is of any danger to him.” He frowned slightly. “Much of what I told them of the coming Time they already knew. They paid me for confirming their knowledge, although not as much. They were particularly interested in the rapid rise of the waters. Already many of their harbor defenses are useless, which is a source of great concern to them.”

  “So how fast is that water going to rise?” Clavell asked.

  Vinicianus frowned.

  “It already rises faster than Gengrich supposed it would. I’ve seen maps in Rome that show the seas engulfing all of the swamplands between Rome and Drantos, but how quickly that will happen I do not know. I would think the Signory would know better than I.”

  The Roman shrugged, then pointed to the high-water marks painted on the palace next door to them.

  “They know how high the water will rise, but apparently not how quickly. I find that puzzling.”

  “So you told them everything you know.”

  “Of course. I have my living to make. But nothing I told them endangers Gengrich or your Colonel. Or you.”

  “Except maybe gunpowder,” Harrison said. “And they keep pressing us to tell them how to make it when according to you they already know.”

  The Roman nodded.

  “That’s their way. They wish confirmation. It’s always their way. I’m astonished that they don’t question you daily about what Warlord Rick calls the Great Guns. I would wager it won’t be long before they cast such guns. They have at least one foundry capable of doing it.”