No Present Like Time

by Steph Swainston

  The crowd was silent. Gio saw this and didn’t pause for long. “I’ve spoken to some of the mariners who saw Capharnaum. They say the tiles on the roofs of the houses are embedded with turquoise and tourmaline. Even Trisian infants wear crowns. They esteem gold because of its beauty, not because of its rarity-they think less of it than we do of spelter or brass. They use it for household objects: mangles, boot scrapes and-you’ll love this-chamber pots.”

  Gio scanned the aisles of skeptical faces. “You clearly don’t believe me. Well, look; I have one here.” As he spoke, he trotted to the back of the stage and unpacked several items from a canvas bag. He held up the very chamber pot that Danio had given to Wrenn. He had polished it to a brilliance and it dazzled.

  Everybody in the hall began to laugh, and Gio smiled too. He was scarcely audible over the tumult. “Mauvein is a practically Eszai-good jeweler. Verify this for me.” He slipped down off the stage and gave the pot to a portly man whom I recognized as one of Ata’s sons-although by now he was much older than his mother.

  The gleaming chamber pot was turned around under his big fingers and then he nodded. “It’s enough bullion for a manorship to buy out of providing fyrd for two years. I could find better things to do with this than piss in it.”

  “Well, you can’t have it…yet.” Gio flourished it. “You see that Trisians have so much wealth the meanest utensils are solid gold. Yet Mist’s clique are determined to keep it for themselves. I have bought the caravel Pavonine. At this very moment my allies in Awndyn are stocking her, and other ships. From Hacilith University I’ve found it easy to hire a pair of crusty scholars well versed in Old Morenzian inscriptions. They are optimistic of being able to interpret the basics of Trisian for us. The journey will be a challenge, I grant you, but not so difficult now a trail is blazed. There’s safety in a convoy-if you want to commandeer berths in other caravels who’ll stop you?

  “I earned wealth enough from the Ghallain School to pay the crews and create an ideal life in Capharnaum without being constantly tested by the Circle. Who knows, in a couple of years, consolidated and stronger, we might return.”

  A swordsman called something I couldn’t hear.

  “Ah, Tirrick. I’m just skating all over the floor on those pearls of wisdom,” Gio answered sarcastically. He put the chamber pot down, fished in his inside coat pocket and held up a thick notebook that I recognized immediately. “This is Mist’s own rutter. My agents stole it when they took the chamber pot. Here are the coordinates of the island, and a comprehensive description of the route. ‘Twenty-nine degrees south, one hundred and twenty-nine degrees east,’” he read in a respectful tone. “Nearly on line with the Awndyn northing, I’m given to understand. So, how many of you will join me?”

  Two or three hundred hands went up immediately; these men had nothing to lose. Gio pushed the priceless piss-pot with his toe. The Awian soldiers conferred among themselves, weighing the risks of the voyage against the rewards. Having fought in Lowespass, they were accustomed to frontiers. They raised their hands.

  In fencing, it is very important to be able to change the direction of your thrust the instant you see that it’s going to miss its target. Gio knew now that he could never be strong enough to destroy the Castle, so he turned the thrust to Tris. He was prepared to exile himself to survive.

  My lamp-lit window was the only source of light and sound in the whole pitch-black landscape. Everything that existed was in this hall-Eske Forest was a void. Gio raised his voice above the roar as again the rain swelled to a cloudburst. Drops bounced off the brim of my leather hat. Forked lightning bit color into the forest for an instant. Gio paused as a ten-second-long thunder crash rolled around the hollow of the little town. It hypnotized everyone in the hall. Gio stood right foot forward, held the rapier scabbard and drew the 1969 Sword with his right hand. He swung it casually, feeling its balance.

  “We start for Awndyn tomorrow morning. By Sunday I’ll be in the harbormaster’s house to meet you adventurers. We will sail next week.” He held the rapier up above the crowd ostentatiously. “The Eszai have outlived morality. I won’t lie back and think of the Fourlands while the Castle screws us, time and again. Come with me!” he exclaimed. “To seek this new world-for gold and brandy!”

  Gio ended, and the crowd began to applaud. They stood up, clapped and cheered him. The ovation went on and on. Gio glanced up at the windows; I turned my white face away and shrank back against the frame. Gio bounded off the stage and his friends shook his hand and slapped him on the back all the way down the hall. His eyes were hectic bright and his cheeks were flushed. The doors were thrown wide-light and people spilled out. I looked with hatred. Kill him, god, if I only had my crossbow! Kill him, I’ll jump straight on his head! If he wasn’t surrounded by swordsmen.

  Gio’s voice was too low for me to hear as his knot of well-wishers bustled him out of town along the woodland path. Some men fetched their horses, others dawdled in the doorway fiddling with their lanterns.

  Gio is impugning my virility and I can do absolutely nothing about it. I banged the heel of my hand against my forehead. Be calm! There will be time for revenge later. I’m not very good at later; I wanted him to suffer now.

  God, I was livid. I was going to take this out on someone, and since I couldn’t beat Gio, Cinna Bawtere would have to do. I dived off the roof and flew in very turbulent air just under the low storm cloud’s base. I risked being sucked up into it. A gull battled along underneath me, vivid white against the dark iron gray. The hurricane tussled my hair and coat out behind me. My clothes were light even when waterlogged. My wings cleaved the gale, driving rainwater off their oiled surfaces, but the covert feathers were becoming damp and thinning; I was beating harder to stay up.

  I followed Cinna out of Eske along the dark forest track, straining to see him. He was hidden beneath his black umbrella, sploshing toward the nearby Slaughterbridge village pub. Air roared over my wings as I slid down the sky. I struggled to slow my ground speed and maneuvered directly above him. I folded my wings back with a jolt and fell on him.

  I hit Cinna with the soles of both boots between his shoulder blades, bowling him over and over into a puddle. I absorbed the impact into my legs and landed in a crouch. Cinna rolled around on his back, knees pulled up, winded. I burst out laughing; falcons must feel this exhilarated when they hit prey. “I take my hat off to you, Mister Bawtere! Never knew you had an acrobatic streak!” He kicked like a struck rabbit. A dagger appeared in his hand. He crawled out of the chalky, rain-pitted puddle and collapsed in a milk-white wet heap on the path. “The gallows waits in Eske; it’s a much shorter drop! I can take my pick of felonies in your catalog of crimes. You’re as good as dead!”

  I did want to kill him. I wanted to feel the life go out of him under my hands. He saw my cruel expression-comprised of Tern’s rejection, Gio’s slander and six hours in a rainstorm-and he curled up, sobbing. Cinna’s predictability was consoling-I had thought I was losing the ability to read people. They seemed to be becoming gradually more incomprehensible.

  “Ah…” Cinna panted. “Please don’t hurt me. Please…I…”

  “How did Gio acquire the logbook?”

  “I don’t know!…Ah…I swear! He’s a clever man; he has many agents. Ah…I respect you, Comet. You’re Eszai. You’re a legend in Hacilith.”

  “Put the dagger down, then.”

  Cinna did no such thing. I kicked his hand and the knife flew out of it. “Put it down!”

  Cinna huddled under the remnants of his broken umbrella.

  “How did Gio know of Tris?”

  “I informed him. I’m sorry! You never said it was a secret!”

  I suddenly realized that I had told Cinna everything, six months ago, under the influence of a fingernail full of scolopendium. Shit. It began to dawn on me that this appalling turn of events could be all my fault-caused by my big, stupid mouth.

  I bated forward with my wings spread, made as if to kick him and he
cowered. “Are you sailing with Gio?”

  “Yes…Yes, what of it? I am My Own Man.” He huffed in a breath. “I’m to be captain of the Pavonine. Yes, Comet, I was a sailor by trade; had you forgotten? I’m returning to that trade now. It’s legal!”

  “I see.” I drew my sword from under my coat skirts. “Do you believe all that bullshit Gio was spouting in there?”

  Cinna knelt up, several acres of ghastly fawn brocade, and started prodding his saggy chest to check for broken ribs. His blond pin curls were plastered to his skull, his fat cheeks were ruddy. The pathetic specimen looked at me carefully through the pouring rain. “No, of course not…Though there’s a seed of truth in everything he said…He thinks you’re an alcoholic.” A knowing, assertive look appeared in his eyes. “I have a reliable source for decent cat, by the way.”

  “Blackmail now, is it? That’s just one more reason to kill you!” I snarled, though his words set my mouth watering.

  “Come on, Comet. Just because you’re illegitimate doesn’t give you free license to be a bastard. I haven’t told Gio about your love of scolopendium. Why should I? It’d bring me no benefit, and I’m a savvy businessman…Of course I don’t believe that the island is full to bursting with precious metals for the natives to bestow on us. However, I do know that Gio’s As Rich As Rachiswater. He’s paying me five times a merchant captain’s wage. He’s packing coin, plate and banknotes-he has chests full of it! He wants to set himself up on Tris. I’ve just finished conveying it all to Awndyn myself. Look, I still have the letter he gave me. I’ll show you, here.” Cinna fished inside his coat for a crumpled envelope with a broken seal, Ghallain manor’s whale emblem. I took the letter from his gnawed fingertips and raised a wing to shelter it from the rain, while I read:

  TO: SITELLA GRACKLE, FIRST BANK OF HACILITH

  I hereby instruct you to immediately liquidate all my assets currently in your care and to dispatch the monies to myself at the harbormaster’s office, Awndyn. They are, to whit: i) the proceeds collected to date from the sale of my academies, ii) all ordinary stocks held in the Hacilith bourse, iii) gold and silver plate held in the bank’s safe.

  The bearer of this letter, Cinna Bawtere, holds my full confidence in this matter and is to be trusted as the guardian of the money.

  GIO AMI

  Money, lots of money, I deliberated while I refolded the letter. Cinna was smiling, showing textured teeth. “Comet, are you envious? You know you’ll never be free to escape to Tris yourself. You have to fly around the Fourlands until the inevitable happens-a goddamn Insect eviscerates you-and I don’t mean like at Slake Cross, I mean fatally. You’re cast off the Emperor’s fist like a hawk, to spy, and he lures you back and tethers you with the promise of eternal life.”

  I took a squelching step toward him. “But, Bawtere, it’s jail for you! Make haste! We’ll see how far Gio sails without a captain.” I gestured with the sword and Cinna staggered to his feet, protesting and quaking. “Into town, Cariama Eske’s guard will look after you…They’ll throw you in a freezing cell, lock you in fetters and you can fuck your mother for all I care.”

  “She’s dead.”

  “Should make it easy for you, then. Hurry! I’ve a lot to do tonight. I’m busy because I have to find someone who will keep an eye on Gio and accurately report his plans to me when, for example, I land on the Pavonine’s gallery at dusk.”

  Cinna had begun to snivel. “Okay,” he said, miserably; “I’ll do it.”

  I said, “Oh, good. Then the noose can wait; tell me a little more about Gio.”

  Cinna said: He knows that the Trisians distrust the Castle. He has a silver tongue, that man.

  I said: Even if it was gold he couldn’t Challenge me.

  Cinna said: Gio’s failed and he knows it. He might have got away with insurrection, but he tried to murder an Eszai. Oh yes, I heard from his own lips how he stabbed Lightning!

  Me: He’s running?

  Cinna: Yes. He can’t storm the Castle and skewer every Eszai much as he wants to. So he’s making his mark-leaving his name on history is immortality of a sort, seeing as he can’t have The Real Thing. If he holes up at Ghallain or hides out on Addald Isle it’d only be a matter of time before he’s betrayed and captured. But on Tris…

  Me: Never!

  Cinna: He wants to win over the Trisians. And San would have to leave him there, the King of Tris, because the Castle’s purpose is fighting the Insects. San could never fight people or invade islands.

  Me: I’m glad you trust San.

  Cinna: Yes, but I’m fed up of being kept in the dark. He keeps everyone hooded like falcons, whether callow Zascai or haggard old Eszai. You don’t know what San’s real quarry is, even though you’re one of his spies, and you will just go back and tell him my every word.

  Me: Um…Cinna said that, not me.

  San: Yes.

  I skipped a few pages in my report, and resumed: “Then I said to Cinna, ‘If I fail to stop Gio setting sail, I will meet you again on the ship.’ I followed him to the tavern, stole-I mean, requisitioned-a fast horse and rode here directly, my lord. I sent a courier to lock every stable at every coaching inn between Eske and Awndyn. That’ll slow the main part of their force down by a couple of hours, and as it takes five days to walk to Awndyn those without horses might miss the Pavonine.”

  Drops of rain ran down the shafts of the wet feathers in my hair and dropped off their curled tips behind me onto the carpet. I shook my head, flicking water from the backward-pointing quills. I had ridden out of the storm; my skin was singing. I was covered in the stringy mud thrown from the horse’s hooves. My svelte boots were sheathed in white liquid mud up to the thigh. I smelled of clouds and the thin air. My heart beat hard; cat made me feel too fast and bracing, thermaling on a strange energy burst that I knew I was going to pay for later but really needed now.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  San said, “Good. The majority of Gio’s followers deserted him during the battle. The only people prepared to flee with him are those who have no option and no dreams other than those he concocts. So his last act of defiance is to stop Tris joining the Empire…”

  I knelt on the damp carpet. “My lord, why should they listen to him?”

  San continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “Whether Gio means to build his own stronghold or-more likely-take the Senate I cannot tell; but we must not let him impose any rule on Tris. Mist has sold swords to the Trisians, now Gio can train them. He is a teacher, is he not? He can perform several deeds to ingratiate himself with the Senate: he can hunt down the Insect that you so carelessly set free! Assuming a Trisian has not caught it already. And if a man has, he is more worthy of immortality than all of you!”

  “My lord.” I closed my hot and bloodshot eyes for a second, ran my hands over the bangles on my left arm-my pointed nails in a variety of chipped colors. I squeezed water out of a handful of hair and managed to ask, “What will you do?”

  San began again in a brisk tone of voice: “Before Gio became the Swordsman, that place in the Circle was for broadsword fighting, not fencing. But my current Swordsman has clearly demonstrated what everybody knows. Rapiers are ineffective against Insects, so immortals should not use them. From now on, Challenges for Serein’s position must be with broadswords or Wrought swords or, taking future improvements into consideration, the most effective blade to kill Insects. Tell Serein that.”

  “Yes, my lord.” With a single edict, the Emperor had put an end to the Ghallain School and all its flamboyant sparring. Few people would practice rapier combat if it was not a key to enter the Circle and if there were no successful Eszai to inspire mortals to take up the art. The Morenzian and Plainslands fashion for dueling and wearing rapiers would decline.

  San stated, “Now to deal with Gio himself. When he leaves harbor, the Sailor must pursue him. But if Gio arrives at Capharnaum, he will wreak havoc as he prepares for her.”

  “I’ll go and tell her.” I stood up, tucking strands
of wet hair behind my ears. San must want Mist to catch Gio at sea and deal with him out of sight of land, where there would be no witnesses, he would have no reinforcements, and the sea would cover the remains.

  “You will travel with her.”

  “My lord…” The last thing I wanted was to be involved in a sea battle.

  “The Castle protects the Fourlands against aggressors, Comet. Thankfully Tris is free from most of them, but Gio is certainly an aggressor, and one of our own making; our duty is to stop him. If he succeeds in reaching Tris you will deliver Capharnaum from both him and the Insect. I hope that if that eventuality occurs, the Senate will be inclined to communicate with us. You could tell them: ‘Our Emperor has sent us to protect you from Gio Ami and his criminals.’ And, only if the situation is right, tactfully restate my offer to join the Empire.”

  San perceived the doubt in my eyes, and added, “With the help of Mist and Lightning you will be able to do it, I am sure.”

  “My lord, have you heard news or can you feel…Would you tell me how Lightning is doing?”

  “He lives, Comet. Walk with me.” San rose from the throne that had been worn over time to the exact shape of his body. He paced down the dais steps; his stiff white satin cloak trailed over them.

  Amazed, I followed slightly behind him. We walked between the piers of a tall ogive arch into the west vault, up some worn steps and through a side door that led to a long outside terrace five meters above the lawns. Next to us, the arched windows of the Throne Room triforium ran the length of the building. Last night’s downpour had stopped, and a quite hot sun was sending all this travel-sick water skyward again.

  I had never accompanied San outside the Throne Room before and had never seen him out on the terrace. I felt very awkward. I had some conception that I should kneel, but when I abased myself San just sighed and motioned for me to rise. So I stood next to him, looking toward the Dace Gate, and I felt like the most honored immortal until I followed the Emperor’s gaze and saw, for the first time in daylight, the destruction that Gio had wrought.