The Two of Swords: Part 15

by K. J. Parker

  He turned back. “Dear God, no. And I wouldn’t have burned their precious library, either. No, if I hadn’t managed to bully that clerk, I’d probably have tried smoking them out – bit of a fire, open all the doors, throw on plenty of wet blankets. That place was a chimney. But I didn’t want to, in case the fire got out of hand and I burned down half the school.” He risked a smile. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said. “I don’t do massacres for anyone. Or human sacrifices.”

  “I expect you had orders.”

  Just a guess? Probably. But she said it like she knew. “Of course,” he replied. “And I carried them out, and nobody got hurt.” He paused. Worth a try. “Disappointed?”

  She gave him a look that convinced him it hadn’t been worth a try after all. “I hope the Lodge spares you,” she said. “I want Senza to deal with you.”

  He winced slightly. Not given to idle threats, by the sound of it. “I take what comes,” he said. “It’s my job.”

  “Senza’s got a bath,” she said. “He fills it with milk and honey. Anybody he doesn’t like goes in the bath, all tied up tight, and he leaves them in the sun for a day or so. The honey and the sour milk attract flies, and the flies lay eggs. He’ll see to it you get food and water, whether you like it or not.” She gave him a smile. “In the end, they strip you to the bone. The Lodge would just stab you in your sleep. Where’s the play value in that?”

  It took him a lot of effort to keep his voice steady. “I can see why he likes you,” he said. “If you need anything, just shout.”

  Two days of beautiful refreshing boredom, blue sky and calm sea. Then she sent for him.

  “I’m sick to death of being cooped up in this kennel,” she said. “I want to go up on deck.”

  “Your wish is my command,” he said politely. “I’ll ask the captain if it’s convenient.”

  “I want to go up on deck now.”

  “Of course.” He closed the door on her, then went and sat in the sun for a couple of hours, eating grapes and watching the flying fish. Then he went back down and fetched her.

  “You got that from my copy of Eleutherius,” he said. “About the bath full of honey. I knew it sounded familiar.”

  “I imagine that’s where Senza got the idea,” she replied. “He’s a great reader.” She pushed past him and came out into the light. “Been thinking about it, have you? What it’ll be like?”

  He took a couple of long strides to overtake her. Everyone on deck had stopped what they were doing. “Senza Belot doesn’t go in for macabre forms of torture,” he said. “He’s bound by the Joint Protocols of Conduct, same as everybody else. Glauca would have his head on a pike if he caught him doing something like that.”

  “You believe that? How sweet.”

  He let the crew stare. Either she’d enjoy it, which might sweeten her temper, or it’d embarrass her, which might take the edge off her self-confidence. He guided her well away from the rail; it was a calm day, but he was a weak swimmer.

  “A million angels, Major Genseric,” she said. “That’s a lot of money.”

  “Indeed it is,” he said. “To put it in context, though, my great-grandfather once bet a hundred thousand on which of two snails would be first to reach the top of a wall. His son, my great-uncle, spent a quarter of a million on a palace for his wife, but she didn’t like the view, so he had the tops of the mountains cut off. My Uncle Theuderic—”

  “Your father was indicted for high treason and all his property was confiscated,” she said. He shivered. How could she possibly—?

  “True,” he conceded. “But my Aunt Segimer owns three valleys and a city, she’s unmarried and ninety-one. Besides, I’ve got my army pay. And if you insult me again, I’ll smack your head till it rings.”

  She gave him a startled look. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “That’s why I didn’t hit you.” He lifted his eyes just a little, over her head, to look at Captain Orderic, who was hovering just behind her, to her left. He took the hint and moved a little closer to the rail. “Now some of the officers and men on this ship aren’t quite so fortunate as me, financially speaking. I’ll ask you not to unsettle them by putting silly ideas in their heads.” He paused for a moment, then went on: “I get the impression you don’t like getting hit. Normally I wouldn’t dream of it, but according to you I’m a dead man already, so why the hell not?” He gave her his prettiest smile. “If Forza asks about the bruises, I’ll tell him you walked into a door. All my men will back me up. Do you understand?”

  She looked at him as though she’d recognised someone she used to know. “Perfectly.”

  “Splendid. Would you like some tea?”

  “No, thank you. I’d like to go back to my cabin now.”

  When he closed the door on her, he began to shake. That bothered him.

  “Pure poison,” Captain Orderic said. “We ought to throw her over the side.”

  “What, and kill all those fish?” Genseric poured himself a drink; a much smaller one than he’d have liked. “For the avoidance of doubt,” he said, “if anyone lays a finger on that woman, I’ll hang him. Pass it on, would you?”

  Orderic grinned. “Except you?”

  “Including me. I’ve never hit a woman and I don’t intend to start now. Unacceptable behaviour.” He sipped, and pulled a face. Should’ve looted the cellars of Beal Defoir while he had the chance. “No, I got the impression she knows all about being knocked around. Only weak spot I’ve detected so far. Therefore, I make empty threats.”

  “I’d sort of gathered that’s why she left Senza,” Orderic said.

  “Oh, you hear all sorts of stories.” Actually, the stuff grew on you, once you’d weathered the initial shock. “But I don’t think so. I think if he had, that’d have been it, finished. And she went back to him the first time, remember.”

  Orderic shrugged. “I wish I knew where we were going,” he said. “To be honest with you, I’m not great on boats.”

  “Landlubber,” Genseric said equably. “Nor me. My father had a ship when I was a kid, we used to all pile on board and go off visiting. Those aren’t happy memories.”

  He’d offered the opening, and Orderic accepted it. “What she said, about your father. Is it true?”

  “I assumed you knew. Yes. And, yes, he was guilty. That is, he was an idealist, he wanted the empires reunited. And he was stupid enough to think it could be done by men of goodwill discussing things in a reasonable manner.” He finished his drink. “I’ve got his skull somewhere,” he said. “A sergeant of mine stole it off the spikes above the arch at Cripplegate, thought I might like it. Hell of a nice thing to do, don’t you think?”

  “Who was that? Old Eusto?”

  Genseric shook his head, “No, it was a chap called Sirupat, before your time. We lost him at Antecyra Fords, poor devil.” He looked at the bottle. It was beautiful, but he was strong. “Aelian,” he went on, “they make the best sergeants, in my experience. Bear that in mind when you have a command of your own.”

  Orderic nodded briskly. “About her Ladyship.”

  “Oh, God, her.”

  “I was thinking,” Orderic said. “There wouldn’t be anything, well, sharp in that cabin, would there?”

  Genseric looked at him. “Yes, there is,” he said. “There’s my nail scissors, for a start, and we’ve been letting her have glass and pottery cups and plates. Just as well one of us has got a brain.”

  Orderic grinned. “I’ll see to it.”

  “No need to be tactful. Let’s see,” he went on, “someone on this ship’s bound to have lifted some of that fancy silver tableware back on the island. She can have that instead. And have them cut her food up small, so she doesn’t need a knife.”

  “When we were up on deck,” Orderic said, “I could tell she was thinking about it. What does she imagine Forza’s going to do to her, for God’s sake?”

  Genseric frowned. “My guess is, it’s more a case of what he might use her for. As in, he can�
�t trade her for anything if she’s dead.” He thought about that for a moment, then added, “Not that I think she’s in any hurry to do herself in, not if she can see her way round it. But let’s keep our eye on the mark, shall we, just in case?”

  She sent for him.

  He took a bottle of wine, a plate of honeycakes and two volumes of Idealist poetry with the Beal Defoir crest embossed on the tubes, which he’d confiscated from a lance corporal of marines. “No thank you,” she said. “I don’t read pornography.”

  “It’s thousand-year-old pornography,” he said, “which means it’s literature, so it’s all right. Suit yourself,” he added, putting the tubes back in his sleeve. “Can’t offer you anything else, I’m afraid.”

  “Those belong to the Lodge.”

  “I know, that’s why I confiscated them. They’ll be sent back in due course.” He smiled. “Though what all those scholars want with classic Euxentine erotica, I can’t begin to imagine.”

  “It’s literature,” she said.

  “Of course.” He offered her the honeycakes. She shook her head. “You wanted to see me.”

  “Yes.” She indicated the chair with a slight movement of her head. He sat down. “About your father.”

  “Mphm. Could this possibly wait? I’m rather busy.”

  “I knew him.”

  Genseric’s heart sank. “Oh, yes?”

  “Professionally.” She smiled viciously at him. “I thought you might like to know that.”

  “I don’t think I believe you,” he said. “He’s been dead ten years.”

  “Oh, I started young. Very young. That’s how he liked them.” She paused, taking stock of the damage she’d done. “If you still don’t believe me, I can tell you things about him.”

  “No,” Genseric said. “Please don’t.”

  “Why not? I’d have thought you’d have been interested. I’ll bet I could tell you about a whole side of his personality you never knew anything about. See this?” She rolled up her sleeve. Just below the wrist was a white, shiny scar. “Would you like to hear how I got it?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “Oh, go on. Pour me a drink and we can swap stories about the old devil. When I heard what had happened to him I went about smiling for a week. How’s your mother, by the way? I could tell you a thing or two about her, as well. Very broad-minded woman. Very.”

  “She’s dead.”

  “You’re just saying that to cheer me up.”

  Genseric leaned back in his chair and stretched his hands wide on his knees. “What is all this?” he said. “Are you trying to provoke me?”

  She shook her head. “Though you did say, if I insulted you—”

  “You’re insulting my parents, not me.”

  “Can the truth be an insult?”

  “Worst sort, I’ve always thought. Anyway, I didn’t mean what I said.”

  “Didn’t you now.”

  “Empty threats,” Genseric said. “It’s what I’m best at. So, why are you doing this?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I enjoy hurting people. Habit I picked up from someone I used to know when I was young. Thirteen, actually.”

  “I don’t think so,” Genseric said. “I think it’s just long-range bombardment, to soften me up. It’s the sort of thing Senza would do.” He smiled. “They warned me you were a handful.”

  “But you like a girl with spirit.”

  “No, not really.”

  “You don’t like girls.”

  “I don’t like you,” Genseric said mildly. “But you’re not typical, so that’s all right.” He stood up. “I don’t believe a word of what you said about my father,” he said. “I think you’d heard of him, and therefore me, because it was a big story at the time and you’ve got a very good memory. I think you threatened me with details of moles and birthmarks because you knew I’d shy away.” He paused for a couple of heartbeats, then went on, “I think you were trying to get me to hit you, because you’ve figured out how disgusted I’d be with myself afterwards; and that might just be an opening, a bit of guilt you could work on. Or I don’t know, maybe you really are just sharpening your claws on the furniture. I wouldn’t blame you if you were, it passes the time and makes you feel you’re doing something. But you’re going to Forza and that’s that. Sorry.”

  She looked at him again. “Do you know what he’ll do to me?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “He’ll send me back to Senza. Oh, he’ll want the East in exchange, but that’s beside the point. Senza will give it to him, and Forza will send me back.”

  Genseric frowned. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get involved, but it was very hard to resist. “Which is what you want.”

  “Are you mad? Why do you think I’ve spent the last three years trying to get away from him?”

  “What do you know,” Genseric asked, “about shipping lanes?”

  Orderic gave him a blank stare. “You should ask the captain about that.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “Nothing,” Orderic replied.

  Genseric rested his folded arms on the rail. “Nor me,” he said. “I know that even though it’s a very big sea, ships tend to go along these invisible roads, and it’s something to do with prevailing winds and stuff like that. I’m assuming that explains them.”

  He dipped his head slightly towards the stern. Orderic, who knew him well, didn’t look round, just moved his eyes and then moved them back. “Four sails.”

  “Is it four now? I only counted three.”

  “My eyesight’s better than yours.”

  “Maybe.” Genseric yawned. “I’m assuming,” he said, “that they’re four ordinary, harmless merchant ships following a shipping lane which happens to be the one we’re using. That’s a perfectly logical explanation, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And we’ve got, what, sixty-five marines on board, and this is a pretty fast ship, apparently. It’s not like we’ve got anything to worry about.”

  Orderic massaged his forehead with his fingertips. “No luck finding out where we’re going, I suppose.”

  “No, but I haven’t tried violence yet.”

  They both turned slowly, so that they were facing the ship’s launch. “Apparently,” Orderic said, “the correct name for it’s a catboat.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Because it’s got just the one mast, right at the back. Sorry, astern. Why that makes it a catboat I don’t know, but it does.”

  “How many will it carry?”

  “Depends on who you ask,” Orderic replied. “The consensus would seem to be, somewhere between six and ten.”

  “I don’t see how we could manage with less than seven,” Genseric said, after a pause for thought. “You, me, her. Someone to steer the boat, someone to do whatever it is you do with the sails. And two marines, to keep the sailors in order. Seven. Plus food and water for at least six days.”

  “Ten,” Orderic said. “I have this recurring nightmare where I’m in a small boat in the middle of the sea, and there’s no food or water. Let’s be on the safe side.”

  “We must be nearly there by now, surely,” Genseric said angrily. “We’ve been on this horrible ship for days, and we haven’t had storms or anything to blow us off course. And for all I know, they’re sending out escorts to bring us in safe.”

  “You’d have thought so.”

  Genseric straightened up. “I think I’ll go and make some empty threats,” he said. “You find out which sailors we should take, and choose two marines.”

  “And supplies for ten days?”

  “Six,” Genseric said. “Save weight, go faster. We’re not sailing round the world, for crying out loud.”

  The captain had his orders. He was answerable to his superiors, according to the chain of command, in which Genseric didn’t feature. Genseric and his damned marines were simply passengers, nothing more. The orders explicitly stated that their destination was not to be divulged to
any unauthorised person. Genseric was not authorised. Therefore—

  “These orders,” Genseric smiled. “In writing, presumably.”

  “Of course.”

  He nodded over the captain’s head. “Sergeant, search the captain’s cabin. Bring me any paper with writing on it.”

  He couldn’t do that, it was outrageous. It was mutiny. Genseric had no authority—

  “No,” Genseric said. “But I have got sixty-five obedient marines.”

  “All right.” The captain got up and walked to the rail. “I’ll tell you. But—”

  Something in his voice. Not just fury and outraged sensibilities. Fear? “No, don’t bother,” Genseric said, resting his hand on the captain’s shoulder just firmly enough to push him back into his seat. “Sergeant, carry on.”

  The search was commendably quick and thorough. It produced the captain’s document case, containing his charts and recent correspondence, including the written orders. Genseric read them with interest, while two marines held the captain’s arms.

  “Full cooperation with the officer commanding,” he read out, “keep him fully informed at all times.” He lowered the paper. “Not what you said. Nothing about not telling us where we’re going, in fact quite the opposite.” He put the orders back in the document case and took out one of the charts. “Of course, I can’t read these things,” he said. “But I imagine someone on this boat can, beside yourself. I’ll bet you anything you like, wherever the hell we are, it’s not the shortest route from Beal Defoir to Callinica Bay. Also,” he went on, as the captain turned his head to avoid looking at him, “I think this thing can go much, much faster, and that makes me wonder why it isn’t. You wouldn’t be dawdling so someone can catch us up, would you?”

  The captain didn’t say anything. Genseric held out his hand; the sergeant who’d done the search handed him a small rosewood box. “One last thing,” Genseric said. “Are these yours?”

  No reply. Genseric opened the box and looked at the pack of cards; beautiful work, scrimshaw on thinly sawn whalebone. “Card-playing and other forms of gambling are strictly forbidden on board all navy ships,” he said. “Play a lot, do you?”

  The captain gave him a look of genuine terror. “It’s just a pack of cards,” he said.