Read A Working of Stars Online
Authors: Debra Doyle,James D. Macdonald
A Working of Stars (12 page)
“That’s cutting it close,” Maraganha said.
“His job to decide,” Haris said. “And the dabbers were running in shoals thick enough to beach a dinghy on … I’d have done the same thing, maybe. We’d have been all right, too, if the storm hadn’t turned, and instead of passing to the east of Gifla it came bearing straight down on the island instead, with
Ninefold Star
right in the way. We tried to make a run for it, but by then we were taking green water over the bow and couldn’t make headway. Maybe Cap’n Sellig could have gotten the engines to come through for him, but I don’t know. A big sea came aboard and took the main hatch cover, then another one right after filled the hold, and we started going down.”
Ninefold Star
right in the way. We tried to make a run for it, but by then we were taking green water over the bow and couldn’t make headway. Maybe Cap’n Sellig could have gotten the engines to come through for him, but I don’t know. A big sea came aboard and took the main hatch cover, then another one right after filled the hold, and we started going down.”
The old fisherman took another long pull of brew before continuing. “Everything went fast after that. We barely had time to launch the life raft and get all the crew aboard. The captain was the last to leave, or at least that’s what I thought. Narin had been with us up on deck—but when we counted heads on the raft, she wasn’t there.”
Haris’s glass was empty; Arekhon refilled it with more beer from the pitcher and said again, “Go on.”
“I’ll tell you the truth. At the time, all I thought was that it didn’t really matter if she was gone, because the rest of us would be coming right along after her—the storm wasn’t letting up and we hadn’t managed to get off a distress call before the
Star
went down. What happened next … I heard about it later from the rescue team, before the Fishing Office had a chance to decide that it hadn’t really happened that way at all.”
Star
went down. What happened next … I heard about it later from the rescue team, before the Fishing Office had a chance to decide that it hadn’t really happened that way at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“When the
Star
quit making her regular reports, the Fishing Office knew that she was in trouble—but this was the worst storm to hit Gifla since the end of the last war, and all hell was breaking loose on shore. The
Star
wasn’t the only vessel overdue or not reporting, and Dama Jerusa wasn’t going to throw away one of her teams on a random search for an old boat that had probably lost its comm rig in the blow.
Star
quit making her regular reports, the Fishing Office knew that she was in trouble—but this was the worst storm to hit Gifla since the end of the last war, and all hell was breaking loose on shore. The
Star
wasn’t the only vessel overdue or not reporting, and Dama Jerusa wasn’t going to throw away one of her teams on a random search for an old boat that had probably lost its comm rig in the blow.
“And then—” Haris paused “—this is the part you aren’t going to believe, but everyone saw it and they swear that it’s true—then the office door slammed open and Narin Iyal came in, soaked to the skin and dripping rain and seawater onto the floor like a sponge.
“So Dama Jerusa says, ‘Is
Ninefold Star
back in port already?’—thinking maybe Narin had hiked up to the office to make the report—and Narin says, ‘No. She’s gone down eight miles nor-nor’east of Skeppery Reef.’
Ninefold Star
back in port already?’—thinking maybe Narin had hiked up to the office to make the report—and Narin says, ‘No. She’s gone down eight miles nor-nor’east of Skeppery Reef.’
“Then she turned around and left again without saying another word. Dama Jerusa might have ignored her—but too many other people had seen and heard, and Skeppery Reef was right in the middle of where they’d have gone looking for us if they’d decided to do it on their own. So Dama Jerusa sent the rescue team out into the storm like it was all her own idea from the beginning, and sure enough they found us … all but Narin, and no one ever saw her again.”
“Was her body ever found?” Maraganha asked.
“No.”
“I see,” said Arekhon. “And that’s why the people in the Fishing Office won’t talk about her?”
Haris nodded, and took another long swallow of beer. “That’s right. It’s one thing to pull off a rescue because your office crew made some good calculations. Pulling it off because a ghost came in and gave you directions—that’s something else.”
“It wasn’t a ghost,” said Arekhon. “She was really there. She was a great Magelord, and she walked through the Void from Skeppery Reef to Gifla Harbor, all for the sake of her shipmates on
Ninefold Star.
”
Ninefold Star.
”
And she tried to go back,
he finished, in the privacy of his thoughts.
But without her Circle for an anchor, she was lost in the Void.
he finished, in the privacy of his thoughts.
But without her Circle for an anchor, she was lost in the Void.
“Eh?” Haris said. “What’s this ‘Magelord’ mean?
“Nothing,” Arekhon replied sadly. “Here, it means nothing at all.”
ERAASI: HANILAT ENTIBOR: ROSSELIN COTTAGE
W
earing masks was the fashion in the city these days, at least for people doing business in places and in company they might not want to acknowledge later. The Hanilat Ploughmen’s Club didn’t see much of their type; its members had all known one another for years, sometimes even for generations. The doorkeeper-
aiketh
admitting the afternoon’s first outside visitor was not equipped to feel surprise that she chose to wear a hard-shell half-mask covering her features from forehead to below the cheekbones. The human functionary who escorted her to a table in the private cardroom was another matter, but he was too polite, and too well trained in his work, to let his opinions show on his face.
earing masks was the fashion in the city these days, at least for people doing business in places and in company they might not want to acknowledge later. The Hanilat Ploughmen’s Club didn’t see much of their type; its members had all known one another for years, sometimes even for generations. The doorkeeper-
aiketh
admitting the afternoon’s first outside visitor was not equipped to feel surprise that she chose to wear a hard-shell half-mask covering her features from forehead to below the cheekbones. The human functionary who escorted her to a table in the private cardroom was another matter, but he was too polite, and too well trained in his work, to let his opinions show on his face.
Isayana sus-Khalgath took the offered chair and settled in to wait for the man she had come here to see. He was entering the dining room now, a big square-shouldered man with tanned skin like a farmer’s—though she supposed that common farmers never dressed so well, or had membership in an exclusive club like the Ploughmen’s. His eyes widened for a second when he saw that she’d come to the meeting masked, but the rest of his face didn’t change.
He took the seat opposite her at the table. “I don’t suppose you want me to welcome you here by name.”
“It wouldn’t be wise.”
“I can understand that.” He took a pack of cards out of the table drawer, broke the seal, and began to shuffle them. “We can play a round of break-and-braid while we talk. Five hundred points, or two-fifty?”
“Two-fifty will do.” She waited until he had dealt them each a hand of cards, then continued. “I’ve heard rumors that you don’t care for the sus-Peledaen.”
He picked up his hand of cards and sorted them. “There might be some truth in that. It’s not personal, though.”
“I’m relieved,” she said. “On what grounds, then?”
“The world isn’t what it was when I was young,” he said. “It used to be that the merchants and the landed families were what held everything together, and not the star-lords.”
“Times change. When
I
was young, we didn’t know for certain that there were Mages on Ninglin. Now half our ships’ crews are from there.”
I
was young, we didn’t know for certain that there were Mages on Ninglin. Now half our ships’ crews are from there.”
“And your big ships never touch the ground at all,” he said. “That’s the part I don’t like. If the sus-Peledaen rule everything, and rule it from space, who’s left to take care of things on the ground?”
“A good point,” Isayana said. She’d made it to Natelth herself, in fact, and more than once, during his push to extend fleet-family control out beyond Eraasi’s orbital space. He hadn’t listened—ironic, given her brother’s own dislike of working at or visiting the family’s strongholds outside of planetary gravity, but Na’e had never been one to let personal comfort or affection get in the way of what he saw as the family’s best interest.
And he’ll never be persuaded that what he sees is wrong. Especially now that he’s managed to annex the sus-Dariv family assets as well.
Isayana laid down her first three cards. Their values made a good start on a braided line. syn-Arvedan could opt to continue the braid, or to tear it apart, depending on the cards in his own hand and upon whether he felt like playing this hand in the slow, cooperative mode or the fast and vicious one.
Break-and-braid was a lot like life that way, she reflected. You never knew in advance which version the other person was playing, and a game could change modes two or three times before the end.
Syn-Arvedan laid down two cards—building on the braid, Isayana noted with interest. Maybe it was the only thing he could do with the cards he held; maybe it was a preferred style of play. Either way, she could take it as a good omen.
She said, “What do you think? If the fleet-families can’t take care of planetary matters, then who should?”
“You know my opinions on that issue already,” he said. “At the moment—considering that you were the one asking for this meeting—I’m curious about yours.”
She pulled a card out of her hand and laid it down, stretching the braid even further. “I believe that you and I have some feelings in common.”
He paused, his hand already touching the next card, ready to pull it out and lay it down. “Somehow, I don’t think you went to all the trouble of arranging this meeting so the two of us could play cards. What is it that you want?”
“An alliance,” she said. “I have certain projects—various investigations and ongoing researches—that are withering away under my brother’s disregard. I need somebody outside the family to sponsor them.”
His hand moved away from the card he had initially chosen, and pulled out another. He laid the new card down—still building the braid—and said, “If I’m going to sponsor any researches, I want first refusal on the fruits of them.”
“Of course,” she said. Three cards from her hand this time, extending the braid yet again, and she was out for this hand. “If the syn-Arvedan want to make themselves into the first family on Eraasi—and take on my brother while they’re doing it—they’re going to need the help. We have a bargain, then?”
“An arrangement.” syn-Arvedan looked at the cards on the table.
Isa knew from his earlier hesitation that he had at least one breaking card left in his hand. This would be his last play; with it, he could either destroy their braid or tie it off. He put one of his cards into the discard pile, and laid down the ones remaining to tie off the braid. “Yes. We have an arrangement.”
The journey by island-skimmer back to Tifset took place in subdued quiet. Arekhon had lost his taste for idle conversation after the interview with Juchi Haris, and sat hunched and brooding on one of the open-air deck-benches. Maraganha left him alone and spent most of the trip looking out over the rail at the open ocean and watching the seabirds wheel about overhead. They were about fifteen minutes out from Tifset when she came back and sat down next to him.
“We have to go back to the Guildhouse,” she said. “The one in—where was it?—Cazdel. Where your friend lives.”
Arekhon found the thought a painful one, but he nodded. “You’re right. I have to let Ty know what happened to Narin. He doesn’t deserve to hear it secondhand.”
“No—but that’s not the reason we have to go back.”
“Then what is?”
“You do know that she isn’t dead, don’t you?”
The sea breeze gusted and blew his hair forward across his face. One of the seabirds let out a long, harsh cry as it arrowed past him and down to pick up something from the froth at the top of a wave. He drew a careful breath, reminding himself that he was talking with a Void-walker and a great Magelord—who might not necessarily see the universe in the same terms as other people—and said, “What do you mean exactly, that she isn’t dead?”
“You said yourself that Narin Iyal must have gotten lost in the Void, while she was trying to get back to her shipmates in distress.”
He nodded bitter agreement. “And died there. Yes.”
“You’re forgetting—time means nothing in the Void. If she
was
lost, then she still
is
lost.”
was
lost, then she still
is
lost.”
“And you’re proposing that the two of us go looking for her?”
“You and I,” said Maraganha. “And your friend from the Cazdel Guildhouse.”
“Just the three of us?” He was hard put to keep the disbelief from his voice. “The last time I saw a Magelord walk any distance through the Void, it took a great working to accomplish the fact, and the Second of our Circle gave his life to it.”
“Some techniques get easier with practice,” she said. “As it turns out, Void-walking is one of them. But actually bringing a person back takes help.”
Len took
Fire-on-the-Hilltops
into Eraasi nearspace nice and slow. He’d already made one risky close-in Void-translation, and had no desire to push his luck with a second—not so long as he was on record as a sus-Dariv contract carrier in a system where the sus-Peledaen warships made regular patrols. He couldn’t afford to come to the notice of that particular fleet-family, not until he’d made it safely back to Hanilat and unburdened himself of his dangerous knowledge. Let any of the sus-Peledaen suspect what he knew, and he’d be handed over to their security forces—or worse, to one of their Circles—before he had time to run.
Fire-on-the-Hilltops
into Eraasi nearspace nice and slow. He’d already made one risky close-in Void-translation, and had no desire to push his luck with a second—not so long as he was on record as a sus-Dariv contract carrier in a system where the sus-Peledaen warships made regular patrols. He couldn’t afford to come to the notice of that particular fleet-family, not until he’d made it safely back to Hanilat and unburdened himself of his dangerous knowledge. Let any of the sus-Peledaen suspect what he knew, and he’d be handed over to their security forces—or worse, to one of their Circles—before he had time to run.
He spent his free time during the approach in expunging all traces of his meeting with the sus-Dariv vessel from the
Fire’
s ship-mind. It was a finicky job, first removing the unwanted memories and then knitting together a fabric of lies and alterations to stretch across the gaps. For once, though, the
Fire
’s age and her general crankiness worked in his favor. Any blips and stutters that remained could be blamed on the vagaries of an obsolete and decaying system.
Fire’
s ship-mind. It was a finicky job, first removing the unwanted memories and then knitting together a fabric of lies and alterations to stretch across the gaps. For once, though, the
Fire
’s age and her general crankiness worked in his favor. Any blips and stutters that remained could be blamed on the vagaries of an obsolete and decaying system.
“I don’t want to insult you in front of strangers, old girl,” he said as he finished making the last of the changes, “but I will if I have to. If those sus-Peledaen pirates find out our little secret, they’ll kill me and break you up for scrap.”
To his considerable relief, however, he didn’t have to go so far as to speak ill of his own ship. The nearspace patrols let him pass into Eraasian orbit with only routine questions. Nobody paid much attention to contract carriers, after all. They certainly weren’t a threat to anyone’s security.
He set the
Fire
down on the landing field at Hanilat, and went through the formalities of turning over his cargo to the various parties who had contracted with the sus-Dariv for its delivery. What he learned during the process was disturbing, to put it mildly.
Fire
down on the landing field at Hanilat, and went through the formalities of turning over his cargo to the various parties who had contracted with the sus-Dariv for its delivery. What he learned during the process was disturbing, to put it mildly.
The loss of the fleet was already a matter of common knowledge—one of the guardships had launched a final despairing message drone before falling to the pirates—but the identity of the attackers remained unknown. What was worse, though, from Len’s point of view, was that all the people he might have approached with his secret information were also gone. Somebody had wiped the names of an entire generation off of the sus-Dariv family tablets in a single night.
Len found the news of an incendiary device beneath the Court of Two Colors to be shocking but, in light of his private knowledge, not as surprising as it should have been. With all of his contacts in the senior lines lost in one attack or the other, though, he was hard put to figure out what to do next. He had to tell his news to somebody, if only to spread out the burden, but it looked as if all the people who ought to hear it were dead. And under the circumstances, this didn’t feel like a good time to ask questions.
Meanwhile, he began the process of looking for another contract. He still had to eat, and he still had to make the payments on the
Fire.
He put his name up on the looking-for-contracts roster at the pilots’ hiring-hall, and checked it at least twice a day. On the third day, he found a message posted for him in reply, the offer of a possible cargo, and the time and place for a meeting: two hours before noon, at the breakfast shop outside the gated landing field.
Fire.
He put his name up on the looking-for-contracts roster at the pilots’ hiring-hall, and checked it at least twice a day. On the third day, he found a message posted for him in reply, the offer of a possible cargo, and the time and place for a meeting: two hours before noon, at the breakfast shop outside the gated landing field.
Len was there early, dressed in his good clothes. He ordered a cup of
uffa
and a plate of mixed pastries, and alternately nibbled and sipped while he waited. Precisely on the hour appointed, a man and a woman entered the shop and sat down at the table across from him.
uffa
and a plate of mixed pastries, and alternately nibbled and sipped while he waited. Precisely on the hour appointed, a man and a woman entered the shop and sat down at the table across from him.
“We understand from the message boards that you’re looking for a new contract,” the man said. He was lean and dark-haired, and dressed in clothes that looked like they’d been bought secondhand. The woman was smaller and not quite as shabby; and when he looked at her a second time, he saw that she carried a Mage’s staff clipped to her belt.
“That’s right,” Len said, even though the hair on the back of his neck wanted to stand up. Getting involved with the Circles was never a good idea for an independent, especially these days.
“I did some looking,” the man continued. “You worked for the sus-Dariv, your last couple of runs.”
“I’m not making a secret of it. If it makes you worried about my luck … well, I’m here now and so’s my cargo. Even it did come with sus-Dariv paperwork.”
“Point taken,” the woman said. “Unlike our late friends, you appear to have excellent luck.”
She had a pleasant voice, but Len could feel the strength in it. He wondered if she and the man were sus-Peledaen operatives, then decided that they probably weren’t. The way things were going on Eraasi these days, if these were Lord Natelth’s agents they would already have picked him up and hauled him away for questioning.
The man said, more quietly than before, “What we’re wondering is whether your luck happened to get entangled—however briefly—with that of the sus-Dariv during this most recent run.”
Len set down his
uffa
and stood up. “I’m very sorry, but right now I don’t think it’s healthy to talk about things like that. I really must be going.”
uffa
and stood up. “I’m very sorry, but right now I don’t think it’s healthy to talk about things like that. I really must be going.”
“Stay,” said the woman. “Please.”
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