by Tim Stretton
‘N’ brushed a breeze-blown hair back from her eyes. “No doubt you will have assessed the probability of Liudas negotiating a successful passage between The Sorcerers.”
Mirko pursed his lips. “Since you ask, I have; I rate the probability sufficiently close to zero that I would not attempt it. Serendipity will go around the outside.”
‘N’ smiled and nodded. “You are wise, although I am not convinced that even that route is within Liudas’ capacity. There are only three current helms who could negotiate The Sorcerers the fast way: Drallenkoop, who did so to win his first Margariad; Raïdis of Excelsior, who has done so in practice; and your new friend Minalgas Inisse, who took Animaxian’s Glory through to impress Ratzendila last season.”
“Where is this going, ‘N’?” asked Mirko, the name of Minalgas Inisse putting an edge in his voice.
“However creditably you performed in yesterday’s trials, you cannot possibly beat Dragonchaser when it counts. With Liudas at the helm, you need to be so far ahead of her by The Sorcerers that you can take the long route and still come out ahead. You need to set Garganet pride aside and realise: this is a race you cannot win.”
“We’ll see.”
“Mirko, no! You don’t understand the essential point.”
“Unlike you.”
“It is in both of our interests that you understand my full meaning.”
“I’m listening.”
“Yesterday you surprised everyone — everyone — by out-pacing Dragonchaser. You surprised Drallenkoop, and his wily old father; deep down even Bartazan would have been surprised. I’ll freely admit you surprised me. You remember all those vested interests we talked about last time: Giedrus, the tax-collectors, the office-holders; I’ve no doubt they were amazed too.”
“Good.”
“No! It’s not good at all! Not for me, and certainly not for you!” ‘N’s cheeks had spots of red and her eyes were alight. “Since yesterday, people are seriously believing you can win the Margariad: that’s lunacy. You can’t, but what’s important is that people think you can — and that includes people who can damage both of us. That puts you in danger.”
Mirko lay on his back and looked up into the sky. “Are you saying I should throw the race?”
“You can only throw it if you can win it to start with. My honest, personal advice to you is to get out while you still can; and if you must know, that goes against my interests. But it’s the best thing for you to do. If you can’t or won’t do that, at least stop carrying yourself as if you can beat Dragonchaser. Next time you come up against her, come off second best.”
Mirko laughed. “You should have seen us today. I doubt we’d have beaten a provisions barge. We were awful, and that was with no Liudas.”
“Good,” said ‘N’ softly. “I know you discount anything I say, but I genuinely do want to avoid anything happening to you. For several reasons.”
“What new assignment is this leading to?”
“I’m talking to you without ulterior motive,” she said with a smile, “if you can believe that. Didn’t I help you with Padizan?”
Mirko sat up with a start. “Padizan! Are you proud of that?”
“Padizan’s death was unfortunate; but my involvement in it was peripheral.”
“If your talk about personal regard for me is not just rhetoric, you’ll tell me exactly what happened after we parted yesterday.”
‘N’ nodded slowly. “I’ll tell you as much as I can. It was essential that Bartazan should be prevented from conducting widespread interviews. We don’t know who heard you in the corridors, but their information could have become significant at any time. I needed to misdirect Bartazan immediately.
“I have good intelligence on the characters of just about everyone inside Formello, and I knew that Padizan could be bribed. You need not be concerned by the methods by which I spirited Padizan away from Formello, nor the money and estate which I caused to be settled on him. It’s enough to know that my friends arranged immediate affluence for Padizan on condition that he make the public confession which I’m sure you saw.”
Mirko nodded.
“Padizan, now a man of means, became steadily more drunk throughout the day. Once he had concluded his confession he somehow eluded his minders. The next anyone saw of him, his head was on a platter at Formello.”
“Convenient for you.”
“It would have been if he’d died at the outset; but once he’d made the confession, there was no harm in me or my friends standing by the bargain. Indeed, his presence around town would have proved embarrassing for Bartazan, and so highly welcome.”
Mirko was quiet for a few seconds. He turned to look at ‘N’.
“ ‘N’, do you realise I have that man’s death on my conscience?”
‘N’ looked back gently. “I can understand it might seem that way; but you acted for the best, and only Bartazan and his henchmen are responsible for Padizan’s death. Rescuing Inisse was a good act, regardless of the consequences, or whether it was politically inadvisable. You can’t blame yourself.”
“I didn’t even do it for any creditable motive; I did it partly to impress you and partly to spite you; not a good basis to end a man’s life.”
‘N’ looked deep into Mirko’s eyes. Her own were bottomless dark pools. “You have achieved your ends. I can’t help it that impressing me proved not to be worth the price.”
She looked away in something approaching embarrassment.
“ ‘N’, what could be worth a man’s life? Or hearing Larien tell you all about how Padizan was kind to her when she was a girl and then how she—”
“Enough. I feel guilty too, you know. I tried to set matters straight and it didn’t work.”
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel …”
“I know. And Mirko …”
“Go on.”
“Don’t get too attached to Larien.”
“You’re the second person to tell me that today.”
“This isn’t agent talk, Mirko. For your own peace of mind, don’t trust her too much.”
Mirko squinted at her. “I seem to remember that you’re the one who—”
“I know that, and I need you to be — or at to least to seem — close to her. It’s an important part of the work you’re doing. But don’t trust her — or think it means anything.”
Mirko stood up sharply. “Can’t you ever stop manipulating people? You told me to get close to Larien: now you tell me not to. Well, it’s too late! I am close to her. Bartazan told me she was out of my league, and threatened me with Minalgas Inisse; that didn’t work. And neither will your dark hints about ‘don’t trust her’.”
‘N’ looked away; Mirko couldn’t tell if she was angry or upset.
“I didn’t have to tell you this,” she said, her voice throbbing with emotion. “The easiest and best thing for me would just be to let you fall in love with her. And of course you would; she’s young, she’s beautiful, she’s charming — how could you resist her? I could just let it happen, and she’d break your heart and I wouldn’t care and none of it would matter and I’d just move on to wrecking other people’s lives and tell myself that it’s all for the best …”
“ ‘Let it happen’? Is that how you see it, ‘N’? People don’t need your permission to have —”
“Oh, you don’t understand! You just don’t understand! I’m trying to help you!”
“If I were dealing with a less temperate woman I’d say you were jealous.”
‘N’ wheeled to face him, and slapped him hard across the face.
“Don’t you ever speak to me that way again, or presume to understand my motivations!” She threw down a pouch filled with coins. “There’s your douceur; in exactly two minutes I am going to shoot you if I can see you. I’d start riding now.”
Mirko said nothing and moved towards Boodle. He turned back and picked up the pouch. “I assume someone somewhere will miss Padizan,” he said, and tucked the pouch inside h
is coat. Leaping aboard Boodle he rode off without a backward glance.
CHAPTER 12
M
irko had no leisure to spare for reflection on either Larien or ‘N’ the next day. The morning was devoted to a strenuous practice session with Serendipity, and he was pleased to note a marked improvement in both attitude and performance. He challenged Excelsior to a sprint as far as the Morvellos, careful to specify a course with no sharp turns. Excelsior, which had been rowing particularly well of late, came out a length and a half ahead. Mirko was largely satisfied.
Mirko noticed that Animaxian’s Glory was out on the water again, and as they rowed past on the way to dock, he saw that Minalgas Inisse was at the helm. Animaxian’s Glory was not one of the best galleys; although Inisse was among the best helms, her crew was undermined by a sense of fatalism which prevented her from reaching the greatest heights of performance.
Inisse studiedly ignored Serendipity as she came past — the Azure was not a livery to evoke any cordial emotion, and he remained unaware of the part her crew had played in his release. The man he must associate with his liberty was now dead. The thought sparked off an idea in Mirko’s mind.
After taking a convivial lunch with Liudas and Excelsior’s officers Raïdis and Haïdis, Mirko went back to his lodgings to collect the pouch of coins ‘N’ had given him. He had learned that Padizan had supported a spinster sister out on the farmland away to the east of the town, and he took Boodle out in that direction.
Fording the River Ghesp at low tide, he soon found himself in country largely unfamiliar. Farmsteads dotted the banks of the Ghesp until the foothills of the Namadar Mountains. Mirko passed dozens as he rode along the towpath, stopping occasionally to ask how far remained to Padizan’s old cottage.
After a ride of an hour so up into the foothills Mirko came at last to Green Acres, the farm Padizan had shared with Nadien, his sister. Out at the front of the cottage, small and ramshackle, were two slaves.
“I am looking for Mistress Nadien,” he said. “Is she at home?”
The taller of the slaves looked up. “Who is asking?”
“My name is — simply tell her a friend of her brother’s.”
The slave moved lazily into the house, and after a short delay Mistress Nadien herself appeared, her back bent from years of labour and her face tanned and lined from long exposure to the elements.
“I am Nadien,” she said with greater confidence and dignity than Mirko had expected. “I don’t believe you announced yourself.”
Mirko sighed and dismounted Boodle. With a courteous but not obsequious — or so he hoped — bow, he said: “My name is Ascalon; I was formerly a Garganet naval officer, and I used to deal with your brother at Formello.”
Nadien frowned. “This is not a good start. I take it you work for — Bartazan?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Yes or no? It’s not that difficult. Either you work for the man who killed my brother or you don’t. Which is it to be?”
“I have no reason to deceive you; I am employed by Bartazan as a galley-master.”
Nadien’s face hardened. “I cannot imagine anything you have to say to me that I’d want to hear.”
Mirko looked around the farmstead; the building did not appear in the best repair, and the slaves did not have the stamp of prime quality.
“Mistress Nadien,” he said. “Padizan’s death must have left you — not well circumstanced. I am sure this is not a situation he would have desired. Your brother had many friends at Formello, and some of them have wished to show their friendship in gold. It cannot bring Padizan back, but it may alleviate some of your suffering.” He held out the pouch.
Nadien reached out and took it. “I believe this is known as conscience-money,” she said. “I will not deny I need it, and as such I will accept it — but I do not believe your story. A galley-master is an important man to Bartazan, and I cannot believe you are here without his knowledge. This money comes from him, which is the only reason I take it. You sir, a jackanapes, a bought man, inspire nothing but my deepest revulsion and contempt. Go now, before I set Etten and Sallar on you.”
The slaves did not look enthusiastic at the prospect of attacking an armed Mirko, but nonetheless he bowed and mounted Boodle.
“You may be right, Mistress, that this is conscience-money; but please be assured that it does not come from Bartazan. There are plenty of people who do not sleep easy at your brother’s death.”
Digging his heels into Boodle’s flanks he rode back off down the towpath, feeling no better than he had before he’d come.
On returning to his lodgings, Mirko found two letters awaiting him. One appeared to be from ‘N’, and this he set aside; he did not recognise the script on the other, which he opened first.
My Dear Mirko,
Please accept my apologies for my intemperate conduct at Formello. I am sure you can understand that I was immeasurably shocked and distressed at my uncle’s actions, and this left me unable to appreciate the kind attentions of the only friend I have left in Formello.
My brother Carnazan has left Formello today. He is my uncle’s heir but they have quarrelled over that good man Padizan. I do not know where he has gone or when he will return.
My only society is my aunt, who is triumphing in my loneliness, and Liudas, who has become increasingly distrait of late.
I am sorry that I have quarrelled with someone who means as much to me as you have come to mean. I understand why you must race Serendipity as hard as you can, and to show this I would be honoured if you would take me aboard the galley next time she goes out.
Dear Mirko, can you forgive me?
Foolish and unhappy,
Larien.
Mirko was moved in spite of himself. How could ‘N’ say ‘don’t become too attached to her’ when she could write a letter like that? And without Carnazan, her existence would be miserable indeed.
Next he turned to the letter from ‘N’, noting with surprise that it was not in cipher.
‘G’
Please accept my apologies for my intemperate conduct on the Cliffs. I should not have spoken to you or acted the way I did. Particularly I am embarrassed to have lost my temper and struck you; I prize my self-control above all other virtues and I have injured myself at least as much in my own estimation as I must have done in yours.
I would be sorry to have forfeited the personal regard you have shown me — not least by your daring recent escapade — through my immoderacy. Be assured that I value your abilities as an agent more as time goes on.
I hope you will bear this in mind as I reiterate the important observations I made on the Cliff:
1. You are in grave personal danger if it seems you have a serious chance of winning the Margariad.
2. Any emotional involvement you have with Larien can only end in dismay.
I make both of these points in a spirit of professionalism and not in any way through the baser motivations which you falsely attributed to me yesterday.
I will contact you in due course to learn of any further information you may have for me.
‘N’
Mirko smiled as he lay the letter down. ‘N’ may have been rattled into omitting to cipher, but in every other respect the letter was characteristic of her behaviour: a sincere but limited apology concentrating more on her self-image than any offence to Mirko; and further emphasis on the points she had promoted so strongly before. At least, he thought, he knew where he was with ‘N’: would that he could say the same about Larien.
CHAPTER 13
T
he next morning Mirko detected a real tension about the Jurbarkas Docks: it was less than a week to The Sorcerers Regatta, the last major race before the Margariad itself. He marched at the head of the crew down the jetty towards Serendipity’s mooring, noting the mood of the galleys he passed. Animaxian’s Glory appeared calm and disciplined, her overseer Farisse commending her crew to greater zeal in scrubbing down her side
s. Morvellos Devil was affixing a new orange mermaid pennant and her master Lammerkin was tense and alert as he supervised the positioning of his crew. Daumantas seemed relaxed at the helm of Kestrel as she pulled away from her jetty; her chances of winning any of the races were minimal and this seemed reflected in her master’s composure.
The two galleys which Mirko feared were Excelsior and Dragonchaser, who sandwiched Serendipity at the end of the jetty. He noticed a bookmaker with a placard standing nearby:
BET ON THE SORCERERS REGATTA!
WHO WILL WIN?
10 VALUT WILL WIN YOU THE FOLLOWING SUMS, ASSUMING ONLY YOU ARE CORRECT!
Dragonchaser
12 val.
Excelsior
40 val.
Morvellos Devil
50 val.
Serendipity
65 val.
Animaxian’s Glory
80 val.
Kestrel
125 val.
Other galleys on application
Mirko felt that the odds reflected reputation rather than recent form. Serendipity had outperformed Morvellos Devil over the past few sessions. The odds on Dragonchaser were short of generous, but given her invincibility in races over the past three years this was hardly surprising.
Mirko gave a cheery greeting to Raïdis and Haïdis as he approached Excelsior, indicating the odds board with his head. Raïdis laughed derisively. “Back us, Ascalon — we’re going well and Dragonchaser will finish in our wake!”
“We’ll see! Serendipity is running well too!”
Drallenkoop sauntered over. “Save your money, gentlemen. Dragonchaser has been putting in double practice, and we can sustain a high tempo for an unparalleled time. I’m confident of victory.”
“So is Gintas, judging by those odds,” said Raïdis. “Do you even back yourself at such margins?”
“Why, of course,” replied Drallenkoop, smoothing his hair back in the breeze. “If we win, it’s easy money, so if I don’t bet, I’m backing us to lose — and who’s going to beat us? Raïdis, your crew don’t believe it — and neither do you. And Ascalon, you have neither the helm nor the belief for victory. Inisse lacks the coolness of judgement, and Hellence of Morvellos Devil is too old to helm with real boldness. No, earn yourself some valut: back Dragonchaser!”
