by Mary Gentle
‘You think if Lord Videric’s back in power, he won’t make damn sure
to clear up every loose end? That he’ll let you run around loose, knowing
what you know?’
Ramiro Carrasco did not need to add, And I, with what I know?
This dread slicing coldly through me is not new. This wakes me at
nights – suppose what we plan is not enough?
As calmly as I might, I said, ‘You truly don’t believe this will succeed.’
Carrasco snorted as if he were a freeman. ‘I will not be responsible for
the deaths of my family!’
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The war-junk slowly tacking, the shift of sunlight altered all the tone
and values of his face.
He will have thought what Rekhmire’ and I have thought, because
Ramiro Carrasco is not stupid. Only at the frayed end of his rope.
‘Suppose I strike the rivets out, and take your collar off, and let you
run?’
His eyes widened. My fingers rummaged in the sack for a white chalk
to make highlights. Only a fool doesn’t use what tool there is to hand.
‘No!’ He got the word out with difficulty. ‘The sole reason he hasn’t
had me killed yet is that it’s more difficult to kill both you and I at once!’
‘Then we’ll continue to make it difficult for him . . . ’
Carrasco sat as if stunned.
To have refused your own freedom commits you – as I once
discovered – to much.
‘Two things,’ I said.
I put in the curls of his hair, tumbling over his forehead, and found my
skill not great enough to reproduce the confusion in his expression.
‘First, Ramiro Carrasco, if I come out of this conversation even
thinking you might kill yourself, you’ll leave this cabin in chains, and you’ll stay that way.’
Carrasco sat perfectly still, moving only with the minor movements of
the ship. I smudged in the values of his stubble in the sunlight, botched
it, and set the board and paper down at my feet.
‘Secondly, Onorata will need feeding soon. You do it.’
His face turned so rawly open that it was painful to watch.
He spoke barely above a whisper. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I made use of you before,’ I said, ‘on the Sekhmet. I trust you, now, not to hurt a child.’
Ramiro Carrasco stared.
I said, ‘Yes, there’s no honesty between master and slave – but I can’t
free you yet; as you say, I need to have that threat over Videric. So if you
have to trust me, then I have to trust you.’
He sat motionless – and all in a rush put his elbows on his knees and
his hands over his face.
I would let you have that privacy. But I need to see.
I reached forward and took his wrists, pulling his hands down.
Ramiro Carrasco stared away, sounding stifled. ‘You can’t do this! If
he demands of me—’
‘If I choose to have trust in you—’
Water shone in the creases of skin about his eyes. He wrenched it out
word by word: ‘If it was a choice – my father – my brothers – I would choose them over your child. You must know that!’
‘Then I’ll see you won’t be put where you have that choice to make.’
He made as if he would say something, struggled, and no word came
out.
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Rekhmire’’s tenor voice abruptly cracked through the silence in the
cabin. ‘Are you completely mad?’
The Egyptian stood in the cabin doorway.
Ramiro Carrasco sprang to his feet with the quickness of a man who
has been whipped for not doing so. His hands tore out of my grip.
I stood, slowly, heart hammering in my chest. ‘You were listening?’
The Egyptian snorted. ‘And Attila, too!’
Rekhmire’’s expression was one I did not recognise. Scorn, I realised
finally.
I have never seen him without his self-control—
Rekhmire’ limped into the cabin, to the window-port, gazing out as if
he did not see the masts and sails. Before I could speak, he swung
clumsily around on his heel.
‘What is it with you and your waifs and strays, Ilario? First Sulva.
Then this . . . spy.’
It would have hurt less, been less surprising, had he walked up and
slapped me in the face.
I raised my voice. ‘Attila!’
The German put his head around the door.
‘Take Ramiro down to the animal pens. He’ll milk the goat for the
baby.’
I stayed aware of them out of peripheral vision, my gaze locked with
Rekhmire’’s.
Some of Honorius’s authority evidently belonged to me by proxy;
Attila did not hesitate, but stepped in, jerking his thumb expressively at
Ramiro Carrasco. The slave-secretary moved as if his legs were made of
wet paper, stumbling out of the cabin in front of the soldier.
I kicked the door closed behind them. ‘Rekhmire’—’
‘I apologise.’ Rekhmire’ wiped his hand over his shaven scalp. ‘I know
Sulva – is not mine to discuss.’
Sitting abruptly down on the low chair behind me, I caught a brush
under my sandal and heard it crack.
I no longer look at the badly executed paintings I made of Sulva
Paziathe. The shape of her face is marked out by my guilt.
Rekhmire’ slid off his reed and linen headband, running the woven
length of it through his fingers. He snorted. ‘ Carrasco, on the other hand—’
‘We need to trust him.’
‘ Trust? ’ Rekhmire’ limped across the cabin and stood before me. The
short stick let him walk only with a swivelling limp.
This close, he smelled of the Alexandrine spices kept in his clothes
chest, and that different male sweat I had become used to in
Constantinople.
‘You can’t trust a slave. You should know this.’
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I glared. ‘We need him on our side, or Videric will have him back, one
way or another!’
It was not necessary to add that, spending months in our company,
Carrasco will have learned too much of what we plan to do.
Exasperated, Rekhmire’ snapped, ‘You know there’s no trust between
slave and master!’
‘No.’ I pushed the stool back squarely onto all its legs, and found
myself reaching out to the Egyptian’s large hands. ‘But sometimes it
begins there.’
A dark ruddy colour showed on his neck, growing to stain him at
cheek and brow.
It took me a moment to realise that I saw Rekhmire’ blushing.
‘I – that is – well—’ He opened his hands to me as if we had done it a
hundred times before.
His grip felt warm and strong.
‘ Some slaves,’ he muttered, remarkably apologetically.
I couldn’t help a cheerful barb in return. ‘I might rescue Ramiro
Carrasco de Luis; you needn’t act as if I’m about to marry him!’
‘Just as well, I think.’ Rekhmire’ stared at our hands. ‘Marrying three
times in the same year might be considered excessive.’
‘This must be why Ty-ameny values your opinion so much, book-
buyer – how keenly you see into a matter!’
He snorted.
I released Rekhmire’’s hands, stooping to rescue board and tinted
paper.
/> ‘I’ll draw you, too,’ I added, ‘if you’re jealous of that.’
The Egyptian stilled for a moment. He shot me a look. ‘I’m
transparent to you, evidently.’
Rekhmire’ did not smile, but somehow warmth suffused his expres-
sion.
‘I confess I would be curious to see the results of a sketch. But we
should speak with Zheng He first, and settle how long he’s prepared to
give us at Taraco.’
‘Long enough, I hope.’ I swept my hair back, tied it with a leather
thong, and re-buckled the thin leather belt (all I currently wore of my
Iberian clothing) over an Alexandrine tunic.
The ship is surely large enough to cause panic. Is large enough,
certainly, that I have felt no fear of the sea while aboard – as if I were not
on a ship at all, but a wooden island.
Rekhmire’’s head tilted, speculatively. ‘I estimate the crew of this ship
at between four and a half and five thousand Chin-men.’
‘And there are the weapons.’
It was necessary to look up, given the inches of difference in our
heights. Three parts of a year together: I read him so much more easily
than I do Carrasco.
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And now I see we have been thinking on parallel lines these last few days.
‘I’m concerned,’ I said.
He nodded.
I voiced it, nonetheless. ‘However long we’re here – how much of a
panic there is, when we appear off the coast of Taraco – we need King
Rodrigo to recall Videric. And . . . is this going to be enough?’
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3
A sound like ripping paper tensed all the muscles of my shoulders and
spine.
The rockets of Chin soared up from the launcher into the night sky.
Lights exploded.
‘ Kek and Keket! ’
‘Amen!’
Rekhmire’ put his hand up between his face and the luminous sky and
squinted. I rubbed the after-impressions of brilliance out of my eyes;
night vision entirely gone. I could make out nothing of the deck, the
rigging, the creaking sails, the crawling waves so far beneath the rail.
Seven bright lights sank down towards the blackness that was the coast
close to Taraco.
So near and I can see nothing of it!
I left home – for want of a better word – in August, in the sign of Leo,
Now the Twins rule the night sky. Two months short of a year. And it
feels at the same time no time, and an age. I might have stepped out of
the palace yesterday, or in the days of the Caesars and Barcas.
Rekhmire’’s arm brushed against mine, his skin warm. ‘I can only
imagine what the Royal Mathematicians would have done if the Admiral
had demonstrated these at Alexandria.’
I grinned. ‘Swarmed the ship, I think. If they had to swim to it!’
Anonymous figures jostled me in the dark, the crew moving around to
reload the launcher and send another shower of fire into the sky.
‘I see no explosion where they land. But there may be some part of the
weapon not yet used, if they only signal. I wonder . . . ’
The dark shapes of Attila and Tottola were at my shoulder. I could all
but feel them speculating if Zheng He would sell the secrets of such
weapons.
Not even to the Lion of Castile, I thought.
What I could see now of Admiral Zheng He, stroking his beard in the
lightning-coloured illumination, showed a man with the expression of a
civilised commander sending out a warning to barbarians.
I turned blindly in the direction of the cabins. ‘I imagine King Rodrigo
knows we’re here by now.’
There had been fishing boats in view since we sighted the Balearic
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Islands. If their captains hadn’t raised every sail to race to the mainland
and be paid for their information, I would be astounded.
King Rodrigo Sanguerra would first hold his few warships in reserve –
and now this monstrous vessel cleared the horizon, he would send them
up the coast or down it, but certainly out of our way.
I added, ‘We should make final plans, as much as we can.’
Rekhmire’’s hand gaining support from my shoulder, we steered a way
to the war-junk’s stern. The cabin held a welcome familiarity in the
golden lantern-light, that put gleams of gilding on cabinets and low
tables, and soft dark shadows in corners. Scattered Egyptian cushions
surrounded one of the tables, on which there were plates of food.
I helped Rekhmire’ sit; he swore under his breath – and aloud, as
Ramiro Carrasco came out of the inner cabin, Onorata rocking in his
arms.
I padded across to touch her warm, dozing face. ‘Did the noise wake
her?’
‘For a while.’ His tone was low. ‘But she sleeps again, mistress. Master.
Ah – shall I take her back to her cradle?’
I stroked Onorata’s fine hair, that had grown a wispy matt black. Her
eyelids screwed shut; her small sleeping mouth opened in a yawn, and
she made contented noises.
Not desiring to miss this moment of her being angelic – since I had
quite enough of her other moods – I reached to take her solid small body
into my arms. ‘I’ll settle her. You wait here.’
In the inner room, I put her down infinitely carefully; on her back in
the cradle as Ty-ameny’s nurses had advised me. I nodded to Tottola
and Attila, as Tottola settled himself on his palliasse, and Attila took up
his sword to guard the outer doors.
I did not begin my life under armed guard.
And I desire to make certain that she doesn’t need to – as soon as ever
I can.
Walking back into the main cabin, I encountered raised voices, and
snarled, ‘Quiet!’ in an intense whisper. ‘Don’t wake her!’
The two men fell silent as I sat by the low table. Ramiro Carrasco
looked at me from under his shaggy hair, and knelt down beside and
behind me.
‘You will have him present?’ Rekhmire’ spoke with the utmost polite
mildness.
I would sooner he shouted.
‘He was Aldra Videric’s man. We need to ask him questions.’ I
reached for a plate, unsure of what was before me. Stodgy clumps of
white stuff, like maggots, nevertheless tasted reasonably bland. I poked
among it with my fingers, removing sharp pickles. ‘I know you don’t
trust Ramiro Carrasco—’
Rekhmire’ arched a brow, all Alexandrine civility.
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I wish I might slap him!
‘Very well.’ I passed a dirty plate back to Carrasco. ‘I’ll call you when I
need you.’
As the door closed behind Carrasco, Rekhmire’ took up a small
translucent bowl, eating with a quick-fingered hunger that surprised me.
Between bites, he said, ‘Tell me reasons why – this ship may not be
enough?’
My hunger vanished.
I counted factors off on my fingers.
‘The opposition faction at Rodrigo’s court are right, in fact. Even if for
the wrong reason. Videric did endanger the country. He has robbed it of
stability. They see that as stemming from the scandal—’ I didn’t look up
at t
he Egyptian. ‘—which caused Carthage to be able to slap the King’s
wrist, and demand that Videric should be set aside as First Minister. I
know the nobles of Taraco. Even with the threat of something the size
of this war-junk, there’ll be some hot-heads who think it’s one ship, they
can capture it or destroy it.’
Rekhmire’ smiled his familiar hidden amusement. It failed to amuse
me.
I crossed my legs in the fashion of Carthage, and reached for the wine.
‘On the other hand . . . We go ashore, we explain this to Rodrigo, and I
promise you the King will find every way possible to make it work!
Because he will want Aldra Videric back.’
If I could have kept bitterness from my voice, I would have added,
Whether or not Videric tried to kill his freak offspring.
He remains the man that Rodrigo needs to see standing beside his
throne.
‘Is this—’ I gestured around at the cabin walls, and by implication the
vast ship itself. ‘—enough to make men forget last year’s scandal?’
Rekhmire’ tipped his bowl towards me in acknowledgement. ‘I’ve
asked the Admiral to permit no contact with the land. He’ll anchor here
offshore. We go in and speak to your King. That way the ship remains
an unknown threat, and more persuasive.’
‘Zheng He is determined to let no man aboard?’
Attila’s voice interrupted, from the shadows by the door. ‘Boats will
come out; they’ll sell fruit, wine, whores if they can. The captain and
officers can’t watch all their men all the time.’
I put my cup down. ‘Then I guarantee that within forty-eight hours,
Videric and half the counts and dukes of Rodrigo’s court will know about
the ship’s weapons, and anything else here on board.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Attila reassured. ‘Lord Honorius warned us you’d be in
danger; we’ll see you safe.’
There was a silence, in which I heard Carrasco’s movements in the
inner cabins, and the wind blew one of the shutters open. Standing and
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crossing the deck to latch it shut, I caught a face full of the wind off the
land.
Instantly, the scents brought back the colonnades of Rodrigo’s court.
As if I stood there, in the palace that has been home to me from the age
of fifteen.
But now I have travelled.
