Ethan had to give September that. He wasn’t afraid to ask for another’s opinions, and to change his own if their arguments proved better.
“I think our best bet is to proceed with our original plan and try to get this confederation of island-states started. If we go back to Brass Monkey and present Trell with a fait accompli, I don’t think he or whoever’s behind all this will try anything. No point in killing us when the monopoly’s effectively broken. Leastwise, I hope he’ll be that sensible.”
“Of course, this may all be so much endophin-swill and it may’ve been a local attack pure and simple.” He looked astern, to where the southern cliffs of Arsudun Isle had shrunk to the size of a modest bump on the horizon.
“We would have taken the ship,” the half-angry, half-frightened voice insisted, “were it not for the intervention of the sky-outlanders. They had with them the short knives that fight with pieces of sun.” Disgust colored the voice now.
“Of what use is sword or arrow against weapons that can pierce shields and set rafts afire?”
Calonnin Ro-Vijar slumped against the back of the massively timbered armchair and gazed out the third-floor window of the castle. From here, he could see down across the irregular roofs of the city and out across the harbor, could see up the strait almost to the open ice sea. By moving to another window nearby he could study the strange, smooth buildings of the humans and the three glassy bowls where their tiny vessels touched down out of the sky, vessels which brought riches beyond conception every time one arrived.
Riches now threatened.
He became aware of the other’s waiting stare, turned to face the worried noble who attended on him. They were alone in the Landgrave’s private quarters. This was necessary. The words they exchanged now were too dangerous to be overheard even by the most trusted members of his court. Hence he chose to receive Obel Kasin here and not in the chamber of formal audience.
He knew his continued silence was increasing Kasin’s nervousness. Still he did not speak, but watched the slim noble, noting the bandage across the side of his neck, the ragged tear badly patched in the membrane of his left dan, the bare places on his body where fur had been cut away.
“Be at your ease, noble Kasin. You did the best you could.”
“I am not,” the noble asked unsteadily, “to be punished for my failure?”
“I so promise.” Using both hands to help himself rise, Ro-Vijar then walked to stand next to the window. The glassalloy pane stretched from floor to ceiling and framed him unintentionally. It was larger than any other single piece of glass either made or imported into Arsudun. It was larger than any piece of glass Calonnin had ever heard of or imagined. Yet it was here, in his castle, come down to him from the heavens in one of the humans’ sky-ships. And he had been told and had come to believe that though it was no thicker than his smallest claw, it was stronger than the walls that bordered it.
“As you said,” he finally continued, “we cannot fight with swords and shields against the sky people’s light knives.” He looked back over a shoulder.
“But for all that, we will have that ship, Obel Kasin of Arsudun. One day our flag will fly from its stern and masts and it will stand at the front of the Arsudun fleet.” He did not add that some day in the future even the Slanderscree could be dispensed with. There were dreams he could as yet share with no one.
“We will have to use caution, and time this next attempt better. I will now take charge of this enterprise myself, noble Kasin. On your way out tell my Minister of Appointments—third door on your left, second level—to ready the Rinstaster. That is our best ship. I myself will pick her crew. We will dog the stern of this monster craft until the right opportunity presents itself, whereupon I will take it for Arsudun’s glory!”
“Yes, your lordship. May you go with the wind.” Genuflecting properly, he departed the room.
Calonnin considered the noble’s absence. Kasin had tried hard. His wounds proved his loyalty. There was nothing to be gained by punishing the noble. He knew better than anyone the superiority of the humans’ technology. Had he known the three on the great icerigger possessed energy weapons, he would not have ordered the attack.
Excused and commended, Kasin would be twice as trustable now. Ro-Vijar would undertake the task of capturing the icerigger and killing her crew and the humans allied with them because he could not trust anyone else to do it. No one else had his reason or fervor.
Until now he had kept himself hidden in this matter. He could do so no longer.
Dreaming, he pictured the huge ice boat, saw again its human-metal runners which did not wear out or crack on the ice as did stone and bone and wood, saw once more the well-made pika-pina sails and rigging. He imagined it as he’d described it to Kasin, sails full of wind, pennants and insignia of Arsudun flying from her high places.
And if his plans came to fruition, some day that great ship would be but a toy to sneer at. For a while, however, it would be good to possess her.
Though he could not hope to overtake the craft, it must eventually stop someplace. That would be the time for capture.
Distasteful as it would be, he had first to talk to the human Landgrave before he departed.
Jobius Trell received the Landgrave of Arsudun in his office. As the temperature inside was adjusted for human norm, the near-naked Landgrave suffered in brutally hot temperatures.
Trell had altered his midday schedule to receive Ro-Vijar. He wore a light orange service tunic open to the waist, light braid at waist, sleeves, and ankles. He greeted Ro-Vijar alone.
The Landgrave had likewise left his personal bodyguard outside the human’s building. Both men felt more comfortable that way. It gave them privacy and confidence, since each felt himself more than a fighting match for the other.
Ro-Vijar chose a couch rather than one of the narrow human chairs. Sitting straight despite the invitingly curved back, he ignored the tremendous heat that suffused the office as he regarded his human counterpartner. This was a little game they played. Whenever Trell came to visit Ro-Vijar in his castle, the Landgrave took particular delight in opening all the storm-shutters and windows so that the freezing winds of Tran-ky-ky could pour through whatever room they were in. Since Trell had to lift the mask of his survival suit indoors in order to keep custom unblemished by showing his face to his host, Ro-Vijar could enjoy the human’s discomfort as his skin reddened from the chill—though Trell pretended to be as relaxed and at ease as Ro-Vijar did now.
It was a fair exchange of favors. Trell had one slight advantage in detecting discomfort, however. Having no sweat glands, the Tran did not perspire. So Trell could tell that the Landgrave was feeling especially uncomfortable whenever he covered his mouth with a paw, in an attempt to conceal his lolling tongue and his heat-shedding panting. If he tried to go an entire visit without panting, his overheated body would cause him to black out. Very undignified.
“So they got away,” Trell was saying, getting down to business after the exchange of pleasantries had been concluded. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Worry not, friend Jobius,” Calonnin said reassuringly. “They have accomplished nothing, nor will they. I myself will follow with a crew of my best and most trusted soldiers. They will have to tie up that great hulking ship of theirs sometime to spread their vicious treasons. When they do, I will let circumstances determine my method. Whatever I eventually choose, it will be quite final and efficient.”
Trell was nodding. “Good, good.”
“The noble I placed in charge of this first attempt did what he could. He was defeated by the hand weapons of the three humans on the ship.” Settling himself into the disgustingly soft couch back, he forced himself to appear monumentally indifferent to Trell’s response to his next question.