Isles of the Forsaken (44 page)

“I don’t want you out there, just a girl—”

“Tiarch was just a girl once!” Hegerly said indignantly.

Harg tried to picture it, and couldn’t. “I’ll be outside,” he said. As he walked out into the barnyard he could hear raised voices within, and was glad to be free from such tender ties.

He never knew how she did it, but an hour later he was sitting beside Hegerly in a donkey cart full of chickens, bound for Croom. Behind the seat lay the old musket Birek had insisted she take, sternly charging her to be home before nightfall. She whistled gaily as they bumped down the rutted road through the oak woods.

His companion’s gaiety and the bright sun only brought out Harg’s anxiety. So far, everything he had done in Tornabay had gone awry. Spaeth was still missing, and Goth unrescued. His three friends might be captured, or dead. He had no idea what he was going to do in Croom. There was no reason to think he could do anything.

“What are you thinking?” Hegerly asked.

Bunching his fists tensely, Harg said, “Don’t ever become my friend, Hegerly. All my friends end up in trouble.”

She was silent a moment, then said, “My father warned me you were a spy.”

“What?” he looked at her, startled.

“It was the way you reacted to the news about Commodore Joffrey. Joffrey’s got a whole network of spies, he said. He thinks you were probably an agent among the rebels, being Adaina and having a South Chain accent and all. He said you might be a go-between in the secret negotiations.”

“Well, it’s not true,” Harg said. “I’m not a spy.”

“He said you’d say that, too. Here, hold the reins.” To Harg’s astonishment, she squirmed out of her skirt, revealing boys’ breeches underneath. She reached into the back of the cart, found a cap, and stuffed her hair up into it. Once the transformation was complete, she took the reins again and said, “I’m running away. I’m going to join the Navy.”

Harg groaned. “You crazy girl! It’s not some sort of game, you know.”

“I know.” She eyed him shyly. “I want to be a spy, like you. I’d be good; no one would suspect me. Will you take me to Commodore Joffrey?”

“No. You’re not going anywhere but home.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Listen, how old are you? Fifteen?”

“Sixteen,” she said, offended.

“Well, you have to be eighteen to be a spy.”

“Oh.” She turned back to the driving, disappointed.

Croom lay on the south side of the island, and Hegerly knew a thousand back-road cutoffs. When they finally emerged onto a thoroughfare, it was crowded with traffic, mostly farm carts like their own. Though Harg kept a close watch, he saw no sign of Inning patrols. It seemed Birek’s claim that the Innings were penned into the city was true.

They came to the south shore a little past noon. Here, the coast of Embo was ringed by a tall sea cliff like a sheer guardian wall. The line of traffic slowed almost to a stop where the road came to the edge. They could see far out across the Inner Chain, the misty blue shapes of islands dotting the water. The port nestled below, at the foot of the cliff. As they waited in line, Harg stood on the seat to look, swearing softly in astonishment.

Seventeen ships lay at anchor in the harbour below—three of the huge warships, seven armed frigates, the rest sloops and supply boats. It was at least three quarters of the Northern Squadron. The wharf was a mass of people, and lighters swarmed between the ships and shore.

Hegerly nosed the cart forward onto the steep switchback road that led down the cliff. It was packed with carts and caravans making their patient way down, like beads of water on a string. Caught in the long, single-file procession, Harg thought about what to do. The security around Tiarch would probably be tight, and the chances that he could get in to see her just by asking were nil. He was going to need a go-between, and some money.

“Hegerly,” he said reluctantly, “I don’t have any money on me. You’ll be selling your chickens. . . .”

She eyed him. “Will you take me to Commodore Joffrey?”

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I get in contact with my friends here.”

“You mean Commodore Joffrey?”

Harg gritted his teeth. “Yes. All right, I’ll take you to him.”

They soon plunged into the seething activity of the port. As their cart clattered over the paving bricks along the waterfront, they were surrounded by the shouts of the longshoremen, the rumble of rolling barrels, and the staccato echo of hammers. A soldier directing traffic waved them toward a crowded market where Hegerly soon bargained away her chickens and milk. Harg had to restrain her from selling the cart and donkey as well. The money was a paltry bribe, but it would have to do.

The first soldier he asked about Joffrey’s whereabouts simply laughed at him; the second brushed him off; the third ordered him away. After days of trying to avoid notice, Harg suddenly felt completely invisible. Standing in the crowded street, he felt like shouting out, “Here I am, Harg Ismol, rebel from the South Chain! Come and arrest me!” He suspected no one would bother. Other foes were on their minds now.

From her cart, Hegerly was watching him a little sceptically. “Don’t you have code words and signals?” she asked.

“Yes, they’re just so secret no one knows them.”

“Oh,” Hegerly said.

There was a crowd ahead where a mound of sacks and kegs was overflowing from a dock and obstructing the street. Watching, Harg realized the jam was caused by security officers inspecting every item being loaded. “That’s the dock for Tiarch’s flagship, I’ll wager,” Harg said. Then he was sprinting down the street toward it.

The security officer in charge was inspecting a crate of fruit when Harg sidled up and said in a low voice, “I’ve got a warning.”

He suddenly turned visible. The officer looked him up and down, then said in a low voice, “What?”

“It’s for Commodore Joffrey’s ears alone. There’s someone here he wants to know about. Someone from Thimish. Can you take me to Joffrey?”

“I can pass your information along to the appropriate authority,” the officer said.

Harg pressed Hegerly’s money into the man’s hand. “Get the message to Joffrey, and you’ll be rewarded. Call him ‘Jobin’ and he’ll know it’s real. I’ll wait in that cart over there.”

The officer turned back to his task without an answer, and Harg walked back to where Hegerly waited. “Well?” she said impatiently.

“Now we wait and see.”

They waited over two hours. By the end, Harg was pacing tensely. At last Hegerly tapped his shoulder and said, “Someone’s coming.”

A six-oared skiff had pulled away from the flagship. As it threaded through the water traffic, Harg heard the tread of a guard troop approaching. They lined up on the dock and presented their muskets as the skiff drew up, oars aloft.

“By the root, I think we snagged our fish,” Harg said. “That’s Commodore Joffrey, Hegerly.”

He had never seen Joffrey in uniform before. The man looked like every Torna officer who had every condescended to him in the navy, in his immaculate dress blues, his fastidious little moustache. The Commodore saluted the guard crisply, then turned to scan the waterfront. Harg stood leaning casually against the cart. Joffrey walked down the dock; the soldiers followed.

When they were face to face, Joffrey said, “I thought it would be you. None of your friends would be so insane.” His expression was as stiff as his boots.

“Glad to see you, too, Jobin,” Harg said.

“They reported you were drowned.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Oh, I’m quite happy you got in touch. Tiarch already issued standing orders in case you turned up. You realize, if we hand you over to the Innings it would put the lie to the claim that she turned traitor.”

With a wary glance at the guard troop, Harg said, “Is that what Tiarch wants? To go back to serving a faithless master who cast her away once and would do it again?”

“With you as evidence, she could take her case over his head, to the High Court.”

“Let me see,” Harg mused, “What was the name of the Chief Justice? Oh, I remember now. Tennessen Talley.”

“Very clever,” Joffrey said. He turned to the sergeant in charge. “Arrest him.”

Of all the things Harg had expected, outright treachery wasn’t one. “Take me to Tiarch, you vile little insect!” he said. Then there was a bayonet under his chin.

“Stand back!” a voice said from behind him. The soldiers froze. “Go on, get back or I’ll blow your officer to pieces,” Hegerly said.

“Put the gun down, girl,” Joffrey said, his face the colour of a raw clam.

“Oh, I forgot,” Harg said. “Joffrey, this is Hegerly. She wants to be a spy.”

“Tell her to put the musket away!”

The bayonet was still uncomfortably close. “If you’ll behave like an officer, and take me to Tiarch.”

Joffrey gave him a look of black hatred, but signalled his troops to stand back.

Harg turned around. “I’m sorry, Hegerly. I don’t work for Joffrey. He doesn’t even like me very much.”

She lowered the gun, eyes wide. “I guess not.”

“Go back and tell your father I’ll send the money. Gods willing, I’ll send it ten times over.” He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Thanks for saving me.”

The troop fell in and escorted him to the waiting skiff, this time without touching him. Joffrey said not a word the whole way over to the flagship.

When Harg stepped onto the broad oaken acreage of the warship deck, a troop of marine soldiers was waiting. “Keep him here,” Joffrey ordered.

“Joffrey, you gave your word,” Harg said.

“Oh, you’ll get to see Tiarch,” Joffrey said, drawing himself up as if his uniform prickled.

This time, Harg had not even a farm girl with an old musket to back him up. As he waited, he became acutely aware that he had not slept for at least thirty hours. He tried to marshal his thoughts for an interview with Tiarch. He had to be resourceful. He had to inspire confidence. He must not appear as exhausted as he felt. His thinking had gotten thus far when a marine officer appeared from below to lead him aft to the main cabin.

It was the most luxurious space Harg had ever seen aboard a ship. It was lined on three sides by casement windows. A thick, patterned carpet covered the parquet floor, and brass fixtures gleamed against the dark walnut paneling.

Tiarch and Joffrey were sitting together at the chart table. When Harg was ushered in Tiarch looked up, took a pair of spectacles off her nose, and said, “Oh, well done, Joffrey!” The Commodore smiled thinly.

She rose and came slowly over to face Harg. When she spoke again, her voice was hard as a file on metal. “So. The man who cost me my governorship.”

It was not the greeting Harg had expected. “Corbin Talley is the one you should be blaming,” he said.

“You gave him his excuse. If I’d turned you over when I first saw you, I would be sleeping in Tornabay palace tonight.”

And I would be on a spit in the marketplace, Harg thought. “If it hadn’t been me, it would have been something else,” he said. “You were the issue, Tiarch, not me. They don’t want islanders in charge of the islands. The only question now is what you’re going to do about it.”

She was regarding him with an expression of sceptical wonderment. At last she said, “Gods, I wish I were young again.”

It was a non sequitur, and he didn’t follow her thinking, so he stayed quiet.

She wheeled back to the table. “While you’re on your way out, Joffrey, get the cook to send up some coffee for us.”

Joffrey tensed at this dismissal, glancing from Tiarch to Harg and back. But he said nothing. A minute later, Harg was alone with Tiarch. He tried not to let the sudden change disorient him. She did it deliberately, he guessed, to keep everyone off balance. A moment ago, it was him she’d been trying to torment; now it was Joffrey.

“I wish you two young men were not at odds,” Tiarch said.

Harg refrained from pointing out how she was setting them up against one another. “I’ve given him no cause to hate me,” he said.

“Yes, you have,” she answered. “You cost him his old appointment, and now he sees his new one slipping away. He wants to command the Northern Squadron. That’s why he came with me, because I could give him that.”

Trying to make his voice neutral, Harg said, “You think he’s the right man for the job?”

“He’s a talented administrator.”

It wasn’t an answer, and from her tone, he knew they saw eye to eye. He also saw how dangerous it would be for her to alienate Joffrey. “Well, I didn’t come here looking for a position from you,” he said.

“No, you’ve already got one, if I’m not mistaken,” she said.

And yet, looking out the stern window at the humming harbour, Harg wanted this fleet more than anything in the world. The thought of what a lethal force he could fashion it into, and the purposes he could put it to, gave him a sharp desire, like hunger. If only she could see it.

He looked back at her; she was staring out the window, too. Outside, the sinking sun was painting the cliffs carmine.

At last she said huskily, “The tide turns within the hour, and I have to make up my mind. All day long the wind’s been changing. This ship has been swinging like a pendulum. I’ll look up one moment and see solid land; the next, nothing but sea.”

Harg wondered if he was seeing the real Tiarch. Was there such a thing? “You haven’t decided what to do, then?” he said.

“No. All that—” she gestured out at the hubbub on the wharf, where lanterns now glowed bright “—that is just to keep my options open.”

“What are your options?”

“I could take this fleet around and attack Tornabay. But that route’s no good; it would foreclose all compromise forever. Or I could send Joffrey to negotiate. He has a way with the Innings; he might be able to strike a bargain. Or I could surrender and trust the law to vindicate me. I could argue that Admiral Talley overstepped his authority by removing me.”

“If you’ve got a decade to spare,” Harg said.

She gave him an ironic glance. “Yes, I know. But it’s not as hopeless as it sounds. There are Innings who don’t want a Talley dynasty in Fluminos.”

“You’d be a fool to trust them. But you haven’t yet named your best option.”