The Two of Swords: Part 15 (3 page)

He took a bottle of wine, a plate of honeycakes and two volumes of Idealist poetry with the Beal Defoir crest embossed on the tubes, which he’d confiscated from a lance corporal of marines. “No thank you,” she said. “I don’t read pornography.”

“It’s thousand-year-old pornography,” he said, “which means it’s literature, so it’s all right. Suit yourself,” he added, putting the tubes back in his sleeve. “Can’t offer you anything else, I’m afraid.”

“Those belong to the Lodge.”

“I know, that’s why I confiscated them. They’ll be sent back in due course.” He smiled. “Though what all those scholars want with classic Euxentine erotica, I can’t begin to imagine.”

“It’s literature,” she said.

“Of course.” He offered her the honeycakes. She shook her head. “You wanted to see me.”

“Yes.” She indicated the chair with a slight movement of her head. He sat down. “About your father.”

“Mphm. Could this possibly wait? I’m rather busy.”

“I knew him.”

Genseric’s heart sank. “Oh, yes?”

“Professionally.” She smiled viciously at him. “I thought you might like to know that.”

“I don’t think I believe you,” he said. “He’s been dead ten years.”

“Oh, I started young. Very young. That’s how he liked them.” She paused, taking stock of the damage she’d done. “If you still don’t believe me, I can tell you things about him.”

“No,” Genseric said. “Please don’t.”

“Why not? I’d have thought you’d have been interested. I’ll bet I could tell you about a whole side of his personality you never knew anything about. See this?” She rolled up her sleeve. Just below the wrist was a white, shiny scar. “Would you like to hear how I got it?”

“Not really, no.”

“Oh, go on. Pour me a drink and we can swap stories about the old devil. When I heard what had happened to him I went about smiling for a week. How’s your mother, by the way? I could tell you a thing or two about her, as well. Very broad-minded woman. Very.”

“She’s dead.”

“You’re just saying that to cheer me up.”

Genseric leaned back in his chair and stretched his hands wide on his knees. “What is all this?” he said. “Are you trying to provoke me?”

She shook her head. “Though you did say, if I insulted you—”

“You’re insulting my parents, not me.”

“Can the truth be an insult?”

“Worst sort, I’ve always thought. Anyway, I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Didn’t you now.”

“Empty threats,” Genseric said. “It’s what I’m best at. So, why are you doing this?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I enjoy hurting people. Habit I picked up from someone I used to know when I was young. Thirteen, actually.”

“I don’t think so,” Genseric said. “I think it’s just long-range bombardment, to soften me up. It’s the sort of thing Senza would do.” He smiled. “They warned me you were a handful.”

“But you like a girl with spirit.”

“No, not really.”

“You don’t like girls.”

“I don’t like you,” Genseric said mildly. “But you’re not typical, so that’s all right.” He stood up. “I don’t believe a word of what you said about my father,” he said. “I think you’d heard of him, and therefore me, because it was a big story at the time and you’ve got a very good memory. I think you threatened me with details of moles and birthmarks because you knew I’d shy away.” He paused for a couple of heartbeats, then went on, “I think you were trying to get me to hit you, because you’ve figured out how disgusted I’d be with myself afterwards; and that might just be an opening, a bit of guilt you could work on. Or I don’t know, maybe you really are just sharpening your claws on the furniture. I wouldn’t blame you if you were, it passes the time and makes you feel you’re doing something. But you’re going to Forza and that’s that. Sorry.”

She looked at him again. “Do you know what he’ll do to me?”

“Not a clue.”

“He’ll send me back to Senza. Oh, he’ll want the East in exchange, but that’s beside the point. Senza will give it to him, and Forza will send me back.”

Genseric frowned. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get involved, but it was very hard to resist. “Which is what you want.”

“Are you mad? Why do you think I’ve spent the last three years trying to get away from him?”

“What do you know,” Genseric asked, “about shipping lanes?”

Orderic gave him a blank stare. “You should ask the captain about that.”

“I’m asking you.”

“Nothing,” Orderic replied.

Genseric rested his folded arms on the rail. “Nor me,” he said. “I know that even though it’s a very big sea, ships tend to go along these invisible roads, and it’s something to do with prevailing winds and stuff like that. I’m assuming that explains
them
.”

He dipped his head slightly towards the stern. Orderic, who knew him well, didn’t look round, just moved his eyes and then moved them back. “Four sails.”

“Is it four now? I only counted three.”

“My eyesight’s better than yours.”

“Maybe.” Genseric yawned. “I’m assuming,” he said, “that they’re four ordinary, harmless merchant ships following a shipping lane which happens to be the one we’re using. That’s a perfectly logical explanation, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And we’ve got, what, sixty-five marines on board, and this is a pretty fast ship, apparently. It’s not like we’ve got anything to worry about.”

Orderic massaged his forehead with his fingertips. “No luck finding out where we’re going, I suppose.”

“No, but I haven’t tried violence yet.”

They both turned slowly, so that they were facing the ship’s launch. “Apparently,” Orderic said, “the correct name for it’s a catboat.”

“Is that right?”

“Because it’s got just the one mast, right at the back. Sorry, astern. Why that makes it a catboat I don’t know, but it does.”

“How many will it carry?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Orderic replied. “The consensus would seem to be, somewhere between six and ten.”

“I don’t see how we could manage with less than seven,” Genseric said, after a pause for thought. “You, me, her. Someone to steer the boat, someone to do whatever it is you do with the sails. And two marines, to keep the sailors in order. Seven. Plus food and water for at least six days.”

“Ten,” Orderic said. “I have this recurring nightmare where I’m in a small boat in the middle of the sea, and there’s no food or water. Let’s be on the safe side.”

“We must be nearly there by now, surely,” Genseric said angrily. “We’ve been on this horrible ship for days, and we haven’t had storms or anything to blow us off course. And for all I know, they’re sending out escorts to bring us in safe.”

“You’d have thought so.”

Genseric straightened up. “I think I’ll go and make some empty threats,” he said. “You find out which sailors we should take, and choose two marines.”

“And supplies for ten days?”

“Six,” Genseric said. “Save weight, go faster. We’re not sailing round the world, for crying out loud.”

The captain had his orders. He was answerable to his superiors, according to the chain of command, in which Genseric didn’t feature. Genseric and his damned marines were simply passengers, nothing more. The orders explicitly stated that their destination was not to be divulged to any unauthorised person. Genseric was not authorised. Therefore—

“These orders,” Genseric smiled. “In writing, presumably.”

“Of course.”

He nodded over the captain’s head. “Sergeant, search the captain’s cabin. Bring me any paper with writing on it.”

He couldn’t do that, it was outrageous. It was mutiny. Genseric had no authority—

“No,” Genseric said. “But I have got sixty-five obedient marines.”

“All right.” The captain got up and walked to the rail. “I’ll tell you. But—”

Something in his voice. Not just fury and outraged sensibilities. Fear? “No, don’t bother,” Genseric said, resting his hand on the captain’s shoulder just firmly enough to push him back into his seat. “Sergeant, carry on.”

The search was commendably quick and thorough. It produced the captain’s document case, containing his charts and recent correspondence, including the written orders. Genseric read them with interest, while two marines held the captain’s arms.

“Full cooperation with the officer commanding,” he read out, “keep him fully informed at all times.” He lowered the paper. “Not what you said. Nothing about not telling us where we’re going, in fact quite the opposite.” He put the orders back in the document case and took out one of the charts. “Of course, I can’t read these things,” he said. “But I imagine someone on this boat can, beside yourself. I’ll bet you anything you like, wherever the hell we are, it’s not the shortest route from Beal Defoir to Callinica Bay. Also,” he went on, as the captain turned his head to avoid looking at him, “I think this thing can go much, much faster, and that makes me wonder why it isn’t. You wouldn’t be dawdling so someone can catch us up, would you?”

The captain didn’t say anything. Genseric held out his hand; the sergeant who’d done the search handed him a small rosewood box. “One last thing,” Genseric said. “Are these yours?”

No reply. Genseric opened the box and looked at the pack of cards; beautiful work, scrimshaw on thinly sawn whalebone. “Card-playing and other forms of gambling are strictly forbidden on board all navy ships,” he said. “Play a lot, do you?”

The captain gave him a look of genuine terror. “It’s just a pack of cards,” he said.

“Of course it is,” Genseric said. He extended his hand over the side and dropped the box into the sea. “Careless of me,” he said. “Now I haven’t got any evidence against you.” He leaned forward, bringing his mouth close to the captain’s ear; at the same time, he caught hold of the captain’s thumb and levered it back until he felt significant resistance. “Don’t feel bad about it,” he said quietly, “you did your best. Now, unless you want to go and fetch your cards, how soon before those Lodge ships catch us up?”

For a moment he thought the captain wouldn’t speak. Then: “Tomorrow, first light.”

“That’s fine,” Genseric said. “Now, what I want you to do is increase speed; not too much, just enough to make it so they don’t catch up till, let’s say, a couple of hours after noon tomorrow. I’m sure you can manage that, and if you can’t, Sergeant Laxa here will cut your head off. All right?”

The ship’s first officer could read a chart just fine. He told them they were two days from Zatacan, on the Blemyan coast. He plotted them a course for the nearest Western port; three days with a good wind, five if they were unlucky. He was pleased and terrified to find that he was now in effective command, and promised to do exactly as he’d been told. He personally vouched for the loyalty of his helmsman, who could read a chart and lay in a course as well as anyone in the fleet.

“You’ll have a job, though,” he said. “The catboat’s fast, but so are those sloops following us. You sure you don’t want to stay and see if we can’t make a fight of it?”

Genseric pulled a sad face. “Personally, I think we could,” he said. “I don’t think Lodge people can fight worth a damn, from what I saw back at Beal. But I can’t risk it. We’ll do it my way.”

The catboat had to be hauled up on to its derricks and lowered into the sea, with its crew on board. It swung wildly on the way down, nearly spilling Orderic into the sea; he grabbed for the side and got the helmsman instead, and they collapsed in a heap in the bottom of the boat. Fortunately it was too dark to see the look on her face.

Needless to say, they couldn’t risk a lamp or a lantern. The sky was overcast; good from the point of view of getting away without the sloops seeing them, disastrous for navigation. The helmsman had brought a small piece of stone, mounted on a small piece of wood, and a shallow bowl; fill the bowl with water and float the wood in it, and the stone, being magic, would always point north. When Orderic had been told that that was how they’d be finding their way, in the dark, in the infinite sea, he’d had a panic attack and Genseric had seriously considered leaving him behind.

“Of course,” the helmsman had said, “if it’s a dark night I won’t be able to see the lodestone. But that’s all right. Come first light, if we’re astray, we just change course.”

The catboat had a tiny canvas cabin, big enough for two people to sit side by side if they didn’t mind touching knees. Genseric decided he minded, so he assigned Orderic the first shift of guard duty.

All night and most of the first day she sulked and didn’t say a word. Genseric took that as a good sign.

The helmsman was a short, spare man, about fifty, with a big nose and long black hair in a single braid. He gave the impression that he was having the time of his life. His first command, he explained. Genseric gave him an uneasy grin and congratulated him. He learned a lot about him during the course of the first day; how his family had been fishermen for generations, but his eldest brother had got the boat when the old man died and he didn’t fancy shipping on a merchantman, so he joined the navy, just in time for the Battle of Tragous, which had been a shambles and no mistake, but he’d been lucky, he’d been with the squadron that showed up late and missed out, basically they’d turned up, seen what was happening and got out quick, and after that he’d been on troop transports for six years, and now he was helmsman on the
Achiyawa
, which was a good ship, don’t get him wrong, but a man wasn’t going to get anywhere, if the major saw what he meant, and besides, this war, everywhere you looked there was some bugger making a fortune out of it, every fool with a boat bigger than a walnut shell, it broke a man’s heart to see all those opportunities slipping by, and knowing that any moment the
Achiyawa
could be ordered into battle, and no disrespect, but the command in this war, not fit to run a ferry across a small river. No, if he had his chance, he knew what he’d do.

Genseric waited for a natural break, then said, “Tell you what. If you can get this thing landed anywhere in the Western empire, you can keep it. Yours, free and clear, and an honourable discharge from the Service to go with it. How would that suit you?”

“Can you do that?”