The Voyage of the Unquiet Ice (12 page)

‘The way?'

Fidel sighed. ‘It is an old belief. Long ago, when our ancestors were keen voyagers across all the ocean, they strained against the limits of the world. To the south the way was blocked by the Barrier Doldrums, and that way they accepted eventually they could never go. To the north meanwhile there was the Ice, seemingly a barrier equally impenetrable … or was it? There were stories told in those days of passages opening in the frozen wastes, and of new seas and new lands that lay waiting beyond, should any ship pass through. Such stories are told even today. Not everyone credits them, but it is to the north that the dreams of seekers for glory will always turn.

‘Of such a mind was the Lord Designate, and upon hearing the reports, nothing could restrain him from going to see for himself. Three ships his father permitted him to take, and so the three set forth, never to be seen or heard from again. Oh, searchers have been sent – but in vain, for no clue to the lost fleet's fate has ever been found.' Fidel looked again over his shoulder, and his voice fell further. ‘Hence the unrest of the eleven kings. Were Ibanez a young man and hale, or if he had other descendants, then such a matter, grave though it is, would not be of dire consequence to the empire at large. But the Sea Lord is old and unwell, and has no other children, and so the kings are growing perturbed. Should Ibanez die without a successor, what then? It is this question the Lords of the Fleet most urgently want to address.'

At which point the first officer straightened and turned, for suddenly there came, from below, a strange rumbling sound, and then a great clanking and creaking, as of wheels and gears at work. Dow turned too, and was startled to see that a square section of the floor, not far from the couches, had divided and was slowly sliding open, to reveal a dark cavity beneath.

‘Observe, Mr Amber,' Fidel murmured, ‘the Sea Lord is indeed old, and unable to climb stairs, but do not think that this device was fashioned for his sake. No, it was fashioned for another.'

Rising now from below there came a platform – supported and lifted by some invisible mechanism beneath – to fill the space that had opened. Standing upon it were four guards, and amid them, leaning upon his stick, was Ibanez the Third. But Dow was more interested in the shape beside the Sea Lord – it was the wheeled chair once more, black curtains still draped from its canopy, hiding whoever it was that rode within.

With a click the platform stopped level to the floor, and Ibanez limped forward to greet his guests. He seemed even more shrunken and old now, for he had removed the royal wreath from his head, and discarded the golden robes he'd worn on the dais, replacing them with plainer garb that even so hung loose on him.

‘Thank you for coming,' he said, going first to shake King Benito by the hand, and then Captain Vincente.

‘You are well, my Lord?' Benito inquired.

‘Sit, sit,' the Sea Lord insisted, nodding at the couches. ‘There's no need for protocol here. We're all friends, and this is an unofficial meeting. I'm as well as can be expected, Benito. So sit, please.'

In demonstration, the old man chose an armchair and lowered himself into it with a grateful sigh. One by the one, the others positioned themselves on this couch or that, all glancing questioningly, or uneasily, at the shape upon the table, covered by its sheet. The Sea Lord gave no hint as to what it was. A guard pushed the wheeled chair to the Sea Lord's elbow, then withdrew to join his fellows away by the stairs, out of earshot.

Dow had lingered till last, uncertain, but then Ibanez's gaze fell upon him, and the old man lifted a beckoning hand. ‘Here, boy,' he said, patting the arm of the couch adjacent to his chair. ‘Let me have a good look at you.'

Dow hesitated still, but at a prompting nod from Fidel, he went and took the seat indicated. The Sea Lord studied him with eyes that were grey and rheumy, and yet penetrating nonetheless.

‘Aye. I thought as much. It's so often the smaller ones, the quieter ones, who perform the greater deeds. That was a brave act, the riding of the maelstrom, no matter what some fools may say.' A wintry smile crossed the old man's features. ‘I journeyed to New Island once, you know, in my youth. I remember the Rip well. I even ventured out upon it one wild and windy day, and saw for myself how treacherous were the currents. But the maelstrom, that's another matter entire. You have my respect.'

But Dow's eyes had strayed over Ibanez's shoulder, to where the wheeled chair crouched. The curtains were so black they swallowed all light, but did they move slightly, in and out, as if in time with laboured breathing from within? Could Dow hear, faintly, such breathing?

The Sea Lord noted his gaze. ‘Ah – but of course you have not before met Axay, scapegoat of the
Twelfth
Kingdom
, a vessel of which, among my many other duties, I am captain and commander.'

Dow shifted, confused at this introduction. Should he speak to the figure in the chair? Could whoever was inside even see him or hear him? In the end, he only nodded awkwardly at the canopy.

A whispered laugh came from behind the gauze. ‘And greetings to you, Dow Amber of New Island.'

Dow almost shrank away, so startling was the voice. It was plainly adult in its tenor, and somewhat breathless, as if with infirmity and age, and yet in tone it was as light and sexless as a child's.

The Sea Lord was smiling. ‘Do not be fooled, Axay is no infant – indeed, Axay is near as old as me. But while I have sat upon my throne a mere twenty-four years, Axay has been scapegoat to this vessel for more than forty, serving my father and his father before him. In fact, while there have been six Sea Lords in all since the dynasty was founded a century ago, there have been but three scapegoats here in that same time.'

Dow was trying not to stare at the gauze, all too aware now that someone unseen was watching him in return. But also – was there something odd in the way Ibanez spoke about his scapegoat?

‘And forgive the need of the veil,' added the Sea Lord. ‘Partly it's because Axay is sensitive to light, but partly it's to spare the sensitivities of others, for there's no denying that Axay is challenging to behold for those not used to doing so. Axay's is a rare and confronting condition.'

The gauze breathed subtly, and the voice came again. ‘My Lord speaks truly – only I and two others have ever borne this malady, and those two others were my predecessors as scapegoat here, now deceased. Indeed, it is said that I cannot die until another like me is born to take my place; and that has not yet happened. But I see your confusion, New Islander. You wonder – am I a woman that speaks to you, or a man? My Lord has given no clue. Well, I'm afraid you must put such questions aside, for – as you would know if I permitted the veil to be lifted – the issue of sex has no meaning for the likes of me.'

Dow – doing his best to hide his amazement, and his repugnance too – could only bow his head again in acknowledgement.

‘Enough then,' said Ibanez, turning to the others. ‘Captain Vincente, my apologies for the way things transpired below. Your warnings should not have fallen thus on such deaf ears.'

‘It was not unexpected, Lord,' Vincente replied.

‘No, shameful as that is. But rest assured, your concerns struck home with me, and if the Lords refuse to send a fleet to the Twin Isles to investigate, then I will send one of my own. The puzzle of this strange boat must be solved, and the threat dealt with. Though I gather that you have a theory about the threat that you did not elaborate upon just now, below.'

‘Indeed, my Lord, I thought it unwise to raise it, unreceptive as the audience already was. I maintain that the Twin Isles are the most likely source of the attack – but it has occurred to me that a boat that can move without sails need not fear to venture where
we
fear to venture for dread of becoming becalmed. In which case, my thoughts have turned to the Doldrums, and the half of the world that lies beyond them.'

‘The Doldrums?' queried the Sea Lord. ‘You think such a vessel could have come from across the windless wastes of the Barrier?'

‘Perhaps, my Lord, perhaps not. It's impossible to say without knowing more about the craft in question.'

Ibanez was shaking his old head in disbelief. ‘I cannot credit that any vessel, no matter how it is propelled, could survive the Doldrums. I ventured to the edge of them once, as a lieutenant serving upon one of my grandfather's vessels, and the memory remains an evil one.'

‘Most likely you are correct, my Lord. Who knows if lands even exist beyond the Doldrums? All is mystery. I mention it only to illustrate the many questions and unknowns raised by the attack.'

‘Your point is well made,' said the Sea Lord, straightening. ‘For now, however, I wish you to put aside all such matters from your thoughts. I have another, more pressing, request to make of you.'

‘My Lord?'

‘It concerns my son, Captain.'

A silence settled around the table for a moment, in recognition of the pain evident in the old man's voice.

Vincente cleared his throat. ‘What of him, my Lord?'

Ibanez stared levelly. ‘You think him dead, no doubt, as does everyone else. Those jackals below certainly believe it, and want me to declare it officially, so that a new successor can be appointed. You saw the collusion of Carrasco and Ferdinand just now to ensure that your warning was ignored by the assembly – the same pair, as you know, are likewise in collusion to force me to nominate a new heir. One, of course, of their choosing.'

Fidel spoke up. ‘It's an outrage. The naming of a new heir – forgive me, my Lord – is the prerogative of
all
the kingdoms, in joint election, not of two alone. Thus it was a century ago, when your distinguished ancestor was chosen. And thus it should ever be.'

The old man's lip curled bitterly. ‘In those days, the king of Valdez's only concern was making sure that the Lordship did not go to a prince from Castille, and the king of Castille thought likewise about Valdez. Even though the two were – as now – by far the most powerful of the kingdoms, they were each content to see the Lordship pass to a minor realm rather than to their rival. They think differently now. Carrasco and Ferdinand have decided that to share the Lordship between two is better than sharing it between eleven. Thus they have hatched their scheme in which Ferdinand's only grandchild – a granddaughter – would wed the youngest son of Carrasco, and that this most blessed of couples would then be appointed joint heir to my throne.'

Vincente was nodding. ‘And if you, or we in the other kingdoms, should refuse to agree to this?'

‘Then the two kingdoms threaten war. Oh, they have not said so publicly. But in their private messages to me, the meaning is clear.'

Benito too was nodding unhappily. ‘I have discussed such with my fellow monarchs. If the nine lesser kingdoms stood firm against the two, then perhaps we could be sure of victory. But of course several of the lesser kingdoms have long been under the dominion of Valdez or Castille, and would side with them. If war came, I fear it would split the alliance near enough in half – and who could then say who would be the victor?'

‘It would be disaster irreparable,' intoned the Sea Lord, ‘to break the peace of over a hundred years. And yet it would seem that the only alternative is to succumb to the overlordship of Valdez and Castille. A grim choice. There remains however one hope – that my son might be found. Valdez and Castille would not dare declare war, nor would any lesser kingdoms follow them, if the rightful heir stood in his place by my side.'

Benito spoke carefully. ‘My Lord, it's been five years.'

Pain and anger flared in the old man's eyes. ‘Who knows it better than I?' But then he sagged again, staring away bleakly into the gloom. ‘Five long years indeed. But that alone is not cause to surrender all hope. The expedition was well supplied, knowing that there was every chance they could be trapped by ice for one or two or even three winters. It is not inconceivable that they might have stretched those supplies to a fifth year.'

No one responded to this for a time. It was Vincente who finally broke the silence. ‘But have you not sent ships in search of the missing fleet? And have they not returned with empty hands?'

‘Aye,' nodded Ibanez, his sad gaze going to the single open window. ‘I've been sending merchantmen in pairs, heavily supplied with food and gear, every six months now, since the second anniversary of Nadal's departure – most recently in the autumn of last year, and then again this spring. The latter pair returned but two weeks ago. And as everyone knows, they did not find my son. It is enough, the jackals say – and so forced this winter council upon me. No more searching, they insist. Nadal is lost, and I must accept it.'

He sat upright suddenly and slammed his cane against the floor. ‘But I do not accept it!' He stared severely at the others. ‘Heed me. There is one vital discovery made by the lately returned expedition that has not yet been made public. A discovery that gives force to my hope. For something
was
found in the northern waters.' He levered himself up, hand trembling upon the cane's head, and leant to the covered shape on the table. ‘Not my son, indeed. But behold—' And with a withered hand he pulled the sheet halfway back.

It was part of a boat, Dow saw. Curved timbers met together at an upswept stem – yes, it was the bow section of a boat the size, say, of a ship's launch, shattered and broken off from its body. The timbers still gleamed blackly with nicre, as if freshly wet from the sea.

The Sea Lord gloated over the thing. ‘This fragment alone they found floating among the bergs. A few planks of wood only – but do you see?' His quivering finger pointed to faded white symbols that were painted upon the planking, near to where the timbers were wrenched and broken. Writing. It was meaningless to Dow, but the others leant forward intently. ‘What do you read there, gentlemen? An
I
and an
N
and a
G
. And the number
4
. You see it – yes? Now, three ships it was that set out with my son. The flagship, Nadal's own ship, was the battleship
Tempest.
And in support were two specially converted merchantmen, the
Bullion
and the
Bent Wing
.'