The Voyage of the Unquiet Ice (15 page)

The hills grew higher the further north they went, and then midway through the second afternoon they passed a blunt cape that marked the border between Argive and Valignano. The
Chloe
was now officially in home waters. But little else changed. Dow could spy larger villages along the coast, and what appeared to be vineyards on the hillsides, but otherwise Valignano, like Argive before it, looked a hard and barren land.

But at dusk Vincente steered the
Chloe
closer in to shore and entered a sprawling bay that opened eastward between wide arms, and here the country was gentler, tenanted with fields and farms. They sailed on through the darkness, guided by lights shining from several towns set around the bay, and before dawn had reached the narrowing head of the inlet, where stood Haven Diaz, the
Chloe's
home port, and capital city of Valignano.

The ship was warped in to the dock and tied up by sunrise, and Dow was on deck to behold the town. After the wonders of the
Twelfth Kingdom
, he'd expected similar grandeurs of a Ship Kings city, but as the light grew, Haven Diaz was revealed to be surprisingly modest in size. Indeed, as far as Dow could see, it was hardly any larger than Stone Port, and certainly nowhere near as large as the great New Island city of Lonsmouth.

Haven Diaz did, however, possess an air far more ancient and venerable than either of those New Island towns. It was built on steep slopes around an elbow-shaped harbour and its buildings loomed straight out of the water, rising very tall and leaning together over narrow streets. Walls were painted almost universally white, but their foundations by the waterside were of naked stone, and the great blocks were dark and primeval, as worn and weathered as the hills, but solid yet, and enduring.

This was a city much older, Dow guessed, than any on New Island. And wealthier too, for – despite its age – it displayed none of the dilapidation or neglect so apparent in Lonsmouth and Stone Port; there were no slum districts or crumbling wharves. Instead the docks were in full repair and jammed with shipping. Tall warehouses reared behind the waterfront, packed, no doubt, with tribute gathered from all over the empire. Glass-fronted shops lined neat cobbled streets, and on the hillsides above rose great houses and mansions, surrounded by terraced gardens and creeper-laden walls.

In short, Haven Diaz spoke to Dow of a prosperity and privilege far beyond its size. And rising over all, atop a steep crag, was the castle of Valignano's king, Benito of the Silver Tern – though he was not, as Dow knew, currently at home. It was in part a fortress, as forbidding as the Stone Port keep, but lofting above its outer bastions rose a palace far more ornate than anything Stone Port could boast, a soaring pink-walled chateau with gilded balconies and many windows that caught the rising sun.

But then even the homes of the humbler folk, the crowded tenement buildings down by the waterline, were stately and proud by New Island standards. And from these tenements, as the morning progressed, the Ship Kings townsfolk – a well dressed and well fed people, to Dow's eye – came to mass about the
Chloe's
wharf, welcoming home the flagship of their fleet. In particular, a throng of laughing woman and children gathered by the gates; the families of the crew, waiting eagerly for their husbands and fathers to disembark and begin their shore leave, after four long months away.

But in fact there was to be no leave for the crew, and the women and children were sent off weeping. This was no homecoming, but merely a swift stop to refit and resupply. There followed thus three days of furious activity, to ready the ship for the Ice.

The great hatches on the main deck were thrown open, and huge amounts of stores were lowered down to be crammed into the hold, including special winter clothes for the crew. Moreover, the cannon from the First and Second Gun decks were lifted out by crane and deposited on the dock, leaving only the Third Gun deck armed. For the
Chloe
was embarking not upon a voyage of war but of rescue, and required speed above all else, as well as protection against the wild seas of the north.

To that end, all the gunports – even on the Third Gun deck – were sealed tightly shut with a hard waterproof resin, leaving no quick way, should the unlikely need ever arise, to open them.

Dow took no part in any of these preparations, for he had not heard yet from Commander Fidel regarding an assigned duty. Nor was he allowed ashore to explore Haven Diaz. He spent most of his time therefore idling impatiently on the main deck, either staring out from the rail to watch the townsfolk move about their busy streets, or gazing into the open depths of the
Chloe
, to watch the constant work of loading and unloading.

In the early afternoon of the third day Johannes came topside to empty some furnace slag over the rail, and paused a moment by Dow to observe one of the last of the cannons being hoisted out.

‘I know they're only dead weight now,' the blacksmith said, as the gun, hung securely from the loading crane, soared slowly up and away, ‘but it's always sad to see a battleship stripped down.'

Dow nodded. Already the
Chloe
felt a lesser vessel; hollowed out and defenceless, even though the coming enemy would be the cold, not cannon fire. Some of the gunners and marines were also being put off, the crew reduced to the minimum number needed for sailing alone. And yet things were being added to the ship as well. Dow pointed to the bow, where large devices of metal and glass where being fitted on the forecastle. ‘Are they lamps of some kind?' he asked.

‘Aye. In the arctic regions to which we are bound – at this time of year – the darkness of night will be eternal. Those are ice lamps, so that we'll be able to find our way through the many hazards of berg and floe, and mist and fog, despite the winter darkness.'

Dow felt an ominous chill. Eternal night? He couldn't imagine how any lamp, no matter how large or brilliant, could hope to defy that.

‘They are not normal lanterns,' Johannes added. ‘They burn refined whale oil, the most rare and expensive of all oils. A cupful would pay a sailor's wages for a month, and it burns with the fierceness of gunpowder, giving off a dazzling light. But you will never have seen it, I know. Few have, for the Ship Kings commandeer its entire supply for their use alone.'

Dow glanced to his friend, puzzled by the sudden bitterness in his tone.

The blacksmith shrugged in apology. ‘The oil is a product of my own Twin Isles. Whale hunters risk life and limb to obtain it, and then labour long to refine it. But the Ship Kings spare us none for our own use. It's a source of much discontent.' Johannes shifted his gaze further along the docks, his usually mild eyes smouldering for a moment. ‘They have grown fat off their empire, our overlords, and off the sweat of many honest folk, both in my homeland and yours. But what's to be done about it?'

Dow looked in the same direction. Beyond the
Chloe
the docks were crowded with smaller craft – fishing boats and coastal traders – and with many larger sea-going merchantmen; but there were also three warships, left behind apparently from the mustering of the Lords of the Fleet. Two frigates and a battleship. They were at ease, slumbering in their home port, but still they testified to brute force and dominion.

Dow said, ‘And yet, for all their empire, Haven Diaz is no great city. I thought it would be bigger.'

‘Ah, now,' advised Johannes, ‘don't be fooled. Haven Diaz might not seem so large, but remember, it's the capital of only one of the kingdoms, and a small kingdom at that. There are many towns about Great Island larger than this, and there are grand cities in Valdez and Castille that dwarf even Lonsmouth in size.

‘And there's another thing to keep in mind. The Ship Kings do not lavish the bulk of their wealth upon their towns and cities. These are only secondary places to them, temporary residences for mariners not at sea, or homes for the women and children and old men. Most of the Ship Kings' riches, and all of their pride, goes into their ships and their fleets.'

Dow could well believe it. He'd first assumed that the armada gathered around the
Twelfth Kingdom –
over one hundred warships – was the sum total of the Ship Kings' strength. But if the other kingdoms were the same as Valignano, and had each left a third of their fleet behind in port, then their true strength must be even greater – one hundred and
fifty
warships, maybe. Plus an equal number at least of merchantmen.

Three hundred vessels. It was a power beyond challenging, no matter what dreams of freedom the other Isles might privately cherish.

But then Dow remembered a question he'd been meaning to ask ever since returning from the
Twelfth
Kingdom
. ‘Johannes – the boat the captain and I saw on the night of the Stone Port attack; Vincente thinks it could have come from the Twin Isles, that craftsmen there may have devised some new device in secret. But
you're
a Twin Islander – and a craftsman.'

Johannes gave him a sidelong look. ‘The captain himself spoke to me of this the day after the attack – and I'll tell you the same as I told him. I haven't lived upon Red Island for twelve long years now, and if there are secret doings afoot there, I wouldn't know of them. But in any case, I'm aware of no method or skill or art that would allow a boat to move as you described – I've not heard of such a thing even in wish or theory.'

‘Then where do you think the boat came from?'

‘The captain asked me that also, and again, I will repeat my own words – there is half a world that lies unseen to us.'

‘You mean beyond the Doldrums? Vincente said the same to the Sea Lord, but I don't think anyone believed it could be true.'

Johannes nodded. ‘I can well see why. Even so …' Dow frowned. ‘Would you tell me, even if you
did
know anything of the boat, or if it came from your homeland?'

But at that the blacksmith only laughed. And then they were interrupted, for a midshipman approached and addressed Dow. ‘New Islander, Commander Fidel requests your presence in the Great Cabin.'

‘Now?' Dow asked.

‘At the third bell,' the boy replied. His manner was peculiar, haughty, but cautious too, as if he was uncertain of just how haughty he could be. ‘Do you know where the Great Cabin is?'

‘He knows,' said Johannes. ‘He was invited to a banquet there once, with the governor of New Island.'

The midshipman stared doubtfully, then turned away.

The blacksmith watched him go. ‘So now,' he said to Dow, ‘does Fidel finally have a job for you, do you think?'

‘I hope so.'

Johannes seemed amused. ‘They're more puzzled by you than ever, the junior officers. Have you noticed that?'

Dow was taken aback. ‘Why?'

‘The albatross started it – but what really has them wondering is your audience with the Sea Lord. You realise, don't you, that most of the junior officers will never even
see
Ibanez up close. The fact that you met him in person, and then were allowed back on board, against all law – well, it's hard. They'd like to be able to hate you, or at least dismiss you, but you keep doing things they can't ignore. The crew, of course, are another matter. They're excited about this voyage to the Ice – little though they know what they're in for – and many of them, with old Alfons's encouragement, are giving you the credit. The albatross called you, did it not, and now the Sea Lord himself has concurred. They've decided you're good luck after all.'

When three bells rang out, Dow made his way to the stern castle. Of all the ship, the stern castle and its interior – the officers' realm – was the part he knew the least, for it was off limits to the common seaman. True, Dow had once resided there briefly, in the officers' sick bay, but he had explored very little in that time, and had not returned since moving down to the smithy.

Even so, he knew that the officers' quarters consisted of four decks. The lower two – where the lieutenants were housed, and where Dow had stayed those few days – were set below the main deck and occupied the rear sections of the First and Second gun decks. The upper two levels, where the senior officers lived, formed the stern castle itself, and as each of those levels was twice the height of a regular deck, the castle – topped by the high deck – loomed near to four stories above the rest of the ship.