The Voyage of the Unquiet Ice (40 page)

Not that it made any difference to Dow, or lessened the hazard he now faced. No doubt ten kings could judge and pass sentence just as well as eleven. For today was the day of Dow's trial; he had been summoned to appear before the Sea Lord and the assembled monarchs to face charges both of high treason, and of the murder of Captain Vincente of the Shinbone.

Dow could not allow himself to think of it. The outrage of the lie was too vast to bear They passed through the gardens and came to the foot of the palace stairs, where Dow's escorts paused to consult with the marines on guard. The trial would begin shortly, they were told; in the meantime they must wait. Dow looked about for Johannes and Nicky, but they had not been brought to the main deck. He had a foreboding about their presence on board
.
They could certainly not be accused of complicity in Vincente's death, and yet for some reason the Ship Kings wanted them here today.

Nell and Diego were also nowhere to be seen. And that was another puzzle. What was Nell's status now? The galley-hands had brought Dow rumours about her, too. That she was in disgrace, that she was under arrest, that she had physically attacked Diego – but who knew if any of it was true. Even a moment ago, as she'd sat with Diego in the boat, Dow hadn't been able to tell whether she was there as his companion, or as his prisoner …

At length a bell sounded, and Dow's guards led him up the grand staircase, through the echoing foyer and into the Great Hall.

The assembled kings and dignitaries were seated and waiting, and at the sight of Dow an angry murmur rose. He was led down to the central floor. A wooden dock had been erected directly in front of the royal dais, and there Dow was placed to stand before the Sea Lord.

Ignoring the hostile hum, he gazed about briefly and confirmed one rumour at least; a kingdom was indeed missing. There were no empty seats or anything so obvious, but the partitioned banks had been rearranged so that now there were only ten sections. And the kingdom that was missing was Valignano; King Benito and his entourage were not in the hall.

What might that mean? This very trial was in regard to the death of Valignano's finest captain. So where was Benito? Had he been forbidden from coming? Or had he chosen to stay away? Was Valignano perhaps refusing to recognise the new regime? Dow had heard no news either way, but it was heartening to think that one kingdom – Vincente's kingdom – might be resisting Valdez and Castille still.

The Sea Lord, seated on the royal dais, looked incapable of any such resistance. Already an old man when Dow had first beheld him, Ibanez had aged alarmingly since, and seemed a truly enfeebled figure now. He was propped stiffly in his throne, head to his chest, and had not looked up as Dow was brought in. What threats the usurpers had used to make him accede to their demands, Dow did not know – but it was clear those threats had broken him.

Also, his throne was no longer the only one on the dais. Two more had been added, larger and more ornate, and in more prominent position than his. In these new thrones sat a boy of perhaps fifteen, and a girl who looked somewhat older; the newly married and newly adopted joint heirs to the Sea Lord's dynasty – Emmanuel of Valdez, and Henrietta of Castille.

They were, Dow supposed, a regal enough looking pair – both sitting straight and serene as they stared out over the hall. But there was an emptiness to their gaze, and Dow sensed that they would not speak or act during the imminent proceedings. They weren't real monarchs, not yet. They were puppets, as Vincente had called them, hanging limply upon their strings.

Their masters were not on the dais at all. Looking left and right Dow recognised the true rulers now of the Ship Kings empire. Seated in the front rows of their respective partitions, were the gaunt Ferdinand of the Scale, King of Castille, and the fleshy Carrasco of the Ingot, King of Valdez. And to the right of Carrasco, smiling benignly at his uncle, sat Lieutenant Diego of the Diamond, who – as he'd sworn vengefully that day among the sheets – was indeed now the cousin of a future Sea Lord.

He certainly cut a different figure from the one who had attacked Dow so dementedly that day. Diego exuded only a calm confidence now as he lounged among the other dignitaries, dressed in full officer's finery and looking well-fed and sleek about the face. He was ignoring Dow, but Dow sensed that the lieutenant's serene smile was in part at least for his benefit. And oh, how Dow's fist ached to smash into those fat, self-satisfied lips …

And Nell? She was nowhere in the Valdez section, nor was she seated anywhere in the hall.

Dow found that ominous. And when he turned back to the royal dais, he noted the absence of one other personage who he would have expected to see here. For Ibanez the Sea Lord was unaccompanied. There was no wheeled chair near him, curtained in black gauze.

Axay, the
Twelfth Kingdom's
mysterious scapegoat, was missing.

But now the high chamberlain – a different man to he who had filled the position three months earlier – stood forth.

‘Most High Sea Lord; Lord and Lady Designate; assembled Kings and Captains – we are convened now in solemn session to investigate the most heinous events that have taken place of late upon the high seas. To whit, the engagement between the
Chloe
and the fleet sent to welcome it, and the suspicious death, during that engagement, of the esteemed Captain Vincente.'

Watching the Sea Lord, Dow saw the old man stir slightly at the mention of Vincente, and for an instant his faded eyes considered Dow, then they slid away again in weariness and misery.

‘King Ferdinand,' invited the high chamberlain, ‘we understand that two of your own ships made up part of the fleet in question, and that you have spoken with your captains regarding the matter.'

Ferdinand rose from his seat, his elderly features composed in elegant regret, his tone eminently reasonable. ‘I have indeed, High Chamberlain. As this council well knows, myself and my fellow monarch, Carrasco of Valdez,' – and here he bowed to his colleague opposite – ‘were much concerned with the progress of Captain Vincente's mission and with the fate of the lamented Nadal, the former Lord Designate. In light of our concern, we organised a combined fleet of four ships to head north in search of the returning
Chloe.
We acted thus in case Vincente should have sustained damage to his vessel during his mission, and be in need of assistance, in which event we would be able to speed him – and perhaps the Lord Designate himself – home.'

In the dock, Dow was already shaking his head. Surely no one would credit such nonsense. But the assembly listened without protest, and Dow reminded himself that this trial would not be about what anyone really believed. No doubt most of the other kings knew the truth already. Ferdinand's purpose here was merely to provide a plausible and official alternative to that truth, so that the real events could then be put aside and forgotten.

‘Alas, it seems that Vincente misunderstood the eagerness of our welcome, and responded with uncalled-for hostility. We may never know the reason for his actions, but what is indisputable is that the
Chloe
fired upon our ships, even as they hurried forward in greeting. Reluctantly, they had no choice but to return fire. They used only grapeshot, mind, and did the
Chloe
no serious damage, other than to disable it temporarily. Nevertheless, there was regrettable loss of life among the crew.'

And perhaps, Dow thought, this was why the Valignano delegation had been kept away. For one thing, several hundred witnesses from Haven Diaz could testify that the
Chloe
had no guns with which to make this supposed attack. They'd seen them being removed!

‘And what,' the high chamberlain inquired of Ferdinand, with an air of impartiality that Dow did not doubt was feigned, ‘of the charges that some would lay that it was your fleet who, in fact, fired first?'

Carrasco now rose from his chair. He was a grosser, ruder figure than the graceful Ferdinand, but his dark eyes glittered with equal intelligence and guile. ‘If I may speak, High Chamberlain. The suggestion is of course a foul slander. As we all know, my own nephew here was serving upon the
Chloe
, and in fact was on the high deck at the time of the engagement. I ask you – indeed, I ask everyone here – would any fleet involving ships of my own ever open fire upon my own blood? It's an impossibility.'

The chamberlain bowed his head, and murmurs of agreement rose from the Castille and Valdez ranks. Dow's hands tightened into fists once more; he remembered the glimpse he'd caught of Diego, fleeing below decks the instant the approaching ships were sighted.

Dow had long since grasped the meaning of that moment. Diego had
known.
Even before Vincente had set sail for the north, Carrasco and Ferdinand must have plotted to ambush the
Chloe
upon its return, and Diego – as a cherished nephew – had been warned of the danger. He had
known
that at the first sighting of any ships, he must hide himself away below, safe from the ensuing battle. He had
known
that anyone caught on deck – especially the captain – was likely to die.

Which made Diego a coward, as well as a traitor. And Dow was the only one who knew the truth.

He glanced sideways now, holding that knowledge in his eyes, but Diego – in expectation of this perhaps – was ostentatiously leaning back in his seat, his head turned away to talk with a dignitary in the row behind him. Dow would have yelled an accusation, but he'd been strictly warned by his guards; one word from him and he would be mercilessly gagged. It would almost be worth it anyway – but Dow was determined to bide his time. He suspected there was worse yet to come, and wanted his voice free at the last.

‘And what,' the high chamberlain continued, addressing Ferdinand once more, ‘of the death of the unfortunate Captain Vincente?'

Ferdinand raised his hands helplessly. ‘My captains report that they fired only at the
Chloe's
rigging and sails, so as to disable the ship, and that they did not fire upon the high deck. Nevertheless, upon boarding the vessel they found that Captain Vincente was dead. At first it was thought by accident – but upon investigation, a more sinister explanation emerged.'

Here all gazes turned expectantly to Dow. By now, he was sure, there was no one in the hall who hadn't already been fed the falsehood that was about to be told. And this lie, perhaps, some
did
believe.

‘This youth before us,' accused the old king austerely, ‘is the one responsible. The very same youth, ironically, that Vincente had so nobly taken under his wing, despite the grave doubts of many. The captain was warned, let us not forget, that a New Island youth was not to be trusted. Alas, Vincente was too generous a soul. And when he quite rightly punished this faithless boy for disobeying orders, the New Islander, it seems, privately swore to be revenged upon his benefactor. He had been summoned to the captain's presence at the very moment of the engagement – and taking advantage of the chaos, grasped his chance to attack and kill the captain.'

Outraged muttering now swelled about the chamber. Yes, observed Dow, this concoction made for a more convincing tale. And what a neat bow it tied of the last untidy threads for the new Ship Kings rulers; Vincente – the captain most likely to oppose them – safely dead, and his death laid at the foot of an already-hated foreigner.

‘His sentence for such a crime,' Ferdinand continued, ‘will justly be death. But murder is not this rebellious boy's only misdeed, nor has he always acted alone. I will unveil to you now evidence that he is involved in something far worse – a conspiracy against us all!'

Dow stood straighter.
Conspiracy?
That would require fellow conspirators. And that could only mean …

Ferdinand was warming to his theme now, his thin chest swelling with indignation. ‘My fellow Kings and Lords, a strange event took place during the voyage to the Unquiet Ice. At the furthermost point of the expedition, a boat was launched in mysterious circumstances, with a very peculiar crew on board, to venture through a chasm in the ice to reach the final resting place – at the very pole, no less – of the last sailors of the Lost Fleet. The report brought back by that boat is of immense consequence to all here. Or should I say, it is
intended
to be of immense consequence, for the report is of course a lie, and its intent is to sow discord and disharmony amongst us.

‘Who, you ask, was aboard this boat, and what report did they bring back? Well, one of those involved was none other than this murderous New Island youth, Dow Amber. Two of the others on board were also foreigners: the
Chloe
's blacksmith, one Johannes, and his apprentice Nicholas, both natives of Red Island, and both currently residing in our dungeons below.

‘Three outsiders – do you begin to see it? Now, to be sure, there were also four other crew in the boat, honest seamen of our own folk – and perhaps if they were here today they could tell us more of the truth. But, very conveniently, one of those men died at the pole – and the other three, alas, were killed during the lamentable engagement between the
Chloe
and our own fleet.'