Читать книгу Quicksilver Zenith - Stan Nicholls - Страница 11

Recently imposed public order laws tended to operate as a two-tier system. Gath Tampoorians resident in the Bhealfan colony simply ignored them. A similar laxity was allowed citizens of Bhealfa who enjoyed power and influence.

The same licence applied to enforcing the curfew. Those of wealth and rank were free to dally.

The weak and insolvent had law-keepers on their tails.

As the hour of prohibition drew near, the streets swelled with people trudging homewards. In a manufacturing quarter of the city, the human surge broke against the prow of a building that stood at the confluence of two main roads. Outwardly, it was an administrative block, a hive for bean counters, and anyone entering would have found this to be the case. Now its clerks and scribes had joined the exodus, and it was deserted.

Its several floors were in darkness, and one, cunningly fashioned from loft space, was hidden. Gaining entry to it from within was complicated, not to say potentially lethal, given its glamoured defences.

A small group was gathered there.

‘Where the hell is Disgleirio?’ Caldason grumbled.

‘Probably held up by the crowds,’ Karr told him. ‘He’ll get here no quicker for your pacing. Join us.’

Sighing, the Qalochian took a seat opposite Karr at the large wooden table. At one end sat Kutch, looking uncomfortable and fiddling with a pair of his makeshift eye covers. Serrah was present too, but isolated from the rest, her chair set well back. The expression she wore was unreadable.

‘While we wait,’ Karr said, ‘I’ve got something you might find interesting.’

He pushed a finger into his right ear. For a second he twisted and dug with it. Then he brought out a tiny object, held between thumb and forefinger. It resembled a pearl, and had a similar milky white sheen. He flung it at the nearest wall.

The little globe didn’t bounce or shatter. It stuck as though resinous, and immediately began to flatten and spread. When it matched the size of a large serving platter it stopped expanding. At that point it opened, like the petals of a flower. Having doubled its diameter it opened again and again; more and more petals rapidly unfolding until the wall became a shimmering, pearly white screen.

‘A much more detailed schematic,’ Karr explained. ‘Better than anything we’ve had before.’

Lines and contours, dips and bumps came into focus. A three-dimensional representation of an island formed. It was roughly kidney shaped, only a kidney that had been gnawed at one end by a hungry dog. Its outline showed cliffs, sandy beaches, inlets and bays. Offshore, in the rippling ocean, reefs and rocky outcrops appeared.

The island had two harbours, on its western and southern sides. There were green pastures, hills and woods. A river snaked from the east, branched and rejoined the sea on the north-eastern shore. Tracks criss-crossed, and more substantial roads sneaked from the ports. A scattering of buildings was visible here and there, and near the island’s centre was what could have been a town.

‘The hope of the world,’ Karr announced. ‘Batariss.’

Serrah stirred from her introspection. ‘What?’

‘It’s the proper name for the place. Though not many seem aware of it.’

‘I remember when that’s all it was known as,’ Caldason said.

‘You would,’ Serrah told him. She probably meant it humorously. He decided to take it that way.

‘Our thought was to rename it,’ Karr revealed; ‘call it something that has more relevance to its new status. Perhaps after one of the Resistance martyrs, like Sab Winneba, Kryss Mirrall or –’

‘I’m sure they’re deserving,’ Caldason cut in, ‘but face it, Patrician; nobody’s going to call it anything but the name that’s stuck.’

‘The Council feel this would be a good opportunity to honour someone who made the ultimate sacrifice for the cause.’

‘Very commendable. But don’t you think we should concentrate on getting there first?’

Kutch broke the ensuing silence. ‘I always assumed it was named after its shape or something.’

‘No,’ Karr replied, ‘its function.’

‘I didn’t know they actually mined gems there.’

‘They don’t. It’s called the Diamond Isle because of the wealth it generated.’

‘So how come we got the chance to buy it?’ Serrah asked.

‘It’s been in decline for years. It was at its height as an attraction when Reeth here was a child. If it still produced riches on that scale we wouldn’t be in a position to buy it. As it is, the present owner’s had enough and is looking to retire.’

‘How can an island that size be private property? I thought only the empires’ rulers had the kind of clout needed to own real estate on that scale.’

‘The island’s status has always been an anomaly. Way back, a century or more, it was as much a pawn for Rintarah and Gath Tampoor as Bhealfa is today, or any of the other states they squabble over.’

‘What happened to change that?’ Kutch asked.

‘Both sides came to feel it was too insignificant a prize to shed blood over. Then somebody, probably one of the old bandit clans, came up with the idea of turning it into a pleasure retreat. That was during one of the empires’ virtuous periods, when gambling and prostitution were frowned on. Batariss filled the need. Another factor, of course, is that it’s not officially in anybody’s territorial waters, though it’s nearest to Bhealfa. But in practice, the island operates because whichever empire happens to be in control of this part of the world has let it.’

‘Why would they do that?’

Karr scrutinised his tiny audience. ‘You must have heard all this before.’

Serrah shrugged.

‘It fills the time until Disgleirio deigns to show himself,’ Caldason remarked.

‘I don’t know any of this,’ Kutch said. ‘I think it’s fascinating.’

‘All right,’ Karr went on. ‘Why have the empires left Bata – the Diamond Isle to its own devices?’ He took a reflective breath. ‘Well, there’s some evidence that in the early days, when the place was much more exclusive, the empires’ favoured supporters were sent there as a reward. Later, when it got easier for more people to go, the official view seemed to be that it served as an outlet for the masses’ pent-up resentments. Or at least it did for those who could afford it. And they tended to be the well-heeled, educated classes, who might organise opposition; the sort the rulers wanted to keep sweet. Then again, it’s rumoured that the authorities take rake-offs from the island. Unofficial taxes, some call them. Who knows why the Diamond Isle’s been left alone? I think it’s probably just unfinished business.’

‘They’ll finish it quickly enough when we start moving over in droves,’ Caldason warned.

‘Not if we do it artfully. And once there’s a sufficient number of us on the island …’

‘I know. We’ll make it too costly in blood to recapture. It’s a hell of a risky strategy.’

‘Of course it is. But we’ve planned meticulously. If the move goes as it should –’

‘That’s more likely to happen if you’ve got everybody behind you.’

‘I know the island strikes many in the Resistance as an unlikely choice –’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Serrah contributed, ‘a pleasure resort seems no more insane than anywhere else you might have picked.’

Karr ignored the gibe. ‘Look at it.’ He nodded at the gleaming map. ‘It’s perfect. About a tenth the size of Bhealfa, easily big enough to support a substantial population. It’s. got fresh water and ample wood. There’s plenty of arable land. And it’s defend-able. In time, we can make it completely self-sufficient.’

‘In time,’ Caldason echoed. ‘It’ll be a race, and if you think Gath Tampoor’s going to sit on its hands while you do it –’

‘It’s a gamble. We know that. The whole plan’s predicated on us beating some long odds. But what would you have us do otherwise? Give up and let our conquerors roll over us? Abandon any hope of ever throwing off their shackles?’

‘Nobody’s saying that,’ Serrah reminded him. ‘Anyway, is this the time to be going over it all again?’

‘You’re right. The owner’s going to be here any minute, and we have to show a united front.’

‘You’ll get no dissent from me,’ Caldason promised.

‘It would be nice to believe that.’ Karr smiled. ‘Phoenix himself has cloaked this place against eavesdropping. You’re our second line of defence, Kutch. I wouldn’t have asked you to do this, except for the chronic shortage of spotters. Particularly with the … difficulties you’ve been having lately.’

‘Are you saying this meeting could be dangerous?’ Caldason asked.

‘No. But let’s not lose sight of the kind of man we’re expecting. Are you all right about this, Kutch? Because if you’d rather …’

‘I want to help. But if I do sense something, what do I do?’

‘Just shout out loud,’ Caldason told him, ‘we’ll do the rest.’

‘Does our visitor know what we want the island for?’ Serrah wondered.

‘I don’t think he cares,’ Karr replied. ‘Though he’s not stupid. A shabby opportunist, yes; but not stupid.’

‘Can’t wait to meet him.’

Above a set of robust doors at the loft’s far end, a glamoured crimson orb began flashing.

‘You could be about to get your wish.’

With a rattle and creak, the doors swung open.

The man who entered was perhaps thirty years old, sported a clipped moustache and had a hardy countenance. His garb and easy confidence spoke of an adept swordsman.

‘Forgive me,’ he said, unlacing his cape. ‘The streets were choked and I was against the tide the whole way.’

‘Some of us started out early,’ Caldason offered.

‘Not all of us had that luxury.’

The Qalochian and Quinn Disgleirio, apostle of the Fellowship of the Righteous Blade, held each other’s gaze.

‘Don’t mind Reeth,’ Karr advised, ‘he’s in a fractious mood.’

‘When isn’t he?’

‘You’ve missed nothing, Quinn,’ Karr hastened to add. ‘Our guest hasn’t arrived yet.’

‘Yes he has. He’s on his way up now.’

The patrician’s manner was instantly businesslike. ‘All right. Weapons in plain view, as agreed.’ Disgleirio, Serrah and Caldason, with some reluctance, unsheathed their various blades and laid them on the table. ‘Kutch, put those blinkers of yours out of sight.’ The globe above the doors started to flash. ‘All of you; keep in mind that our visitor’s both smart and unprincipled. But remember that he needs us as much as we need him.’

The doors were thrown wide, crashing against the walls.

A small entourage entered. There were four bodyguards, dressed alike in black leather jerkins, trews and boots, with leather wrist and headbands. One was a woman, flame-haired, green-eyed, and no less hale than her masculine cohorts. All were extravagantly armed. They were clustered around their employer, and for a moment it looked as though they were carrying him shoulder high. As they fanned out it became obvious that he was held aloft not by muscle power, but sorcery. He sat on a large, padded disk, with a backrest similar to a chair’s. His legs dangled over the edge, and a thick safety belt girdled his waist.

Those who had never seen Zahgadiah Darrok before, but knew his reputation, might have expected an individual wracked by sloth and debauchery. They didn’t anticipate someone looking as fit as an athlete. Nor did they count on him being handsome; the possessor of a finely chiselled face, adorned with a neat blond goatee and dominated by quick, china-blue eyes.

The only jarring note came when he spoke. A brisk order to his escort, to give up their arms, revealed a gravel voice that seemed out of keeping with his appearance. It had an inflection more often associated with an habitual pipe smoker or drinker of coarse liquor.

As Darrok’s bodyguards laid down their weapons, Karr made introductions. Then the attendants withdrew, but stayed watchful from a distance. Darrok guided his floating dish to the table and descended to hover at sitting height.

‘Can we offer you refreshments?’ Karr asked, indicating stone-bottled wine and sweetmeat platters.

‘I don’t believe in tainting business with frivolity,’ Darrok grated.

‘As you please.’

‘I suggest we get straight to the matter of the final payment.’

‘That’s what we’re here for.’

‘You can get the money?’

‘Of course.’

‘In gold?’

‘In gold, yes.’

‘And you can deliver it, as I specified?’

‘We can meet all your requirements. But naturally we need to be sure you can satisfy ours.’

Darrok showed a flash of annoyance. ‘You had my word.’

‘We’re not trying to offend you. But it’s vital you understand the necessity of making the handover as smooth and as secret as possible.’

‘I could ask why you feel the need to be so clandestine if your aims are lawful.’

‘I’m sure we all have private matters we’d prefer to keep that way,’ Karr said. ‘In fact, I should remind you that a slice of the not inconsiderable price we’re paying is supposed to ensure confidentiality.’

‘And you’ll get it. My guarantee.’

‘I’d like your bond on another matter, too.’

‘Oh?’

‘As you know, some of our people will be arriving on the island soon as pathfinders. We have to be able to count on you co-operating with them.’

‘We’ve agreed all this, Karr.’

‘It’s as well to underline its importance.’

‘Yes, yes, we’ll do as you ask. Now about the gold –’

‘It would save us a lot of trouble,’ Disgleirio suggested, ‘if payment could be made here on the mainland.’

‘Now who doesn’t understand the agreement? The deal was that the balance of the money went to the island for onward movement.’

‘So we take the risks and you reap the benefit.’

Darrok shrugged. ‘It’s a sellers’ market.’

‘We’ll keep our end of the bargain,’ Karr promised. ‘You keep yours and we can have the shipment there in a matter of weeks.’

‘You’d do well to send it with as much protection as you can muster.’

‘Naturally we’ll take precautions.’

‘You might need a little more in the way of precautions than you’re contemplating.’

Disgleirio regarded him suspiciously. ‘Why?’

‘There’s a certain amount of … unrest in my home waters.’

‘What kind of unrest?’

‘We have a few problems with privateers.’

‘You mean pirates?’ Kutch blurted out.

‘I’m not in the habit of answering questions from a child.’

‘Then try answering a man,’ Caldason told him, his manner threatening.

Darrok adopted a dismissive tone. ‘I’m not accustomed to explaining myself to the hired help either.’

The Qalochian rose, toppling his chair. Then Serrah was on her feet. Darrok’s bodyguards began to move in.

‘Enough!’ Karr thundered. ‘We’re here to talk, not to fight. Now calm down. All of you.’

There was a frozen moment, each side eyeing the other, fists balled, muscles tensed.

Karr nodded at his people. ‘Sit.’

Darrok waved away his bodyguards.

Caldason righted his chair and Serrah sank back into hers. Both moved reluctantly, and kept their gazes on the escort.

‘So, you have trouble with pirates,’ Karr recapped.

‘I think they prefer to be called merchant adventurers,’ Darrok corrected.

‘To hell with what they call themselves; why didn’t you tell us before?’

‘I’m telling you now.’

‘How big a problem is it?’ Disgleirio wanted to know.

‘Until recently it was manageable; no more than a minor irritation. But that’s changed.’

‘Why?’

‘Traditionally, the privateers were disorganised. As ready to fight amongst themselves as to plunder travellers that came their way. Now they’ve got together and formed an alliance.’

‘That wouldn’t have happened without a leader of some sort,’ Caldason reasoned. ‘Who rallied them?’

‘You’re more perceptive than you look. Have you heard of a man called Kingdom Vance?’

Serrah mouthed, ‘Oh, shit.’

‘I take it you have,’ Darrok said.

Karr scowled at him. ‘Who hasn’t? Given that he’s the most infamous, cold-blooded freebooter ever to cut a throat. And you’re telling us he’s organised this alliance?’

Darrok nodded.

‘He must have held out a prize tempting enough to bring them together,’ Caldason decided. ‘A prospect bigger than their differences.’

‘That he did. He offered them something they’ve wanted for a long time.’ Darrok paused and scanned his hosts’ faces. He saw that one or two had already guessed. ‘A land base. A country they can call their own.’

‘They want the island,’ Disgleirio whispered, realisation dawning. ‘You bastard, Darrok! This borders on treachery. What are you after? More money? Is that it?’ He was on his feet.

‘There’s no deceit on my part.’ Darrok gestured at his restive bodyguards, checking them. ‘All I’m asking for is the final payment.’

‘After dropping this on us? Forget it.’

‘I think you’ll find the pact we have stipulates no full payment, no deal. And I get to keep what’s already been paid.’

Disgleirio swung to Karr, red with anger. ‘You agreed to this?’

Before the patrician could speak, Darrok answered. ‘There isn’t exactly an abundance of islands for sale. Like I said, it’s a sellers’ market. Take it or leave it.’

‘Karr?’ Disgleirio pressed.

‘He’s right. We’re not in a position to dictate terms.’

It was Serrah who broke the ensuing silence, and in contrast to Disgleirio’s outrage, she seemed almost amused. ‘Well, you could cut the tension in this room with a knife,’ she said. Glancing at the surrendered weapons, she added, ‘Anybody like to try?’

Karr stood, signalling for calm. ‘All right. Everybody. Let’s keep things civil. We can sort this out.’

‘Always the conciliator, eh. Patrician?’ Serrah gave him a smile that fleetingly looked half demented.

‘He’s right,’ Darrok intervened. ‘You might have rivals for the island. So what? They’re small in number compared to you, judging by the set-up you have here. You can deal with it.’

‘You make it sound trivial,’ Disgleirio remarked, still seething.

‘No, I make it sound like it isn’t my problem. My only concern’s spending the money you’ll be giving me.’

‘So you can buy more toys like that?’ He jabbed a thumb at the hovering dish.

Darrok made it rise, lifting him to the height of a man standing. ‘This is more in the way of a necessity than a luxury.’ He rapped his knuckle against one of his legs, then the other. The hollow ring attested to their being artificial. ‘Kingdom Vance,’ he explained starkly. ‘That’s why it’s not my problem.’