Steph Swainston - No Present Like Time

“Did you expect me to let your pet devour Serein?”

“I can defend myself,” said Wrenn sulkily.

Lightning picked up a bronze Trisian trident that was lying next to the youth’s body, and a purse made of soft leather. He approached us gravely. “It seems as if our midshipmen were accepting bribes from curious Capharnai to look at the Insect. See?” He tipped the purse and a knot of fine gold chains snaked out into his palm.

“It must have broken out of its own accord,” Mist concluded. “In response to them goading it. I wish I had commissioned a tougher cage.”

Lightning and I looked at her. She was well aware that we no longer believed a word she said. Lightning gestured at the cage. “The Capharnai just regarded this as a freak show.”

“That’s how they thought of us all,” I said.

Mist snapped at Wrenn suspiciously, “Why were you up at five A.M.?”

He glanced around, admitted, “I’d just got back. I spent the night in town with a local girl.”

“Oh, really?”

“I think she was called Pollan. At any rate, she kept saying ‘Pollan.’ She had world-class tits, I mean; you could get lost in there. Given last night’s performance she could be selected for the national team, but any more mushy stuff and I’ll relegate her to the second division-” Mist cuffed the back of his head. “Ow!”

Wrenn ran a hand over his feathers, knitting their barbs together. Missing vanes spoiled his zigzag style. He was quite hirsute with feathers; a couple were growing on his back between his wings, since he had not been near a barber’s in months. The pinfeathers were still wrapped in their transparent covering, like paintbrushes. Where the sheath peeled back and crumbled, the brown brush tip emerged.

Mist called, “Fulmer?”

The dandy’s shocked face appeared in the overhead hatchway. “Yes, Master Mariner?”

“Help Lightning carry this body up to the quayside. We have to return him to his relatives and try to find some way of atoning for this incident. Comet, sally out to the Amarot and request the presence of Vendace, with companions if he wishes. The Senate might have finished their three-day debate about us and we need to know the outcome. Fly there, and tell Vendace to meet us at his convenience, all together in my cabin.”

She looked at Lightning, who was naked from the waist up with disheveled hair; me in a sheet skirt and needle scars; and Wrenn, caked in gore with semitransparent shorts. “Not as you are.”

Iflew slowly to the Amarot, taking no pleasure in seeing the citizens staring up. I grieved for Danio; of course I’d only known her for two days but she was the Trisian I had spoken to most, and with untold depths of wit and humanity she had shown the greatest interest in the Fourlands.

I stood alone in front of the Senate and explained everything. I offered our services to catch the Insect but they interrupted me with outraged cries. They seemed to surmise that the Insect was a ploy for us to stay longer at Capharnaum. The Senate agreed that Vendace should accompany me to the Stormy Petrel, to announce their decision to all us travelers at once. I waited as he gathered an escort of townsmen on the mosaic, but as we walked down the boulevard more men joined us from the houses, almost spontaneously, following closely without a word. They were armed with harpoons, their knives in their belts; one or two carried the halberds we had sold them. They were quiet, giving me space, but still I knew they were watching my every move. It was nerve-racking. I acted as amicably as possible, trying to alleviate the atmosphere. When we passed the piazza I saw the man in the tunic working in his restaurant. I smiled openly but he gave me a cold look and pulled the shutters closed.

I reached Petrel with relief, but Mist, after some negotiation, invited all Vendace’s supporters aboard. The caravel’s size daunted them, but twenty or so filed up to the main deck, where Mist and I convinced Senator Vendace to leave them and enter her office alone.

The long shade of the mountain had fallen over the harbor, and Mist’s cabin was so dark she had lit candles. The smell of tallow combined with brass polish, tar and black coffee made Vendace even more uneasy. He surveyed the Sailor’s gloomy office: the waxed paneling fixed between tough, roughly adze-marked timbers, the door with long flamboyant hinges across it, and the cassone in which Ata kept her clothes. The table bore a cafetière and a plate of yesterday’s bread rolls. Its turned legs were bolted to the floor. In the corner was a basket full of Trisian bric-a-brac and wine cups. This ornate room was at odds with the rest of the ship and the sound of uneasy crewmen scrubbing bloodied footprints off the foredeck.

Vendace did not sit down until I begged, and then only reluctantly. Mist pushed a lidded glass of coffee toward him but he did not give it so much as a glance. He watched his companions waiting on the main deck through the small panes surrounding the door. He announced, “The Senate has voted. Tris will reject all contact with the Fourlands’ Empire. We’ve heeded the advice of the constitution of Capharnaum. Everyone voted that you must leave, with the exception of well-loved Professor Danio, who wanted to learn more. We agreed this morning even before your messenger informed us of the tragedy. We do not want you here. The slaughter of Capharnaum citizens, including her, simply reinforced their decision. We know that your boats are restocked. Take them home immediately and never come back.”

I translated for the others. I was leaning against the wall at the back of the cabin, one knee bent and the boot sole against the wood, head bowed, listening. I let them speak directly to each other, facilitating their conversation without interrupting it, whatever words were said. I took no side, simply letting my translation flow from the shadow, echoing their words and rejoinders in the correct languages: Awian to Trisian, Trisian to Low Awian.

Wrenn said, “But Tris is part of the Empire too!”

“No, we are not. One man should not rule five lands. The Senate was shocked to find that one man has so much power. You have already tainted Capharnaum.”

Mist said, “Senator, let us-”

Vendace pointed at her. “On the occasion of your arrival last year, the Senate discussed the likelihood of more visits from your island. We gave you the benefit of the doubt but now we accept that we were wrong and the stories were correct. Although I personally have no idea what to do about the Insect, the Senate is making plans.”

The black moniliform antenna lay on Mist’s desk beside her cafetière. Vendace pushed it around with his finger as he spoke. “You say there are thousands of Insects?”

I said, “Hundreds of thousands infest the north of our continent. We’re sorry we lost this one. The tunnel was empty when I returned with bowmen and-um-harpooners.”

Vendace said, “Jant, you can actually fly, and you can run…The merchants reported the speed you were flying!”

“I’m the fastest thing in the world,” I said. “That’s the only evidence I can give to prove that we’re immortal.”

Vendace sighed. “Some of the Senate believe you, but it makes no difference to us. Tris should be left alone by mortals and immortals alike. If you ask me, being able to fly is wonderful pleasure enough without heaping accolade and immortality on you as well.” He toyed with the antenna, asked plaintively, “Why did you set an Insect on us?”

Mist said, “We didn’t. It was an accident and we’re profoundly sorry. Please accept our apologies; mishaps like this will never happen again. The Insect escaped; we should have taken more care.”

“We’ll hunt it down,” Lightning said solidly. His face had a bleak impassive expression. He stood by the door, occasionally checking Vendace’s entourage. “We’re good at that; it’s what we do. I will meet any proposal of compensation. At least allow us to give you advice and recompense for your people.”