Steph Swainston - No Present Like Time

“The newfound Island of Tris is part of Lightning’s kingdom too, now he’s just returned from playing at explorers with his pirate queen and their drunken lackey.”

Drunken lackey? Who’s that? I puzzled. Oh, no, he means me, doesn’t he?

“Lightning is not venerable but obsolete. He was young in spirit when the world was young but times have moved on. He’s a thing of the past; he holds us back. It’s time we took control and it’s an exciting moment for Awians to make their own decisions and live without him.

“Frost and her River Works Company profiteer from the rebuilding process. Hayl and his immortal husband are both reckless men. Only yesterday, they attacked us without provocation and Tornado joined them soon after with a division of your own brothers in the fyrd. Now I believe that too many people are being drafted. Since Tornado lost his girlfriend five years ago, he’s taken his fury out on the Insects and the draft continues while fields lie unplanted. The Circle should preserve lives but the Messenger flies in to the Plainslands to tear families apart.

“Comet is fond of the bottle. The truth isn’t widely known because he really indulges in the Castle-out of the public eye. I’ve seen him staggering drunk in the Great Hall. He often isn’t spotted for days at a stretch-during which time it’s known he hasn’t left his room. Why does the Emperor keep him when I felt the Circle twitch every time he binges? I don’t know if the alcohol affects his reliability -but is it any wonder there are rumors that his wife sleeps with another man?”

Gio waved his hand against the crowd’s torrent of wicked laughter.

“No, no,” he said. “I go back on that. Far be it from me to slander anyone. Tern manages it very well herself. The rumors are unsupported-just like her!”

How dare he call me a filthy drunk! I nearly flew down and told him-scolopendium is a much better type of substance abuse. And I’m good at it; I have it under control! But at least alcohol is legal. The crowd believed Gio because it matched their caricature of a Rhydanne, and that hurt even more.

I ground my teeth and the blood rushed, red hot, to my face. Oh, Tern, why did you do this to me? In private it’s bad enough, when my prowess in bed is the only reputation I have-but I don’t think I can stand being the capricious and irresistible Messenger cuckolded in front of the world.

Gio strode up and down, his hand resting on his sword hilt. He mused, “The worst thing about these corrupt members of the Circle is that they’ll never die.

“I can offer you a way to live outside their rule. Better still, it comes with riches, a chance to shape your future free of kings, governors and fyrd captains too. Anyone who follows me will be set up for life. I can give you Tris.”

The crowd was silent. Gio saw this and didn’t pause for long. “I’ve spoken to some of the mariners who saw Capharnaum. They say the tiles on the roofs of the houses are embedded with turquoise and tourmaline. Even Trisian infants wear crowns. They esteem gold because of its beauty, not because of its rarity-they think less of it than we do of spelter or brass. They use it for household objects: mangles, boot scrapes and-you’ll love this-chamber pots.”

Gio scanned the aisles of skeptical faces. “You clearly don’t believe me. Well, look; I have one here.” As he spoke, he trotted to the back of the stage and unpacked several items from a canvas bag. He held up the very chamber pot that Danio had given to Wrenn. He had polished it to a brilliance and it dazzled.

Everybody in the hall began to laugh, and Gio smiled too. He was scarcely audible over the tumult. “Mauvein is a practically Eszai-good jeweler. Verify this for me.” He slipped down off the stage and gave the pot to a portly man whom I recognized as one of Ata’s sons-although by now he was much older than his mother.

The gleaming chamber pot was turned around under his big fingers and then he nodded. “It’s enough bullion for a manorship to buy out of providing fyrd for two years. I could find better things to do with this than piss in it.”

“Well, you can’t have it…yet.” Gio flourished it. “You see that Trisians have so much wealth the meanest utensils are solid gold. Yet Mist’s clique are determined to keep it for themselves. I have bought the caravel Pavonine. At this very moment my allies in Awndyn are stocking her, and other ships. From Hacilith University I’ve found it easy to hire a pair of crusty scholars well versed in Old Morenzian inscriptions. They are optimistic of being able to interpret the basics of Trisian for us. The journey will be a challenge, I grant you, but not so difficult now a trail is blazed. There’s safety in a convoy-if you want to commandeer berths in other caravels who’ll stop you?

“I earned wealth enough from the Ghallain School to pay the crews and create an ideal life in Capharnaum without being constantly tested by the Circle. Who knows, in a couple of years, consolidated and stronger, we might return.”

A swordsman called something I couldn’t hear.

“Ah, Tirrick. I’m just skating all over the floor on those pearls of wisdom,” Gio answered sarcastically. He put the chamber pot down, fished in his inside coat pocket and held up a thick notebook that I recognized immediately. “This is Mist’s own rutter. My agents stole it when they took the chamber pot. Here are the coordinates of the island, and a comprehensive description of the route. ‘Twenty-nine degrees south, one hundred and twenty-nine degrees east,’” he read in a respectful tone. “Nearly on line with the Awndyn northing, I’m given to understand. So, how many of you will join me?”

Two or three hundred hands went up immediately; these men had nothing to lose. Gio pushed the priceless piss-pot with his toe. The Awian soldiers conferred among themselves, weighing the risks of the voyage against the rewards. Having fought in Lowespass, they were accustomed to frontiers. They raised their hands.

In fencing, it is very important to be able to change the direction of your thrust the instant you see that it’s going to miss its target. Gio knew now that he could never be strong enough to destroy the Castle, so he turned the thrust to Tris. He was prepared to exile himself to survive.

My lamp-lit window was the only source of light and sound in the whole pitch-black landscape. Everything that existed was in this hall-Eske Forest was a void. Gio raised his voice above the roar as again the rain swelled to a cloudburst. Drops bounced off the brim of my leather hat. Forked lightning bit color into the forest for an instant. Gio paused as a ten-second-long thunder crash rolled around the hollow of the little town. It hypnotized everyone in the hall. Gio stood right foot forward, held the rapier scabbard and drew the 1969 Sword with his right hand. He swung it casually, feeling its balance.

“We start for Awndyn tomorrow morning. By Sunday I’ll be in the harbormaster’s house to meet you adventurers. We will sail next week.” He held the rapier up above the crowd ostentatiously. “The Eszai have outlived morality. I won’t lie back and think of the Fourlands while the Castle screws us, time and again. Come with me!” he exclaimed. “To seek this new world-for gold and brandy!”

Gio ended, and the crowd began to applaud. They stood up, clapped and cheered him. The ovation went on and on. Gio glanced up at the windows; I turned my white face away and shrank back against the frame. Gio bounded off the stage and his friends shook his hand and slapped him on the back all the way down the hall. His eyes were hectic bright and his cheeks were flushed. The doors were thrown wide-light and people spilled out. I looked with hatred. Kill him, god, if I only had my crossbow! Kill him, I’ll jump straight on his head! If he wasn’t surrounded by swordsmen.