Steph Swainston - No Present Like Time

Lights attached to the main deck railings marked two parallel lines. I had touched down safely between them. Now, sitting at the table in Mist’s quiet cabin, Lightning and I watched her sailors disassembling the lanthorns and hurricane lamps. They were extinguished one by one, until the office and wheelhouse were the only cabins lit.

“Take a good look,” said Mist. “Tomorrow night we burn no lantern. The wind is dropping and our approach is good, thanks to Jant’s spy. You will have the pleasure of sneaking to Capharnaum in complete darkness, through the narrow strait by their beacon islet. You must trust me.”

“Yes, but for god’s sake don’t trust Cinna. He’s a craven liar, he only worships money. Thankfully Gio doesn’t know what to ask, or Cinna would tell him everything.”

“Just how did you come to know Cinna, anyway?” Mist asked.

“Let’s not go into that,” I said dismissively. I poured myself a quantity of Lightning’s brandy and rested my head on my arms.

“Why is Wrenn not present?” Lightning demanded.

“He is too young,” said Mist demurely.

Lightning raised his eyebrows. “Why isn’t Rayne here?”

“She is too old.”

“Simply that they would disagree with your methods,” Lightning said.

“Wrenn is impetuous and idealistic. The Doctor’s not a warrior and can bring little to the table. Please let me outline my plans for you clearheaded gentlemen first.”

Lightning said, “It is the same as when I tried to eradicate Insects from the streets of Micawater. How do we get rid of Gio and his vicious followers without damaging the town?”

“Or making the Senate detest us more than they already do?” I added.

Mist said, “San gave me the task; I will fulfill it. The way ahead is clear. Listen! Lightning, if you were to remove the leader, the rebellion would collapse. Your skill with the longbow makes you best suited to try.”

In the short silence Lightning gazed at his rummer glass. He said amiably, “You’re asking me to capture Gio? Or assassinate him?”

“Saker, think-”

“No.” He looked at her directly. “No, Ata; I won’t do that.”

Mist folded her arms. “Saker, I’m surprised that you don’t want to regain your honor and take revenge on Gio for stabbing you in the back.”

“It would be less worthy still to become an assassin,” Lightning explained. “I have never killed a man, and if I were simply to hide and shoot him, I don’t know if I could live with myself afterward. I do not want to spend the next few centuries troubled by guilt and introspection. In addition to the fact that it would lose me my esteem.”

“No one on the mainland will ever know. None of your sentiments apply to us in this plight. We’re far from home. There are no ingrained traditions, carved beasts carrying pennants, heraldic old charters to say who we are. We’re understocked and badly prepared. The Capharnai don’t know us and Gio has stacked the odds against us. Eliminating him is the only way.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll save Trisian lives! They’re innocent; I don’t want to harm them. If we remove Gio, the Capharnai will be peaceable without him. If we set foot in Capharnaum while Gio controls it, we’re dead. I think that Gio’s lust to rejoin the Circle is driving him insane. You know the saying: Pure ambition seeks one goal only. Don’t you think Gio’s deeds are a mad panic, rather than a Challenge?”

“I think mad people want to see the madness in everyone,” I commented.

The Sailor ignored me. “Saker, you must stop him. Can you think of a better idea?”

Lightning slowly replied, “No. Nonetheless, you have my answer. I will not shoot Gio. I do not want it on my conscience for the rest of my life.” He undid the buttons at his collar and pulled the silk down so that we could see a small circular scar pierced front and back through his shoulder. “See this? An arrow shaft. Eight hundred years ago I beat a Challenger and he turned around and shot me. Fortunately he had a terrible aim and failed to take my life. He spent the rest of his days in the Sturge Prison on Teron Island. There is nothing honorable about assassins; I don’t want to be one…Anyway, it would look pretty obvious if Gio is found with an arrow in his chest. It is not for me…” He trailed off, thoughtfully, and stroked the scar on his right hand.

“Jant-” Mist began.

“Ha! Just because I’m not Lord Micawater you think I have no morals! Besides, Gio’s the most dangerous man in the world. Lightning is more capable of dealing with him than I am.”

“But the bastard wounded him. Lightning, your good friend…”

“Yes, and the bastard would run me through if he had the chance.”

“Remember all the awful slander you said Gio lambasted us with in his rally? You said you were ready to shoot him.”

I thought privately of how he slurred Tern’s reputation and my manhood and dependability. Yes, I had been prepared to kill him.

Mist smiled eerily and prompted, “Gio attacked the Castle, Jant. There’s no doubt but he deserves what he gets. A few drops of the drug you keep injecting yourself with should do the trick.”

I looked at Lightning, who shrugged. I said reluctantly, “All right, I’ll do it.”

“Good!” said Mist. Her leather trousers creaked as she stood up. She turned to her cot and began to delve around energetically inside it. “If you make it look like he was addicted and took an overdose, we can discredit him in the Fourlands.”

I gave her a flat stare. “And make the climate dangerous for other people who happen to be users? Thank you, but no. Besides, I need all my supply.”

If an Eszai commits a crime and is caught, the Castle has no power to try him, nor may the Emperor intercede on his behalf. Instead, he is handed over to the court of the country in which the crime took place, to be tried and sentenced there. I couldn’t guess how a Trisian court might work, or how severe the penalty might be. Or if I could successfully talk myself out of it.

Likewise, there is only one circumstance in which the Castle may interfere in a country’s business-if an Eszai has been attacked or murdered, the assailant must be handed over to the Castle to be tried according to the law of his homeland, as happened with Lightning’s erstwhile assassin eight centuries ago. If the murderer is protected by his country, San would forbid entrance to the Circle for anyone from that land, undeniably a terrible threat.

Mist’s cot was a boxlike bed with a drape of thick ivory lace. It swung as she pulled up the meager mattress and extracted a bulky white packet-the envelope of scolopendium that Cinna had originally sold me. She tossed it onto the table. “An additional supply. Use a pinch of powder.”

“But, Ata,” I said, startled, “you said you’d thrown it in the sea! Wrenn told me you had. You led him to believe…”

“I never discard useful assets.”

I stared at her wondering if she had wanted me to become addicted. My stash in the coat hem she had overlooked, all the needles and vials on the Melowne -I had been surprised there were so many-had she intended me to find them and get hooked so that I would be helpless and corruptible, under her control? And now she bribed me with the drugs I bought myself!

I knew how crazy that sounded, so I said nothing. Without proof, I did not dare to accuse her. I was as lost and confused as in an Awian maze. “Oh, in San’s name, what choice do I have?”

I pulled the envelope toward me gingerly, aware of Lightning’s disapproval. The last thing I wanted was Gio materializing in Epsilon. I needed a poison that would kill him outright and quickly, so as not to give him a chance to reach a Shift world. I said, “Gio might detect scolopendium; it has a distinctive taste. If you’re devoted to this course, I can propose a less risky, more efficient substance.” I slipped my wedding band off my fourth finger, and the broader ring that I wore below it-a black star sapphire set in silver. I pushed the stone with my thumbnail; it depressed then popped open. Inside were two very small white tablets. I passed the ring to Ata.