Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

“Tell me, lad. Who would stand most to profit from the present situation, from keeping Tran-ky-ky backward and unrepresented in Council? Who could keep a nice, private eye on every bit of off-planet trade and regulate it to suit his own personal accounts?”

“I didn’t get that impression from Trell at all, Skua.” Ethan kicked at the icepath, sent a few pale splinters flying. “That’s a strong accusation to make against a Resident Commissioner.”

“There’s an informal law, lad, about political appointees. The smaller the post, the less often they’re inspected, and the more opportunity there is for foolin’ around with the books.” He clapped Ethan on the back, nearly knocking him down. “Wouldn’t be the first time good manners have shielded a larcenous heart.” He frowned. “Course, he’s right about this feudal setup. We’ll have to do something about that.”

Ethan stopped, the snow swirling around him trying to find a way to penetrate his survival suit. “Do something about it? We can’t do anything about it. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking, young feller-me-lad, that we’ve several days left to think about it…”

“Three there are it is not possible to do.” Sir Hunnar Redbeard spoke with conviction as he gazed at humans and Tran seated around the long galley table of the Slanderscree.

“It is not possible to kill a stavanzer. It is not possible to stand against a westwind Rif. And it is not possible to keep the Tran from warring among themselves.” He turned his feline stare on Ethan. His voice was as cold and assured as the slight storm howling outside the ship, making squeaking sounds in the cracks between rafters and planks.

“What you propose, friend Ethan, cannot be imagined, far less can it be done. A union of islands, a confederation of states? A council of Landgraves?” His triangular ears switched nervously. “More likely it would be for water to run freely across the seas.”

“It has to be done, Hunnar.” Ethan was half pleading with the assembled knights. “Don’t you understand how things have been set up here? The people of Arsudun and more importantly, their leaders, have a monopoly on all off-world trade and information. They profit tremendously, unfairly from it. It should be shared equally among all the Tran.”

“Aye, the metal,” a gruff voice added. Eyes turned in its direction.

Balavere Longax was Sofold’s most respected living warrior. An older, stockier version of Hunnar, his gray fur turning to white in patches, he commanded silence on the rare occasions when he chose to speak. Though less excited than those of his colleagues, his words carried considerably more weight.

“The metal. Never have I seen so much metal as the people of Arsudun possess. Nor do they seem deserving of it.” That brought irritated murmurs of agreement from several other members of the crew. “Not only their weapons, my friends, but yea too their household implements, water pots, and others are pure metal.”

Ethan nodded enthusiastically. “And they’re still being cheated, I think. Stelamic is cheaper than duralloy.”

September pushed back his chair, making the floorboards creak. “Hunnar, if the Tran will spill blood for metal, why are you so damned sure they won’t cooperate to get it?”

“It is considered degrading to cooperate with people from a less noble state,” the knight replied, as if that explained everything. “Do you remember when Sagyanak’s Horde assaulted Wannome? The she-devil’s tribe was a threat to all states. How much help was volunteered to us? How much aid did our neighbors provide to help fight the common enemy?” He sat down, mumbled, “Profit is not sufficient reason for forgetting old hatreds and suspicions. Your own Commonwealth-thing, there is no word for it in our language. The closest I can come is family.”

“That’s just how you have to start thinking of all Tran,” Ethan interrupted excitedly. “You’re a family. That’s all any race is, an extended family. Like it or not, Tran-ky-ky is destined to take its place as a member of the Commonwealth. You can’t go back to Wannome and look up at the night sky from your homes without realizing you’re a part of something much bigger and grander than Sofold. You might as well gain the advantages that are yours by right, now .” A little out of breath and a bit embarrassed at the strength of his unexpected polemic, Ethan sat back down.

“Advantages which should be spread among all Tran,” September added more quietly, but just as emphatically.

“My good friends with whom I share my warmth, I recognize the truth of your words.” Hunnar looked despondent. “Would that I could will the spirit of this world otherwise. But the Tran are good at arguing with knives, not with words.”

“Then you must achieve the same end with knives.” Colette du Kane entered the room. She waddled gracefully to the far end of the long wooden table, placed both hands on it and leaned forward. “If reason and logic aren’t enough to cement this confederation you must make, then do it with knives. The end is justified by what you will gain.” She threw Ethan and September a rather disdainful look.

“Only profits have so far been mentioned, material things. Commonwealth membership will force you to mature as a people. Soon you won’t need knives to discuss with. But if you fail,” and she paused for emphasis, “you’ll remain just as you are, frozen in ability and evolution as well as in daily life. You’ll stay ignorant farmers and fighters and your cubs will grow up just as inefficient and deprived as you all are.”

Wind hammered insistently at doorways and portholes, the only sound in the room.

Eventually Hunnar spoke, choosing his words carefully. “You have ventured enough insults to result in a shortened tongue, woman. Yet you did so, I believe, in the hope of benefiting us. What you say is truthspeak.” Several of the other nobles now looked askance at Hunnar, then at one another. There were some unhappy mutterings and a few threatening looks in Colette’s direction.

“Listen to you all.” Ethan thought he had seen someone else behind Colette when she stepped through the cabin portal. Now that other person also entered.

Elfa Kurdagh-Vlata looked like a bewhiskered amazon in cloak and light robe. Her translucent dan caught the back light of oil lamps beyond and turned to curved sheets of orange flame when she raised her arms.

“You confirm what the human woman says every time you speak. She calls you ignorant and in response to her reasoning words you make stupid threatening sounds, like mewling cubs caught stealing vegetables.”

“We grant the wisdom of her speaking,” grumbled one of the other nobles at the table. “It was the manner of such speaking.” While Elfa was the inheritor of the Landgrave’s title, the noble had used no honorific in addressing her, Ethan noted. Such informality between rulers and ruled was one of the Tran’s most heartening characteristics.

“But would Phulos-Tervo or any of our other border rulers do likewise?” the noble finished bluntly. There was murmur of agreement from around the table.

“Perhaps not.” Elfa conceded the point readily. “But a total stranger might. Phulos-Tervo would be suspicious of anything my father might agree to. A stranger would know him not.” She gestured at the humans in the room, pointing at each in turn.

“Here are our offworld friends, proof of the truths we will seek to convince others of. No one can dispute their existence. Therefore it may be that others will accept their words as have we.”

“That is possible,” agreed a swaggering knight named Heso-idn. “If they will come with us.” He eyed Ethan expectantly.