David Drake: When the Tide Rises

The men-and a few women-climbing from the back of the truck dipped their faces and touched forelocks to Daniel before shuffling into line. Most were young and one freckle-faced boy didn't look to be more than fourteen years old. If Hogg'd picked him, though, there was a reason.

Hogg was Daniel's servant. Hogg's ancestors had served Learies of Bantry for as far back as records ran. He looked dirty, unsophisticated, andalmost bright enough to count to ten on his fingers.

In fact Hoggwas dirty. He was also a skilled poacher, as clever-and ruthless-as a ferret, and utterly loyal to the young master.

Hogg had been the man in Daniel's life while he was growing up. Loyalty and devotion didn't mean that Hogg wouldn't whale the living daylights out of a boy he thought needed it. They'd both known that if Daniel had complained to his gentle mother, Hogg would be turned off the estate in disgrace.

Hogg had continued to raise the boy according to his standards of conduct, because it was his duty to do so. That willingness to put duty first had been the guiding light of Daniel's life ever since. It'd served him well in the RCN.

Daniel looked critically at the new recruits. It'd been nearly a decade since he'd been back to Bantry, so he didn't recognize many of the faces. Michael Polucha, though, had the streak of white in his hair where he'd fallen into the fish processor back when he and Daniel were both eleven.

"You, Stripey!" Daniel called. "Why did you decide to join the

"Well, it's what Hogg told us, Master Daniel…," Polucha said, his eyes turned down toward his bare toes. "More money than anybody on Bantry ever seed-in the cottages I mean, saving your presence. And everybody bowing and scraping to us, 'cause we b'long t' Captain Leary."

Daniel scowled, wondering how to handle this. These folk were his responsibility, and the Learies didn't lie to their retainers. On the other hand, he had responsibilities to thePrincess Cecile and the RCN also, and another twenty recruits could bevery helpful…

"Just hold on before you say the wrong thing, young master," Hogg said. He turned to theSissie 's main hatch where Richard Campeny, the armorer, was chatting with the two power room ratings on guard with sub-machine guns.

"Campeny!" he called. "You heard what Polucha says I told him. Is it the truth?"

"Hell, yes, Hogg," said Campeny, straightening when he realized everybody-including Miranda-was watching him. "Though I won't pretend much of the money stuck tomy fingers; I guess there's more could say that too. It's a bloody good time whenever we're on the ground, though, and they learn we're Sissies. Abloody good time!"

Hogg bobbed his head, then faced Daniel again. "Now, young master," he said forcefully. "Now what do you say?"

"All right, Campeny," Daniel said. "Since you seem to have time on your hands, take charge of this draft until Woetjans gets through stowing the missiles. Tell Lieutenant Vesey to set up the watches and make bunk assignments."

"You heard the master!" Hogg said. "Hop it, Bantries! You're going to make us proud or you'll rue the day you were born!"

The new draft clumped and clattered aboard theSissie. Sun led and Hogg brought up the rear. They each carried a blanket roll; first order of business would be to get them proper footlockers. That'd mean Master Daniel-as opposed to Commander Leary-would need to advance modest amounts of money…

"When will Lady Mundy be joining you, Daniel?" Miranda said. "Or is she already aboard?"

"Is she on board, Mon?" Daniel asked; Mon shook his head.

"To be honest," Daniel said to Miranda, "I don't know when she'll arrive. She said she had some business to take care of."

He pursed his lips. "And she said she'd be bringing an assistant, if I approved," he added. "Which of course I did."

"That'd be Tovera, you mean, sir?" Mon asked. He kept his tone very neutral, the way people did when they had to talk about Tovera.

"No, from the way she spoke, she's talking about a real assistant," Daniel said. "In addition to her servant Tovera. I, ah, I'm confident that Officer Mundy knows what she's doing."

Mon nodded. Pasternak, the Chief Engineer, leaned out of a stern hatch. "Mon!" he bellowed. "There's a bloody valve frozen on the feed to Number Eight thruster!"

"There bloody well isn't unless your own people have been monkeying with it!" Mon bellowed back. He glanced at Daniel. "With your leave?'

"Of course, Mon," Daniel said, but his manager was already striding up theSissie 's entrance ramp. His boots hammered the non-skid surface.

"Is the assistant someone that Lady Mundy's other friends assigned to her, Daniel?" Miranda said in a very quiet voice.

"To be honest, my dear," Daniel said, "I don't know and I don't want to know. I'm happiest-"

He smiled warmly at the girl beside him, taking some of the sting out of what was nonetheless a rebuke.

"-when I don't know anything at all about Adele's other friends!"

Xenos on Cinnabar

The private car in which Adele shuttled along the tram lines of Xenos was marked with the crest of the Petrie family, three red mullets on a puce ground. It was common for wealthy families to keep personal cars at their townhouses; servants lifted them on and off the monorail as required.

Adele slipped her personal data unit back into its pocket so that she could grip a handhold as she faced the woman who'd summoned her into the vehicle. "Well," said Mistress Sand. "What did you learn?"

Adele shrugged. "That the Petries are a west-coast family," she said. "Though they appear to be wealthy enough, they're not interested in the expense and ferment of Xenos. They don't have a townhouse here."

"I would have told you that," said Bernis Sand. "I suppose you wouldn't have trusted me, would you?"

"I ordinarily get information electronically," Adele said calmly. "When the question occurred to me, I answered it in my normal fashion."

She'd never seen the spymaster angry before. Sand's voice remained calm, but her stubby fingers fidgeted with a carved ivory snuff box, slipping it into and out of her waistcoat repeatedly.

"We looked at the information on the chip you sent us," Sand said, turning to face the opera window on the right side of the vehicle. The clear acrylic panel had been treated with a film that unrecognizably distorted objects seen through it. "To the extent we can cross-check, everything is confirmed."

She met Adele's eyes again and managed a slight smile. "It's in very good order," she added. "I was reminded of your own reports, Mundy."

Adele smiled faintly. "Thank you," she said. "Mistress Boileau trained me well."

"Bartram Cazelet was executed in Wellbank Prison on Pleasaunce," Sand continued. "It's possible but unlikely that Glenda Boileau Cazelet is still alive. You know about the Guarantor's prisons, so you realize that this possibility isn't good news."

Adele dipped her head in acknowledgement. "Yes, I realize that," she said.

"What wedon't know, Mundy," Sand said in a harsher tone, "is who informed on the elder Cazelets. At this point there's a significant chance, asignificant chance, that it was their own son. Your Rene Cazelet may well be not just an informer but an agent of the Fifth Bureau!"

A second tram with the Petrie crest, rather more battered than the first, followed theirs. That too was normal when members of the nobility wanted to retain their privacy but keep servants readily accessible. Today the second vehicle carried Tovera and Rene Cazelet, accompanied by four very solid men wearing Petrie livery.

"I don't believe that's the case, mistress," Adele said. "You may think the Fifth Bureau could delude Mistress Boileau in that fashion, but I do not. Regardless, I have a personal-a family-obligation to young Cazelet. He came to me for shelter, as I went to his grandmother."