Stephen Hunt - The Kingdom Beyond the Waves

‘What secrets? What in the name of the Circle would have stopped me from going in search of Camlantis?’

‘Camlantis is everything we thought it was and more, but its final days on Earth were not the best of times. Threatened by the Black-oil Horde, there was a schism in the Camlantean consensus on how to handle the barbarian invasion. The crystal-book I omitted showing you contains details of their civil war.’

Amelia’s mouth hung open in shock. ‘But that can’t be. Their whole civilization was based on pacifism, they were not capable-’

‘They were facing extinction,’ interrupted Quest. ‘Some of their people felt they had no choice but to take alternative action. That terrible decision tore Camlantis apart. It was no accidental floatquake that struck a looted and ruined city, and neither was their ascent into the heavens a noble act of mass suicide to prevent their knowledge from being perverted by the barbarians. The Camlanteans were at least as advanced in the worldsinger arts and geomancy as we are today. Camlantis was destroyed in a civil war. Leylines were strategically altered and the city blown into the heavens during the fighting.’

Tears ran down Amelia’s cheeks. ‘No!’ But she knew it had the ring of truth. The pocket world under the waters of Lake Ataa Naa Nyongmo, its halls of else-when, a prophetic warning of the dangers of conflict. This was the warning from her father’s shade, an admonition that had come true, this was the bitter laughter of a desert witch in Cassarabia.

‘They sacrificed themselves, gave their lives rather than commit acts of violence,’ Amelia whispered.

‘Just another war, Amelia, a stupid senseless war and a small imperfection in an otherwise untarnished record. The Camlanteans lived for two-thousand years in peace and only faltered in their final months when they were nearly extinct — how can we judge them for that?’ Quest held up the gleaming Camlantean crown. ‘And look where your passion has led you.’

Amelia pointed at Billy Snow being dragged away across the hangar floor. ‘I told you, he said the crown doesn’t hold the location of Camlantis.’

‘A half-truth,’ said Quest. ‘The crown does not contain the location of the city. It contains the key to unlock her gates.’

‘A key? It’s a jigging key! Then you already know where Camlantis is?’ gasped Amelia. ‘All this time and you knew ?’

‘You might say I know where it isn’t,’ smiled Quest. ‘Which amounts to the same thing in this instance.’

‘You’re a thorough bastard,’ said Amelia.

‘I needed your knowledge and your expertise,’ apologized Quest, ‘and I preferred to limit the facts of the expedition’s true objective to Veryann. If the Daggish had captured her, she had access to a herb that would have ensured the green-mesh did not take her alive. Would the rest of your crew have sacrificed themselves to keep the people of Jackals safe? Even the Camlanteans failed that test in the end.’

‘Well, we’ve passed your blessed test now,’ said the commodore, ‘those of us who’ve made it back alive. We’ll take our money and be on our way.’

‘Really?’ said Quest. ‘Do you have no curiosity? You are all welcome to travel with me to Camlantis. You’ll see sights that no one has seen in millennia, travel higher than any aerostat in the history of Jackals. This is your chance to touch the stars.’

‘The only sights I want to see are the warm corridors of Tock House,’ said the commodore, ‘and the only things I want to touch are the fine bottles of wine I have stored away back in my pantry. You can keep your dead city with its dead secrets, Abraham Quest.’

T’ricola nodded in agreement and Ironflanks pulled himself straight, leaning against the craynarbian, his voicebox tinny after self-repairing his wounded systems. ‘I will take the second part of the payment you promised me and leave with my soft-body friends.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Quest. ‘It was money you all signed up for and if that is what matters to you, it is money you shall have. Triple the agreed fee if you wish. My holdings in Jackals have been, shall we say, liquidated by circumstances. Mere money is the least of my concerns now.’ He glanced over at his airship’s captain.

‘We will be over Jackals in two days, sir, I would not advise flying low enough to be reachable by the cannons of the RAN fleet, though.’

‘Load a glider capsule onto the racks,’ ordered Quest, turning to the expedition survivors. ‘We’ll fire you off somewhere out of the way. No one need ever know you were involved with the mad schemes of a rogue commercial lord.’

‘That will suit me just fine,’ said the commodore.

‘And what of you, professor?’ asked Quest. ‘Our journey’s end lies above the Sepia Sea. In four to five days’ time you could be walking the empty streets of ancient Camlantis, touching towers and spires you have only glimpsed before in crystal-book images.’

‘Damn your eyes, you know the answer as well as I do,’ said Amelia.

‘Don’t go, lass,’ pleaded the commodore. ‘Sailing around the sky like the queen of the clouds, tweaking parliament’s nose by your very presence. It can only end in a wicked bad way. The life of an outlaw is no life for you; you can trust me on that. Come back with old Blacky to Jackals and stay a week or two with me in Tock House while we forget all about our part in this sorry adventure.’

‘I’m sorry, Jared. I’ve risked everything to have this chance, to be standing here — and I have so very little left to return to back home. I’ll make those prigs on the High Table eat their words, I’ll bring back an airship full of Camlantean artefacts and fill the corridors of Middlesteel Museum with the expedition’s finds as a reminder of their bloody-minded ignorance.’

‘I believe you’ve made the right decision,’ said Quest.

Amelia looked at the crown of Camlantis in his hand, the inset crystal gleaming like a devil’s egg. She had made the only decision she was able to, but as to the rightness of it, all she could hear was the mocking laughter of an old hag roaming the Cassarabian desert.

‘You jiggers,’ shouted Bull Kammerlan. ‘I find your second-rate shopkeeper’s precious crown for him, and this is how you pay me back?’

One of the Catosians dragging him to the cell rabbit-punched him under his armpit. ‘You haven’t had your payment yet for betraying our master.’

Billy Snow stood by sadly, listening to the beating, his arms weighed down by metal restraints. The officer of the brig glanced up from her desk at her two new tenants. She had empty cells, but it was always easier to concentrate them in a couple of holding pens and keep an eye on what they were up to. She sized the two new lads up and pointed at Bull. ‘Put the mutineer in with the lashlite and his insane friend.’ She tapped Billy’s straightjacket. ‘Does this grizzled old fellow really need this?’

‘High security at all times,’ replied the soldier. ‘The First says he can fight in witch-time.’

‘Even sightless?’ said the brig officer. ‘Impressive.’ Another damned problem prisoner. She pointed past the cells along the corridor and indicated the stairs down to the armoured hold. ‘Lock him up with the Court of the Air’s agent, then. They are both of an age, and it will give the old woman someone to complain to other than myself about the disrespect we show our elders.’

Bull moaned.

‘The mutineer has cloud sickness,’ warned one of the escorts. ‘He threw up outside the glider capsule hangar.’

‘You would think he’d have better air legs,’ laughed a soldier.

‘I’m a seadrinker,’ snapped Bull. ‘U-boats don’t move like this, blondey-locks.’