Adrian Tchaikovsky - The Sea Watch

And then it had all gone wrong, horribly wrong. Stenwold Maker had talked the Assembly into declaring against the Empire, and the Imperial Second Army had come ravening along the coast until it stood at the gates of Collegium itself, since Maker had talked the Assembly into committing Collegium to war.

Even then it had still looked hopeful, and more hopeful for Broiler and his peers than for any others. The Empire was a formidable military force, the Sarnesh had already been beaten once, and Collegium was still battered after the Vekken siege. An Imperial Collegium, with positions of responsibility handed to those the Empire could trust, would have worked out very nicely. And Stenwold Maker’s head on a pike.

But the Sarnesh and their Collegiate ancillaries had beaten the Empire at Malkan’s Stand, and then the Emperor had displayed the ferociously ill-timed gall to die, dragging Imperial stability with him. General Tynan’s Second Army had rushed from the gates of Collegium to secure the man’s political future, and Collegium somehow declared it a victory for the Lowlands. The Treaty of Gold was signed, and subsequently there was a peace in which the Empire was remembered as the aggressor and its friends as potential collaborators. Men like Broiler were soon busy erasing whole chapters of their own recent past.

All this could be read quite clearly in the avuncular eyes of Honory Bellowern, now sitting down to eat.

He left it until Broiler’s servants had brought out a dessert of honeyed custard, before approaching business. Honory Bellowern possessed a true Beetle appetite, ploughing with gusto through everything that was set before him. But finally he raised a hand, and Broiler’s heart sank.

‘There’s a little matter,’ Bellowern began. ‘Something that’s going to come up.’

He used very similar words each time, and Broiler watched him from across the table, devoid of appetite.

‘Within a few days our mutual friends will be the talk of the town again,’ Bellowern stated. ‘I imagine our colleague the War Master will then become quite agitated. You’d do us the favour of heading up the opposition, surely?’

‘What?’ Broiler asked flatly. ‘What’s going to happen?’

‘News from the far east, inconsequential really, but you know that Master Maker will try to talk war over it. Collegium needs a cool head in the Assembly, to lay to rest people’s fears, Helmess. You can do that, can’t you?’

Broiler looked sour. ‘And should we be fearing, just now?’

‘No, no, it’s all very, very far away. It’s just that Maker gets so very twitchy whenever the black and gold flag is raised. He’ll have our ambassador there, anyway, and we’ve got a few salvos to send over his parapets, but it would be useful to have a little local support, no?’

‘Or?’ Helmess hadn’t meant to say it, but his temper was frayed, and recent developments in his own life – the ones Bellowern was ignorant of – spurred him on.

Honory Bellowern favoured him with a kindly smile. ‘You’d rather remain a friend of the Empire, wouldn’t you?’ he asked. ‘You’ve always impressed me as a man of foresight, Helmess. Tynan’s Second nearly broke this city the last time, and it was not the staunch defenders of Collegium that turned them away. You know, we both know, that we’ll be back here in time. When the black and gold waves over the Amphiophos, we’ll know who our true friends are.’ He smiled, white teeth gleaming. ‘And, of course, in the short term you need us. You’re not the most popular man in the Assembly any more. You’re not going to be Speaker, and therefore you need us. If nothing else, you need us to keep quiet about certain aspects of the war.’

‘I could deny anything you threw at me,’ Broiler stated.

‘But who would be believed? You’re not the big noise you once were, Helmess. You still have a lot of support, but it’s the kind that would melt away like spring frost once you started to smell. You rely on our silence, if nothing else.’

Broiler kept his expression blank, but nodded resignedly. He was a politician, good at dissociating his face from his mind. Bellowern seemed satisfied, anyway. Ruin me, would you? Helmess thought. Well, perhaps I have a little support you aren’t aware of. And perhaps there are things the vaunted Imperial spies don’t know.

They concluded their meal, Broiler playing his part as bitter but defeated, and Bellowern seemed to go away satisfied. Broiler stayed by the door a long time after he had departed, considering how much longer he would have to dance to that man’s tune. Upstairs, he heard her tread. She’d kept absolute silence all through the meal, not allowing a hint to Bellowern that they had company. Now he heard her at the top of the staircase. A spark struck up in his heart – for her, and for the sheer joy of conspiracy and secret knowledge.

The fog had come as a stroke of luck, for without it the pirate would have overhauled them already. Although the Pelter – out of Collegium with a cargo of machined gems, wine and artifice – had been running its engines at top speed for an hour, the other ship’s great spread of sail had been gradually closing the distance, and there was no sign of a change in the wind that might give the Beetle engineers an advantage. The Pelter was a small ship, and its meagre crew in no position to fight off sea-brigands, so its captain had set a course away from the coast, while cursing the tight-fist-edness of the Pelter’s owners in a continuous monotone. The weather was becoming rougher further from land, which should affect the pirate more than themselves, and once the coast was out of sight, navigation grew difficult. Perhaps the pirate would turn back rather than risk getting lost.

Which will leave us lost instead, but that’s better than robbed or dead, considered Tolly Aimark. His career as a ship’s captain had seen pirates seize his last vessel, and the Pelter was likely to be his final chance to avoid an ignominious dismissal. The merchants back in Collegium would care nothing for the dangers of a seagoing life. They would see only their losses, and punish him accordingly.

Now they had hit a fog bank, which was normally a curse, but which Aimark decided was his first stroke of luck today. He toyed with signalling the helm to turn for shore again, but the pirates would surely be expecting that. If he were on their deck, he would be cutting a course that ran between the coast and the Pelter’s last bearing, in anticipation of just such a move. On the other hand…

‘Two points starboard,’ he gave the order, and the Pelter turned further from land, out towards the open ocean. Oh, there were all manner of tales about ships that braved the deep sea, but mostly that such vessels were never seen again. It was a plain fact that the weather was savage there, enough to shred sails and overturn even a little engined steamer like the Pelter, but it was now time to see how bold these pirates might be.

‘Any sight?’ he called out. The Pelter still had a mast, though Aimark had no idea when her sails had last been raised. In theory they could continue to make headway if the engine failed, but he had no idea how many of his crew knew even the basics of sailing. He would rely on his artificers to fix the problem, rather than trust to wind and weather to get them anywhere.

The word came back from a Fly-kinden shuttling between him and the lookout. Yes, even through the fog, the great pale swathe of sail could be seen.

‘Hold our course,’ Aimark ordered. He knew that the pursuers would be listening for the sound of his engines, but at the same time the fog played tricks with sound, deadened and distorted it, and there was a fair chance that, by the time the pirate realized that the Pelter had taken an unexpected course, it would be too late.