Peter Dickinson - Angel Isle

Maja put the spectacles away, took a small brush and comb out of the reticule and started to tease the night tangles out of her hair while she waited for Saranja to dress. It was difficult to reach behind her head, but the hair was long enough for her to be able to drag it forward and comb the ends, which was where most of the knots were. The real Lady Kzuva would have had a servant to do this, of course, which was why her hands seemed clumsier than she’d have expected. It wasn’t just the creakiness of her joints. They hadn’t had any practice.

Saranja disappeared among the rocks and returned, dressed in her normal clothes. Instead of going back to where she’d slept she went and crouched beside Benayu to watch what he was doing. Maja could hear the quiet murmur of his voice as he explained something to her, and then hers, more briefly, asking a question. When they’d finished, Saranja came over to Maja.

“Good morning,” she said. “I hope you managed to sleep a bit. You’d like me to help you dress?”

“If you would be so good.”

“Yes, of course. Benayu says you’re playing the part to the hilt.”

“I am not playing the part,” Maja said sharply. “I am the part. I could no more speak like the Maja you know than I could skip rope. I take it you do not propose to appear before the Syndics dressed as you are.”

“I’ll change when I’ve done the horses.”

Dressing was a tedious process and painful at times, but the result was satisfactory—a splendid version of the women’s attire standard throughout the Empire, a long-sleeved dress, dark brown velvet laced with silver, the hem of the skirt rustling at her ankles, the front lacing up to her neck and finishing in a flurry of fine lace; a triple necklace of pearls and rubies, with a matching brooch; and a long scarf wound twice round her head so that it framed her face and the ends hung down either side almost to her knees; the blue beads on the tassels—sapphires in her case—announced her rank and status. One of her rings bore a jade seal, the rest glittered with jewels.

By the time they’d finished the others were up. Ribek and Striclan were wearing the normal outfit of most grown men in the Empire, but of finer quality than before and with more blue beads. Like Saranja, Ribek had changed little from what he’d been when Maja first saw him, apart from aging ten years or so, with graying temples and a bonier nose. With the buried part of her mind she’d been vaguely wondering how she’d feel about him, now she herself was so altered. Suppose two old lovers who’d long ago separated without rancor were suddenly to meet again; they might feel like this, she decided. Peculiar business, this, both of them living their lives in the wrong order.

Striclan, on the other hand, was a stranger who happened to look a bit like Striclan but was clearly someone else. His hair was cut short and he had a neat little moustache and beard, wore spectacles and held himself with a scholarly stoop.

“All his own work,” said Saranja. “He used his own hair for the whiskers. He had the gum and glasses in his shoulder bag, but everything else he just changed somehow. He’s full of tricks. Comes of being a spy, I suppose.”

“Where is Chanad?” said Maja. “Is she all right?”

“She’s a lot stronger. Apparently the Ropemaker passed on some of his powers to her, as well as his official ring, same as Zara did with Benayu, but she’s still got to get used to them. She’s gone ahead to deal with the Pirates’ magicians. We’re going to have something to eat, and then Benayu’s going to make us invisible and take us to their control deck so that we can see what’s going on before they know we’re there. We’ll just pop up when it suits us.”

Breakfast was a simple, homely meal, porridge, fruit, little cold sausages, bread and butter and cheese, warm milk, or water—all perfectly edible, but Maja felt oddly dissatisfied and crotchety. It must have showed, for Benayu rose and came across. (He knew better than to read her mind.)

“May I fetch you anything, my lady?” he said.

“Thank you, Bennay. I am accustomed to something particular at this hour. I cannot tell you what it is, but if you could arrange something…”

“Very good, my lady.”

He stood for a moment in one of his trances. A salver appeared in his hands. On it were a pretty cup and saucer, a matching pot with a spout and a jar with a lid. Carefully he filled the cup from the pot, gave it to her, took the lid off the jar and offered it to her. She took out three small round biscuits, put them in the saucer and inhaled the rich, spicy steam that rose from the cup. The ache in her hip eased at the first sip. Magic, she guessed.

“Thank you, Bennay. Just what I needed,” she said.

“Very good, my lady.”

Beyond him she saw Ribek’s lips twitch. She produced what she was confident was a formidable glare.

“I see no cause for amusement in an old woman needing certain comforts after a night in the open,” she said. “We would all do well to become the people we are supposed to be, as far as we can. A superficial resemblance is not enough. We cannot afford to appear before these barbarians as a troupe of actors, or they will sense the deception. I was already asleep when you made your decisions last evening, so would you be good enough to introduce yourselves to me now?”

It wasn’t in Ribek’s nature to quail before a glare, but he accepted her rebuke with a nod.

“Yes,” he said, “you’re quite right. The sooner we get used to it, the better. We are representatives of a coalition of different interests in the Empire who combined to destroy the Watchers. Saranja and I are using our own names. I’m a mill owner, and I represent industrial interests, just as you represent the big landowners and agriculture in general.”

“And I’m going to be Captain Commander in the Women’s Regiment of the Imperial Army,” said Saranja. “I can’t be anyone grand, like you, because the Pirates probably know there aren’t any women generals, but there’s a lot of disaffection in the lower ranks of the army, Strick told us. I’ve seen a bit of fighting among the warlords beyond the Great Desert. But I’d better go and get the horses done, so I can dress the part too.”

Striclan’s thin lips moved into a smile as he watched her go.

“I’m looking forward to this,” he said. “Well, I’m Alkip Ruddya. I represent the Imperial Administration. I was Under-secretary in the department dealing with the registration and control of supernatural affairs, Magdep for short. I assembled our coalition at the request of my own Permanent Secretary and several of his colleagues of equal rank.

“There is a further point about yourself that you should know. Chararghi society was originally matriarchal. The men went off to hunt or fight and the women controlled the homestead. The trait persists. Even powerful men such as those we will be meeting have an instinct to respect women such as yourself.”

“We sound a formidable enough group,” said Maja, “few though we are. There are no professional magicians among us?”

“That is deliberate,” said Ribek. “One of the things we want to persuade the Pirates about is that they won’t be able to walk all over the Empire now that the Watchers are gone. So far they’ve just been nibbling away at the edges from the protection of the sea. They know almost nothing about the interior. So if they find that three of the four of us, who aren’t professional magicians, seem to have considerable magical powers…”

“But none of us have them. I certainly have nothing of the sort. The opposite, if anything.”

“You will appear to have them. Look, the simplest thing would be if I tell you how we hope the show will go. We aren’t in any hurry. It’ll be much easier for Benayu and Chanad if they’re close inland, where their powers are stronger. The Pirates are planning to anchor off Larg this evening and come ashore in the morning. All right?”