mandate. The Lady La-padolma never authorized such a mission for the Chathrand, nor would she. We are businessfolk, not butchers.'
Suddenly Oggosk laughed. The others jumped: they had all but forgotten her.
'What's the difference?' she said gleefully. 'Your darling Lady buys the bones of six thousand men and horses a year from the old Ipulia battlefields, grinds and sells them to eastern farmers to enrich their soils. She takes furs by the shipload from Idhe barons who set fire to trappers who don't catch enough mink. She buys ore mined by Ulluprid slaves, sells it to Etherhorde ironsmiths and sails back to the Ulluprids with spears and arrows for the slavemasters.'
'That is different,' said Thyne. 'That is buying and selling, commerce among free men.'
'Well then, so is our plan,' said Ott. 'We are buying a little room for Arqual and her manufacturers, and selling a God.'
'Madness!' repeated Thyne. 'There will be no profit in this for the Company, only the loss of her good reputation-'
Oggosk cackled again.
'— and this very ship, her flagship, the pride of the seas.' He looked at his companion, and his voice grew shrill. 'Aken, why do you just sit there? Speak up, man!'
'I can't think what to say,' said Aken.
'Well, I can,' said Thyne. 'Take your war games elsewhere, Ott. As Company Overseer for this trading voyage, I hereby revoke your lease on the Chathrand. You all know I have that power under the Sailing Code, section nine, article four: Gross Misstatement of Mission.'
As Thyne finished speaking, the spymaster turned to Drellarek and gave a small nod. Thyne saw the look and grasped its meaning instantly. 'Wait, wait!' he cried, springing backward. But Drellarek's eyes had glazed over, and a knife had appeared in his hand.
Then Rose moved. With one lurch he seized Aken by the lapels, wrenched him from the chair and clubbed him brutally across the face. The small man fell like a sack of grain at Drellarek's feet.
Thyne stumbled back from the table, his mouth agape. Rose waved Drellarek off.
'Don't harm him,' said the captain. 'He will see reason yet. Aken here is the dangerous one, who would have betrayed us at the first chance. He sat quiet while that ninny prattled and whined. But I could hear the wheels turning in his head.'
Speechless, the others watched Rose drag the unconscious man to the gallery windows. 'Shutter that lamp, Uskins,' he said.
Uskins closed the lamp's iron shade, plunging the cabin into darkness. The men at the table heard curtains rustle, and the squeak of a hinge. A cold finger of sea wind probed the room. Then, far away, so faint they could deny it to themselves, they heard a splash. 'Leave my cabin, all of you,' said Rose in the darkness. 'We shall talk again in Uturphe, weather permitting.'
Indiscretions
12 Vaqrin 941
Was he awake or dreaming? Had the fit marooned him somewhere in between?
Pazel lay on his back at the foot of a plump, lacy bed. Still aboard Chathrand, for his limbs knew her gentle rocking, and the bed's feet were nailed down. He smelled lavender and talcum powder, and thought suddenly of Neda's room, at home in Ormael. Under his head (which still hurt and spun badly) was the softest pillow he had ever touched. And on the edge of the bed, looking down at him, was a small, strange animal. It was rather like a weasel, but jet-black, with huge, dark eyes that froze him with their gaze.
'How's this?' it said cheerfully. 'A tarboy on the floor!'
'What!' croaked Pazel (his mouth was very dry).
'They are all gone away and left you,' said the creature. 'And I must leave you as well. Can you really understand my words?'
'How did you… I mean, yes! What?'
'You do understand. Remarkable! You'll make her a very fine tutor indeed. Tell me, was a black rat here a moment ago?'
'You're not a rat!'
'My dear boy, are you ill? Not everyone who seeks a rat must be one.'
The creature sprang lightly from the bed to the top of a dresser. Pazel arched his neck: upon the dresser stood a lovely mariner's clock, the kind rich captains kept screwed down tight on their desktops. Its round face was painted to resemble a gibbous moon. Even stranger, Pazel saw that the face-hands, numbers and all-was hinged on one side, and stood slightly ajar. Behind it, within the body of the clock, was a round darkness: somehow it felt cold and strange.
The animal nudged the clock face nearly shut, then glanced over its shoulder at Pazel.
'You won't touch this, will you?'
'W-wouldn't dream of it.'
'And if I were to ask you a favor, to help me with your Gift to do a very great and dangerous thing-to prevent a war, in fact-how would you answer me?'
'What?'
'We must talk again, Mr. Pathkendle. Goodbye!'
Pazel shook himself. He was in the same place, resting on the same satin pillow. The little animal was gone; the light through the portholes had dimmed. And directly above him, sticking over the end of the mattress, were a girl's bare feet.
He turned his head to one side, and found himself nose to nose with a blue dog of terrifying dimensions. It lay with head on paws, drooling gently. Try something, begged its eyes. Let me eat you.
Overall it was better looking at the feet. In another moment, astonished, Pazel realized whose they were.
'Lady Thasha?' he whispered.
The feet jerked back, the bed creaked and the face of the ambassador's daughter appeared. Her golden hair fell almost to his nose.
'You can talk!' cried Thasha. 'Hercуl! He can talk!'
She leaped to the floor and pushed the dog aside. Just as when she boarded the Chathrand, she was dressed in a man's breeches and shirt. He was startled anew by how pretty she was, and how clean. Under his new coat and cap he remained a grimy tarboy. It had never bothered him much, until now.
'Thank the Gods!' she said. 'You made such awful sounds! What's the matter with you, anyway?'
'I'm fine now, Mistress,' said Pazel, blushing. He sat up, a little unsteadily, and tried to fasten his coat, then remembered the missing buttons and crossed his arms over his chest.
He struggled to his feet, and nearly stumbled. He put a hand on her bed, then pulled away quickly as if he'd touched something fragile. Thasha caught his arm: the strength of her grip was startling.
Don't stare, he thought. She had such pale skin. She wore a necklace beneath her shirt: ocean creatures in solid silver, astonishingly fine. The thought came to him unbidden: that necklace alone could pay off his bond debt, three or four times over.
'You were very kind to shelter me,' he said.
They stood there, eye to eye, and for a moment he thought she looked as uncertain and confused as he felt himself. Then she laughed aloud.
'You don't talk like any servant I've ever met,' she told him. 'You don't even have an accent. You sound like my cousins from Maj District. Why, you could pass for an Arquali if I closed my eyes!'
'I could never do that,' said Pazel at once, freeing his arm from her hand. 'Even if I wanted to. And I don't, Lady Thasha.'
'Don't be prickly,' she said. 'I didn't say you should be an Arquali. And stop this Mistress-Lady nonsense. I'm
