'I just might do that,' Trinica said darkly. 'I just might.'
But until then, Frey thought, I'll look out for you.
Their route took them the long way round the settlement, and navigation wasn't easy. A few times Frey had to stop and ask for directions. Usually they wanted money in return, but Frey had a gun, which cut through the tiresome process of haggling. Once they were established as dangerous, the shanty dwellers left them alone. They weren't interested in trouble.
The shanty petered out into a mess of run-down alleys that smelled of old fish and tanneries. Frey got his bearings by shinning up a drainpipe until he could see over the rooftops to where aircraft were taking off from the landing pad. Not far, by the looks of it.
Trinica stuck close to him as he led the way through the alleys. She probably didn't notice she was doing it, but Frey did. It warmed his ego to think of himself as her guardian. For some reason it made him feel a bit better about things.
They came out of the alleys on to something that resembled a street. It was narrow and grubby, but it bore signs of being a thoroughfare, and the buildings on either side didn't look in immediate danger of collapse. That was an improvement on much of the town.
'Spindle Street,' said Trinica, pointing at a faded sign high up on one of the walls.
Spindle Street. Smult had mentioned it. When you come out of the shanties, look for Spindle Street. Follow it to the landing pad.
The landing pad, and the Ketty Jay, and then out of this dump for ever. Frey had a long list of places he never wanted to return to, for one reason or another. Hawk Point had qualified before he'd even landed.
There were a few people about, bartering at stalls or chatting in doorways. 'Just act normal,' he said to Trinica, and they walked out of the alley and down the street.
Frey could feel the glances of the townsfolk as they headed towards the landing pad, but they were left alone. If Smult was right, the men who lay in wait were behind them by now. Only the gunmen at the landing pad were left, as insurance in case they should slip past the others. Jez and Silo should have taken care of them.
Better check, he thought, reaching into his pocket for his earcuff. He was just clipping it to his ear when there was a flurry of movement to his left. An elderly woman was pushed aside as a pair of gunmen came running out of an alleyway, shotguns held at waist height, trained on Frey and Trinica. He heard footfalls behind him and yelps of surprise from the scattering townsfolk. He turned and saw a third man, moving up from behind with a pistol aimed.
'Weapons on the ground! Real slow!' barked the first of the gunmen, a heavyset man with a bushy beard that hung down over his chest.
Trinica looked at Frey, as if expecting him to do something about it. But Frey just shrugged at her. Some guardian I am. That didn't last long.
'Do it,' he said. He threw his revolvers on the ground before him. His cutlass followed. Then he raised his hands.
Trinica was still staring at him, an expression of frustrated disappointment on her face. As if she couldn't understand why he'd given up so easily. As if she'd expected him to fight three men that had the drop on them.
Who does she think I am? he thought angrily. I'm not one of the Century bloody Knights.
But he couldn't hold her gaze, so he turned his head away. After a few moments, he heard her guns clatter down on top of his.
'Bounty's ours, boys!' crowed the second gunman, a long-faced fellow in a dirty shirt, with braces holding up his trousers. 'Trinica bleedin' Dracken!'
'I told you!' said the third one, who'd moved nearer now. He was the youngest of the three, barely old enough to grow a decent stubble on his cheeks. 'Cost us every shillie we had, but she'll be worth it.'
The heavyset man was looking Trinica over. 'Aye. The Navy'll pay us back five times over. You was right; Smult was good as his word.'
Frey felt Trinica tense at the sound of his name. Smult. He'd sold them out twice over. Bleeding all sides for as much money as he could get.
'Your friend Smult,' said Frey under his breath, 'is quite a piece of shit.'
'If we ever get out of this,' said Trinica, 'I'm going to teach him the meaning of suffering.'
'Oh, I shouldn't worry about that. You take out the two in front, I'll handle the one behind me.'
'What?' said Trinica. 'How can I—'
But he wasn't talking to her. He was talking to Jez and Silo.
Gunshots. The heavyset man and his long-faced companion wheeled and jerked, eyes wide in shock. Frey was already moving as they fell, turning to face the man behind him. As he did so, he held out his arm, and his cutlass leaped from the ground of its own accord. He felt it slap into his palm just as his opponent raised his pistol and fired at his chest from a distance of two metres. The blade jerked in his hand; the bullet sparked off the metal. His attacker had only a moment to stare in disbelief before Frey cut his hand off at the wrist and beheaded him on the return stroke.
Three corpses slumped to the ground together. Frey turned to Trinica, raised an eyebrow at her, and then walked away towards Jez and Silo. The look of amazement on her face was priceless.
Jez and Silo hurried up to him from the direction of the landing pad. 'Everything okay, Cap'n?' Jez asked.
'It is now,' he said. 'Should I ask how you found me?'
Jez brandished Crake's compass. 'Followed the needle. We came looking for you after we dealt with the men on the roof. Thought you might need a hand.'
Frey held his hand up before him and studied the ring on his little finger. 'I keep forgetting about this thing.'
'I take it things didn't go so well with the whispermonger?'
'We've got enough to be going on with,' said Frey. He spotted Trinica walking over to them and added, 'If Trinica asks, I planned this whole crafty counter-ambush all along.'
'Right you are, Cap'n,' said Jez. Her eyes roamed his face uncertainly. Neither knew quite how to behave around the other. Frey felt that he was supposed to be mad at her, but it didn't feel right after what had just happened. And yet, when he looked at her, he still saw something he was afraid of.
'Thanks,' he said awkwardly. Then he looked at Silo, where he was on safer ground. 'Both of you.'
'Um,' said Jez. 'You're welcome.'
Then he walked off down the road, heading for the Ketty Jay. With every footstep, his good humour grew, and by the time she came into sight he was positively brimming with confidence. Smult might have tried to get one over on them, but they'd slipped the trap. And however he'd done it, he'd saved Trinica, and now she owed him. A pretty satisfactory day, all in all.
On the cargo ramp, he paused and looked back over the blasted, ramshackle settlement towards the town hall.
'Now who can't tie their bootlaces, you scabby son of a bitch?' he muttered under his breath. And with that, he headed to the cockpit for take-off.
Twenty-Five
Bestwark University was one of the oldest and most prestigious seats of learning in all of Vardia. It had existed for over a thousand years. Kings and queens, dukes and earls had studied there. Great advances in science, medicine, and avionics had been made behind its enormous sandstone walls. Its shadowy studies and echoing halls had played host to conversation and debate between the greatest philosophers, artists and mathematicians in
