The Coming Event

The new name blazoned on the hull, stores stacked and the ship trimmed for journeying. Space was waiting- as soon as they got a generator.

'Ysolta was talking about the possibility of a cargo,' said Batrun. 'Staples to the mines then ore to the refinery on Myrtha. Little profit but it'll pay our way and we could haul ingots to Hago or Stave. Passengers too, and beasts-Craig's checked out the caskets. We'll take anything that comes.'

And they'd go anywhere a profit was to be made. That was the philosophy of a free-trader, but the Lucita wasn't the Galya and, while Batrun was the captain, Dumarest was in command.

A fact she mentioned with unnecessary vehemence.

'I hadn't forgotten,' said Batrun. 'But a ship has to earn its keep. And while we're going where we're going it makes sense to get paid for the journey.' He added dryly, 'Especially as we don't know just where we are going.'

'To Earth.'

'Of course. To Earth. And have you plotted the course? Is it a five-stage flight pattern? A seven? Do we head above the plane of the galactic ecliptic or below? Which band? Which radial unit?' He saw her expression. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be sarcastic.'

'Then why try?'

'A mistake. I'm not good at it.'

He was trying to placate her and she smiled to show he was forgiven. 'Don't fool yourself, Andre-you're damned good at it.'

At irony and psychology both; his induced anger had channeled her thoughts in new directions and dampened the nagging concern.

'Earth,' she said. 'We'll find it. It's just a matter of looking. Earl has clues. He mentioned them and will tell us more once we're on our way. Damn it, Andre, a world just can't get lost.'

'No.'

'No?' She had caught his tone and recognized the flat intonation as the question it was. 'You think it could?'

'What if the name was changed?' He took snuff as she thought about it. 'Suppose someone was looking for the Moira. Standing out there on the field at this very moment and searching for a vessel they knew existed. Would they find it?'

'The name,' she said slowly. 'Earl knows his world as one thing and others call it another. Andre! Is it possible?'

'It could be the answer. Why else isn't it listed in the almanacs? But that isn't really the important thing. Have you ever considered the possibility that, to Earl, the search is more important than the finding?'

He had read too much and dreamed too often sitting in the dim womb of his control room embraced by the placenta of his chair. The seclusion had affected his mind and given birth to strange fantasies. This explanation she knew to be false but she clung to it because the alternative was something she didn't want to think about.

Sound from below brought a welcome distraction; an officer with attendant guards who halted to stare up at the couple limned against the bulk of the vessel.

'Captain Batrun?'

'Here!' He looked at the military bearing of the contingent. 'Trouble, officer?'

'No. Name me your entire complement.' She nodded as Batrun obeyed. 'It checks. Have everyone stand by for attendance at the palace at midnight. A special ball is being held to celebrate the escape of the matriarch and her party from death in the void. You are all invited to attend.'

'All?'

'Your entire complement without exception.'

Ysanne said anxiously, 'And Dumarest?'

'Is already at the palace.' The woman's tone was reassuring. 'Don't worry about him. The matriarch just wants to express her private gratitude to her benefactor.' She added, 'The guards will remain to escort you at midnight.'

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Once, when a girl, her mother had taken her to see a forger lose her hands. The girl had been young and well-made but too ambitious for her own good. Trying to gain quick advantage she had forged bills of lading, using her body to seduce a willing trader, sharing the gains and hoping to build a quick fortune. A trick discovered after a hint from an associate. The sentence had been automatic.

Su Posta stirred in her high-backed chair, seeing again the slim wrists held hard against the block. The gleam of the blade as it had lifted to hang poised for long moments so as to increase the punishment. Then the sudden flash, the dull thud as the curved edge had bitten through skin and fat and flesh and bone to bury itself in the wood. The blood had gushed like fountains from the slashed arteries, splashing the attendants who had run to stanch the flow. Only when she had tried to move her hair back had the girl realized what had truly happened. Only then had she begun to scream.

The scream had echoed down the years, reflected in a thousand such punishments; scenes of scourgings and brandings and ceremonial maimings. The fruit of long-established tradition born in the early days when life was hard and incarceration a luxury they couldn't afford.

A scream she intended to hear again.

'My lady?' Dana had come to her as was her custom. 'Lucita is ready for bed now.'

'A moment.' She needed the time to prepare herself for a ritual she would no longer willingly forgo. Her own children had suffered from the neglect necessitated by the pressure of office but now, no matter what the cost, she would bid her granddaughter good night, give her a kiss, be warmed by her smile. Only when something is almost lost, she thought bleakly, do we really treasure it. 'Is she alone?'

'No, my lady. Dumarest is with her.' He stood in a room furnished with a profusion of toys, legs apart, arms extended, hands hooked to grip the wrists of the girl who threw herself at him to be caught and swung and set down then raced again into his grasp, with gurgles of laughter and squeals of pretended fright.

'Granny!' She had seen the matriarch and the shape of the hovering governess. 'Dana! Watch me swing!' This time the squeals were louder.

A minx, thought Su Posta. Already learning to act, to attract attention and hold it. A useful trait for any ruler and one she must encourage even while disciplining the wild spirit the small body contained. Yet it was hard to halt her play and she waited until, breathless, Lucita screamed for mercy.

'That's enough!' Her tone brooked no argument. 'Time for bed now, my poppet. Make your farewells to Dumarest and go with Dana to get your bath.'

She came to him, wide-eyed and very serious, small hands on his as she said, 'Thank you for playing with me, Earl. When I am older I'll take you for my consort. That's a promise.'

'She could do worse,' said the matriarch as the girl was led away. 'A damned sight worse. I suppose you haven't changed your mind?'

'No, my lady.'

'Stubborn,' she said. 'And a fool. You could have a good life here, instead you want to go off voyaging among the stars. What can you hope to find better than what I offer?' Change, she thought as he made no answer. Adventure and what the poets called romance. Danger and excitement and the novelty which was supposed to hold such enticement. For her as for any sensible woman such things were the stuff of foolish dreams. Adolescent yearnings quickly eroded by time. 'You should have children,' she said abruptly. 'Take some advice-get them before it's too late. The wasted years can never be regained.'

Advice given from the heart as he knew but he made no comment as she touched a fluffy toy, caressed a nodding doll which made thin, piping sounds. A parody of laughter which she found disturbing-how many laughed in such a manner as they mocked her behind her back? Too many, but they had to be tolerated as so many other irritations had to be borne-but tonight would see the end of one.

'My lady!' Venicia was at her side, her face smooth but her eyes revealing her concern. 'You should rest. A warm bath and a few hours' sleep will help you to look your best for the ball.'