Page 334

The music ended. He reluctantly released her and she stepped back from him.

Her traitorous eyes sought out Reyn. He bowed low over the Companion’s hand, and then gestured towards the doors that led out into the lantern lit garden and walks of the Traders’ Concourse.

She tried to find some hardness or resolve to cling to, but all she felt was the desolation of her soul.

‘May I bring you some wine?’ Cerwin asked her.

‘Please. I should like to sit down for a while.’

‘Of course.’ He offered his arm to escort her.

When Grag gripped Reyn’s arm, Reyn had spun to face him and nearly struck him. ‘Not now! Let me go!’ he protested. Malta was walking away from him. That milky-skinned Trell boy was cutting hastily through the crowd to reach her. This was no time for a friendly word on the dance floor.

But Grag gripped his arm more tightly and spoke in a low, urgent voice. ‘One of the Satrap’s Companions just danced with me.’

‘That’s wonderful. I hope it was the pretty one. Now let go.’ He craned his neck trying to follow her progress through the crowd.

‘No. You should ask her for the next dance. I want you to hear for yourself what she told me. Afterwards, come and find me in the gardens, near the pin oak on the east walk. We need to decide who else to tell, and what actions to take.’

Grag’s voice was taut with tension. Reyn didn’t want this now. He attempted levity. ‘I need to speak to Malta first. Then we’ll discuss burning warehouses.’

Grag didn’t release him. ‘It’s not a jest, Reyn. It won’t wait. I fear we may be too late already. There’s a conspiracy against the Satrap.’

‘Go join it,’ Reyn advised him in annoyance. How could he think about politics just now? Malta was hurt. He could almost feel her pain himself, it was so intense. He had hurt her and now she was wandering through the crowd like a lost kitten. He needed to speak to her. She was so vulnerable.

‘The Chalcedeans and some of his own nobles plan to kill him. Bingtown will take the blame for it. They’ll raze us to the ground, with the blessings of all Jamaillia.

Please, Reyn. It has to be now. Go and ask her to dance.

I have to find my mother and sisters and ask them to start arranging for some of the other Traders to meet us outside.

Go ask her. She’s in the plain cream coloured gown, over by the high dais. Please.’

Malta had vanished. Reyn shot Grag a look that he seemed to feel even through his veil. The Trader’s son let go of Reyn’s arm. He shrugged his shoulders then gave an angry shake of his head. Grag hastened away.

Slowly, his heart sinking inside him, Reyn turned and made his way towards the Satrap’s Companion.

She was watching for him. As he approached, she made some witty remark to the woman she was conversing with, nodded, and began to move away.

He intercepted her and gave her a short bow.

‘Would you honour me with a dance, Companion?’

‘Certainly. It would give me great pleasure,’ she replied formally.

She lifted her hand and he took it in his gloved one.

The first strains of the music began. It was a slow melody, traditionally a lovers’ dance.

It would give couples both old and young an excuse to hold one another as they moved slowly to the dreamlike music.

He could be taking Malta in his arms right now, soothing her hurt and his own.

Instead, he found himself matched with a Jamaillian woman nearly as tall as himself.

She made an excellent dance partner for him, graceful and light-footed.

Somehow that only made it worse. He waited for her to speak.

‘Did your cousin pass on my warning to you?’ she finally asked.

Her directness shocked him. He strove to be contained. ‘Not really. He merely said you had told him something interesting, something he wished me to hear for myself.’ He put quizzical concern in his voice, nothing more.

She gave an impatient snort. ‘I fear we have no time for tiptoeing about like this. It occurred to me on the way here tonight that this would be the perfect time for them to put their plot in motion. Here you are, all gathered together, Bingtown Traders and Rain Wild Traders, with the Satrap in your midst. All know how strong the feelings run against the New Traders and the Satrap’s Bingtown policies.

What better time to set off a riot? In the confusion, the Satrap and his Companions will be killed.

Then the Chalcedeans can move with just anger to punish you all. ’

‘A nasty little scene. But who does it profit? Why?’ His voice said he found it improbable.

‘It profits those who banded together to plan it. The Jamaillian nobles are tired of a self-indulgent boy who knows nothing of ruling except how to spend the treasury on himself. Chalced gains Bingtown for its own province, to plunder as it pleases. They have long claimed that this territory of the Cursed Shores was rightfully theirs.’

‘Jamaillia would be foolish to give Bingtown up to Chalced. What other province yields such a rich harvest to the Satrapy?’

‘Perhaps they believe it is better to yield Bingtown as part of a bargain than to simply lose it to the Chalcedeans as a conquest of war. Chalced grows stronger and more warlike. Internal strife and Northland Raiders paralysed the Six Duchies for years. That kingdom used to keep Chalced occupied. In the years since the Red Ship Wars, the Six Duchies have been occupied with rebuilding. Chalced has become a powerful people, rich with slaves and ambition. They push to the north, in border skirmishes. But they also look south. To Bingtown and its rich trade. And the Rain Wild River lands.’

‘Lands?’ Reyn gave a snort of contempt. ‘There is so little…’ He halted his words abruptly, recalling to whom he was speaking. ‘They are fools,’ he finished succinctly.

‘On the ship, coming here —’ For a moment, the woman seemed to have sudden difficulty speaking, as if she could not catch her breath.

‘I was held captive for a time in the captain’s quarters.

’ He waited, then leaned closer to capture her soft words.

‘There were charts in his room. Bingtown Harbour. The mouth of the Rain Wild River. Why else would he have such things, if he did not intend to use them?’

‘The Rain Wild River protects its own,’ Reyn declared boldly. ‘We have nothing to fear. The secret ways of the river are known to none but our own.’

‘But tonight, there are many of you here. Representatives from many Rain Wild families, I am told. If they were taken hostage in the plundering of Bingtown, can you be sure that none of them would reveal your Rain Wild secrets?’

Her logic was relentless. Suddenly, small inconsistencies made sense.

Why else allow the Kendry through the blockade and into the harbour?

‘They would have allies among the New Traders here,’ he said half-aloud, thinking of all the new folk who had just come ashore as well.

‘People whose ties to the slave-trade in Chalced are as strong or stronger than their links to Jamaillia. People who have lived amongst us and learned enough of our ways to know that both Bingtown Traders and Rain Wild Traders would be gathered here tonight.’

‘If I were you, I would not be positive that there were not such folk among the Bingtown Old Traders as well,’ she pointed out quietly.

A trickle of cold suspicion ran through him. Davad Restart. Of course. ‘If you knew of this plot, why did you come to Bingtown?’ he demanded of her.

‘Obviously, if I had known, I would not have come,’ she retorted.

‘I have only this evening gathered enough of the pieces to grasp the whole picture. I am telling you this not only because I do not wish to die, but because I do not wish to see Bingtown fall. All my life, Bingtown has been the centre of my studies. I have always wanted to come here; it is the city of my dreams. So I connived and begged to get the Satrap to allow me to come. Now that I am here, I do not want to be a witness to its death throes, anymore than I want to die here before I have fully comprehended its wonders.’

‘What do you suggest we do?’

‘Act before they do. Take the Satrap and his Companions hostage, yes, but keep us safe. Alive, he is a bargaining chip. Dead, he is the spark that ignites the fire of war. Not all the Jamaillian nobles can be involved in this. Send a message out somehow, to alert those who are loyal to the Satrapy. Tell them what is transpiring here. They will mount an effort to aid you, if you promise to return Cosgo unharmed. There will be war with Chalced, but eventually, there is always war with Chalced. Take the time I have given you by this warning, and secure the town as best you can. Gather supplies; hide your children and families. Get word to the folk up the Rain Wild River.’

He was incredulous. ‘But you say it is most likely that they will act tonight. There is no time for any of that!’

‘You are wasting time dancing with me now,’ she pointed out acidly.

‘You should be getting the word out right now. I suspect there will be incidents in the streets tonight. Fires, brawls, whatever it will take to ignite riots in the city. It will spread out to the ships in the harbour. Someone, intentionally or by accident, will give the Chalcedeans an excuse to attack. Perhaps they will simply receive a message that the Satrap has been killed.’ She looked unerringly into his veiled eyes.

‘By morning light, Bingtown will be burning.’

The music was ending. As he and his partner slowed and then stopped, it seemed prophetic.

He stood a moment in the silence, her hand still in his.

Then he stepped away from her with a bow.

‘The others are gathering outside, in the gardens. We should join them,’ he suggested. He gestured to the door.