“I suspect the people of this port will shortly have need of every scrap of food and fuel,” she stated. “And my contract stipulates that every opportunity to enhance company profits is to be exploited to the full. I see no reason to abandon the values of the corporate world, even in such alarming times.”
Hilemore made his way back to the port under escort, the two guards steering him through little-used alleyways to avoid encounters with townsfolk desperate for news. He didn’t relish the impending conversation with Clay, unsure of how he would react to an abrupt return to contracted status. For all Hilemore knew he might simply look on this as something else that didn’t matter. Perhaps he thinks this ship will make it to the ice-cap under the power of destiny alone. It occurred to him that the supposed gift contained in the White’s blood was in fact the cruelest curse. To have the sensation of discovery taken away, banishing curiosity or anticipation, seemed an awful fate.
He found the crew hard at work on return to the Viable, a dozen or so hanging from ropes to replenish the paint on the hull whilst others scrubbed the deck or polished the fittings. “Glad to see you haven’t left them idle, Number One,” he told Steelfine on ascending the gang-plank. “But the paint will be wasted. Chief Bozware needs to make modifications to the hull.”
“Captain’s orders, sir,” Steelfine replied, voice coloured by a poorly suppressed tone of extreme reluctance.
“Captain . . . ?” Hilemore began, then trailed off as understanding dawned.
“He woke up an hour ago,” Steelfine muttered before stiffening to attention. “Lieutenant Hilemore, Captain Trumane has ordered you be relieved of all duties immediately. I am to escort you to his cabin.” He hesitated then held out his meaty hand. “I require your sword and side-arm, sir.”
CHAPTER 4
Lizanne
“An impressive sight, isn’t it?”
Lizanne’s gaze swept over the broad spectacle of Feros harbour. The sky was cloudless today and the great mass of ships seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, particularly the warships with their polished guns and scrubbed decks. The bulk of the Protectorate High Seas Fleet was now at anchor here: battleships, cruisers, frigates and gunboats initially summoned from their various ports to do battle with the Corvantine Navy. Now, of course, they faced a much more formidable enemy.
“It’s a great many ships,” Lizanne replied to Taddeus Bloskin. “But it won’t be enough.”
The Director of Exceptional Initiatives settled his bulk on one of the benches arrayed alongside the old war memorial and began his endless ritual of reigniting his pipe. At his invitation she had followed him here to Signaller’s Mount, the highest point on the southern shore of this island. The war memorial rose above them to a height of eighty feet, an example of the ostentatious masonry typical of the late Mandinorian Empire with its numerous relief carvings and superfluous filigree, the great column topped by a statue of Lord Admiral Fallmoor in overly dramatic pose. The Liberator of the Tyrell Islands stood in straight-backed and stern resolve, sword raised above his head as he pointed out to sea. The impression of martial heroism was spoilt somewhat by the fact that his finger had dropped off at some point in the one hundred and twenty years since the monument’s construction. The fact that no one had bothered to replace that missing finger summed up the regard with which the corporate world held the trappings of the empire it had displaced.
“Really?” Bloskin asked as he puffed. “Over a hundred ships and forty thousand soldiers, the cream of the Protectorate, armed with ever more of your infernal modern guns. You really think a rabble of Spoiled and drakes could stand against such a force?”
“Yes. And, since the fleet remains in port, apparently so do the Board.”
“In fact the Board is divided on the issue.”
Bloskin flicked a spent match away and reclined on the bench. His tone was one of affable conversation rather than that of a Board member committing the heinous act of revealing their private deliberations. “Admiral Heapmire continues to lobby hard for an immediate invasion, supported by most of the Sea Board despite the fate of their three frigates. Madame Dolspeake is of more cautious mind, wishing to seek alliance with the other corporations and formulate a joint strategy before embarking on any military adventures.”
“And your thinking, Director?”
“I think,” Bloskin replied with a faint smile, “it is a great shame the Mad Artisan’s device was lost in the evacuation. Who can say what more we might have learned from it?”
Lizanne suppressed a sigh. Bloskin evidently knew exactly where the device currently resided or he wouldn’t have raised it. Also, the fact that he had made no efforts to recover it indicated he was content for it to remain under her father’s studious care. However, people in their profession did enjoy their games. “It was certainly a regrettable loss,” she said, deciding to indulge him.
“Especially after the progress made by Mr. Tollermine in deciphering its mysteries. Still, wasted are the tears of those who weep over spilled wine. Just pour yourself another, I always say.”
Lizanne said nothing. Now they were alone her earlier sense of vulnerability was slowly morphing into a simmering anger. Evidently, she was out of practice in masking such things for he frowned upon reading her expression. “I know you have questions for me,” he said. “Please do not feel constrained. We are no longer manager and employee, after all. Just two former colleagues enjoying the view.”
“Madame Bondersil,” she said. “Did you know?”
His face bunched a little in irritation at an unwelcome topic and he took a long drag on his pipe before replying. “You wonder how her unfortunate choices could have evaded my notice.”
“I do.”
“Then I regret to inform you that your estimation of my abilities is overly generous.” He gave a small grunt as she continued to stare. “There were . . . certain irregularities,” he admitted after a short but uncomfortable silence. “Small things, really. Slight inconsistencies in reported expenses, a few unexplained absences. I’ll admit I had concluded she was probably up to something, assuming her to be engaged in some intrigue or other aimed at furthering her status and finally ascending to the Board. Not an uncommon pursuit for a senior manager. Still, in light of the ever-increasing problems in maintaining a steady supply of quality product, it was . . . concerning.”
“And yet you still approved her request for my deployment.”
“It seemed likely that whatever scheme she had hatched was approaching its final phase, especially if it required your particular talents. I suspected she would seek to exploit the secrets contained in the Corvantine device, keeping them to herself whilst she enhanced her position. Having a living, breathing White in her grasp would have meant swift ascension to the Board. Of course, I had no notion of the true scale or nature of her deception.”