Ship of Destiny (35 page)

A moment of silence fell between them. Reyn turned his back on Grag and peeled off his wet shirt. As he shrugged into a dry one, Grag said, “There is so much happening, I can’t grasp it all. A dragon? Somehow, it is easier to believe in a dragon than to believe Malta is dead. When I think of her, I can only see her as she looked that night in your arms on the dance floor.”

Reyn closed his eyes. A small white upturned face stared at him from a tiny boat shooting down the river. “I envy you that,” he said quietly.

“
YOU ARE THE TRADER FOR THE VESTRITS. YOU DECIDE FOR THE
family. If you do not wish to be involved in this, I understand. But as for myself, I remain here.” Ronica took a breath. “I stand here as myself only. But know, Keffria, that if you decide to go to the Bingtown Council, I will stand with you there, also. You would have to be the one to present our view there. The Bingtown Council would not let me speak on the matter of Davad’s death. They will surely refuse to hear me on this. Nevertheless, I will stand by you while you speak. And accept the consequences.”

“And I would say what?” Keffria demanded wearily. “If I tell them that I don’t know what became of Malta, let alone the Satrap, it sounds like a deception.”

“You have one other alternative. You and Selden can flee Bingtown. You might be left at peace in Inglesby for a time. Unless someone decided to win favor with Serilla and Caern by hunting you down there.”

Keffria leaned her forehead into her hands. Heedless of how it might look to the others, she rested her elbows on the table. “Bingtown is not like that. It won’t come to that.” She waited for someone to agree, but no one spoke. She lifted her head and looked at the grave faces that confronted her.

Too much was happening too fast. They had allowed her time to bathe, and she was dressed in a fresh gown from one of the Tenira women. She’d had a simple meal in her room, and then she had been summoned down to this gathering. She had had little time with her mother. “Malta’s dead,” she had said to her as her mother hugged her in greeting. Ronica had stiffened in Keffria’s arms and closed her eyes, and when she had opened them, Keffria had seen the grief in her mother’s eyes over the death of her wayward granddaughter. It glittered there like ice, cold and immutable, too solid for tears. For a brief time, they shared sorrow, and oddly that had healed much of the rift between them.

But whereas Keffria wanted to huddle somewhere until this incomprehensible pain passed, her mother insisted that they go on living. For her, that meant fighting as well, fighting for Bingtown and Selden’s future. Ronica had accompanied her to her room and helped her change into the dry clothes. While she did so, she spoke hurriedly of Bingtown. The words had rattled and flown past Keffria’s ears: a breakdown of the Bingtown Council’s ability to rule. Roed Caern and a handful of other young Traders terrorizing families that did not agree with his ideas. A need to create a new governing body for Bingtown, one that encompassed all the folk who lived there. A lecture on politics was the last thing Keffria wanted or needed just now. She had nodded numbly, repeatedly, until Ronica had departed to confer with Jani Khuprus. There had been a brief time of peace and solitude. Then Keffria had descended, Selden at her side, to find this mixed company of folk in the grand hall of the Tenira mansion.

It was an odd gathering around Naria Tenira’s great table. The Tenira family filled one set of chairs. Seated next to them, in a row, were representatives from at least six Trader families. Keffria recognized Devouchet and Risch. The others she did not know by name; the introductions had eluded her weary brain. Two women and a man with tattooed faces filled the next chairs, and beside them sat four folk who, by their garb, were Three Ships immigrants. Reyn and Jani Khuprus came next, and completing the circle were the three remaining Vestrits. Keffria found herself at Naria Tenira’s left hand. The Trader woman had insisted that Selden be seated at the table and admonished the boy to pay great attention. “This is your future unfolding, lad. You’ve a right to witness how it comes into being.”

Initially, Keffria had thought that Naria was merely trying to include the boy and reassure him he was still important. Since they had left Trehaug, Selden had grown clingy and withdrawn. He seemed a much younger child than the boy who had swiftly adapted to the treetop city. Now she wondered if Trader Tenira’s words were not prophetic. Selden sat listening to it all with a rare concentration. Keffria looked at her young son as she conceded, “I am too tired to run anymore. We have to face whatever comes.”

“You need to do more than face it,” Naria corrected her. “You need to challenge it. Half of Bingtown is so busy huddling in the ruins that they don’t perceive the power that Serilla and her toady Caern have seized. We made a fine start of restoring order. Then, things began to happen. Trader Dwicker called a meeting. He had heard a rumor that Serilla was treating with the New Traders regarding a truce, bypassing the Bingtown Council completely. The entire Council condemned it. Caern denied it, on Serilla’s behalf. That was when we saw how close they had become.” She paused and took a breath. “Dwicker was found later, so badly beaten that he never spoke again before he died. Another Council head had his barn set on fire. New Traders or slaves were blamed both times, but there are other, darker, rumors about town.”

A slave spoke up. “You hear how it affects Bingtown Traders. Worse things have been done to Tattooed families,” she said grimly. “Folk have been beaten, simply for going out to barter or buy food. Families have been burned out. We are blamed for every crime in Bingtown, and given no chance to prove innocence. Caern and his cohorts are known and feared by all. New Trader families who are less able to defend themselves have been attacked in their homes. Fires are set in the night, and the fleeing folk, even children, are ambushed. A cowardly, sneaky way to wage a war. We have no love for the New Traders who enslaved us, but neither do we wish to be a party to the slaughter of children.” She met the eyes of the Traders at the table. “If Bingtown cannot bring Caern and his thugs under control soon, you will lose all opportunity to ally with the Tattooed. The rumors we hear are that the Bingtown Council supports Caern. That once Bingtown Traders are in full command of the town, we will be shipped out with the New Traders, driven forth from Bingtown and back into slavery.”

Ronica shook her head. “We have become a ghost town ruled by rumors. The latest rumor is that Serilla has appointed Roed as the head of a new Bingtown Guard and that he has called a secret meeting with the remaining leaders of the Bingtown Traders’ Council. Tonight. If we reach consensus today, we will all be there, to put an end to such nonsense, and an end to Caern’s brutality. When have secret meetings ever been part of Bingtown’s government?”

The red-bearded Three Ships man spoke up. “All the doings of the Bingtown Traders’ Council have always been secret from us.”

Keffria looked at him, puzzled. “That is how it has always been. Trader business is for Traders,” she explained simply.

His ruddy color heightened. “But running the whole town is what you claim as Trader business. That’s what forces Three Ships folk to the edge, and keeps us there.” He shook his head. “If you want us on your side, then it has to be
by
your side. Not outside a wall, nor on a leash.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending. A deep unrest was building in her. Bingtown as she had known it was being dismantled, and the folk in this room seemed intent on speeding the process along. Had her mother and Jani Khuprus gone mad? Would they save Bingtown by destroying it? Were they seriously considering sharing power with former slaves and fishermen?

Jani Khuprus spoke quietly. “I know my friend Ronica Vestrit shares your feelings. She has told me that the folk of Bingtown with similar goals must ally, regardless of whether they are Trader or not.” She paused, turning her veiled face to survey all the folk at the table. “With great respect for those here, and for the opinions of dear friends, I do not know if that is possible. The bonds between the Bingtown Traders and the Rain Wild Traders are old and secured with blood.” She paused. Her shoulders rose and fell in an eloquent shrug. “How can we offer that loyalty to others? Can we demand it in return? Are your groups willing to forge that strong a bond and abide by it as we have, not just binding ourselves, but binding our children’s children’s children?”

“That depends.” Sparse Kelter, that was the bearded man’s name, Keffria suddenly recalled. He glanced at the slaves at the table as if this was something they had already discussed. “We would make demands in return for our loyalty. I may as well lay them on the table now. They’re simple, and you folks can say yea or nay. If the answer is nay, there’s no sense my wasting a tide’s fishing here.”

Keffria was suddenly reminded of her own father and his reluctance to waste time on mincing words.

Kelter waited and when no one opposed him, he spoke. “Land for everyone. A man should own the spot his house stands on, and I’m not talking a patch of beach barely out of the tide’s reach. Three Ships folk are sea folk. We don’t ask much more than enough space for a proper house, some ground for a chicken to scratch in, some greens to sprout and a place to mend our nets. But those that have a bent to farming or beasts will need more than that.”

He was still looking around the table to see how this would be received when a Tattooed woman spoke. “No slavery,” she said huskily. “Let Bingtown become a place slaves can flee to, and not fear being turned back to their masters. No slavery, and land for those of us who are already here.” The woman hesitated, then surged on determinedly. “And each family gets a vote in the Bingtown Council.”

“Council votes have always gone with land ownership,” Naria Tenira pointed out.

“But where did that bring us? To here, to this mess. When the New Traders claimed votes based on land they’d purchased from financially wounded Traders, we were foolish enough to grant them. If it hadn’t been for the Traders’ Council, they’d be running Bingtown already.” Devouchet’s soft deep voice somehow kept his words from sounding offensive.

“We kept the Bingtown Traders’ Council separate before,” Keffria offered. These people were swaying her, but something, she felt, must be held back for Selden. She could not stand by and let being a Bingtown Trader become merely an empty title. “Could not we do that again? Have one Council where all landowners vote, and a separate one for the Bingtown Traders only?”

Sparse Kelter crossed his arms on his chest. The woman beside him looked so like him, she must be some relation, Keffria decided. “Do that, and we all know where the true power would remain,” he said quietly. “No leashes. A fair say in Bingtown.”

“We’ve heard what you ask, but not what you offer,” another Trader spoke. Keffria admired the way he had sidestepped Kelter’s observation, but at the same time she wondered what they were doing. What was the sense of asking any of these questions? No one here had the power to make a binding decision.

Sparse Kelter spoke again. “We offer honest hands and strong backs and knowledge, and we ask the same. Let us stand on an equal footing with you to share the work of rebuilding Bingtown. We offer to help defend her, not just from pirates and Chalcedeans, but from Jamaillia itself if need be. Or do you think the Pearl Throne will let you slip its leash and speak not a word to rebuke you?”

The full realization of what they were discussing suddenly settled on Keffria. “We are talking about separating Bingtown completely from Jamaillia? About standing on our own, alone, between Jamaillia and Chalced?”

“Why not?” Devouchet demanded. “The idea has been broached before, Trader Vestrit. Your own father often spoke of it privately. We will not have a better chance than this. For better or worse, the Satrap has perished. The Pearl Throne is empty. The birds we’ve had from Jamaillia speak of civil unrest, rioting by the Jamaillian army over unpaid wages, an uprising by the slaves and even a Condemnation of State from the Temple of Sa in Jamaillia. The Satrapy is rotten. When they discover that the Satrap is dead, the nobles there will be too busy scrabbling for power in Jamaillia to pay any mind to what we do. They have never treated us as equals. Why not break free now, and make Bingtown a place where folk begin anew, all men standing on an equal footing?”

“And all women, too.” She must be Sparse’s daughter, thought Keffria. Even her voice echoed his in tone.

Devouchet looked at her in surprise. “It was but a manner of speaking, Ekke,” he said mildly.

“A manner of speaking becomes a manner of thinking.” She lifted her chin. “I am not here simply as Sparse Kelter’s daughter. I’ve a boat and nets of my own. If this alliance comes to pass, I’ll want land of my own. Three Ships folk know that what a person has for a mind is more important than what is between their legs. Three Ships women will not give up our place alongside our men simply to say we are part of Bingtown now. That, too, must be understood.”

“That is only common sense,” Grag Tenira asserted smoothly. He smiled warmly at the Three Ships woman as he added, “Look about this table, and see who speaks here. Bingtown has a long tradition of strong women. Some of the strongest are seated here today. That tradition will not change.”

Ekke Kelter leaned back in her chair. She returned Grag’s smile easily. “I just wanted to hear those words spoken aloud here,” she confirmed. She nodded to Grag, and for an instant, Keffria wondered if there was an understanding between them. Had Ekke spoken her piece knowing that Grag Tenira would take her side? Did Grag Tenira count her, Keffria, as one of those strong women? But as swiftly as her interest had been piqued, it faltered. She took a breath and spoke her thoughts.

“What do we do here? We talk of agreements, but none of us has the power to make these agreements binding on all Bingtown.”

Her own mother contradicted her. “We have as much power as anyone in Bingtown these days. More than the Traders’ Council has, for we do not fear to wield it. They dare not meet without asking Serilla’s opinion. And she dares not give it without looking to Caern.” She smiled grimly at her daughter. “There are more of us, Keffria, than just those you see here. More could not gather for fear of drawing attention. One of the Council heads sides with us; he told us of the secret meeting. After tonight, we shall not fear to gather openly. Our strength comes from our diversity. Those of us who were made slaves have an intimate knowledge of the New Traders and their holdings. The New Traders hope to hold what they have taken with folk they have tattooed. Once the Tattooed are freed, will they fight for their masters? I doubt it. When the New Traders are stripped of their slaves, their number is greatly reduced. Nor do they defend home and family as we do; their homes and their legitimate families are in Jamaillia. They have brought their mistresses and bastards to share the risks of living on the Cursed Shores, not their legitimate heirs. With Jamaillia in a civil uproar, the New Traders won’t get help from that quarter. Many will rush back to Jamaillia to defend ancestral holdings there.