Текст книги "The Equen Queen"

Автор книги: Alyssa Brugman

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Alyssa Brugman
The Equen Queen

Tab Vidler stared out over the Quentaris battlements towards the new sky-city hanging in the air, halfshrouded in cloud. It had appeared with the dawn on Quentaris's port side three days before. Tab could make out guards patrolling the parapets and sailors scurrying over its burgundy sails like insects. They were so close that Tab felt sure if she threw a stone she could hit one of them, but so far nobody on either side had thrown anything – not even words.

Verris's marines stood watch at the City Wall, while in the Archon's Palace the Grand Council squabbled over what to do. The new sky-city was smaller than Quentaris, but more nimble. It was easy to see how easily it moved. Still reeling from the assault by Tolrush, Quentaris was too weak to defend herself against further attack, let alone start one. Meanwhile, Quentaris, moored to the world below by a great anchor, drifted gently on the tide of the wind, and its people held their breath.

‘If they were going to attack they would have done it by now,’ Tab's friend Philmon muttered under his breath.

Tab could hear the long groans of the masts and the flapping of the vast sails above her. Somewhere in the city behind her a blacksmith hammered with the rhythmic clank of metal on metal. Merchants murmured as they traded with one another. Even the children played hooey in the squares in hushed tones.

‘Why are you whispering? It's not as though they can hear you,’ Tab snapped.

Philmon stared at her, surprised. ‘I have to get back to work, anyway,’ he mumbled, and slouched away with his hands in his pockets.

Tab rubbed her forehead. She was ashamed of being peevish with Philmon, but her head hurt. She had been casting about for an animal to mind-meld with for days, but all she was getting was a crackling noise. The fuzz inside her head made her irritable. She was also plagued with the fear that her skill had only been temporary – that she might never be able to do it again. What would that make her? Just an ordinary rift orphan. What would she be good for?

‘Philmon!’ she called after her friend. ‘I just wish something would happen.’

‘Hear, hear!’ called one of the marines. A rumble of chuckles rolled along the wall.

‘Look!’ growled another of the marines, Vrod the troll – pointing with a clawed finger adorned with brass rings. ‘You is getting your wish, little one.’

Vrod made Tab nervous. Sometimes he looked at her as though she were a snack.

Tab shaded her eyes with her hand. Vrod was right. A small vessel was setting sail from the sky-city and heading for Quentaris. She traded a glance with Philmon and they both broke into a run, heading to the old throne room in the Archon's Palace where the Grand Council met.

*

By the time the council members reached the harbour the small vessel was gliding into the port. All the bigwigs gathered on the wharf, surrounded by guards. The Duelphs and Nibhellines stood at the front, Tash Morley to the side, and the Archon cowered behind him. Tab and Philmon stood behind Captain Verris on tiptoes, or crouching, trying to get a better view.

Pickpockets took advantage of the distraction as Quentarans banked up five deep to peer over the walls and gawp at the visitors.

There were three in the boat, two males and a female. The first stranger climbed out and stood on the wharf. Tab couldn't help but stare. He was small, hardly taller than her, thickset and blond with friendly wide-set eyes. He looked like a child, but as she watched she could see that he had laughter lines on his face. She guessed his race was simply smaller than hers.

‘Ho there!’ he said with a grin and a wave.

‘Ho to you,’ replied Chief Navigator Stelka.

‘You're new to sky-trading, aren't you?’ the small stranger said, hands on hips.

‘What gave it away?’ Verris asked suspiciously. Verris – Lord of the pirates and captain of the marines was a favourite of Tab's.

‘Looks like the whole city has turned out for little old me.’ The stranger craned back, looking at the Quentaran sails. ‘You don't have any flags up. You didn't signal your docking port. You ignored our hails. You're… how can I put this, you're a little rude.’

Tab scuttled closer to Philmon and whispered, ‘I wonder how many other sky-cities there are…’

‘Lots of them, I bet,’ Philmon replied solemnly.

Tab bit her lip. New sky-cities might bring new friends, but others would bring fresh enemies. At least when an enemy city stayed in one spot on the ground you knew where it was. She was beginning to understand why the Archon might be worried.

‘We didn't mean any offence,’ Captain Bellgard said.

‘None taken!’ the stranger said with a broad grin. ‘Are you thinking of settling on the world below?’

The council members shifted on their feet and Tab wondered how many of them had been in favour of settling here. She could see the appeal of stopping in one place that might have all the resources the city needed, but wouldn't that make them sitting ducks for some larger city floating above? Either way Quentaris was going to have to boost her defences. Tab hadn't realised how vulnerable they were. She was glad these first visitors seemed friendly.

‘We are determined to return to our homeworld,’ Stelka replied.

The pint-sized visitor nodded. ‘Wise. There is a vicious predator on this world.’

‘Our scouting parties have not seen anything.’

‘It is not their season now, but it will be soon. You would do better to trade your supplies than set foot there again. Unless you have souls to spare.’

‘Thanks for the warning,’ said Commander Storm, head of the City Watch.

‘My name is Kel. I'm captain of that frigate over yonder. May I approach?’ He took a step forward, and the guards bristled. There was a rustle of fabric and a clink of metal as they readied their weapons.

‘Whoa,’ Kel said holding his palms up. ‘Rude and suspicious. You know, for most sky-cities trading is commonplace, almost tedious. There mustn't be much to do here, eh? So, what can I offer you?’ His two companions hoisted a chest onto the dock. ‘We have some incense. Very rare! Or gem stones.’ Kel bent down, fossicking in his coffer.

The Archon peered over Tash Morley's shoulder, keen to see inside.

‘None of them are useful for anything,’ Kel continued, ‘but some cultures like to display gewgaws and ornaments about their person to show how important they are. Made of glass mostly, strung along a strip of leather, or a chain of metal.’ He looked up to see Stelka and other council members placing a hand on the jewels around their necks or wrists. ‘Yes, like that!’ he said, beaming. ‘You know how to heat sand then? Not complete barbarians, are you?’

Tab and Philmon stifled a laugh at the look on the Chief Navigator's face.

Tab wasn't sure but she thought Kel winked at her as he stepped forward and placed a purple gemstone into Stelka's outstretched hand. ‘We have travelled the worlds and gathered together the most amazing crafts and artefacts. We have creatures you've never imagined, delights you've never tasted, spells and pipettes and potions galore.’

‘And a revitalising tonic,’ joked Verris.

‘Why sir, as a matter of fact, I have the very thing! A magic animal that heals the sick. You'll never have fever or blight in your fair city again. You'll wonder how you ever lived without it!’

‘Excellent,’ Verris said, nodding for his marines to stand at ease.

‘So, you're a pedlar?’ Chief Navigator Stelka said.

Kel shrugged and shifted on his feet. ‘We prefer the term sky-trader. It has more of a ring.’

‘And there are lots of… sky-traders in the worlds?’ she inquired.

Kel nodded. ‘As common as clouds, madam.’

Stelka blinked. ‘Do you have any icefire?’

The three sky-traders exchanged glances. ‘Normally you'd start negotiations with a cubit of Hixasic measuring irons, and then work your way up to the most valuable thing in all the worlds,’ Kel explained with a grin.

‘And a Hixasic measuring iron is…’ Bellgard raised his eyebrows.

Kel finished, ‘the least useful item ever made, and the most easy to get.’

‘You can use them to stir paint,’ observed one of Kel's companions. ‘They also make an excellent back scratcher. There's some species that would find them very useful as walking sticks. Very short ones.’

‘I know!’ said the second, snapping her fingers. ‘Giants could use them to pick their noses, if they felt using fingers was bad manners.’

‘Lady giants,’ the first companion agreed, nodding.

‘I'll be sure to suggest it next time we meet thousands of lady giants,’ Kel said sighing.

‘About the icefire?’ Stelka pressed.

Kel rubbed the back of his neck. ‘We might have such a thing lying around. Might not. I'd need to check my stock. I think at this stage the most important thing to determine is what you have that might be of value to us.’

*

It seemed to Tab that the sky-traders had been in the throne room with the council for hours. The city was preoccupied with waiting again, but this time the solemn fear had been replaced by barely contained excitement.

Philmon's cousin, who was also Tab's cabin mate, Amelia, had joined Tab and Philmon. The three played hooey with some of the children in the Square of the People outside the Archon's Palace.

Word had spread fast. Sailors seemed to be focused on repairing rigging right above where the children played. Grown-ups found reasons to hang around the square and speculate on what the sky-traders’ currency might be, given that they seemed to have little interest in gems or metals.

‘Children!’ whispered one.

‘Blood!’ suggested another.

‘Thickleberry tarts,’ guessed the baker.

‘Spoiled boingy deer meat,’ drooled Vrod.

Many Quentarans remained at the harbour where one of the sky-traders waited with his craft, but he was less talkative than his captain.

Eventually the doors to the palace opened and the two sky-traders stood with the Grand Council on the steps.

Tab picked up the hooey ball and cradled it in her arms. Many of the children sat down cross-legged.

‘We have reached an agreement,’ Drass Nibhelline called out.

The crowd waited.

‘Captain Kel and the sky-traders will trade goods with us in return for us teaching them how to play Quentaran games.’

A doubtful murmur rippled through the crowd.

‘When you're in the sky a long time you get bored,’ Captain Kel explained. ‘My people start scrapping amongst themselves. New sports are an excellent way to pass time, and they are something we can trade with other cities. You might know something new that we haven't seen before. That's valuable to us.’

The people gathered in the square seemed unconvinced.

Captain Kel shrugged. ‘Adding games will do. Games with a wager. Joy tiles. Whatever you have.’

Philmon, Amelia and Tab smiled at each other. Tab had been worried about cities attacking, about war and fighting. Now she felt silly. ‘That's it? We're going to teach them how to play hooey?’

Ordered Hubbub

After Captain Kel and his crew returned to their skycity, the Archon invited Tab, Amelia and Philmon into the throne room.

Tab's eyes wandered across immense tablets, up the vast tapestries on the walls, and further up to the vaulted ceiling. The councillors sat around an intricately carved wooden table. Tab hoped she wasn't in trouble again. She wouldn't mind being yelled at in the street, but something about these walls made it seem as though her actions were being judged and recorded for all time.

Verris began. His voice echoed in the hollow space. ‘At this stage we have negotiated for some grains and spices. We hope there will be more.’

‘A shame these gems aren't icefire, or ire ore,’ commented Stelka, turning a purple stone over in her hand. ‘The council has formed the opinion that since the sky-traders are the size of children it's only fair that they play sports against people their own size. If one of our soldiers was to knock a sky-trader down they might not want to trade with us.’

Storm leaned forward. ‘It's also been some time since many of us have played these games. You three may have a fresher memory of the rules,’ she admitted. ‘Tab, Philmon, Amelia, you're our number one team. Form a schedule to teach these sky-traders as many sports as you can come up with, and agreed rules. Be creative. The resources we can trade here may need to last us for some time.’

‘The council will be very busy at the negotiating table. Not to mention debating new trading laws,’ Drass Nibhelline added.

Tab thought Drass's debate sounded like the most boring thing in the whole world. She could have saved them a lot of time, because in the end she guessed the same people were going to get rich as they did before the Upheaval.

‘We'll want to see a revised schedule each morning and a report each evening. You can dine with us here in the palace. It's going to be a busy few days,’ Verris finished.

‘Yes, sir!’ replied Tab. Her stomach grumbled at the idea of regular meals. She wondered how many courses the councillors were used to eating.

I'm a long way from Figgin's dosshouse now! she thought, breaking into a grin.

Tab waited for the council meeting to be finished and then approached the Chief Navigator as she swept along the corridor. ‘Excuse me, ma'am, I'm wondering – how is Torby?’

Tab had not seen her young friend for a few weeks. After the two of them escaped from Tolrush, the Chief Navigator had whisked him into confinement. Publicly she said the child was exhausted, and Tab thought that was partially true, but Torby also had powerful gifts, and Tab guessed that was the real reason for Stelka's interest in him.

Stelka frowned. ‘Torby suffers a great deal. Nobody knows how long he was tortured by the Tolrushians.’

Tab rubbed the palm of her hand where she bore an ugly scar – a souvenir from her own experience in Tolrush's dungeons. ‘Maybe if we could visit…’ she began.

The Chief Navigator cut her off. ‘His mind is broken. He has very little control of his gifts. Right now he is a danger to himself and others.’

‘But…’

‘Torby cares for you a great deal. He is grateful that you rescued him, but right now his focus is on healing and mastering his powers with the guidance of magicians versed in the ancient arts. I assure you that he is not alone at any time.’ And with that the Chief Navigator hastened down the stairs and away.

During the next few hours the three youngsters sat around a table in one of the palace antechambers thrashing out a game schedule. The broad doors were open and Tab could see lines of young recruits forming in the square. Officers from the Sky Sailors’ Guild took their names and formed them into training teams. Even Tibbid, the town crier, helped out, standing as tall as his crooked frame would allow, directing traffic from atop an upturned barrel.

‘Over here for lokey spokey.’ Tibbid pointed. ‘The line in the centre is for baubles only. Baubles will be provided, but any children with their own set of knucklebones should join the queue on the left and advise the officer when they get to the front. We are still short on hooey balls. All equipment will be returned or replaced with an item of equal value.’

Meanwhile, Tab and Philmon, overwhelmed with the task before them, had started bickering.

‘Of course you can place a reverse tile on the opponent's reverse tile. It only makes a difference if there are more than two players,’ Philmon said.

‘You can not put down a reverse tile on another reverse tile no matter how many players there are!’ Tab argued. ‘Vrod?’ she appealed to the troll marine who was leaning against the wall nearby.

He considered for a moment. Finally he growled, ‘If anyone tried to put a reverse tile on mine I'd rip his arms off.’

‘There! See? Who's going to disagree with that?’ Tab exulted.

Amelia scratched her head, trying to find a compromise. ‘Maybe we could use the noreversetile rules just for these games?’

‘Fine,’ Philmon grumbled, crossing his arms. He stared out into the square where groups of children trained under the instruction of a magician or a guard. Tab followed his gaze and smiled when the Quartermaster, Dorissa, began jumping rope while children chanted, ‘Linky, binky, dinky, dye. Poke a needle in my eye…’

The magician who had been scribing for their meeting yawned. Tab blushed. Everyone else was pitching in and here she was arguing over such a tiny thing. There wasn't time for that.

‘Verris said he wants to see as many games as possible. How about we set up two divisions, Philmon's rules and Vrod's rules?’ she suggested. ‘We might have to draw the line at ripping off arms though.’

Philmon smiled gratefully. ‘Sounds good. All right, let's move on to flugey.’

The three bent their heads together over the city map, nutting out the best venue, choosing referees and timekeepers. The scribe reached for another sheet of parchment.

Before long Captain Kel was ferrying over his crew of sky-traders in groups of ten. They brought baskets of pastries and fruits with them, and caskets of purple gems. Soon everyone in the city was tossing a gem in one hand and munching on a pie with the other.

A sky-trader named Chak brought the three games organisers a basket of cakes.

‘Mmm!’ Amelia licked her fingers. ‘So sweet!’

‘Here,’ Chak handed them each a purple jewel.

‘What are these anyway?’ Philmon asked.

‘They're Loraskian mood stones,’ Chak replied.

‘I thought mood stones were supposed to change colour,’ Amelia said, holding it up to her eye.

‘It would if you were Loraskian,’ Chak told her. ‘But to us they're about as useful as…’

‘Hixasic measuring irons?’ Philmon guessed.

‘You got it!’ Chak giggled. ‘Pretty though.’

Tab reached for another slab of cake. ‘Thanks.’

‘You're welcome,’ Chak said and she glided out the door, offering her basket of goodies to people as she passed by.

The sky-traders took to the training enthusiastically. The innkeepers brought their tables out into the streets, or made up trestles with crates and old boards. Inspired Quentarans used the mood stones for baubles, and soon games were breaking out on the steps of buildings or in the alleys.

The city was ringing with the sound of laughter and cheers, thundering feet and the thwack of hooey balls.

Verris came into the anteroom to check on the progress of the organising committee. He leaned against the doorframe watching the barely ordered hubbub in the square.

‘What do you think, Vrod?’ he asked the troll, who was still propped against the wall just outside.

‘Sneakiest way of moving in an army I ever seen,’ Vrod grunted.

Tab looked up, alarmed. The sky-traders seemed so friendly, and the council so keen to trade that she had automatically taken them at their word. No wonder Verris had handed over the negotiations and the organising to others! Lord Verris wanted to keep his hands free to take care of a much bigger problem.

She looked around the square and saw that around every entrance to the Archon's Palace one of Verris's guards seemed to lounge, and a whole phalanx apparently engaged in betting on flugey stood just outside the Hub. Not one of them had taken a mood stone or eaten a sky-trader's snack.

In the middle of the square Verris's right-hand man Borges sent one of the marines some sort of complicated hand signal. She saw the marine nod in reply and then he headed off down the alleyway.

One look at her friends’ faces told Tab that they hadn't seen this possibility either. Philmon wiped the cake crumbs off the table thoughtfully.

Then Tab noticed something else. That sly trickster Fontagu Wizroth III lurked in an alley beside the Halls of Justice, absently rubbing one of the purple jewels against his cheek.

What's he up to? Tab wondered.

Feast

Tab had never been to a formal Quentaran feast before. There were six round tables seating ten or twelve, each with a huge cooking pot sunk into the middle of it, warmed underneath by a box full of hot coals.

‘What a good idea! It will keep our toes warm,’ Philmon said, rubbing his hands together. The bluestone walls made the palace's formal dining hall quite cold.

Tab straightened the sleeve of the dress Dorissa had lent to her. Dorissa had tucked it into folds with pins so that it fitted better, and some of them stuck into Tab's ribs if she slouched. It crossed Tab's mind that Dorissa might have done it on purpose so that Tab would sit like a lady. She squirmed under the fabric, realising that this is what she would feel like every day if she had been the daughter of a princess.

Tab stared at her dining card blankly. Storm, guessing that the three youngsters were not familiar with formal customs, ushered the three of them into a corner.

‘There is a course for every day of the week,’ she explained. ‘Root vegetables for Bursday, spices for Leshday, meat for Emmerday, fish for Gramday, leaf vegetables for Imbleday, cheese for Highday. As the night goes on the food in the urn will mingle together and become more soft and flavoursome.’

‘So hang back on the early courses,’ Amelia said.

Storm nodded. ‘The guests toss the raw food into the pot in order of the most important person to the least important.’

‘How do I know who is more important than me?’ Tab asked.

‘That's easy,’ Storm said. ‘You will always be the least important person at the table.’

‘Oh. Right.’ Tab reddened and her friends giggled.

‘Once the pot comes to the boil, you take the metal serving tongs in front of you and place a few items from the pot onto the plate of the person on your right. Then you take the wooden eating tongs and eat what has been placed on your plate.’

‘If you don't like the person you're sitting next to, you could give them a plate full of algoon root,’ Philmon joked.

‘That would be frowned upon,’ Storm told him.

Tab was starting to get lost. She decided that she would just copy what all the others did. ‘What is this number?’ Tab asked looking at her card.

‘This is your next table number. After each course you will move to your next table. The waiters will pass you a warm towel to wipe your hands and your table number for the next course.’

‘It sounds very complicated,’ Tab observed.

Storm smiled. ‘It has been this way for generations. All the guests eat from every urn. Nobody knows where they are going to sit next. The waiters look for signs of potions or powders on your hands when they wipe them after each course. It reduces the chances of people being poisoned. Also everyone gets an equal opportunity to talk to the Archon, or whoever happens to be making the decisions at the time.’

‘That makes sense,’ Amelia replied.

‘And the food gets better as the night goes on,’ Tab added. She had been paying attention to that part.

‘So nobody stuffs themselves like a pig,’ Philmon said.

‘So that a level of decorum is maintained,’ Storm corrected.

‘What about the course for Lowday?’ Amelia asked.

‘After the Highday course is served, the broth is drained from the urns. Each guest takes a bowl out to the steps where the palace guard will have assembled a group of the poorest citizens from lower Quentaris.’

‘Isn't that nice?’ Amelia said.

Storm raised an eyebrow. ‘Nice for the poor, and a sobering reminder of the situation you could find yourself in should the ruler be displeased with something you've said during the evening.’

Just then a group of six sky-traders, including Captain Kel and Chak entered the room escorted by the Archon's nephew Florian Eftangeny. Vindon Nibhelline and Tab's old friend Fontagu Wizroth III came in close behind them.

Storm was not the only one who bristled. Florian was only a boy, but he insisted on attending formal events and sitting at the council table to represent his uncle. The Archon spent much of his time in his rooms. So far the members of the Grand Council tolerated Florian's presence, but mostly they ignored him.

Florian stood on a small dais in the corner. ‘Please take your seats. Bursday is about to be served,’ he said with a flourish.

‘This should be quite a show,’ Storm sighed, consulting her card.

Tab left her friends to find her seat for the first course, only to discover she was opposite Chak and on the left of Chief Navigator Stelka. Oh no! Tab thought, sure she was going to spill broth all over the sorceress's elegant emerald gown.

She noticed that the sorceress had already had her Loraskian mood stone made into a striking clasp for her shawl.

The waiters came around the table with the bowls of food, just as Storm had described. Stelka almost carelessly tossed her bowl of vegetables into the bubbling pot. Chak did the same. Tab noticed several of the other guests at the table looking at each other, cranky at Chak's rudeness.

‘After you,’ said the representative from the Undertakers’ Guild to the delegate from the Murderers’ Guild.

‘As it is in life,’ the murderess replied, inclining her head.

Tab waited until they had all taken their turn and then carefully tipped her bowl into the pot. Already the smell wafting up from the broth was enticing.

‘And how do you enjoy our sports so far?’ Stelka asked Chak.

‘It has been such a wonderful day,’ Chak enthused. ‘Some of the sports are variations on games we have seen before. Baubles has been called “tonks”, “nuts”, or “marbles”. Hooey seems to be a mixture of a number of ball sports that we know, although your scoring system is unique. Lokey spokey is new to us. We're very excited about it and looking forward to learning more tomorrow.’

One by one the diners used their serving tongs to place chunks of vegetables onto the plate of the person next to them. Tab was nervous but managed to serve Stelka without spilling anything. Tab nibbled her serving slowly, glad that the low simmering of the broth and the buzz of conversation covered the sound of her stomach rumbling.

‘We rarely receive such a cordial welcome. Quentarans are a generous people,’ Chak added.

Stelka smiled. ‘It is kind of you to say so. Perhaps in the spirit of goodwill you would allow some of our navigators to observe how you manage to manoeuvre your sky-city with such agility?’

Chak put a hand to her chest, as though she had choked. ‘Dear me! It's not often asked. Let me think of an equivalent in your culture.’ Chak used her wooden eating tongs to grasp a strand of honickle fungus out of the broth. ‘Such a request is the same as asking whether a small group from our city might be allowed to see your undergarments.’

‘I see,’ Stelka replied, smoothly. ‘And in our culture such a request is akin to serving oneself out of the communal urn.’

Chak let the fungus drop and it landed back in the broth with a sploosh. ‘Oops! So does this mean I have to show you our bridge, or my undergarments?’

The diners all laughed.

‘Your bridge will do just fine,’ Stelka assured her. ‘We shall make arrangements on the morrow. It has been a great pleasure.’ Stelka stood, indicating that the first course was over.

Tab joined her friends in the corner between courses. The waiters took the opportunity to refill the coal boxes under the pots, replace the tongs, refill the goblets, and clear away the empty plates and bowls.

‘I'd always thought a formal feast would be the best meal in the whole world, but I'm so nervous about doing something wrong that I'm hardly eating anything. I'm still starving!’ Tab complained.

‘Florian was so busy trying to impress everyone with his bad jokes that all I got was two bits of fungus.’ Philmon pouted. ‘He's managed to talk his way into a trip to the sky-traders city tomorrow. I wish I was going too.’

Tab guessed organising the games wasn't as exciting as Philmon had imagined.

‘Aren't the dresses beautiful? I wish I had a gown for special nights like this,’ Amelia said, plucking at her plain, borrowed dress.

Florian called the second course and the three friends made their way to their new tables. Philmon and Tab were at the same table this time.

When First Lieutenant Crankshaft tipped his bowl of spices into the pot the broth sizzled, crackled and swirled, changing colour. The broth tasted better with the spices added. Tab and her friend ate slowly and listened to the conversation of the older people.

During the fourth course Tab sat at the same table as Verris and Captain Kel. Fontagu slipped into the seat next to her. ‘Don't forget to eat all your purples.’ He grinned at her.

‘You have fungus in your teeth,’ she observed.

Fontagu blanched and spent the rest of the course trying to lever out the offending fragment with a fingernail.

Every time Tab tried to take a mouthful, Verris peppered her with questions about what she had planned for the next day. Eventually Verris turned his attention to Captain Kel.

‘Those small sky-vessels you have look excellent for shipping goods or people. Tell me, how do you power them?’

Kel grinned. ‘That would be telling, wouldn't it?’

‘Yes, it would,’ Verris replied bluntly.

The little captain shook his head. ‘You haven't earned enough credit for information like that.’

Verris tried a new tack. ‘You mentioned something about an animal that heals the sick. I'm curious about it and wonder, have we earned enough credit to purchase one, or perhaps a breeding pair?’

‘You speak of the equens,’ Captain Kel replied. ‘Wondrous creatures. We'd be happy to send you two, but sadly they don't breed in pairs. They have a hive structure, like bees or ants. We'll send over two in the morning, and you can have a closer look.’ Captain Kel wiped his mouth with the hem of the tablecloth.

Fontagu arched an eyebrow at Tab.

‘What?’ she whispered.

‘Nothing!’ he replied. ‘Nothing at all.’

By the end of the fifth course Tab was surprised to find she was full – a sensation she hadn't had an opportunity to enjoy all that often.

‘My sides may burst,’ she confessed to Amelia as they sat down at the sixth and final table. Luckily the final serving was a single ball of cheese that was soft and slightly melted on the outside. It was soaked with the flavours from the previous courses. Tab was delighted to find that it was both delicious and small.

Florian stood once more on the dais to make a speech. ‘It is my great honour, and my duty, as one who has the blood of our sovereigns running through his veins, to thank each and every one of you, on behalf of my uncle, a great and glorious leader, and on behalf of all Quentaris. Tonight heralds the beginning of a new era, an era in which our two peoples…’