"Possibly." The words were emotionless, but her eyes were haunted.

"I know your loyalty will now lie with His Grace's son. Perhaps you would therefore be willing to allow that our aims match: we both want the best for him and for his reign."

Friselda's gaze sharpened with hope and Mathilda knew she was about to snare her first real ally. All one has to do, she thought, is find out what a person fears most, and what they need most... "At the moment, I can't see any reason for you to retire from court, Lady Friselda. We have a funeral to organise. And after that, a coronation."

After which you will be my spy among the court women.

28.

Returning to Javenka

Think, Ardhi. You have to stop her. You can't bask in the sun and expect the sakti to do it for you. You know this place. There has to be a way...

He was standing at the helmsman's shoulder guiding him through the tricky entrance as Golden Petrel slipped into Javenka harbour in the last hour of sunshine. He ought to have been concentrating on the task at hand; the entrance was a narrow passage between age-old forts glowering from rocky outcrops on either side, their cannon a hint that it might pay to be a courteous visitor.

He glanced at Lord Juster fidgeting beside him. "What's the matter, cap'n?" he asked softly. Is your reliance on a barefoot, dark-skinned lascar to negotiate a safe passage troubling you?

"Are you sure we don't need to ask for a local pilot?"

"I'm sure."

Juster stared grimly ahead. "I came here as a cabin boy when I was twelve. We used a lead line to sound the depth then."

"Not necessary."

"How can you be sure we have enough water under the keel? You rake her bottom, and the keel-raking I mention then will be yours, not Petrel's."

"I know passage." He wasn't about to admit his knowledge was theoretical. He'd never actually brought a ship through the entrance himself, but he had stood at the shoulder of a helmsman and watched the rocks slide by before.

"Saker said you came here to study." Juster's jaw was tight, and the clasped hands behind his back were white-knuckled.

"That's right," he agreed. "Helmsman, steady ahead. Two beacons on hill, one high, one low. Keep lined up, understand?"

"Aye, aye."

"Dead languages, divinity and philosophy?" Juster asked.

"Actually, navigation and pilotage, astronomy, cartography and hydrography." Not knowing the words in Ardronese, he used the Pashali ones instead, but a blank look told him Lord Juster's knowledge of the language did not stretch that far.

Probably just as well.

Think, Ardhi. How can you stop Sorrel disembarking here? You have to be clever about this.

They passed the forts safely and the passage opened up into a large expanse of water surrounded by hills on which the city was built.

Skies above, it's beautiful. I was so happy here. And so ridiculously young. "Best we anchor in front of harbourmaster's building." He pointed it out. "They will send someone to talk to us."

"Why?"

"They do this for all ships. Tax you. Want to know what you want. Maybe harbourmaster himself come. Best Lord Juster be polite."

"Lord Juster is always polite, Ardhi," Juster said. "Finch, give the orders aloft."

Saker, who had been scanning the harbour with the ship's spyglass, now turned to address Juster as the sailors began hauling in the sails not yet furled. "Remember what happened to Lord Denworth's fleet here. They were held to ransom. Pashalin didn't take kindly to the idea of merchant ships bypassing the mastodon caravan routes."

"I know, I know. But we aren't a merchantman. They should be happy to see a privateer." Juster grinned. "Our presence on the high seas encourages overland trade. Can you see any of the Lowmian fleet?"

"No."

"We'll catch up with them in our next port of call," Juster said.

Kotabanta, Ardhi thought. Where he thinks he'll get his revenge. His gut twisted. He knew that port even better than he knew Javenka. Sands, how I hate this. Your half of the world brings little but trouble to mine, Lord Juster.

He glanced over to where Sorrel was pointing out the scenery to Piper. He doubted she'd heard a word. She was focused on the city, and there was tension in her stance and an ache in her voice that told him she was appalled by what she saw. He remembered the first time he'd laid eyes on Javenka himself, remembered the suffocating fear of knowing he was going to be alone in a place so vast, so alien.

I have to stop her.

No longer needed by the helmsman, he moved away from the helm to her side. "All will be good," he said as the ship slowed and the crew prepared to drop anchor. "I promise you."

Her look told him what she thought of his foolish platitudes. She'd already done all she could to make her onward journey as safe as possible; he admired that. She'd spent hours each day with either him or Saker learning Pashali. She'd weaned Piper. She'd kept herself fit by practising the moves of silat, the warrior's way, that he'd showed her, and by climbing the rigging when the weather allowed. She had muscles now, and a body that was lean and hard. The whole time she'd been on board, she'd continued to use her glamour to cover the clothes she actually wore: men's culottes and a sailor's cotton shirt. He wondered if she knew that helike Sakercould see through the glamour. He was sure she never guessed how much he loved the way she looked in those men's clothes, how much he admired the tan of sun-darkened skin, the litheness of the way she moved now, the ease with which she climbed. She stirred him the same way Lastri had stirred him, but he took special care never to show it. There was no point.

Now, just looking at her, he knew how terrified she was, and how determined to overcome her fear. He said gently, "I don't break promise."

"How can you possibly know Piper and I will be safe all the way to Vavala?" There was no mistaking her derision. "You won't be there."

"You are both under protection of Chenderawasi."

She flicked a scornful glance his way, and it hurt. "Go away, Ardhi. I wish I'd never met you. It's your wretched Chenderawasi sorcery that did this to me in the first place."

Sialan! Damn it, she knew how to twist his gut with guilt. He wanted to touch her cheek, tell her he would always protect her if he could, but assurances were useless. Hiding his pain, he effaced himself.

He climbed aloft to help furl the last of the sails as the anchor splashed into the water, wincing as his shoulder pained him. It still ached from where the shaft of splintered wood had lodged itself, chipping bone from his clavicle.

When the other tars returned to deck, he stayed up there, swung his arm to loosen up the muscles while the dusk crept from the shadowed bay to the streets canyoned by the buildings of the city.

Four years, more or less. Four years since he'd left Javenka and the long downward spiral had begun. He'd been happy here, full of youthful optimism, revelling in the joy of learning, in the challenges of the new. His mentor, Istanel, had called Javenka the most learned city of the civilised world; perhaps he was right.

Certainly, by comparison, Ustgrind was drab and lacking in intellectual stimulation, while Throssel was grubby and full of inequities. But this? Javenka was the City of Glass and Learning, each quarter intimately known to him, and appreciated.

Across the hilltops known as Javenka-on-High, the last rays of the sun glinted from oblong windows like a line of fiery hearths. The building sprawled along the crest was the Library, founded a thousand years in the past by a woman and her crippled brother.

It was there he'd forged relationships with his teachers that had opened his mind to the world. Istanel's words echoed in his memory: Pay attention, Ardhi; back home you might have safely paddled your canoe in the lagoon, but you need to study mathematics if you wish to explore the oceans!

Below Javenka-on-High was Javenka-the-Midst, tumbling from the centre of learning to the flatland. Here, rows of conjoined shops and tenements were squeezed apart by tortuous winding lanes and stone stairs. Steps, so many steps, so many wild foot races, and irate citizens berating the racing students for their reckless, drunken ways.

Tiny alleyways, tiny taverns, tiny rooms in narrow houses, it might have appeared impoverished, but for the glass. Magnificent, boldly coloured glass: thick crystal balls, rough glass panels, delicate blown-glass ornaments, statues with fragile glass insets, tinkling wind chimes of vibrant translucent baubles.

He'd lost his virginity in Javenka-the-Midst, to a town girl, a dark-haired merchant's daughter intrigued by the idea of a student islander in her bed. For a while, they'd loved and laughed and then... parted, bored, knowing they had nothing more than their temporary needs to bind them.

Go home, Ardhi, she'd said. Find someone who understands your life and where you come from. So he dreamed of Lastri instead.

Below the Midst was Javenka-the-Face, a narrow strip of wealth and prestige bordering the bay. The massive private and public buildings here were decorated with glass mosaics and linked by broad roads, public squares and gardens.

The central hub of the bay was Javenka-the-Port. The five humped islands in the bay, connected by boardwalks to each other and to the mainland, formed the beating heart that enriched the city, pumping the blood of trade and gold and spice along its arteries. The main boardwalk was an engineering miracle, large enough for drays pulled by oxen, tough enough for the heaviest cargoes, a thoroughfare passing over eight bridges to the wooden docks. And ah, those docks: enough berths for twenty-five full-sized merchant ships at any one time.

Everything and everyone a ship could need was found on one of the five islands or along the boardwalk: chandlers and chart sellers, warehouses and godowns, coopers and hoopers and ropemakers, carpenters and sailmakers and blacksmiths. Here, a captain or a ship-owner could hire a docklumper or a buy a chronometer, sign on a ship's boy or a helmsman, arrange for a cargo to be sent to Karradar or Kotabanta, and auction spices or wool bales or the ballast bricks from his ship.

Lastly, there was Javenka-the-Bay: the water road of the daylight hours, the market of the night, where boats and barges and packets and ferries plied from one shore to the next like water beetles scurrying across a pond, or lingered after sunset to service the anchored houseboats, the floating brothels, the drug dens and gambling flatboats. Constantly on the move were other small vessels: the dhows of itinerant fortune tellers and money lenders and medicine sellers; the budgerows belonging to the abortionists and drug dealers and thieves.

Ardhi watched as the last light of the sun died and the lanterns were lit. Javenka did not sleep at night; it thrived, it hummed, it sang. Like a panther, it was beautiful and languid in the sunshine, yet dark and mysterious and dangerous by night.

Half an hour after the last light faded from the sky, the harbourmaster's boat glided up to the pilot steps and several men climbed up to be greeted by Lord Juster, Finch and Saker. Sorrel had already gone below. Quietly, he descended and made his way across the deck to the prow and the ship's heads. The latrine rope that dangled there was slimy, but it was the quickest and quietest way for him to enter the sea without a splash. He swung himself over the edge of the head, grabbed the rope and let himself silently down into the water.

Two hours later Ardhi was knocking at a familiar door. How often had he knocked just this way, rapping on the panelling between the brass studs, wondering just what sort of a reception he would receive? Too often, especially when he'd been in trouble. He'd been so young and foolish then.

The voice that bade him enter was familiar too. Authoritative, with just a hint of a quaver that spoke of increasing age. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him and hesitated to allow his eyes to adjust to the light of several candelabra after the darkness of the passageway. He then placed both palms flat to his chest and inclined his head deferentially to the man seated behind the table in the room.

Confound it. From old friends, he'd borrowed dry clothes and the band to wind a turbannecessary as a sign of respect, for no one went bareheaded before their superiorsbut in his hurry he hadn't wound it tight enough and the headgear was in danger of falling down over his eyebrow. He straightened slowly, careful not to dislodge it.

"Mir," he said. He used the hereditary title against all usual custom. Inherited status had no place within the university hierarchy, but he wanted to signal that his was not just the visit of a past student to his teacher. He was coming to Istanel because his mentor was a member of the ruling house of merchants.

Istanel rose to his feet, a courtesy he never would have extended to a mere student. "Well! If it isn't the Datu's grandson from Chenderawasi." His gaze swept over Ardhi, lingering on his feet before returning to his face. "It is always a pleasure to see a past student, although it seems we never did manage to teach you to wear shoes, Ardhi."

"A small failing, Mentor Istanel, I assure you."

"What brings the heir of my old friend back to this place of learning? I trust the honourable Datu is well?"

"It has been several years since I saw my grandfather, but the last time I was home he was still in good health." If furious with me, with a fury beyond rage... He would never see him again, he knew that. "The ship I travel upon called into port and I wished to pay my respects."

"A short visit then?" Istanel waved a hand towards an empty chair and reseated himself. "Tell me what has come to pass. I heard of the death of the Raja, and rumours which were even more unsettling. Rumours about a former student."

"A rumour does not always speak the whole truth."

"Indeed not. I believe the death of a Chenderawasi Raja is a complex matter, especially when his heir is too young for his regalia. I know how the governance of your island is structured, and what the death of a Raja means. Oh, do not look so shocked, young Ardhi. I was once, after all, a navigator and helmsman. I sailed once with your grandfather. He took me to Raja Wiramulia's court. As a result of that visit, and without betraying a trust, I persuaded my family not to pursue direct trade with the Pulauan Chenderawasi except under very strict rules of conduct."

"You know our... secret."

"All of it. And I have protected it, as have a few other privileged members of our guild of merchants over the centuries. The rumours I hear now are troubling; fortunately, though, somewhat garbled."

"I would ask another favour of you. Call it... call it the request of a condemned man."

"Condemned? You, the Datu's heir?" He raised a surprised eyebrow. "Such as you are not condemned lightly."

"No. Nor was my crime a light matter, for all that it was a result of foolishness. However, no man condemned me, nor yet the Rani. It is the sakti that has decreed my fate. It needed sacrifice. Successful in my quest or not, I die when I return."

Did Istanel's face change colour then? He thought so, although with such a dark complexion, it was hard to be sure. "It is my choice to go back. And I ask a favour of you in the hope that my sacrifice may ensure success."

Their gazes locked, and it was the old man's that broke first. He looked down at his own hands and fiddled with one of his rings. "My knowledge of Chenderawasi sakti is minimal, but I understand it is powerful and not easily thwarted." There was a long pause before he looked up again to say, "Tell me what you need, Ardhi, and I will tell you if it is within my power to aid you."

"Have you seen Ardhi?"

Saker, emerging on to the quarterdeck after breakfast the next morning, blinked, taken aback by the irritation in Juster's tone. "No. I haven't seen him since last night."

"Nor has anyone else, apparently. He was supposed to be on watch this morning, didn't turn up and can't be found."

"That's... odd." A shiver prickled up his spine.

"Exceedingly. No boats have approached the ship since the harbourmaster came last night. So if he went anywhere, he swam."

"Why would he want to do that? He would have been going onshore today anyway, wouldn't he?" He didn't like the sound of this at all.

"I am giving everyone shore leave in shifts, yes. At least I am once we get a berth. What the Va-less hell is he playing at, Saker?"

"Blessed if I know. He's certainly familiar with Javenka. I imagine he still has friends here. I asked him to help me find a passage to Vavala for Sorrel, but that could have waited."

"And he agreed?"

"Of course. Well, he was reluctant for Sorrel to go. I think he said something like, 'If it's necessary.' "

"I trusted the wretch. Maybe I shouldn't have done. Tell me, what was it he said to me yesterday, when he spoke Pashali?"

"He listed the subjects he studied at the Library."

"Which were?"

"Navigation and pilotage, astronomy, cartography and... hydrography, I think it was."

"You're not jesting, are you?"

"No. Neither was he."

"Pox on the bastard! I've been sending him aloft like an ignorant tar when he could have been using the astrolabe and plotting our course?"

"I did tell you he'd been a student of the Library."

"I thought that meant he'd been dabbling in native witchdoctory or Pashali alchemy or something!" He took a breath to calm himself. "What in all the foaming oceans is hydrography?"