I lowered the bottle from my own lips. ‘You talk about good and evil as if they were things in themselves.’
She considered. ‘And so they may be, far out there at the margins of the worlds. Things absolute and pure. For certainly the farther from the Hub one fares, the purer they become.’
‘Purer how? In people’s minds – evil people? Or near-people like the Wolves?’
‘Hard to say. Minds – oh, there’s minds there all right. People … maybe.’ Her face took on that haunted look again. ‘Some of them might have been, once. Black-hearted souls drawn outward to the greater evils like moths to a flame, and shedding more and more of their humanity as they went. But others, they may be those same greater evils reaching inward, and shaping themselves more human in the process; hence, maybe, the Wolves’ strange blood. But out here between Hub and Rim one’s as bad as t’other, and has as little in it of what we’d call men. You saw – you should remember. In the warehouse.’ She must have seen me stiffen. ‘And that creature, dreadful as it seemed, ’tis but a common servant to such outernesses, a sentry or scout. They’re ever seeking to spread their black influence inward, like worms riddling sound timbers. Even deep within the Hub it lies behind more pain and suffering than most men ever guess.’
Somehow the night didn’t seem quite so beautiful. ‘And you think that something like this is behind the Wolves?’
‘After that thing they smuggled in … aye, I do. Trade is ever the subtlest means of passage, for it’s the lifeblood of the wider worlds – the more so, for their endless variety, and the many ways about them that one man may pass with ease, and another, not in sympathy, find barred to him forever. Even the Wolves and other strange races trade at times. It must be shielded, that trade, and sentinels stand guard over its arteries lest infection creep along them, and darkness in its wake. It’s not only for your Clare I’m doing this, Stephen. And I’d lay odds old Stryge is of the same mind. He’s an unchancy bastard, but he’ll brook no meddling of this measure. He and I, we’ve seen too much to let it pass unchallenged. That’s my oath, my deepest purpose in life.’
‘Sounds pretty good,’ I acknowledged gloomily. ‘Wish I’d one worth the name.’
The bell hung high on the stern rail chimed quietly into the darkness, marking the passage of the watch. On the deck below some of the dozing hands began throwing off their blankets and prodding others awake. The moon was falling from the zenith now, and long shadows oozed across the planks as more seamen came scrambling down from the rigging, took up the discarded blankets and stretched out in their place. Mall turned to lean against the wheel, studying me thoughtfully. ‘No wife, no true love, no purpose … Yet you have a mind, and some heart at least; neither of the worst, if I read aright. You must have dreams, sure; or have had them once. When I was a child I was used to waste my scanty pennies in the playhouses, standing and dreaming at plays where women dressed as boys for some brave purpose; but that only because boys took the women’s part anyway. A fine irony; even on stage we could not be ourselves.’
There was something in what she said that made my hair prickle, but the drink was getting in the way of it. ‘I had dreams once, maybe. Pretty stupid ones; they didn’t add up to much of a purpose.’
‘That takes time,’ she said, and the bitterness in her voice startled me, making what I felt trivial. ‘It took me long years, till I’d sloughed every last taint of my birth, left it lying behind me in the road. Till I was new-minted from my old metal.’
‘Where were you born, Mall?’ I asked gently, struggling to sort out what was taking shape.
She shrugged. ‘Find me my father and mother, and ask. Neither name nor face can I put to them. My first memory’s the bawdy-house where I was everybody’s child and nobody’s, being raised like fatstock for the coming trade. From that I fled as soon as ever I could; but it was not soon enough. For you now, though, it should not have been so ill.’
I shook my head, but in agreement. ‘It shouldn’t, I suppose. I wasn’t born rich, but we were never short of anything. I got on with my parents, they gave me a good education, I took an okay degree and I’ve done well in my job. Very well, so far. And that was because I gave up dreaming early on, settled for sensible ambitions instead. I began planning it all out while I was still in college, how I’d get on in business and then maybe move on to a career in politics, Parliament maybe or the European bunch – oh, not for any particular party or anything like that. Not ideals. Just as a natural progression, running things. I took that pretty seriously – still do. And I suppose I dreamed of living comfortably, independently, and I do; that came true, too. So far I’m on target. What else counts?’
‘You ask that of me?’ she said amusedly. ‘Many things, be you a man and not a straw-stuffed popinjay – or a Wolf. But a blind man on a blacker night than this could see you know that.’
‘All right!’ I admitted. ‘The human side. Love, if you must call it that. I’ve had plenty of girl-friends, but I just haven’t clicked with them – is that my fault? I’ve had lots of fun. I’ve got fond of them, serious even, but love – no, nobody. This last year or two I’ve been too busy, anyway; sinking myself in my job. Got to do a bit of that if you want to stay ahead. And in the long run, you know, it’s more satisfying – oh, except the physical bit,’ I added, seeing the look on her face. ‘But I get that when I want it.’
‘From whores,’ she said coolly. ‘Dolls, trulls, doxies –’
I began to get angry. ‘Don’t jump to bloody conclusions! Casually, okay! So what? You think that’s less honest than the dinners and gifts routine, the darling-I-love-you spiel when you both know it’s bullshit? Or just plain conning some stupid girl onto her back? I don’t. I’ve played that game; I got sick of it. But I don’t pay – hell, I’ve never had to! Well, hardly ever,’ I added, remembering business trips to Bangkok. ‘But that was just … playing tourist. Seeing the sights.’
‘Men buy with more than coin,’ she said quietly, when I’d petered out. ‘Believe me, I know! But I’m no canting Puritan. They’ll go a-whoring, your lads and lasses both; an ancient vice, and there’s many more terrible – unless it’s set in the place of something better. And by the Mass, Master Stephen, in you it is! You’ve never loved, you say? I give you the lie! For your own words do as much.’
I stared, and half laughed. ‘Hey, Mall, you can think what you damn well like –’
I stopped. Her long hand had landed on my shoulder, lightly but firmly, as I’d tried to get up. ‘Do you walk away from everything? From the plight of Clare you cannot. Why then from your own?’
‘So what makes it your business, anyhow?’ I parried, angrily.
‘Nothing,’ she said simply. ‘I claim no right to meddle, even to care. But when I’ve held a life in my swordhand I cannot help an interest in it thereafter.’
‘All right!’ I acknowledged, trying not to be annoyed by the reminder. ‘Maybe I was pretty keen on someone for a while. But no more. It wouldn’t have worked out, God knows!’
‘Hold, hold!’ Mall released me and ruffled my hair amusedly. ‘I only wish you to think, not tell me all your privy secrets. You may surprise yourself.’
‘Well, I will tell you, dammit, and you can judge for yourself. I don’t want you dreaming up all kinds of crap about me, really. I met her in my first year at college, she was at the art school and we hit it off. We had fun – God, she was more fun than any English girl I’d ever met. Just so different, so – I don’t know. Outside all the rules. All the girls I knew – even the unconventional ones were unconventional along the same lines, if that makes any sense. She was Eurasian, by the way – half Chinese, from Singapore, pretty as hell. A beautiful body, near perfect. Like polished bronze. That was part of the trouble, in fact.’ Mall had both hands on the wheel again, and her eyes on the horizon, but she nodded slowly to show she was listening. I watched the play of curves between her breast and ribs as she steered, and the hollows in her muscular thighs. Jacquie’s shape was different, much smoother, more delicate – almost fragile. ‘She wasn’t rich. She was getting money from home, but never really enough. She used to model for life classes to earn more.’