Flandry blinked through dark contact lenses at the incredible horizon. Sunlight glimmered off the multitudinous laughter of small waves. “I suppose the color is due to plankton,” he said.
“Plankton-like organisms,” corrected Tessa. “We’re nay on Earth, Captain. But aye, off this feed the oilfish, and off them the decapus, both of use to us.” She pointed. “Yonder flags bear Dilolo stripes, quartered on Saleth green: the fishing boats of the Prince of Aquant.”
Flandry’s dazzled eyes could hardly even see the vessels, in that merciless illumination. Since the wind dropped, the Hoorn ship had been running on its auxiliary engine and now there was no shade from the great sails. An awning was spread amidships and some superbly muscled deck hands sprawled under it, clapping time to an eerie chant-pipe, like young gods carved in oiled ebony. The Terran would have given much for some of that shadow. But since Tessa Hoorn stood here in the bows, he must admit. It was an endurance contest, he recognized, with all the advantages on her side.
“Does your nation fish this current too?” he asked.
“A little,” she nodded. “But mostly we in Jairnovaunt sail west and north, with harpoons for the kraken-ha, it’s a pale life never to have speared fast to a beast with more of bulk than your own ship and smaller game. Then T’chaka Kruger farms a great patch of beanweed in the Lesser Sargasso. And in sooth I confess, not alone the commons but some captains born will scrape the low-tide reefs for shells or dive after sporyx. Then there are carpenters, weavers, engineers, medics, machinists, all trades that must be plied: and mummers and mimes, though most such sport is given by wandering boats of actors, masterless madcap folk who come by as fancy strikes ‘em.” She shrugged broad shoulders. “The Commander can list you all professions in his realm if you wish it, Imperial.”
Flandry regarded her with more care than pleasure. He had not yet understood her attitude. Was it contempt, or merely hatred?
The sea people of Nyanza were almost entirely African by descent, which meant that perhaps three-fourths of their ancestors had been negroid, back when more or less “pure” stocks still existed. In a world of light, more actinic than anything on Earth, reflected off water, there had been a nearly absolute selection for dark coloring: not a Nyanzan outside the city on Altla was any whiter than the ace of spades. Otherwise genes swapped around pretty freely-kinky hair, broad noses, and full lips were the rule, but with plenty of exceptions. Tessa’s hair formed a soft, tightly curled coif around her ears; her nostrils flared, in a wide arch-browed face, but the bridge was aquiline. Without her look of inbred haughtiness, it would have been a wholly beautiful face. The rest of her was even more stunning, almost as tall as Flandry, full-breasted, slim-waisted, and muscled like a Siamese cat. She wore merely a gold medallion of rank on her forehead, a belt with a knife, and the inevitable aqualung on her back… which left plenty on view to admire. But even in plumes and gown and rainbow cloak, she had been a walking shout as she entered the resident’s mansion.
However, thought Dominic Flandry, that word “stunning” can be taken two ways. I am not about to make a pass at the Lightmistress of Little Skua.
He asked cautiously: “Where are the Technicians from?”
“Oh, those.” A faint sneer flickered on her red mouth. “Well, see you, the firstcomers here settled on Altla, but then as more folk came in, space was lacking, so they began to range the sea. That proved so much better a life that erelong few cared to work on land. Most came from Deutschwelt, as it happened. When we had enough of yon ilk, and knew they’d breed, we closed the sluice, for they dare nay work as sailors, they get skin sicknesses, and Altla has little room.”
“I should think they’d be powerful on the planet, what with the essential refineries and—”
“Nay, Captain. Altla and all thereon is owned in common by the true Nyanzan nations. The Technicians are but hirelings. Though in sooth, they’ve a sticky way with money and larger bank accounts than many a skipper. That’s why we bar them from owning ships.”
Flandry glanced down at himself. He had avoided the quasi-uniform of the despised class and had packed outfits of blouse, slacks, zori, and sash for himself; the winged cap sat on his head bearing the sunburst of Empire. But he could not evade the obvious fact, that his own culture was more Lubberly than pelagic. And an Imperial agent was often hated, but must not ever allow himself to be despised. Hence Flandry cocked a brow (Sardonic Expression 22-C, he thought) and drawled:
“I see. You’re afraid that, being more intelligent, they’d end up owning every ship on the planet.”
He could not see if she flushed, under the smooth black sweat-gleaming skin, but her lips drew back and one hand clapped to her knife. He thought that the sea bottom was no further away than a signal to her crew. Finally she exclaimed, “Is it the new fashion on Terra to insult a hostess? Well you know it’s nay a matter of inborn brain, but of skill. The Lubbers are reared from birth to handle monies. But how many of ‘em can handle a rigging-or even name the lines? Can you?”
Flandry’s unfairness had been calculated. So was his refusal to meet her reply squarely. “Well,” he said, “the Empire tries to respect local law and custom. Only the most uncivilized practices are not tolerated.”
It stung her, she bridled. Most colonials were violently sensitive to their isolation from the Galactic mainstream. They did not see that their own societies were not backward on that account-were often healthier-and the answer to that lay buried somewhere in the depths of human unreasonableness. But the fact could be used.
Having angered her enough, Flandry finished coldly: “And, of course, the Empire cannot tolerate treasonable conspiracies.”
Tessa Hoorn answered him in a strained voice, “Captain, there’s nay conspiring here. Free-born folk are honest with foemen, too. It’s you who put on slyness. For see you, I happened by Altla homebound from The Kraal, and visited yon mansion for courtesies sake. When you asked passage to Jaimovaunt, I granted it, sith such is nay refused among ocean people. But well I knew you fared with me, liefer than fly the way in an hour or two, so you could draw me out and spy on me. And you’ve nay been frank as to your reasons for guesting my country.” Her deep tones became a growl. “That’s Lubber ways! You’ll nay get far ‘long your mission, speaking for a planet of Lubbers and Lubberlovers!”
She drew her knife, looked at it, and clashed it back into the sheath. Down on the quarterdeck, the crewmen stirred, a ripple of panther bodies. It grew so quiet that Flandry heard the steady snore of the bow through murmuring waves, and the lap-lap on the hull, and the creak of spars up in the sky.
He leaned back against a blistering bulwark and said with care: “I’m going to Jairnovaunt because a boy died holding my hand. I want to find his parents… ” He offered her a cigarette, and helped himself when she shook her head. “But I’m not going just to extend my personal sympathies. Imperial expense accounts are not quite that elastic. For that matter, while we’re being honest, I admit I’d hardly invite Bubbles or Flutters to my own house.”
He blew smoke; it was almost invisible in the flooding light. “Maybe you wouldn’t conspire behind anyone’s back, m’ lady. Come to think of it, who would conspire in front of anyone’s face? But somebody on Nyanza is hatching a very nasty egg. That kid didn’t sign up when the Imperial recruiter stopped by for glory or money: he enlisted to learn modern militechnics, with the idea of turning them against the Empire. And he died in trampled snow, sniped by a local patriot he was chasing. Who lured that young fellow out to die, Lightmistress? And who sneaked up a wall and harpooned a harmless little lonely bureaucrat in his sleep? Rather more to the point, who sent that murderer-by-stealth, and why? Really, this is a pretty slimy business all around. I should think you’d appreciate my efforts to clean it off your planet.”