MacKinnie nodded. The Imperials had told him of the dietary problems of Makassar. Most of the animal life was edible, but not all of it, and little of the plant life except that which came originally from another planet. The local plants stored up various metals, which gave them their hardness, but also made them deadly. The local animals separated out the metal, although some, like the hive-rat which ate not only fruits and grains but woody stems, were deadly. All lacked essential vitamins. Listening to the singer, he had an idea.
“I wish to return to the mountains of the north,” Nathan said. His maps showed that Batav was nestled on the side — the wrong side from Jikar, of course — of the mountain range which ran down the great peninsula jutting from the north edge of the continent. The mountains then curled east before they dwindled away to hills, still high enough to form a natural barrier to the great plains.
“North?” Brett asked incredulously. “How long has it been since you came from there? But you must have come by ship. The land route has been closed for two years, Trader. The High King of the Passes is dead, and the others fight for his place. No life is safe, no judges sit, and the people make do as best they can. With your wealth, you might hire enough men to take you south. With me to show the way you could fight through the maris and come to the city-states and kingdoms of the Kepul. But not to the north, Trader. We could never pass the Sangi.” Brett tossed off the glass of wine, then waved at a smaller man, fair-haired and contrasting with the singer in every dimension, yet bearing the same manner of confidence. The newcomer came forward slowly.
“Trader,” Brett said, “this is Vanjynk, the best friend a wanderer ever had, tragedy as it is that he must roam the lands.” Brett poured his friend wine without asking.
Vanjynk nodded to MacKinnie and sat in silence. MacKinnie noted that he was younger than Brett, possibly by as much as two of the local years. Yet he was born of the nobility, while whatever Brett’s origin it had not been in an iron and stonewood fortress. The relationship between the men must have been complex.
The others explained to the young warrior what MacKinnie had in mind. “But there is no way through the Sangi,” Brett finished. “Or none that I can see.”
“Nor I.’’ Vanjynk drank slowly and deliberately, as he seemed to do everything else. “You will not find enough men to take the trail through the forest. The coast is closed. I do not know the sea.”
“The sea,” Blatt snorted. “Were there a way by sea half the town of Jikar would be off trading. All your gold will not pay the pirates, Trader, and there is but one warship left in Jikar.”
“There is a ship here?” MacKinnie asked. “Is it for sale?”
“For sale?” Hoorn thought slowly. “It belongs to the Ironsmiths. There is little in Jikar that is not for sale, including our daughters’ virtue. I could save you money in the purchase, for a fee to my Guild.”
“Not allowed.” Blatt spoke positively. “To sell a man that which sends him to his death is not allowed. Go back to your clothing, Hoorn; the Guilds cannot plunder this man from the stars.”
Nathan noted the sudden look of interest Brett tried to hide, then turned to Blatt. “I buy it willingly, Master Tanner.” Although he said nothing to show it, the man’s honesty affected him more than MacKinnie wanted to admit to himself. “To return to our homes with nothing would be not only our ruin, but that of many others. Go with Guildmaster Hoorn and buy that ship for me, and we will do well by both your Guilds. Freemen Brett, Vanjynk, I will pay you for your advice, whether you come with me or not; but we are taking that ship out of the harbor of Jikar if every pirate on Makassar is lying in wait out there.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHIPFITTER
MacKinnie and his party were inspecting their ship when the landing boat rose from the harbor and vanished from sight in the low clouds above. Nathan was not sorry to see it go. He had far too much work to waste time playing a role, pleading with Renaldi or demanding rights from the Navy. The ship was not in condition to be launched.
There was an additional blessing. Midshipman Landry had left with Renaldi. When Lieutenant Farr was told of MacKinnie’s plans he decided that the Navy could ill spare one of its young officers for a year, especially since it was more than likely that MacKinnie’s party would never be heard from again. Landry was ordered to go to the next port and report to headquarters for further instructions.
Before Renaldi left, the lieutenant had made it clear that the Navy was displeased with his treatment of MacKinnie, and would insist that no matter how remote Nathan’s chance of survival was, Renaldi was obligated to provide transportation back to Prince Samual’s World. MacKinnie was privately convinced that the lieutenant was more upset about Landry’s wasted time than the injustice of the situation, as Greenaugh had been led to believe that the boy would be gone only a few months. However, he was now guaranteed passage home if he could return to Jikar.
Mary Graham remained on Makassar. She pointedly refused to be on the same ship with Renaldi without MacKinnie’s protection, and she was legally correct by Haven law and custom. This was upsetting enough, but
Nathan found she also insisted on accompanying the party on its expedition to Batav, and nothing MacKinnie could say would convince her that she could not go.
“What did you expect me to do here?” she insisted. “I knew there would be danger.”
“Freelady,” MacKinnie replied coldly, “Citizen Dougal sent you without my request. We had thought to establish trading offices in the Imperial port, where you would remain as our agent.”
“But there is no need for offices here,” Graham protested.
“True. But you cannot come with us. You will be a great inconvenience aboard ship. How can we provide you proper quarters? To be blunt, what of sanitary arrangements? This is madness.”
“Madness, Trader? Is it less mad to leave me here, in a city besieged? I may yet be of use to you.”
“No.”
“You say no. You had better reconsider. If I am not reliable enough to go with you, how can you trust me to remain silent for a year? You leave me here with the Imperial officers—”
“I did not say that I do not trust you.”
“Would Dougal leave me behind? Think on that. Dougal would have me killed rather than risk it.”
He would, MacKinnie thought. Yet — what does she know of our real mission? I haven’t told her or any of them. Kleinst knows. Perhaps Longway. Does Mary Graham? One of them may well have told her.
“Please,” she said. “Trader, I was told this mission is important, to Haven and to Prince Samual’s World. Will you deny me the chance to show that I — that the women of Haven — are no less bound to duty and honor than you? Do you think only men can be patriotic?”
I hadn’t considered it, MacKinnie thought. More importantly, though, dare I leave her here? She’s right, Dougal wouldn’t. I can’t think how she can help, but — “Very well.”
“Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
I regret it already, MacKinnie thought, but he said nothing.