Crake scrambled after him. Another bullet hit. Out of the corner of his eye Crake saw the dock workers shouting in consternation. They were unsure who the villain was here. Some were following Crake’s plight, but others were looking at a spot above and behind him.
He looked over his shoulder. There, where the deck of the Delirium Trigger rose up towards an electroheliograph mast, he saw movement. A man, crouching, aiming.
Then Crake was behind the cannons, hunkering down next to Pinn and Malvery. ‘He’s up there!’ he panted. ‘By the mast!’
Malvery swore under his breath. ‘We need to get off this bloody aircraft, sharpish. Before them down below work out what’s going on.’
There was a sudden whine of strained metal from the winch. The chain swung sharply one way, then another, pulled from below.
Malvery edged along the barrel of the cannon and peered out for an instant, then drew back. ‘I see the bastard.’ He drew a pistol from his belt. It looked tiny in his huge hand. His usual shotgun had been too large to smuggle beneath their clothes.
‘Wait,’ said Crake. ‘Not yet.’
The chain pulled restlessly back and forth. The mechanism shrieked in protest at the weight it was carrying. The weight of the golem, clambering up the length of the chain and out of the cargo hold.
An enormous hand grabbed on to the lip of the hatch. Bess pulled herself up with a low bass groan, hauling her enormous bulk onto the deck.
‘Now!’ said Crake. Malvery swung out of hiding, aimed his pistol, and fired at the crewman hiding near the mast. The crewman, amazed by the sight of Bess, was taken by surprise. The shot missed by inches, but it startled him enough to send him scrambling out of sight.
The dock workers on the hangar deck were panicking now, beginning to flee as Bess drew herself up to her full height. They’d never seen anything like her, this humpbacked, faceless armoured giant. Those who were nearest fought to get out of the way, pushing aside the men at the back who were crowding closer to see what the fuss was about.
‘Bess!’ Crake called as they broke from hiding. The golem swung towards him with a welcoming gurgle. He hurried up to her and quickly patted her on the shoulder. The dock workers’ fear of Bess grew to encompass Crake and the others now: they were friends with the beast! ‘We’re getting out of here.’
Malvery sent another blast towards the electroheliograph tower as they ran for the gangplank. There were shouts of alarm from behind them as crewmen were roused by the gunfire. Bullets nipped at their heels. Pinn sent a few back, shooting wild.
Bess thundered down the gangplank and onto the hangar deck, the others close behind. The dock workers melted away from the Delirium Trigger like ice before a blowtorch, spreading chaos through the hangar as they fled. All activity came to a halt as crewmen on nearby freighters sensed the disturbance.
Malvery took the lead, heading towards the stairs that would take them to ground level, where they could exit the hangar. But he’d barely started in that direction when whistles sounded from below: the Ducal Militia of Rabban. Beige uniforms began to flood up the stairs that Malvery had been running for.
Too many men. Too many guns. Bess could make it through, but her more fragile, feshy companions wouldn’t.
Malvery came to a halt, pulled out his pocket watch and consulted it. He looked back at the Delirium Trigger, where the angry crew was already marshalling for pursuit. The militia had blocked their escape route. There was no way out.
‘Alright,’ he said. ‘Now we’ve got problems.’
Trinica Dracken looked at her pocket watch, snapped it shut and slipped it back inside the folds of her black coat.
‘You need to be somewhere, Trinica?’ Frey enquired.
She looked up at him across the card table. She seemed to be weighing a question.
‘I think we’ve beaten around the bush for long enough, Darian. You wanted to parley. Speak your piece.’
Her tone was newly impatient. Frey put two and two together.
‘Why the hurry, Trinica? You were happy to make small talk until now. You wouldn’t have been trying to buy time, would you? Delaying me here for some reason?’
He caught the flicker of anger in her eyes, and felt a small satisfaction. She’d had the best of this meeting so far: it was good to score a point on her.
‘Make your offer,’ she said. ‘Or this meeting is over.’
Might as well try, thought Frey. ‘I want you to give up the chase. Turn your back and leave us alone.’
‘What good will that do? You’ll still be wanted by the Century Knights.’
‘The Century Knights I can handle. They don’t know the underworld. I can scatter my crew, duck my head till the worst of it blows over. Maybe I’ll get out of Vardia. Sell the Ketty Jay, get a real job. But not with you on my heels. Most of them don’t even know my face except from some old ferrotype, but you do. I think you’d find me in the end. So I’m asking you to give it up.’
Trinica was waiting for the punchline. ‘Grephen is paying me a lot of money to track you down. Certainly more than you’ve ever seen in your life. What can you possibly offer me that would tempt me to give that up?’
‘I’ll keep your name out of it if I get caught.’
‘You’ll what?’ She was midway between amusement and astonishment.
‘You’re a traitor. You’re a knowing accomplice in the murder of the Archduke’s only son. The Coalition Navy never managed to pin anything on you—maybe because the witnesses have an odd habit of dying—but they know what you are and they’ll jump at the chance to see you swing from the gallows. You know Grephen is afraid of the Knights getting me before you do. He’s afraid I’ll make accusations against him.’
‘That’s the best you’ve got?’ Trinica laughed. ‘The accusations of a condemned man, without any proof to back them up?’
‘Have you thought what’s going to happen if whatever Grephen’s planning doesn’t work?’ Frey asked. ‘My accusations might not save me, but if Grephen makes a move on the Archduke then he’ll prove what I said about him is true. And that will mean everything I said about you will be true. Now maybe Grephen will win and everything will be alright for you, but if he loses, you’ll have the Navy all over you for the rest of your days. You certainly won’t be docking in a place like Rabban anytime soon.’
‘Why would you believe he’s making a move on the Archduke?’
Frey gave her a look. ‘I’m not stupid, Trinica.’
She studied him. Considering. He’d seen that expression a hundred times before at a Rake table, as players stared at their opponents and asked themselves: do they really have the cards to beat me?
Then she snorted, disgusted at herself for allowing him to threaten her.
‘This is ridiculous, and I don’t have time for it any more. It’s all over now, besides. I’ve got you.’ She drained her whisky and got to her feet. ‘You’re done.’
‘This is a parley, Trinica. Neutral ground. Sharka guarantees our safety,’ he grinned at her. ‘Can’t get me here,’ he added, rather childishly.
‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘But I can get your craft.’
‘You don’t even know where she is.’
‘Certainly I do,’ she replied. ‘You’re berthed in the Southwest Labourer’s Quarter. Of course you registered under a false name, but I had every dock master in the city keeping an eye out for a Wickfield Ironclad-class cargo-combat hybrid. There aren’t many around with the Ketty Jay’s specifications, and I do know that craft quite well. I listened to you talk about her enough.’
Frey was unperturbed. Trinica noted his lack of reaction.
‘Obviously, you guessed I’d do something like this,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter. How many men do you have, Frey? Five? Six? Can you afford to keep that many?’ She looked around the room; he bored her now. ‘I sent twenty.’