Halahan studied him for a time, the humour gone from his eyes.
The man placed a hand on Bahn’s shoulder.
‘Better get your head straight, son,’ Halahan told him softly. ‘They’re coming for us all right.’
CHAPTER NINE
In the Company of Rats
The ship sped along on its south-easterly course with its sails straining fat with wind and its prow clipping through the rise and fall of the swells. Che stood by the rail with the salty spray hissing past the hull, the vessel thrumming beneath him as it bore them across the Heart of the World.
To others, he looked as though he was merely taking in the sea air on another day on their journey east. For Che, it was a form of meditation standing like this, his mind focused on the flow of his breathing and the senses of his body. It was a pleasure to be this way, so much so that a slight unconscious smile curled the corners of his mouth.
He didn’t dare do any more than this. Not here, not in the presence of so many of his peers. To squat down now on the main deck in the customary position of a Daoist monk, or a Roshun for that matter – kneeling with spine erect, thoughtless and still – would be an open challenge to them all. Remarks would be made. Something would be said to him by one of the Monbarri, threats veiled behind skilful questions of double meaning.
His feet rocking to the gentle swaying of the ship, Che could see the wheelhouse rising high before him in the mid-section of the ship, a legion of signal flags fluttering from the top of it. Behind him, at the stern of the vessel, the quarterdeck rose three storeys tall, where the stately cabins of the Holy Matriarch were located, along with those of her two generals. Sasheen was up there now, on the uppermost deck, taking in the sea air like Che himself, though she was seated in a deep wicker chair and wrapped in a heavy fur cloak against the bite of the wind, surrounded by white screens to shield her position. Between the screens, Archgeneral Sparus and young Romano could be glimpsed sitting on either side of her, engaged in conversation and attended by slaves. The Matriarch wasn’t looking at them as they spoke. Sasheen was watching the skyship that was passing overhead, one of their birds-of-war guarding the invasion fleet; a scattering of vessels that stretched ahead and behind as far as the eye could see.
He sensed rather than heard the approach of someone behind him.
‘Don’t dwell on it,’ came the quiet voice of a man. ‘It’s always much worse than you can imagine anyway.’
Che felt a moment’s irritation, and turned his head to see Guan standing there, the young man of the Mortarus sect who had come aboard with his sister as part of Sasheen’s travelling entourage. The priest stood dwarfed by the ship’s great masts and sails that diminished half the sky.
‘And what’s that?’ Che enquired drily.
‘The invasion. You’ve never been to war, have you?’
Che simply shook his head.
‘I was there with my sister, the last time we invaded the Free Ports. It wasn’t a pretty sight.’
‘You were in Coros? You hardly look old enough.’
‘No. We hardly were. Our father was the commander of the fifty-fifth Lights. Bringing us along was his idea of an education. And we learned, all right. We learned what a warhead could do to the integrity of his skull.’
His father, Che reflected. It was rare for a priest to speak of a father; to even know who the man was.
He saw that Guan was waiting for him to ask more, so instead he said nothing. He wished only to be left alone.
It was Guan who broke the silence. ‘You don’t know what I’m saying, do you?’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea.’
‘Then you’re not alone. The people on this ship seem to have no idea of what they’re getting into either. These aren’t some northern tribesmen that we plan to invade here. Or an army of Lagosian insurgents, for that matter. These are Khosians, with the finest chartassa in all the Free Ports. They’ve fought off more invasions than most of the southern nations combined.’
Che was in no mood for horror stories of war today. The man simply wished to show off, to notch himself a little higher than Che.
‘I see. A people to be feared.’
Guan stared hard at Che, and Che stared out to sea.
‘I’m wondering if you’ve balled anything lately, Che? You seem a little uptight.’ And Guan smiled suddenly, as though that would make it fine to say these things to him. ‘Or perhaps you’re getting plenty enough from the Matriarch herself?’
Che allowed a scowl to show in his eyes.
‘You’re either a fool or a lunatic, Guan. I think your Mortarus training leads you too close to a worship of death.’
Guan shrugged without care. A fool, then, Che decided. ‘I see you don’t deny it.’
Che turned away from the man, refusing to be drawn into this conversation. He wondered once more if Guan and his sister were not in fact Regulators in disguise, and if Guan was merely playing at being a careless fool. Indeed, Che had been surprised at this man’s insistence in befriending him, had wondered if perhaps he had been tasked with watching Che during the long voyage to Khos.
Guan sighed as though ridding himself of frustration. ‘Have you eaten yet?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Later, then. We can share a drink perhaps, and find ourselves another game of cards. It’s your turn to lose, as I recall.’
‘Perhaps,’ responded Che.
He waited until he heard the man walking away, then gradually relaxed again.
It was often this way with his peers. Even a few moments of simple chatter could seem like a squabble over spilled milk. How could it not be? They had been raised knowing three things above all else in life: their own self-importance, their freedom to pursue every desire, and their voracious need to defeat each other. Always they would look for ways to better him, to manipulate him; it grew tiresome after a while, when all he wanted was some honest companionship. It made him as hostile as they were.
The price, of course, was one of alienation, but Che had found the alternative to be even worse: alienation from his true self. He felt lost when he was with these people for too long, weakened in his own struggling convictions.
Guan was wrong about one thing. The men and women on board were hardly ignorant of what they were facing. He could feel it all around him, the tension in the air, the quietness.
Che’s gaze roamed up to look at the Matriarch again, the woman still listening to the talk of her two generals. Romano was a dangerous one to bring on this expedition. The young general was the greatest contender to Sasheen’s throne; hence, Che suspected, she had elected to suffer his presence during the campaign, fearing what troubles he might foment during her absence from the capital. But he was to be feared here too, for with him had come his contribution to the invasion force, his own private military company of sixteen thousand men. If it came to it, they would be loyal to their paymasters, Romano and his family, before even the Holy Matriarch herself.
Such a dynamic could only provoke tensions on a long voyage such as this one. Sasheen and Romano despised each other at the best of times, even when they conversed with seeming civility. Che wondered how long it would be before they were at each other’s throats, and before he himself was dragged into it.
He tried to breathe all the nonsense from his head and return to the peaceful state of before. It was no good. His calm mood had been spoilt.
Che made his way through the sailors and marines and priests on the weatherdeck and headed for the forward hatchway. On his way he passed a squad of Acolytes training naked in the sunshine, serious young men and women much the same age as himself, with a handful of older veterans amongst them. They were taking turns sparring with each other, or limbering their muscles while they waited their turn.