Mr. Radio’s voice had remained steady throughout his story, but Zek’s eyes were wide and he was trembling. Ravna reached out to him. “That’s okay,” she said softly. “We know the rest.”
When Tycoon spoke again, he didn’t sound quite so full of brag. “They did the right thing. I am grateful.”
“Yes,” said Johanna, grim and satisfied. “In the end, Vendacious got something like what he gave poor Scriber.” She was silent for a moment. “So that’s what happened. It’s best if we keep it from Nevil as long as possible.”
Scrupilo said, “Oh? Much as I like to mess up Nevil, what’s the point? If Tycoon is our ally now, it doesn’t really matter what Nevil thinks—at least as soon as Ravna’s expedition gets back to Newcastle.”
Zek emitted a negative, and then Tycoon’s voice continued: “You misunderstand. Johanna Olsndot is my advisor—and also she’s fun to have around—but I am not your ally. If you must, you may consider Johanna your ambassador to me. I regard the Domain as a business competitor, and though I … dislike Nevil, I will trade with him too.”
Scrupilo was outraged. “That’s absurd! You have no business opposing Woodcarver now. I say—” but then his voice faded off as he heard no support from Woodcarver.
Ravna looked at Johanna searchingly. “Are you really free to leave, Jo?”
“Of course she is!” said Tycoon.
Johanna smiled. “I’ve scouted things out, Rav. I figure I could shoot my way out of this ship, if I really wanted to.”
“You could?” Tycoon sound a little abashed.
“Yup.”
“Well then,” said Ravna. To hell with being diplomatically oblique. “Is it really safe for you to go back to the Tropics, to live in this fellow’s power?” Ravna had her own experience with that.
“Hmm,” Johanna sounded thoughtful … and happy. Sometimes she had sounded this way when she was sitting with Pilgrim, petting him like a pack of friendly dogs. “Do I feel safe going back to House of Tycoon? Not entirely. Tycoon can be bastards if he’s convinced you’re a bastard. But he rescued both Timor and Geri, and he learned from them. Facts can eventually pound their way through his thick skulls. He hated me more than is easily imagined. Now? Well, I feel safer with Tycoon than I do, say, with Flenser. The reformed Flenser is a good guy. He probably saved my life by getting Woodcarver to bring that notebook—but he’s sneaky to the point of being unpredictable.” She hesitated. “Tycoon is the most successful rebuild I have ever met. He’s spent ten years trying to reconstitute what he lost. Talking to him is almost like I’ve found a lost friend.”
Tycoon: “I’m only partway there.”
Johanna said softly, “Tyco, you’ll never get all the way there. But I think Scriber would be proud if you make something even better from his memories. That’s exactly the grand leap he would admire.”
“Heh.… You’re right!”
“Okay, then,” said Ravna. “We’re not allies, but trade partners and competitors. But I still question Tycoon’s continued support for Nevil.” This was really a point she’d expect Woodcarver to make, but there was only silence from that quarter.
Both Johanna and Tycoon started talking at the same time. “Let me take this one,” said Johanna after they got sorted out. “Nevil thinks he has an alliance, but Nevil is lucky that Tycoon doesn’t hate him quite enough to kill him. Of course, Nevil is no real friend of any Tines; I’m sure he figures he’s using Tycoon. The longer he is fooled about the Domain’s relationship with Tycoon, the better. In the end, Tycoon intends to build Nevil’s operation into a credible human counterweight to the Domain, but one that owes its existence to playing ball with Tycoon.”
“That’s even less diplomatic than I would have been,” grumbled Tycoon.
“Of course it was. As long as I’m your advisor, expect quite a bit of frankness with my friends back in the Domain.”
Scrupilo made a spluttering noise. “If this scheme were a machine, it would fall apart.” He gobbled a few more complaints, then returned to speaking Samnorsk: “If we are to be secret friends, then I demand a show of good faith. Tycoon must return what Vendacious stole, in particular, the computer Oliphaunt.” That was Scrupilo’s favorite piece of automation outside of Oobii.
“Sorry, Scrup,” Jo replied. “That ain’t going to happen. Tycoon is as much in love with my old plush toy as you are.”
Scrupilo made more irritated noises. “We are giving up a lot, and being asked to tolerate Nevil, even enrich him. In return we get the promise of fearsome competition. And that’s only if we can believe this aggressive crackpot from the Tropics. Can this possibly work?”
Ravna thought back on what she had seen down south, the factories that stretched for kilometers, that could save this world. “Oh, it can work.” But at what price? She looked at Johanna. “You’re also our friend to the Choir, Jo.”
“I—of course.”
“You know about exploitation, right?”
“Like on Nyjora, in the Age of Princesses?” She smiled.
Ravna didn’t return the smile. “I don’t want that to happen here, Jo.”
The girl looked puzzled for a moment, but then she nodded very seriously. “I promise, Ravna. The Choir will not be exploited.”
After Ravna left the Pack of Packs, Johanna remained on the bridge. It was late afternoon. The sun would be setting soon, but there was still enough light to see through the gauze quilting that she and the ship’s steward had hung behind the bow ports. If she leaned forward and looked to the side, she could see most of Ravna’s expedition. There was Jefri and Amdi. By now Jef knew she was okay. But there was Giske and Magda and Øvin. As long as Johanna continued this scam on Nevil, most of her friends must think her lost. That was a price Johanna was willing to pay, but she hadn’t counted the cost to others, the pain of waiting and waiting to learn the terrible truth.… She could see Øvin sitting beside Edvi’s little coffin. We should have risked sneaking word back to those who were really hurting. Instead, she and Tyco had only thought how to stick it to Nevil. That was a success, but now Johanna just wanted to flee this place.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Tycoon’s new voice: “I say we take off for home.” Johanna turned, saw Zek sitting on a throne right behind her.
Hooray! Aloud she said, “Ah. I thought you wanted to get a few more hours of intimidation out of this trip.”
“I did, but I don’t hear anything happening. Better to return my flagship to profit-making.”
“You’re leaving the troopship, right?” she said.
“Of course. Nevil can claim me as his ally, but never again is anybody going to murder people and then claim they were doing me a favor.”