“Actually,” Kriz said, moving away, “I believe I’m doing your world the greatest service by taking them where they won’t be found.”
Lizanne watched her leave before turning to Clay. “Trance with me when you arrive,” she said. “I should also like to be updated as to your progress, if you’re so minded.”
“Happy to. Might take awhile to find all of Miss Ethelynne’s note-books. I’m thinking she had a lot of hidey-holes scattered about the Interior. We’ll take a look at the Enclave first, make sure there are no more infant Whites scuttling about.”
He met her gaze, his expression growing more serious. “You really think they’ll agree to this deal of yours? I know everything’s changed and all, but you’re asking them to give up the very thing that made the old world what it was.”
“With this,” Lizanne said, patting the pocket containing Kriz’s vial and formula, “I suspect I could ask for all the tea in Dalcia and there would be a long list of those willing to fight each other to give it to me.”
She paused, unsure of what to say next. They had shared so much in the trance that words now seemed inadequate, clumsy even. “Good-bye, Mr. Torcreek,” she said finally. “It has been . . . a very great honour.”
“I doubt that,” he said. “But thanks for saying it, anyways. And for saving my life, o’course. Occurs to me I hadn’t said so before.”
They didn’t embrace, or even shake hands in farewell. It seemed strangely formal, even meaningless. Their minds would be joined for however many years they had left. Between them there would never truly be a good-bye.
Lizanne turned towards the stern at the sound of the Firefly’s engine revving up. She gave him a final smile and went aft, greeting Braddon Torcreek along the way. “If you’re ready, Captain.”
He nodded and pulled his daughter into a crushing embrace. Loriabeth blinked tears as he released her, saying, “Tell Ma I’ll come see her soon.”
“Come with me and I won’t have to,” Braddon said.
Loriabeth glanced at the Corvantine Marine lieutenant standing close by and lowered her head. “Sorry, Pa. I think it’s time I found my own contracts.”
Hilemore’s hulking second in command barked out an order as Lizanne moved to board the Firefly, a line of sailors snapping to attention on the aft deck in response. The captain saluted as she climbed into the gondola, Braddon Torcreek following her after a moment’s hesitation. She closed the hatch and Tekela angled the engine to take them up.
“Back to the Mount,” Lizanne told Tekela. “I suspect Captain Trumane has already arrived.”
Lizanne turned her gaze to the starboard port-hole and watched Superior shrink beneath them, Hilemore maintaining his salute until she could no longer make out his form. Soon the ship had become just a speck on a very big ocean, fading from view as they flew away.
EPILOGUE
TO: MADAME LEWELLA TYTHENCROFT
PREMIER ELECT, NORTH MANDINORIAN REPUBLIC
SANORAH
FROM: LIZANNE LETHRIDGE
CO-DIRECTOR, MOUNT WORKS MANUFACTURING COMPANY
BLASKA SOUND
VARESTIA
Date: 5th Lebellum, 1601
Subject: Proposals Regarding Future Relations between the Mount Works Manufacturing Company and the North Mandinorian Republic.
Dear Madame Premier,
May I be so bold as to open this missive by offering my most sincere congratulations on your recent election. As you will no doubt be aware news takes much longer to travel in these interesting times so please forgive my tardiness in not writing sooner, but word of your appointment only reached us in the last few days.
I assume that by now you will have been fulsomely briefed by Commodore Trumane on the outcome of his visit to our facility at the close of recent hostilities. I write in furtherance of the discussion begun during that meeting in the hope that its somewhat rancorous conclusion might be overturned and a more amicable basis for future co-operation established.
Before I set out what I believe to be a sound basis for future negotiations, I should first like to address the situation regarding the large number of individuals currently residing on the Varestian Peninsular commonly referred to as Spoiled. I confess to harbouring a distinct dislike for this particular term but since an alternative eludes us I shall employ it for the sake of brevity. As you will be aware the Spoiled currently occupy a fortified position on the peninsular and so far remain unmolested by their Varestian neighbours. However, as time progresses I hear ever more voices raised in objection to their continued presence and consider it only a matter of time until some form of violent confrontation becomes inevitable. Furthermore, the Spoiled themselves have no desire to remain in their current location. As stated in their original terms of surrender, it is their wish to be transported to the Arradsian continent. The situation is further complicated by the fact that the vast majority of Varestian captains refuse to entertain the prospect of having any Spoiled aboard their ships. Many are also highly disinclined to sail to Arradsian waters despite assurances that the danger of attack by Blues has now passed.
Another salient issue relates to an aspect I feel certain Commodore Trumane included at the forefront of his report to you regarding a particular substance currently in my possession. I feel certain, Madame Premier, that a personage of your insight will require little explanation as to the importance of this substance. I also feel sure that the newly installed First Citizen of the Corvantine Republic will also require similarly minimal explanation, should I feel minded to bring it to her attention. This would be a simple matter to arrange since I count General Arberus, Commander-in-Chief of the Corvantine People’s Freedom Army, as a personal friend.
As to the nature of the substance itself, our own plasmologists have confirmed its efficacy as a synthetic substitute for the Blue variety of draconic plasma—please see the enclosed report which details their findings in full, apart from several sections which have been redacted for reasons of corporate security. You will note from the report summary that our plasmologists believe, subject to sufficient resources being made available, the knowledge gained from their analysis will in time enable production of synthetic versions of the other varieties of product (excepting White, of course, the chemical basis of which eludes our keenest plasmological minds).
Turning to the matter at hand, I am prepared to surrender both the substance and the formula required for its production to the North Mandinorian Republic subject to the agreement of the following contractual obligations:
1. The Arradsian continent will remain free of colonisation for perpetuity and there will be no further attempts to harvest drakes or breed them for harvesting purposes.
2. The North Mandinorian Republic will provide sufficient shipping to transport the Spoiled to Arradsia as soon as can be arranged.
Please note that these conditions are non-negotiable and my offer is subject to expiry within three months of the date of this letter.
Finally, returning to the subject of Commodore Trumane’s visit, I regret I was unable to assist the commodore in his principal mission. However, I am not in a position to keep track of all my former employees. Also, I have no information regarding the true identity of the individual Commodore Trumane was so keen to meet, we only knew him as Tinkerer. It is my hope to one day resume his acquaintance, but where or when that might come to pass is impossible to say at this juncture. Neither, contrary to Commodore Trumane’s oddly strenuous protestations, do I possess any knowledge regarding the whereabouts of the former Corvantine Imperial Navy ship Superior, nor its captain, nor any of its crew.