“Too much to decide on in one day,” murmured Ta-hoding. “Too much. Of course we cannot accept this divisive proposal. It is unthinkable.”
“Unthinkable to you, perhaps,” growled Kilpit. “What will you do when the seas melt and you have no ice ship to captain?”
“I will learn to steer one of these sky boats. Or I will learn another trade. What I will not do is compromise my ideals or the world of my birth because some skinny furless creature from elsewhere says it is best for me.” He glared hard at his third mate. “That is what you and Mousokka seem to be forgetting. Always have we Tran made our own decisions. Not always for the best of reasons or motivations, but at least they have been ours. I dislike the idea of my future and that of my cubs being determined by someone else, no matter that he may be well intentioned.”
“I don’t think he’s as well intentioned as he’s trying to be.” September dug at a tooth. “Never can tell about some of these pure-research types. They live in their own little worlds. So long as they can prove an occasional theory or so, they’re happy. As far as they’re concerned, the rest of the universe can go hang. He argues well but not plausibly.”
“Then this is settled,” said Hunnar firmly. “We will refuse his offer.”
“But not right away,” Ethan cautioned him. “We have to make it look like you’re hesitating, have to buy some time until we can figure out a way to break out of here so we can warn the authorities. If this is such a benign enterprise whose primary beneficiaries are supposed to be the Tran, let’s let the Commonwealth Xenological Society debate its merits, not us.”
“It does not matter.” Kilpit suddenly rose and headed for the door. “You have made your decision. We have made ours.”
“We?” Hunnar’s fur bristled.
Ta-hoding rose and his eyes narrowed. “Kilpit, you have been a good and faithful mate, but now you go too far. You forget yourself.”
“On the contrary, Captain mine,” the third mate said with a hint of the old deference still detectable in his voice, “it is myself I must not forget.” Mousokka moved to join him in flanking the exit. “Myself, my relatives I have not seen in more than a year, and my friends.” His eyes darted around the room.
“Listen to yourselves! You have been among skypeople so long that you have forgotten what it is to be Tran. I have not forgotten. It is about surviving the best one can. It is striving to obtain an advantage for yourself and your family.”
“We had no argument with the concept of a greater union,” Mousokka said, “since within it, Sofold would always be first among equals. You are prepared to cast aside a still greater opportunity. We are not.” He opened the door.
Armed sailors filed into the room. Though they held tightly to their weapons few of them could raise their eyes to meet Hunnar’s or Ta-hoding’s. That they were carrying arms at all was enough to explain what was going on, since Corfu’s troops had disarmed the crew earlier. Ethan strained to see past them, out into the hallway, trying to count the number of mutineers.
“You have cast night soil on your heritage,” Hunnar said tightly. “You have foresworn your duty to city and Landgrave and have gone over to a foreign king.”
“We have done no such thing,” said Mousokka uncomfortably. “It is you who have gone over. Over to these skypeople.” He jerked his head in Ethan’s direction.
“And who have you gone over to,” Elfa asked contemptuously, “if not to skypeople?”
“Massul is Tran. So is Corfu. The human thinks he uses them; they think they use him. It does not matter. These skypeople have light weapons and sky boats. They cannot be stopped. Martyrs are fools. I am not a martyr.”
“They can be stopped,” Ethan told him, “once we break out of here and get back to Arsudun.”
“You are not breaking out of anything.” Corfu shouldered his way into the room. “Thoughts of flight are futile. At least these right-thinking Tran”—and he indicated Mousokka and Kilpit—“have sensed which way the wind is blowing.”
“The wind,” declared Ta-hoding with dignity, “blows always to the east.”
“Not always.” Corfu grinned. “These skypeople have machines that can bend the very wind and sun to their needs. These things they can do on behalf of those willing to work with them.” He allowed himself a slight chuckle, which among the Tran consisted as much of whistling as anything else. “Did you truly believe we would let you hold council and make a decision which might not be in our interests without taking care to secure allies among your own people as rapidly as possible?” He looked past Ethan and September to Hunnar and the other Tran in the room.
“Come, use your heads, my friends. Join us. Your city-state or union or whatever you want to call it can become first among all Tran-ky-ky. Do the sensible thing for your children and grandchildren if not for yourselves. For it is certain a new age is upon us.”
“It became necessary to destroy the world in order to save it,” September murmured, but in Terranglo so only his fellow humans would understand him.
Corfu glowered in his direction, executed an expressive gesture with the short sword he carried. “No talking in skypeople words. In my presence you will speak properly.” Ethan noticed that not all the armed Tran who had filed into the room were members of the Slanderscree’s crew. Corfu was making sure Hunnar’s eloquence could not sway the hesitant mutineers at the last minute. Not a good idea to change your mind with a beamer stuck in your back. The merchant’s people would not be affected by Hunnar’s outrage, Elfa’s contempt, or anything he or September could say.
Ta-hoding was talking to the deck. “My fault. All my fault. A captain who cannot maintain the allegiance of his crew is not worthy of the title.”
“Do not blame yourself,” said Kilpit compassionately. “This is nothing to do with you or your abilities, Ta-hoding. It is to do with what we think is best for ourselves and our future.”
“We linger too long.” Mousokka stepped aside, gestured at the open door with his sword. “We have spent too much time already listening to the words of these skypeople and doing as they ask without question.”
“Who do you think pulls this puppet’s strings?” Hunnar nodded toward Corfu.
“No one pulls my strings but me!” The merchant waved his sword a centimeter from Hunnar’s muzzle.
The knight replied with a thin smile. “Yes, it is evident what a brave warrior you are on your own.”
The two glared at each other for a long moment. Ethan held his breath. Then Corfu took a deep breath and stepped back. “I am bound by agreement—agreement, you hear, not an order—not to harm any of you for now. I agree to this to please my friend, the skyperson Bamaputra.” He looked around the room.
“Those who have joined with us will be watched, but eventually all will be given an important place in the new ruling caste: The rest of you will be given time to think and hopefully to learn whence your true destiny lies.” He gestured with his sword. “Come now.”
“Wait a minute,” said Ethan. “I thought we were going to be allowed to stay on the Slanderscree.”
“You were allowed to return to have your discussion in familiar surroundings. Nothing was said about letting you remain longer.” Corfu smiled wolfishly. “If you were to be allowed to remain here, you might waste your time on thoughts of escape instead of considering where your destiny lies. Thoughtful as he is, Bamaputra would spare you such wasteful distraction,
“For myself, I do not think you could escape all the guards and slip away with this ship, but I have learned that skypeople do not like to take chances. You are to be returned to the skypeople’s house to meditate upon the error of your ways.”