The Diamond Isle

21

Where rival empires competed for dominance, foreign policy was often a euphemism for armed conflict. At any given time, territory was contested, rebellions were being quelled and unruly populations subdued. Occasionally, actual wars were waged between the empires, fought on their behalf by client states, but they were rarely, if ever, referred to as such. They were represented to the public in the guise of tiny nations pluckily struggling for freedom against enemy aggression. Whatever the terminology used to sanitise these clashes, one reality was constant. There were casualties. And while the warring parties had made destruction a fine art, little attention was paid to helping its many innocent sufferers.

Outrage at this spawned a popular movement. Its pioneers were women; the mothers, wives and sisters of victims. One offshoot of this essentially pacifist grouping was the Daughters of Mercy. Also known as the Star Network, for the golden sunburst that adorned the organisation’s uniforms and transportation, the Daughters were a charitable association of volunteer healers. An exclusively female initiative to begin with, its remit was eventually widened to include male helpers, but the name was kept in honour of its origins.

The Daughters of Mercy refused aid to no one, civilian or military, of whatever side. Bringing succour was their only purpose. They endured hostility and suspicion, and they had their martyrs, but over the years they came to earn the respect of almost everyone. So it was commonplace for their members to accompany armies into battle, or, as today, a fleet sailing to mount an invasion.

The armada leaving from various of Bhealfa’s ports, numbering several hundred ships, was just one colony’s contribution to a greater Gath Tampoorian fleet. Perhaps half a dozen Star Network vessels went with them. One of the hospital ships, adorned with yellow starbursts, kept as far from the majority as possible. Scrutiny was something it couldn’t afford.

‘Well, we joined the fleet without too much trouble,’ Disgleirio said. ‘So far, so good.’

‘We haven’t left Bhealfa’s territorial waters yet,’ Karr reminded him. ‘There are plenty of opportunities for being found out before we make our move.’

They were wearing fake uniforms, the star motif on chest and back. Their view consisted of nothing but ships.

‘Do you think it’s going to work?’ Disgleirio asked.

‘It has to. There’s little point in us arriving with the fleet. We’ve got to outpace it. Fortunately this ship’s designed for speed; war fleets aren’t. The trick is slipping away unnoticed.’

Goyter came to them. She wore the feminine version of their garb, the golden stars bright against the white cloth of her jerkin.

‘Quinn,’ she said. ‘I’ve been looking for you. They could use your help with the guard duty rota. A little supervision wouldn’t go amiss, if you know what I mean.’

Disgleirio nodded. ‘I’ll get it sorted. If you’ll excuse me?’

‘Go ahead,’ Karr told him.

When he’d gone, Karr asked Goyter how Tanalvah was.

‘Resting, along with the children. Though there’s precious little peace and quiet below decks, given the number of people we’ve crammed in.’

‘We’ll let them up as soon as we’re clear of the fleet,’ Karr assured her. ‘Tell me, what do you make of Tan’s mood?’

‘It still swings a lot. She’s either ecstatic or depressed, and tearful in both states. But it’s only to be expected, I suppose, given what she’s been through. I asked her if she’d had second thoughts about coming with us, seeing as we’re heading for a war zone, and what with the children and everything.’

‘I can guess her answer.’

‘Yes, she’s hell-bent on getting to the island. But it worries me, Dulian. I mean, it’s all right for us; we’re old. But do we have the right to drag a young, pregnant woman and two children into this mess?’

‘It has to be her decision. But I know that if I still had a partner I’d like to be with them at a time like this. Wouldn’t you?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘I’m sorry, Goyter. You must be thinking of Brek.’

‘It’s a rare day when I don’t.’

‘How long is it now?’

‘Since they killed him? Three years, four months and getting on for two weeks. And yes, of course I’d love him to be here. So I’m doing the next best thing and going for both of us. It makes it feel less like Brek…died in vain, I guess.’

‘Your man didn’t die for nothing. He gave his life fighting repression. There can’t be too many better ways.’

‘That’s what I keep telling myself. Now stop it. You’re making me morose, and I’d rather eat glass than play the grieving widow. Besides, you’re looking glum enough for both of us. What’s up?’

‘I’m uncomfortable about using the Daughters of Mercy as our cover.’

‘I thought we went through all that. It’s a brilliant idea, Dulian. I can’t see how we would have had a chance of getting out of Bhealfa otherwise.’

‘But what if it goes wrong and rebounds on them? They’re decent people. And there are those in the empires who’d jump at a chance to discredit them.’

‘Sometimes we have to do things we’d rather not, if it’s for the greater good. Worrying about it serves no purpose. It’s too late now. It’s done.’

‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘You know I am. So what else is on your mind?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? Look at the size of this fleet. A sledgehammer to crack a nut, if ever I saw one. The prospect is that we’re sailing to almost certain death, and taking a hell of a lot of others with us.’

‘As you said about Tanalvah, it’s their choice. We all know what we’re getting ourselves into. And there’s something that you, of all people, should never lose sight of.’

‘What’s that?’

‘There’s always hope.’

The Bhealfan armada consisted of ships of many different classes. One category was owned by paladins, and such was the power and wealth of the clans that they were virtually a fleet within the fleet. The leader of their contingent, only two arrow-shots from the disguised Resistance vessel, was an especially grand flagship. On its bridge, well away from the steersman and other crew, two figures gazed out to sea.

‘You know, we’ve never been on a ship before,’ Aphri Kordenza admitted.

‘Really?’ Devlor Bastorran made no attempt to hide his indifference.

‘What’s the protocol? I mean, are we expected to follow navy rules or something? Not that there’s a chance we would.’

‘There’s only one rule for you aboard this ship: behave yourself.’

Her dark eyes flashed dangerously. ‘Selves,’ she corrected. ‘Selves. I do hate it when people don’t take us seriously as a couple.’

‘As far as this voyage is concerned, you are not a couple. You’re simply you. I don’t expect to see your…other half at any time. I’ll thank you to keep his visitations strictly confined to your locked cabin.’

‘Aphrim isn’t going to like that.’

‘Tough. We’re part of an invasion fleet, not a pleasure cruise. I don’t need the complication of you and your friend running amok on this trip. Keep your head down until we get there.’

‘Then what?’

‘Then you can let rip. There’ll be plenty of sword fodder on the Diamond Isle.’

‘That’s just a snack. What about the banquet?’

‘Caldason’s the main reason I’m making this journey.’

‘And you’ll let us take him?’

‘We’ll see. You’ll certainly play a part in his death.’

‘We want the main role,’ she came back petulantly.

‘You’ll get what circumstance hands us. If you’re in a better position to kill him than I am, you’ve my permission.’

‘But you’re looking to do it yourself, aren’t you?’

‘He owes me a debt of honour.’

‘He owes us too, remember!’ Her eyes flashed viciously.

‘Some might consider it presumptuous,’ Bastorran replied coldly, ‘that you should equate the honour of the head of the paladin clans with whatever passes for it among paid assassins.’

She swelled her hollow chest. ‘We have our pride.’

‘Swallow it. For this to work you have to do it my way.’

‘I don’t know why you bothered bringing us along at all.’

‘Because I need somebody to help get my…our revenge on Caldason. Someone with your special skills. An ally I can trust.’

‘Because we’re implicated in your uncle’s death too, you mean.’

‘Keep your voice down!’ Bastorran hissed, glancing around anxiously. ‘You’re more than implicated in that matter, and don’t you forget it. And don’t ever, ever mention the subject again. If you do, I’ll make you wish you were never born. Both of you.’

‘So much for equality between partners in crime,’ Kordenza sniffed.

‘As far as this mission goes, you’re an employee. Do as I say and you’ll be a well-paid one, in addition to the gift I’ve already given you. Plus you’ll have the chance to get even with the Qalochian. Is that really so onerous?’

‘Suppose not.’

‘But foul this up and you’ll regret it. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I wouldn’t have that thing torn out of your foot. Slowly.’

Kordenza sulked for a moment, then said, ‘I thought your bald friend was supposed to be here.’

‘What?’

‘Tall, skinny. Bosses some spy unit.’

‘Respect for your betters isn’t a strong point with you, is it? I assume you’re referring to Commissioner Laffon.’

‘That’s him. The creepy one.’

‘You’re obviously unacquainted with the expression about how people who live in houses made of glass shouldn’t cast rocks.’

‘Pardon?’ She looked confused.

‘Forget it. The Commissioner was recalled to Gath Tampoor at the last minute, if it’s any of your business.’

‘How irritating for him.’

‘Yes. Particularly as he also has a personal interest in someone who could be on the Diamond Isle. As a matter of fact, I agreed to assist him in that regard. You can help.’

She eyed him suspiciously. ‘Can I?’

‘I think you’d be eminently suited to the job. Laffon wants us to capture a certain rebel.’

‘We specialise in termination, not taking prisoners. Why the leniency?’

‘The person in question’s wanted back in Gath Tampoor. She was once a member of the security forces herself, so there’s a political element. She needs to be interrogated, and something like a trial would be expedient, in terms of public opinion.’

‘Who is it?’

‘Actually, it’s quite possible you know her. Laffon believes she’s associated with Caldason. That means she could be a path to Caldason, of course.’

‘Now that is interesting. Tell us more.’

‘I can do better than that; I can show you. My aide’s approaching with everything you need.’ He indicated the lower deck with a prod of his thumb. Lahon Meakin marched their way, carrying something under his arm. ‘Here’s a chance to practise your new found discretion,’ Bastorran added mordantly.

Kordenza shot him a dagger look.

Meakin climbed the stairs, and gave a deferential head bow. ‘From Commissioner Laffon, sir.’ He held out a sizeable leather wallet, tied with red ribbon.

Bastorran snatched it. ‘This is the suspect’s CIS file,’ he told Kordenza as he unwound the ribbon.

Discreetly, Meakin retreated a step or two.

‘Here.’ The paladin slipped a thin, square object the size of a palm from the wallet. He handed it to her.

Kordenza stared at the swirling, milky surface until it coalesced. A face appeared, projecting out from the surface of the slate, and began to slowly turn, until the whole head had been shown. Then the face grew a miniature body, gradually revolving as though on a potter’s wheel.

‘Familiar?’ Bastorran asked.

‘Oh, yes. Laffon’s right; she was with Caldason. And we owe her a spanking.’

‘She’s to be captured, remember. Though a little damage in the process would be quite acceptable.’

‘What’s her name?’

Bastorran held up the wallet. The stitched label bore copperplate writing that read, ‘Serrah Ardacris’.