Guild of Spies

CHAPTER ONE

Perhaps you’ve heard stories about the Guild. Perhaps you sat in a tavern once, and the fellow next to you with the mad gleam in his eyes began to tell you of the Grand Conspiracy, of the hidden hand behind that coup in Sadal-Malik, the arrest of the Aquitanian State Minister, a peculiar series of murders in the alleys of Lugus. As for the Guild’s members, we are mind readers; we can bend others to our will; we are mercenaries, prostitutes, with no loyalties but to ourselves.

Some of this is even true.

You might as well call me Dian Von Camff. That’s the name they know me by in Mansour, Milesia, where I’ve lived for a number of years. I suppose it would be more accurate to say that Milesia served as my base of operations since I was so frequently called away, but of the many places that my profession has taken me, I have the greatest fondness for that peculiar island. Milesia sits too close to two continents; it is crossed by several ancient trade routes and has been invaded, conquered and colonized to the point where hardly any individual attracts much notice for her appearance, regardless of her point of origin.

For me, Milesia is a comfortable place, especially Mansour, with its ridiculously winding streets and ancient cafes, crumbling as they all may be, that I slip through as easily as though I were born to them. I still at times feel a small thrill when wandering the endless galleries and corridors of the Great Library, and certainly I have spent my share of time there. I became quite attached to my own cluttered corner of it, my somewhat dingy office in the South-West wing, where I filled many contented hours with the study of language and culture.

In fact, this was how I occupied myself the day I received my Temish assignment.

For whatever reason, I mark the beginning as when Professor Daffyd Injari came by one late afternoon, in a state of high distraction. As my door was open, I saw him approaching through the gallery on which my office borders. Halfway to me, he stopped and released what looked to be a child’s wind-up toy, a propeller, which he then watched float to earth. His expression appeared somewhat solemn.

He lingered momentarily at my doorframe, until I put a bookmark in my text and indicated a nearly empty chair. Daffyd cleared off the day’s periodicals and sat.

Have you ever come across any comprehensive volumes on bees? he asked by way of greeting. With detailed and accurate illustrations?

Not personally. I assume you’ve searched through Zoology.

Some of it. He sighed.

Am I supposed to ask about the propeller, or does it not require explanation?

It’s a model for an autogyro. Once again, he launched the toy, which shot up and crashed against my ceiling fan.

Ah. I see.

Daffyd winced with embarrassment. You heard about my prototype.

Well, it was difficult not to hear of it. The prototype in discussion, one-third to scale by Daffyd’s reckoning, had several days earlier soared from its cliff-top launching point to an inadvertent rendezvous with the main-sail of the Menicci Duke’s pleasure yacht in the harbor below.

The authorities released me as soon as they heard my explanation, Daffyd said, sounding a touch defensive. "It should work, that’s the thing. I just can’t get the balance right. He went to retrieve the propeller, which had fallen near my desk. Do you want to go to dinner?"

I shook my head. I have an appointment.

Daffyd took a sidelong glance at my hand, at the ring I wore, with the Observer’s Society seal on it. I met a man the other night who said he knew a Fifth Level initiate, he muttered.

Oh, really, Daffyd. I rolled my eyes, Fifth level initiate. You read too many pamphlets.

I’m not saying I believed him, necessarily.

We’re a philosophic and social organization, I said, gathering up my papers and putting them in my satchel. You belong to the Inventors Club. I don’t recall ever accusing you of participating in international conspiracies.

I’m not accusing you of anything. It’s only that your Society is so old and wide-spread, and so damned exclusive.

We’re hardly exclusive. All manner of people belong to the Observers. Even an inventor or two. Come tonight as my guest if you’d like.

I’d be delighted, he said eagerly.

Daffyd had been haunting my doorframe for the last six months or so. I suspected that this had more to do with my Observer’s Society affiliation than my appearance. Objectively, I am a moderately attractive woman, perhaps more sturdily built than the current Continental ideal (despite my scholarly lifestyle, I believe in the value of regular physical activity). But I am older than Daffyd by a half-dozen years, and not the delicate sort that I suspect he would favor.

But Daffyd had become obsessed with the Society, with its supposed conspiracies and schemes for world domination. Well, why not reward him? Someday he might invent a useful device. The Observer’s Society values that sort of thing.

From my apartment, one can easily walk to the Sunset Pavilion and catch the trolley there. Most evenings, the Pavilion is crowded with concertgoers. Tonight, they came for a performance by a Milesian trio of pipes, drums and fiddles, whose music was in turns rollicking and melancholy. Families picnicked on the adjacent lawns; children’s kites competed with wheeling gulls on the salt-scented breezes. I stood at the edge of the Pavilion, listening to the music as the last rays of the sun died, until my trolley arrived.

The Sunset line runs down High Street, along the sea wall, through Secundabad Square past City Hall, all the way to its terminus at Manawyd Circle, where I’d arranged to meet Daffyd. He was there waiting for me, trying to smooth the wrinkles from his cotton blazer.

Am I presentable?

You look quite the gentleman and scholar.

The Observer’s Society hall sits on the north side of Manawyd Circle, bumping shoulders with the Khuvash Consulate and the Mansour Medical and Surgery College. It makes for an interesting atmosphere, the secretive Khuvash on the one side and the bustle of students, surgeons and gurneys and weeping relatives on the other. We entered the hall through the main gate, marked by the seal of the Observers, the eye against the triangle, passing by the gatekeepers without comment. I glanced at Daffyd, who seemed to nearly vibrate with anticipation.

I’ll take you to the Club, I told him. You can have a drink while I keep my appointment. Then we’ll have dinner, if you’d like. The dining room is excellent.

What sort of appointment do you have?

The Society co-sponsors my studies at the University. I expect we’ll discuss further funding.

I nodded at the doorman and conducted Daffyd through the foyer, to the main Club. Inside the dark paneled room was the usual scene: knots of men and a few women in animated discussion, smoking pipes and drinking aperitifs and espressos. More solitary souls sat in wing-backed chairs, reading the latest periodicals.

I approached a couple that appeared promising, a plump, bookish woman, and a wiry man with impressive sideburns.

Lize, Dunna, I greeted them. This is Professor Daffyd Injari, my guest for the evening. I turned to Daffyd. Lize is a pamphleteer. Perhaps you’ve read some of her articles on universal suffrage. Dunna teaches anatomy at the Surgical College. Be careful, or he’ll drop a finger in your drink.

Ah, Dunna said. You’re the man working on the autogyro.

Daffyd winced a little and nodded.

I have a brief appointment, I said. I trust I can leave Daffyd in your hands.

Certainly, Lize replied, beaming. I should love to discuss your autogyro.

The woman I was to meet held the post of Assistant Undersecretary of the Milesian branch of our Society. Her offices were on the third floor, overlooking the Khuvashi grounds. The antechamber was empty, her clerk having left for the evening. I knocked and entered her office, closing the door behind me.

Madame Undersecretary.

Dian.

I have known this individual for many years. She has grown stouter, and her hair has silvered, but her eyes remain the same: a cold, measuring grey that is seldom surprised. The office decor fit her character: tasteful and somewhat stark.

Tea? she asked.

Thank you.

She poured two cups from a porcelain pot snug in its cozy.

How is your Temish? she asked.

Adequate.

In fact, I had studied the language for nearly as long as I’d known the Undersecretary—I had a knack for languages, and it was a skill that might prove useful someday. But I had not yet had much opportunity to put this learning to practical use. Tem had throughout recorded history been a closed-off place. In recent years, this hermit tendency was even more pronounced. The current Tem Emperor, the first in his dynastic line, made a point of attacking Tem’s foreign settlements as a part of consolidating his rule. In part he retaliated for past abuses committed by the Continental powers, which had taken considerable advantage of his predecessor’s weakness. The new dynasty in return deported the bulk of the foreign menace.

I presume you haven’t lost your Albion, Madame Undersecretary said.

Oh, I still have it. City of Lugus slang and all.

You won’t need much of that. You’ll need the upper-class speech.

I hesitated. I can manage.

The Undersecretary regarded me as though she was still evaluating my fitness for the task at hand.

There’s an Albion diplomatic delegation leaving for Tem in a few weeks. Fairly high-level. Given the isolation of the Emperor and all the restrictions on foreigners, this has been our first opportunity to place an operative with access to Tem’s leadership. A Vice-Minister in the Albion Foreign Department has arranged a position for you in the delegation. You’re his eccentric cousin who’s been living abroad.

I see.

We discussed placing a man, but in this situation, a woman may have certain advantages.

Which could mean a variety of things.

I look forward to hearing the particulars.

Just be yourself as much as possible, she said, freshening my tea. A scholar of language and culture, with a particular interest in Temish. You’ll be a useful addition to their delegation. So far, they only have one other interpreter.

Albion people tend to think the entire world speaks their language, I murmured.

Are you uncomfortable with this, Dian?

It would do no good to pretend, not with this individual. Somewhat. I can do without Albion’s upper crust. Then I smiled. But I won’t be working for them. I shall enjoy the deception.

The Undersecretary allowed herself to show a trace of satisfaction and returned my smile. You’ll do well.

Down in the Club, Daffyd was engaged in animated discussion with Dunna, Lize and several other members. I watched his hand rise up and down, illustrating the principles of his autogyro.

Ready for some dinner? I asked him during a momentary pause.

If you are.

I’m having a delightful time, he said as we walked into the dining room. It’s rare to find a group of people with something to say who know how to listen as well.

I’m glad. You know, it takes three members to sponsor a new candidate for the Society. Perhaps I can arrange to initiate the process if you’re interested.

I would be, he said, giving my shoulder an affectionate squeeze. I thought this would be very different.

I have told you that Observers are an entertaining bunch.

Yes, you have. And very modern in their thinking.

We’ve recently reduced our infant sacrifices to twice-yearly.

We shared a chuckle and were seated at a quiet, candle-lit booth. Really, I was pleased by how things were working out. A man of Daffyd’s lively and inquisitive temperament was always welcome in the Society, and I was happy to sponsor him.

I hadn’t misled him about the Society’s nature. Not precisely. The Society is, overall, what it seems to be, a philosophic and social organization of like-minded individuals, dedicated to furthering clear and enlightened discussion of various Weighty Issues.

The Guild, of course, is something else entirely.

One could say that the Society shelters the Guild within itself as a host does a parasite. But that would not be entirely fair. For how can one determine which is the more vital impulse: the desire to observe, to understand, to enlighten, or the ability to observe and to manipulate the course of events?

There are several theories regarding the origin of these conjoined twins. Some say that the Guild created the Society as camouflage for its activities and as a means of disseminating its propaganda. Others believe that a faction of the Society began the Guild to transform its philosophies into actualities. The truth is lost in the mists of time. Or perhaps the truth is in the possession of those very few at the highest levels of Guild authority. If those few even exist. I do not know their names, personally.

I have heard another theory, whispered only in the darkest hours before dawn to one’s closest associates, that certain members of the Society concluded from their observations that enlightenment of humanity as a whole was an unrealistic expectation. Therefore, they formed the Guild as a means to survive and to profit from their insights and secret wisdom.

Perhaps the truth is not important.

I was to rendezvous with the Albion delegation in Khalibad, as their frigate was scheduled to dock there for a few days in preparation for the next leg of the long journey to Tem. It would be less travel for me that way, as opposed to meeting them in Albion. And I preferred to avoid Albion, if I could.

From Milesia, the fastest way to reach Khalibad is by airship. I was fortunate to secure passage on the Gothalander ship Ziemar , perhaps the crown jewel in the Gothalander fleet. I spent the greater part of the four-day journey in the Observation Lounge reviewing Temish vocabulary and watching the dirigible’s long shadow pass over ocean, coastline, and mountain. Navy-coated attendants kept me well supplied with tea and the occasional glass of wine. The dining room was more than adequate, and the cabins, though small, were well appointed. By the time of our arrival in Khalibad, I was as relaxed as I possibly could have been, given the circumstances.

This was my second time in Khalibad, the Gateway of Two Worlds, the ancient metropolis that straddles the Katha River, the River of Life, as it is sometimes known.

Beggars swarmed the field as Ziemar crewmen released the mooring lines and Khalibadi docking crews secured the airship to its berth. Airfield police beat the beggars back with nightsticks, except for a few scrawny children who dodged the blows and greeted us at the foot of the gangplank. I gave out Milesian coins, since I had them in my possession, and they would be of no further use to me.

Khalibad is a place like no other. Thick with architectural wonders, humanity, and smoke, it is in its own way, magnificent. The city had not changed much since my last visit—the heat and noise, the odor of urine, cooking smells, rotting garbage, burning coal and scraps, river-scent and incense, hit me like a wave of memory. From the blur of sound, I separated out temple chants, the sales cries of street hawkers and the clatter of iron wheels on rough stone as I scanned the street for an available rickshaw to conduct me to the Albion concession.

I didn’t wait long. Immediately, several rickshaw drivers spotted me and jockeyed for position in order to serve me. I hired the first driver who managed to pull his rig to the curb, a slight fellow whose shoulders did not seem nearly broad enough for the task. His cart was decorated with brightly painted signs and garish figurines depicting various religious deities. One needed all the divine help one could get to navigate the chaos of Khalibadi streets.

Do you speak Albion? I asked.

Yes, lady.

Can you manage the Albion concession? It was a fair distance from the airfield, and the day was sweltering hot.

He nodded vigorously, and we set off.

We traveled down river, my driver trotting briskly through the grimy streets, and crossed over to the east bank on the Bridge of Mercy. Below us on the West Bank, vast numbers of travelers waded into the Katha River’s murky waters to cool themselves and give thanks for their safe arrivals. Really, I should have participated in the ritual myself, given the complexities of the mission I had undertaken. The Twilight Kingdom, as the romantics among Continental historians had christened my destination, had little use for outsiders. The political structure was a bewildering, fragmented maze. But what concerned me most were my fellow Albion delegates.

Ahead of us loomed the imposing silhouette of the Albion concession. My driver staggered on. I knew the picture we made: a wealthy Albion woman, riding in comfort, hauled by her Khalibadi beast of burden. My patronage was his livelihood, of course. Khalibad had long been afflicted by the most terrible poverty.

Still, if I could have walked to my destination, I would have.

Almost there, Madame, my driver gasped.

Slow down if you’d like. I’m in no hurry.

We were almost in the shadow of the first grandiose structure of the concession, a branch of the Imperial Bank of Albion, executed in typically heroic style and surrounded by a black iron fence that most closely resembled a series of spears stabbing at the sky. I gritted my teeth. The architecture alone made me queasy. The first glimpse of statuary was likely to provoke an apoplectic fit.

You an Albion lady? he asked, between swigs of water from his bottle.

After a fashion, I sighed.

A room had been reserved for me at the River Pearl Guesthouse, the first choice of discriminating travelers, as my eccentric alter ego presumably was. As the Undersecretary had suggested, my new persona was close to my own, that is, the identity I had been living in Milesia, with one substantial divergence—my freshly minted Albion social status.

I must confess, I could easily become accustomed to staying in places like the River Pearl. Entering the lobby, I could feel the heat and tension of my travels slipping away, cooled by the slate floors and a breeze from the River Katha.

I believe I have a room reserved, I said to the desk clerk, an elegant Khalibadi. Dian Von Camff.

Ah, he said, after a brief perusal of the books. Yes.

At that moment, someone said from behind me, Dian Von Camff? The tone was slightly incredulous.

I turned. Facing me was an older middle-aged gentleman, face weather-lined and whiskered, dressed in Albion diplomatic livery.

Yes?

I’m Janna. Janna of Brath.

The leader of the Albion delegation, to be precise.

So pleased to meet you, I said, dropping one knee in the sketch of a curtsey. Excuse my attire. I’ve only just arrived.

Sir Janna grasped my hand in fraternal greeting and dismay. But you shouldn’t have traveled through Khalibad unescorted. He lowered his voice. They have gangs of kidnappers and assassins in this city.

Ah. I was unaware.

I sent one of the boys to the airfield to fetch you, but apparently you missed each other, Janna continued, still discharging his pent-up anxiety. So I came right over here from the Grand Statesman, praying that I’d find you here.

I’m so sorry to have caused you to worry, I said, putting on my best contrite expression.

He patted my hand in a protective way. Well, you’re traveling with us from here on. We’ll take care of you.

That’s such a comfort.

Janna looked me up and down. So, you’re Tobe’s cousin. Imagine that.

Once or twice removed. It’s a complicated relationship. I’m his mother’s sister’s aunt’s daughter. I giggled. Something like that, anyway.

I’m delighted to meet you. We can certainly use your knowledge of Temish. Peculiar language. It’s beyond me how you learned to speak it. I can’t say two words.

Once you’re there, I’m sure you’ll pick it right up.

I know you want to unpack and wash off the dust, Sir Janna said, but if you’re feeling rested enough, I hope you’ll join the delegation tonight for dinner.

I’d be delighted, I said.

Oh damn, I thought, as I stretched out on my hotel room bed. I had really hoped to acclimate myself a bit more gradually to my new identity as an upper-class Albion lady. I wasn’t ready to live it by dinnertime. I didn’t even have the proper accent down yet. When I tried to think in Albion, all that I heard still was Lugus slang; during that brief conversation with Janna, I could feel my vowel sounds slipping. I only hoped that any peculiarities could be explained away by my living abroad for so long, and by my obsession with Temish.

I will simply have to manage, I told myself, and rose to draw a lukewarm bath.

The Grand Statesman Hotel is all that its name implies. It was not surprising that the Albion delegation would be billeted there. I wore my blue gown, a nice example of Albion mode that was only a little uncomfortable. I made sure to arrive fashionably late and let the maître-de guide me to my table. Stuck in a corner next to the bar, a Khalibadi pop combo played the latest Albion tunes in a slightly off-kilter fashion. It reminded me of meanings in children’s whisper game—something is always changed as the message is passed from person to person.

Sir Janna observed my entrance and stood to greet me. Dian, he said warmly.

Three others sat at the table, three men. A waiter swooped down and deposited another goblet and a bottle of wine. Janna pulled out a chair for me, and I sat.

This is Tobe’s cousin, Janna said. Dian Von Camff. Dian, may I introduce you to Raff, Erek and Smyth.

Raff, a sharply bearded, good-looking man about my age stood up and reached across the table to take my hand. Erek waved and nodded. Smyth smiled and stared at his wine glass.

Smyth is our other interpreter, Janna told me. I glanced at Smyth. Part Temish from the look of him. Erek serves as our Cultural attaché, Janna continued, and Raff is our political man.

Delighted, said Erek, a young fellow who to my eyes looked like a schoolboy. Janna tells us you’ve studied their civilization as well as the language.

Well, I said, raising my wine glass to the candlelight, I’m not an expert.

I’m sure you know more than I do, Erek replied. Which struck me as a pity, given that he was the Cultural Attaché.

The waiter arrived with appetizers. Von Camff. Raff regarded me as he nibbled on a toast point. Surely that is a Gothaland surname.

Why, yes. My late husband’s.

So sorry, Sir Janna muttered, as if automatically.

It was a while ago, I said. The Gothaland-Aquitania conflict. Influenza.

So sorry, Janna repeated.

We were young. I sipped my wine.

The meal continued. I looked out through the thick glass window to the dark river below. I thought I could make out the spiky silhouette of the Albion frigate, the Polaris , docked in a berth near the river’s mouth.

At some point during the main course, Smyth leaned toward me and asked, Have you studied Temish long?

Not long enough. I switched to Temish. Did you study, or did you speak at home?

Both. He continued in the same language. How is it that you learned this?

I shrugged. I enjoy studying languages.

Raff and Erek regarded us. Erek gave Raff a poke in the arm. Listen to that.

Most impressive, Raff said, impassively.

Janna beamed. Tobe told me she was quite talented. Your cousin speaks very highly of you, he said to me.

I hope I measure up to his assessment.

The waiter arrived silently with a fresh bottle of wine. It’s too bad Connor couldn’t make it for dinner, Janna said. Our archivist. I think you two would have much in common.

Erek chuckled. I’m not surprised he didn’t make it. That’s what comes from eating in the native quarter.

Mercifully, the supper ended shortly thereafter.

Are you sure you don’t want to change to the Grand Statesman? Janna asked me.

Thank you, but I’m quite content where I am. And it’s only for a few days.

Please allow me to accompany you back, then, said Raff.

As I couldn’t think of a graceful way to refuse, I smilingly assented.

We walked through the ornately appointed lobby, linked at the elbows in the fashion of current Albion society. Should I hire a cab? Raff asked. He had a precision to his movements that made me think of a fencer.

I’d prefer to walk, if you don’t mind.

Raff turned to smile at me. Not at all.

There is a charming promenade that runs atop the riverbank in the Albion concession, and this was how we made our way back to the River Pearl. It was a quiet night, with the wailing of temple horns sounding faintly over the lapping of the Katha.

Well, this is quite an unusual situation, Raff said.

You’re referring to our mission?

To you, actually.

Oh?

He gave me that narrow-eyed smile which I already knew was characteristic. Yes. A single woman, making a trip like this.

My family considers me somewhat eccentric; I must admit.

You know, I see a great deal of Tobe in the capital, he said. And he never mentioned you until quite recently. You must not have spent much time in Lugus.

I haven’t, actually.

I was inclined to agree with him; this was an interesting situation. Raff was obviously suspicious of me, unlike the other delegates I had met. Smyth was essentially an employee, suspect due to his mixed blood; my supposed place in Albion society would trump any misgivings he might have. It wouldn’t occur to Janna that an esteemed personage like Tobe would have reason to lie to him, and as for Erek, he didn’t strike me as particularly astute. I wondered briefly how the Guild had secured Tobe’s cooperation, through an exchange of services or through some threat of exposure, most probably. I would likely never know.

I’ve been living abroad since I was in my teens, I said. Before that my family stayed primarily in Upper Cambring. I’m sure you know Tobe much better than I.

We travel in the same circles.

Oh, of course. You must work in the Foreign Office, then.

Yes.

His lack of elaboration was in itself revealing. Our political man, Janna had said. I suspected Raff’s work and my own shared certain characteristics. Only we were not working for the same masters.

By this time, we had reached the River Pearl. Thank you for the lovely evening, I said.

Raff brushed his lips against the back of my hand, dark eyes and beard sharp against his pale face. I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity for many more. We should come to know each other quite well.

I’m looking forward to it, I murmured.

We left on board the Polaris two days later.

The Polaris is designed for speed and battle as opposed to comfort. In addition, the passage was rough, and most members of the delegation spent most of their time confined to quarters. I caught a glimpse of the unfortunate Connor only once, in a corridor en route to the cabin he shared with Smyth, the interpreter. Connor was tall, graying, with the stooped posture one associates with archivists. His color beneath the seasick pallor was good, however; that and a certain steadiness despite the pitching of the frigate suggested that he engaged regularly in some form of physical activity. I had a sudden vision of him hiking in short pants. A nature club member, no doubt.

Being the lone female, I had a cabin to myself, and I used the time as best I could. When I was able to read, I studied Temish. When I could sleep, I slept. I alternately tried to treat or ignore my ocean-induced nausea. After five days of this, I was more than ready to land at Tavu.

Currently, Tavu was the only Temish city to host a population of Continental foreigners. The settlement was a tiny colony situated close to the port. Its residents were primarily merchants, ex-officio politicos and assorted missionaries. I knew that a Guild member was among their number as well. All looked to gain advantage for their interests in Tem; all so far were largely frustrated by the intransigence of the Temish government. The foreigners were not permitted to venture outside the city confines without Imperial permission, and it was my understanding that Temish officials rarely granted them audiences. Given the introverted nature of the current Temish regime, perhaps the Temish hoped that if they ignored the outsiders long enough, the irritants would simply go away.

The delegation assembled on the foredeck as the Polaris completed its docking maneuvers. Nearly everyone was present, Janna, Raff, Erek, Smyth, even Connor, along with two secretaries and half of the six-man military bodyguard that would accompany us to Rhamakan, Tem’s capital.

I needn’t remind you of the importance of discipline, Janna said. We don’t know our footing here. Caution must be our watchword. And discipline, he added.

One of the missing soldiers entered, dressed, as the others, in the uniforms of low-ranking diplomatic corps staff. They’re ready for us, Sirs.

Janna smoothed his coat, as if that would smooth his nerves as well. After all, a lot was riding on his beribboned shoulders. I had the interests of my Guild to carry, but any visible show of nervousness on my part could be excused by the inherent instability of Woman.

Excited? Janna asked me as we filed out.

Oh, yes. Anxious to put my knowledge of Temish into practice.

You’ll do wonderfully, Janna said, smoothing his coat again. And upon reflection, I think it’s to our advantage for these people to meet an example of Albion womankind. Shows them what we’re really made of. He patted my hand in his fatherly way.

Oh dear, I giggled. Are you appointing me Ambassador for all my gender? I suddenly feel terribly responsible.

Nothing to worry about, Janna said, chuckling back. Just be yourself, and we’ll take care of the rest.

The port of Tavu was hardly impressive, at least not from the Polaris: a collection of splintering docks and ramshackle buildings illuminated by oil lamps that barely penetrated the gathering dusk. Indeed, the port seemed insufficient to accommodate a ship the size of the Polaris; given bad weather, I doubted the moorings would hold.

With a little investment, this could be a first-class deep-water port, Erek muttered. But they’ve hardly bothered.

Build a fancy guesthouse, and you’ll end up with unwanted guests, Raff said. The Tems don’t have much of a navy or a merchant marine to speak of, and they’re not sure they want us here all that much, remember? Try to think like a cultural representative instead of a businessman.

"Business is culture, said Erek, at least to my way of thinking."

Connor mulled that one over. Well, certainly commercial associations, the rights of free trade and the accumulation of capital, the morality of profit, all of these are basic tenets of Albion society—

Quiet, now. Janna held up a hand, a reminder either of caution or discipline, presumably. He peered nearsightedly down the gangplank, to the assembly of Temish awaiting us. Not much of a reception, is it?

It was, according to the Guild’s analysis, about as much as we could expect: several dozen soldiers garbed in what I guessed were dress uniforms, holding aloft a banner of an open-palmed hand against a stylized sun. In front of them was the group that interested me: four men, officials from their look. Two wore black tunics edged in scarlet, the third, a plainer version in gray. In sharp contrast was the last of the quartet. Even from this distance, his elaborately embroidered robe and skullcap stood out.

With a collective deep breath, we began our descent down the gangplank.

As we approached, I kept my eye on the officials, watching to see who would take the lead. Not the older man in gray; he had the manner of a servant about him. The burly, middle-aged fellow in the embroidered finery radiated confidence and swagger, as though this were his territory on which we trespassed. In contrast, the balding man in black and red by his side wore a dyspeptic expression that suggested he would rather be somewhere else entirely.

The second man in black, taller and younger than his companions, stood behind the others. He had a squarish face, a bit longer than it was wide, pleasant, almost bland features, save for a slight crookedness at the bridge of his nose, as though it had been broken once, and dark hair that seemed a touch shaggy for a government official. His manner was self-effacing, even detached. I would soon learn that his withdrawn quality was that of a man who habitually took several steps back so he could better observe a situation.

This was Sen Ari, who would cause me a great deal of difficulty in the months to come.

CHAPTER TWO

For a few awkward moments, the delegation stood as a group at the foot of the gangplank, bunched together like opera extras carrying spears, waiting to enter stage left. Then, the younger of the two men in black came forward.

On behalf of Grand Counselor Wan Lian, in the name of the Emperor Fon Dasso, you are most warmly welcomed to the Imperial Kingdom of Tem.

The welcome did not sound particularly warm, though his manner was certainly polite. I am Counselor Sen Ari, he continued. Counselor Lian regrets that he could not greet you personally, but unfortunately the duties of his office make this impossible.

I could understand him, at least. He spoke the capital dialect, the dialect in which I’d been trained, the language of the court and of scholars and of those who wished to emulate them. His accent was pure, his enunciation precise. Perhaps that was for our benefit.

I let Smyth handle the translating. It was his job, officially, not mine. And when the introductions reached the burly gentleman in skullcap and robes, I was grateful that I had not stepped forward. I could barely understand a word he uttered in his slurred, drawling speech—the coastal dialect. Smyth, thankfully, had no such difficulties.

Har Devan, Magistrate of Tavu.

Har Devan, in marked contrast to Counselor Sen Ari and the other gentleman in black, Provincial Vice Governor Tak Ganna, seemed almost enthusiastic in his greeting, which, as translated by Smyth, not only warmly welcomed our foreign guests from the great Kingdom of Albion, but also expressed his fervent hopes for increased cooperation between our two peoples.

As for Provincial Vice-Governor Tak Ganna, he confined his remarks to a muttering of his name and title.

Sir Janna conducted the introductions on our side. When he reached me, he said: Lady Dian Von Camff. Lady Von Camff has joined us because she has made a study of your language and culture.

Upon hearing Smyth’s translation, Counselor Sen Ari raised an eyebrow. Really, he remarked. That is very interesting.

I consider this a chance to improve my poor abilities, I said in Temish.

You speak very well, Sen Ari replied.

Please don’t oblige yourself to flatter me, I demurred, giving the traditional polite response.

He regarded me a moment longer with a measuring look that did not reveal the sentiment behind it. Then he turned to Janna, as etiquette required. It is impressive that your people have citizens trained in our customs. I regret that we cannot offer the same sort of consideration in return.

Whether he was actually impressed or curious or threatened was impossible for me to determine.

I imagine that you would appreciate some time to refresh yourselves, Sen Ari continued. We will conduct you to the guesthouse. Then I believe that the members of the foreign community there have planned a banquet in honor of your arrival.

Four horse-drawn carriages and a number of bearers waited to take the delegation, our retinue and our assorted steamer trunks and cases to our next destination. The carriages were not particularly large, and it was clear we were expected to split up into groups.

Magistrate Har Devan and I would be honored to ride with you, Sen Ari said. Unfortunately, Vice-Governor Tak Ganna has other commitments.

Raff and myself will ride with Counselor… what was his name again? Janna asked Smyth.

Sen Ari, Smyth said in a low voice.

Right. Smyth will translate for us. Erek, Lady Dian, Connor, you’ll ride with… the other fellow.

Erek touched my elbow and said: The local man, the Magistrate. How well do you understand his lingo?

I’m afraid his dialect’s beyond me.

Damn. I think he wants to talk to me. Said something about doing business, didn’t he?

Perhaps Smyth and I could switch, I suggested.

Thus it was that I rode with Janna, Raff and Counselor Sen Ari to the guesthouse.

I could not much judge Tavu in the darkness, from the small window of our coach. Now and again oil lamps cast pallid glows on low-slung warehouses and walled residences. The streets were roughly paved or not paved at all. We passed a commercial district, a sudden, gaudy burst of noise and color set amongst narrow alleys and shambling storefronts. I wished we could stop a bit to see it more clearly but did not bother to make the request. Diplomatic small talk took precedence, and it was up to me to conduct the exchange.

Sir Janna expressed our appreciation of Grand Counselor Wan Lian’s hospitality. Raff asked for clarification: do you work directly with Grand Counselor Wan Lian, Counselor Sen Ari? He is my superior, Sen Ari supplied. He then inquired after our journey; had it been difficult? Were the seas rough this time of year? Rough but not difficult, Sir Janna replied, thanks to the modern design of our Navy. Ah, your Navy, Sen Ari said, nodding, that is very impressive. And so on.

Finally, the conversation lapsed into a momentary silence as the carriage bounced along uneven, rutted lanes that roughly followed the coast. I was content to observe. I was exhausted, really. As intensive and lengthy as my Temish instruction had been, it was nothing like this total immersion that required me to switch back and forth between two languages that were not my native tongue. Oh, it’s true that I was born in Albion. But there is a world of difference between the speech of Sir Janna and the alleys of Lugus.

I took advantage of the silence to discretely study our host. Taller than Raff or Janna, Sen Ari was a well-built man whose erect posture suggested both fitness and habitual wariness. A somewhat youthful appearance combined with a certain gravity made his age a bit difficult to judge. I guessed him to be a few years older than I, around forty, but well-tended. If he’d known physical hardship, it didn’t show, yet he seemed to have avoided the overindulgences that can come with privilege.

Counselor Sen Ari pursed his lips in a serious manner, as though he was contemplating what to say next. At length he turned to me.

May I ask a question?

"Certainly.

How did you come to learn Temish?

There was nothing in his manner to indicate suspicion, but I could not help but assume that he was. I would be suspicious, were I in his position. As a Temish speaker and Albion delegate, Smyth was entirely plausible. I on the other hand, was not.

I smiled pleasantly. I have always enjoyed learning other languages, having spent most of my life away from Albion. While living in Milesia, I met a Temish gentlemen who found his way there. He agreed to teach me.

Really. He must have been well-acquainted with High Temish, from the sound of your speech.

That is very kind of you. He did not approve of my accent.

What was his name? Sen Ari asked.

It might have been an innocent question. But I suspected that it wasn’t.

By the time I met him he’d taken a Milesian name. Hadad Coralli.

Hadad Coralli, Sen Ari repeated, rolling the unfamiliar tones around on his tongue. May I ask another question?

Of course.

Is it usual for Albion women to have such interests?

Perhaps the study of Temish is unusual. Many educated women learn Continental languages however.

And for a woman to travel alone to such a far-away place as this… is that usual?

Well, I traveled with the delegation most of the way. But no, it is not usual.

But not impossible, obviously.

No, not impossible. There are a few Albion women in diplomatic circles. Mostly because of their husbands, of course.

I see. Sen Ari took a moment to consider all of this. Then he asked: Do you enjoy travel?

He seemed, for the first time, genuinely curious.

I do, I told him. Oh, there are certain nuisances, but I find the experience rewarding, overall.

And do other women of your country?

Oh yes. Many Albion women take pleasure from travel. Some even choose to travel alone, though it’s considered not quite proper.

That is very interesting, he said.

May I ask you a question in return?

Please.

Do Temish women enjoy such interests?

Travel? He sounded nonplussed. They do not often leave their homes.

Oh dear. Then how do they amuse themselves?

Sen Ari carefully considered his response. The ladies of the court and of noble background enjoy certain hobbies… painting. Embroidery. Music.

Ah. But not the study of other languages.

In general, few of us in Tem have pursued such interests. A careful pause. Perhaps the visit of your delegation will encourage a change in this attitude. Of course, he added, you are no doubt already aware of these tendencies, since you have made a study of our culture.

Again, I could not judge from his tone whether he meant this as a compliment.

I never assume knowledge from books substitutes for knowledge from experience.

Nor should one trust the words of others as substitutes.

Deliberately ignoring his ambiguous pronoun usage, I laughed. "But surely I can trust your words, Counselor."

My preference is to speak honestly, of course, he replied.

What an extraordinary conversation, I thought.

The carriage rumbled to a halt.

The guest-house, Sen Ari said.

We had reached the thick wooden gate of a high, stonewalled compound. Several shabbily dressed guards pulled it open to let our procession pass.

A steep drive wound its way up a hill to a most amazing structure: a confection of levels and layers and terraces done in brightly painted wood that sprawled atop the rise like a bunch of mushrooms sprouting after a rain. The main building looked something like a child’s top; it was round, with a steep conical roof rising to a point topped by an ornamental ball. Probably it had once been an impressive complex, but now it had a run-down, neglected appearance. Even in the dark I could see that the paint was faded and peeling. Here and there shingles had come loose.

The carriage drew up to a wing of the main building. Lamps had been lit at either side of the double doorway.

I regret that the accommodations are not of better quality, Sen Ari murmured in his pleasant way. Unfortunately, there are… certain restrictions involving the housing of foreign guests. This facility is one of the approved sites. Most of Tavu’s foreigners live here.

I dutifully translated.

A bit grim, isn’t it? Janna muttered.

It was. The cavernous, dim lobby smelled vaguely of mildew and decades of dust. Several attendants with stained, faded uniforms and indifferent attitudes lounged by the door and behind a chipped wooden counter. A few desultory paintings of landscapes and religious figures hung on the grimy walls.

Conditions will be far superior in the capital, Sen Ari assured us.

They’d better be, Erek said, not bothering to hide his displeasure. I’m not going to live like this for a year.

This isn’t a pleasure-cruise, Raff said. He had a sharp temper, I could already tell. We’ll live in whatever circumstances we find ourselves.

I decided not to translate this last exchange.

The lobby foreshadowed the rooms to come. I had a room to myself, at least, but that was its major recommendation. It was tiny, lit by a single oil-lamp, with a rickety chair and small wardrobe. The bedding was dusty and discolored. The mildew smell was rather more pronounced.

Ah well. I sat at the edge of the bed and waited for someone to bring my luggage.

Instead, Raff appeared in the doorframe. You and the Counselor seemed to be having quite a conversation, he said without preamble, coming in and sitting on the lone chair.

Yes, I suppose we did.

What did you talk about?

I shrugged. He was curious about the hobbies of Albion women.

Interesting. What did you tell him?

I told him what I knew. We also discussed the merits of travel.

Raff gave me a long look. He leaned back in his chair, intentionally casual.

You and I need to understand each other, he said. I’m not sure why you’re a member of this delegation. But since you are, you need to act as one. We are the eyes and ears of Albion here. Any conversation you have, any information or insight you get, you need to report it to me.

I thought that I just did, I said. If my response was unsatisfactory, you need only to tell me. I can provide more details.

Raff put his hands on his knees and rose. It will do for now.

As I watched him leave, I wondered what the Guild had thought the advantages of placing a woman in this situation were, exactly. So far my presence had done nothing but raise suspicions. Janna was friendly now, but I had no doubts that Raff would soon be informing him of his misgivings. As for Counselor Sen Ari, well…

I pondered that one. I presumed it was a part of his job as our minder to be suspicious, to constantly evaluate us and our intentions. However, there was also his peculiar question about travel. He had seemed, if not precisely friendly, at least somewhat unguarded. Perhaps this was the sort of thing the Guild had in mind. My accomplishments as an interpreter and traveler marked me as eccentric, but they did not necessarily make me dangerous. In general men do not consider women with the same seriousness that they do other men. We are seen as less threatening, more sympathetic, which at times leads to a greater degree of openness.

Raff, unfortunately, was an exception.

The banquet honoring our arrival was held in the main building of the complex. Like the rest of the place, it had seen better days. But this huge hall still maintained a touch of its former magnificence. The circular ceiling, layers of ascending, interlocking wood tiles had been decorated in a celestial motif, done in blues and greens and silver. Even the dim lighting and decades of soot deposits could not fully disguise its beauty.

I would imagine that nearly every foreign resident of Tavu had turned out for the occasion, about one hundred persons, nearly all male, mostly hailing from the Continent, though I thought I spotted a few Khalibadis and Maliks as well.

Somewhere in this hall was also my Guild contact.

As the honored guests, we were feted at a long table in the hall’s strategic center, beneath a cobwebbed Continental-style chandelier. Surly waiters deposited platters of mediocre interpretations of Continental cuisine.

At our table was a middle-aged Albion gentleman, Danfirth, the head of the local merchants association; a wizened Khuvashi, Pyotor Kapshi, and an Aquitanian, Piers Vollar, whose pouchy face and darkly circled eyes lent his continence a perpetually melancholy appearance. Magistrate Har Devan was also in attendance, as was Counselor Sen Ari. Their presence seemed to cause no small amount of consternation amongst the gathered merchants. First time we’ve had Imperial representatives sit down and eat with us, Danfirth explained in hushed tones. He was a large, gaunt man whose flesh hung on his frame, as though he had suddenly lost a great deal of weight. Which wouldn’t be surprising, given the quality of the food.

Har Devan’s been friendlier than most, Danfirth continued. He’s a local fellow. New to the job.

Har Devan, for his part, scowled at his plate and vigorously gestured at one of the attendants. Out of the tirade that followed, I made out the words, Shameful! and pig-slop! The three merchants, all of whom seemed to understand a degree of Tavu dialect, snickered in appreciation. The rest of us waited for Smyth’s translation.

Disgraceful, Har Devan continued, addressing the table at large. I am ordering an inquiry. He turned to Sen Ari. I’ve requested funds from Ganna to improve this place, and he won’t hear of it.

I’ll see what I can do, Sen Ari said. He sounded noncommittal.

I can offer decent wine, at least, said Piers Vollar, speaking in Albion for the benefit of the delegation. He took one of several uncorked bottles sitting at the table’s end and went around and poured it himself. I sipped appreciatively. The wine was by far the best-tasting item on the table.

Har Devan took a healthy swallow and swished it around his mouth. Interesting, he declared, and proceeded to down his glass. I’ll tell you something, he continued. In Tavu, it’s customary to treat one’s guests with courtesy. Now that I’m Magistrate, you’ll see some changes here.

We appreciate your concern, sir, Kapshi said, his speech a mixture of standard and coastal dialects. Perhaps we can speak of other things as well.

Yes, Erek said eagerly, after this had been translated. Trade restrictions, for example. We engage in the manufacture of goods that would be of great benefit to your country. Machinery, medicines, textiles—

Your weapons are also very impressive, Sen Ari said evenly.

Yes, Erek agreed. Albion arms are considered the best in the Continent.

Gothalanders would argue with that, Piers Vollar said with a sad smile.

Har Devan waved his thick hand. First things first. Improve one’s own house before rushing out to fix up the neighbor’s. Take Tavu. A hundred years ago, this was the finest city in Tem. Our parks, our schools, our shops, they were the envy of the country. But now, look at the place. Run-down, docks and streets in disrepair—

Many parts of Tem have suffered, not just Tavu, Sen Ari said.

Huh. True enough. But Tavu’s never been forgiven for its position in the last war, Ari, and you know it. The Imperial Treasury’s starving us for funds here, admit it.

Sen Ari chuckled. Magistrate Har Devan is very attached to his place of origin.

Why shouldn’t I be? Har Devan declared, gulping down another half glass of Piers Vollar’s wine. Tem wasn’t always such a hidebound place. There was a time when Temish ships ruled the seas up and down this coast as far as Khalibad and Malik, and who built and sailed those ships? Men of Tavu.

If it’s navies you’re interested in, Sir Janna said cautiously, we have a great deal of experience in this area.

Kapshi shot him an unpleasant look. As does Khuvash.

Oh, certainly, sir, Janna said. I meant that in a general sense. Most of the nations represented in this hall have much to offer Tem, if we are only permitted to extend our hands.

Sen Ari regarded Janna as Smyth translated his remarks. It is not entirely clear to us what you would expect in return, he finally said. But of course, we look forward to further discussion on this subject. Now, please excuse me. I’m afraid I have another appointment.

Well, I am interested in hearing what you have to say, Har Devan announced after Sen Ari’s departure. We in Tavu are not so closed toward outsiders as the rest of Tem.

With that, Janna and Erek happily began to outline the many benefits of an improved relationship with Albion, and the other Continental Powers, of course. Meanwhile, Piers Vollar rose from the table, pleading a need for fresh air. I followed.

I found him out on a balcony, sitting in a deck chair, smoking a pipe. From here one could see and hear the ocean, smell its briny funk as well, a marked improvement over the musty interior of the officially designated foreigner’s compound. I sat in the chair next to him. A paper lantern, ripped in places, cast a pleasant glow as it swayed in the breeze.

I made a small gesture with one hand. He repeated it, in an offhanded way.

How was your trip? he asked, puffing on his pipe.

Uneventful. I caught a whiff of his pipe smoke. What is that? I asked, though I thought I knew.

Keff mixed with tobacco, he said, seemingly unembarrassed. Danfirth has been bringing keff in from Khalibad. It’s one thing the locals want to barter for. They’ll even pay silver.

Does the government approve?

Of course not. It’s not sanctioned, it’s not taxed, and they are becoming concerned with its effect on their citizens. Officially. Unofficially I know of several office-holders who are profiting from the exchange.

Such as Har Devan?

I can’t say. He’s too new.

I hesitated. And you?

Half the foreign community indulges, he said with a shrug. There’s very little we are allowed to do here. So, I simply blend in with the rest. I do what little trading I am permitted and keep my small circle supplied with wine. No one questions my purpose here.

He sighed and blew a smoke ring out over the balcony, watching the waves crash against the rocks below us.

Though I’m not sure what my purpose is any more. I’ve been here too long.

I decided it best not to indulge his melancholy. Well, to begin with, what can you tell me about Counselor Sen Ari?

Very little. It’s the first time I’ve met him. He’s Lian’s right-hand, from all accounts.

And Grand Counselor Wan Lian? He’s behind this opening to Albion?

That’s a good question, Vollar said, puffing on his pipe. Lian has the reputation of being more open than most. And the people like him. That’s a rare thing, in Tem, for an official to be so popular. But I doubt he would act without the Emperor’s approval. Lian may have his preferences, but he has the reputation of only moving on them when he’s sure of his support. If in fact he has any real preferences. Some question that he does.

Meaning?

That his only abiding preference is maintaining his position. That he’ll execute whatever policy will allow him to continue in his office.

One of the waiters came out to the balcony, carrying a bottle of Vollar’s wine and two glasses. Thank-you, Fina, Vollar said, clasping his hands together, moving them away from his body and then back, almost like one of our Guild signals.

The waiter, in a marked departure from the sullen demeanors I’d witnessed up to now, bowed and murmured, it is my pleasure to serve you.

They don’t all hate us, Vollar said. It helps to treat them decently.

He poured us both a glass. We sipped companionably, watching the ocean below, the lighter shades of gray lit by the moon in the black sky.

Tem is in bad shape, he resumed. Crops have failed two years running. We hear rumors of a terrible famine in the Hill Provinces. Dikes and roads are falling apart. Too many officials take bribes and don’t attend to their duties. The previous regime fell because of these conditions. This new one won’t last if they can’t get the country back on its feet.

Thus, they may be receptive to foreign assistance?

Perhaps. Certainly, there’s a faction in the government that favors reform and is willing to consider alternatives to the old ways of doing things. But from what we’ve gathered they face strong resistance.

From whom?

Vollar laughed. Most of Tem I’d have to say. Forces of tradition are very strong here. There’s a movement called ‘Return,’ for example. They look to a Golden Age they think existed some thousand years ago and swear that if Tem were true to its heritage, this Golden Age would be borne again. On the more extreme end are fundamentalists, I would call them. You know ‘Tem’ is the name of their peoples’ founding God, and this is His country, just as much His realm as Heaven. The fundamentalists wish to make Tem’s earthly domain a better reflection of His glory. But it’s hard for people to live by heavenly laws, would you not agree? People are not so easily perfected.

His pipe had gone out. Vollar retrieved a small tin from his vest pocket and reloaded it, tamping down the edges with exaggerated care. Would you like some? he thought to ask.

I think not. That would seal my reputation amongst the delegates. I stood up. I’d best go inside. Let’s talk more later.

I walked away shaking my head. Really, the man needed some help. I would have to make a report upon my return to Milesia.

Inside the hall, the dinner