Ship of Destiny. Робин Хобб

to Sa that she had been merciful.

      Relief welled up in Cerwin Trell’s face. He reached to touch the rose he had left on Malta’s pillow. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered fervently. Then he spoiled it by adding, ‘At least I now can cling to hope.’

      Ronica repressed a grimace. She could see that Delo had not inherited all the melodramatic tendencies in the Trell family. She changed the subject firmly. ‘Tell me what is happening in Bingtown now.’

      He looked startled by the sudden request. ‘Well, but, I don’t know that much. Father has been keeping our whole family close to home. He still believes this will all blow past somehow, and then Bingtown will go on as before. He will be furious if he discovers I’ve slipped away. But I had to, you know.’ He clutched at his heart.

      ‘Of course, of course. What did you see on the way here? Why does your father keep you close to home?’

      The boy knit his brows and stared down at his well-kept hands. ‘Well, right now, the harbour is ours again. That could change any time, though. The Three Ships folk have been helping us, but while all the ships are fighting, no one is fishing or bringing goods to market. So food is starting to be dear, especially as so many of the warehouses were burned.

      ‘In Bingtown, there has been looting and plundering. People have been beaten and robbed simply for trying to do business. Some say the culprits are New Trader gangs, others say they are escaped slaves out for anything they can get. The Market is deserted. Those who dare to open their doors to do business run many risks. Serilla had the City Guard seize what was left of the Satrap’s tariff dock. She wanted the message birds kept there, so that she might send word and receive tidings from Jamaillia. But most of the birds had died in the fire and smoke. The men she posted there did intercept a returning bird recently, but she would not share what tidings it brought. Some parts of the city are held by New Traders, some parts by Old. The Three Ships and other groups are caught between. At night, there are clashes.

      ‘My father is angry that no one is negotiating. He says that real Traders know that almost everything can be solved by the right bargain. He says that proves that the New Traders are to blame for everything that has happened, but they, of course, blame us. They say we kidnapped the Satrap. My father believes you were going to help kidnap the Satrap so they could kill him and blame it on us. Now the Old Traders squabble among themselves. Some want us to recognize Companion Serilla’s authority to speak for the Satrap of Jamaillia; others say it is time that Bingtown shook off Jamaillian authority entirely. The New Traders claim that we are ruled by Jamaillia still, but they won’t recognize Serilla’s documents. They beat the messenger she sent to them under a truce flag, and sent him back with his hands bound behind him and a scroll tied to his throat. It accused her of treason and being a party to the plot to overthrow the Satrap. They said our aggression against the Satrap and his lawful patrol boats provoked the violence in the harbour and turned our Chalcedean allies against us.’ He licked his lips and added, ‘They threatened that when the time came and strength was on their side, they would show no mercy.’

      Cerwin paused for breath. His young face looked older as he went on. ‘It’s a mess and not getting better. Some of my friends want to arm themselves and simply drive the New Traders into the sea. Roed Caern says we should kill any of them who won’t leave. He says we must take back what they stole from us. Many of the Traders’ sons agree with him. They say that only when the New Traders are gone can Bingtown go back to being Bingtown. Some say we should round up the New Traders and give them a choice of leaving, or death. Others talk of secret reprisals against those who dealt with the New Traders, and burning the New Traders out to force them to leave. I’ve heard rumours that Caern and his friends go out a great deal at night.’ He shook his head miserably. ‘That is why my father tries to keep me close to home. He doesn’t want me involved.’ He met Ronica’s eyes suddenly. ‘I am not a coward. But I don’t want to be involved.’

      ‘In that, you and your father are wise. Nothing will be resolved that way. It will only justify them in more violence against us.’ Ronica shook her head. ‘Bingtown will never be Bingtown again.’ She sighed and asked, ‘When is the next Bingtown Council meeting?’

      Cerwin shrugged. ‘They have not met at all since this began. At least, not formally. All the liveship Traders are out chasing Chalcedeans. Some of the Traders have fled the city; others have fortified their homes and never leave them. Several times the heads of the Council have gathered with Serilla, but she has urged them to delay calling a meeting. She wishes to reconcile with the New Traders and use her authority as the Satrap’s representative to restore peace. She wishes to treat with the Chalcedeans, also.’

      Ronica was silent for a moment. Her lips tightened. This Serilla, it seemed to her, was taking entirely too much authority to herself. What were the tidings she had concealed? Surely the sooner the Council met and formulated a plan to restore order, the sooner the city could heal. Why would she oppose that?

      ‘Cerwin. Tell me this. If I went to Serilla, do you think she would speak to me? Or do you think they would kill me as a traitor?’

      The young man looked at Ronica with dismay. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘I no longer know what my own friends are capable of doing. Trader Daw was found hanged. His wife and children have disappeared. Some say he killed himself when he saw that fortunes were going against him. Others say his brothers-in-law did it, out of shame. No one talks much of it.’

      Ronica was silent for a time. She could huddle here in the remains of her home, knowing that if she were murdered, folk would not talk much of it. Or she could find a different place to hide. But winter was coming, and she had already decided that she would not perish gracefully. Perhaps confrontation was all that was left. At least she would have the satisfaction of speaking her piece before someone killed her. ‘Can you carry a message to Serilla for me? Where is she staying?’

      ‘She has taken over Davad Restart’s house. But, please, I don’t dare carry a message. If my father found out –’

      ‘Of course.’ She cut him off abruptly. She could shame him into it. All she need do was imply that Malta would think him a coward if he did not. She would not use the boy to test the waters. What sense was there in sacrificing Cerwin to insure her own safety? She would go herself. She had cowered at home long enough.

      She stood up. ‘Go home, Cerwin. And stay there. Listen to your father.’

      The young man stood slowly. His gaze travelled over her, and then he looked away, embarrassed for her. ‘Do you…are you doing well here, by yourself? Have you enough to eat?’

      ‘I’m fine. Thank you for asking.’ She felt oddly touched by his concern. She looked down at her garden-stained hands and her dirt-caked nails. She restrained an impulse to put her hands behind her.

      He took a breath. ‘Will you tell Malta that I came, that I was worried about her?’

      ‘I will. The next time I see her. But that may not be for quite a long time. Now go home. Obey your father after this. I am sure he has enough worries without you putting yourself in danger.’

      That made him stand up a bit straighter. A smile touched his mouth. ‘I know. But I had to come, you see. I could know no peace until I discovered what had become of her.’ He paused. ‘May I tell Delo, also?’

      The girl was one of the worst gossips in Bingtown. Ronica decided that Cerwin did not know enough about anything to be a threat. ‘You may. But plead with her to keep it to herself. Ask her not to speak of Malta at all. It is the greatest favour she can do her friend. The fewer people who wonder about Malta, the safer she is.’

      Cerwin frowned dramatically. ‘Of course. I see.’ He nodded to himself. ‘Well. Farewell, Ronica Vestrit.’

      ‘Farewell, Cerwin Trell.’

      Only a month ago, it would have been unthinkable for him to be in this room. The civil war in Bingtown had turned everything topsy-turvy. She watched him go, and it seemed that he carried the last of that old familiar life away with him. All the rules that had governed her had fallen. For an instant, she felt as desolate and plundered