Part 11 (1/2)

He stood up, apologising to his body for the shocking state he'd managed to get it in. He looked across at the plateau. The further away from it he went, the more of it he could see. Yet more metaphor. f.u.c.k that. He turned round, and all he could see was the flat plain.

Some time later, he reached the dock. There was no s.h.i.+p.

The place was, in fact, practically deserted. There was just the one old man sitting on an upturned barrel with his feet dangling like a child's. He was looking down at his hands, and didn't look up when Gignomai's shadow fell across his face. But he said, ”I know you. You're the youngest met'Oc boy.”

Gignomai never understood how people he'd never met knew who he was, but he was gradually learning to accept it. ”When's the next s.h.i.+p due?” he asked.

The old man lifted his thumb and stared at it. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it. ”Spring,” he said.

”Oh.”

The old man laughed. ”Season's over, see,” he said. ”From now till spring, you can forget about going anywhere. Wind's all over the place, like the mad woman's s.h.i.+t.”

Gignomai took a moment to pa.r.s.e that. ”No s.h.i.+ps at all?”

”No.” Now he looked up. ”You in a hurry or something?”

Gignomai shrugged. ”I've got business I want to see to back Home. Look, is there anybody with a s.h.i.+p here who'd-?”

The old man thought that was really funny. ”n.o.body's got a s.h.i.+p,” he said, ”don't you know that? Term of the f.u.c.king charter, we aren't allowed any. So the Company keeps its monopoly, see? Even the fis.h.i.+ng's owned by the Company.”

No, Gignomai hadn't known that. ”Nothing at all?”

”Nothing,” the old man said slowly and deliberately, ”with a sail, or capable of being fitted with a sail. That's the words, in the charter. It's the law.”

”Fine,” he said, ”not to worry, I'll just have to make other arrangements.”

The old man must have thought Gignomai was the funniest thing ever. ”Other arrangements,” he repeated, with a huge grin. ”What, you going to walk walk to the mainland?” to the mainland?”

Some time later, Gignomai thought, after many travails. But no; he'd had quite enough of doing the impossible. ”Thanks,” he said. ”You've been a real help.”

The old man was looking at his thumb again. Gignomai really couldn't see what was so fascinating. ”What are you doing here anyhow?” the old man asked. ”Business, you say.”

”That's right. Thanks again.”

So he walked into town. By the time he'd got there, he knew he wasn't going to get much further. He just made it to Furio's place. He really didn't want to pa.s.s out on the front step, because that would be sheer unadulterated melodrama, but in the event he didn't have any choice.

”You're back, then,” Furio said. He was grinning.

Gignomai lifted his head. ”Sorry.”

”Don't be.” Furio stifled a yawn. That and the way he was sitting in his chair suggested he'd been there for some time. ”Glad you came back.”

”The sword,” Gignomai said. Furio leaned back and lifted it off the floor. ”It's all right,” Furio said. ”It's here, it's safe. That's what you went back for, right?”

”I need to see your uncle,” Gignomai said. ”Soon as possible.”

”Now isn't possible.” Furio frowned a little. ”Teucer says you're too weak for visitors. She tried to chase me out, but...”

Teucer. Gignomai raised his left hand and stared at it. Four neat, perfectly s.p.a.ced little st.i.tches. He felt his stomach contract, and he had to swallow hard three times to keep from throwing up.

”Good, isn't she?” Furio was saying. ”She's forgiven you, by the way. At least, she was so thrilled to have someone to practise on. Someone who kept still, on account of being dead to the world.”

Gignomai lowered his hand, letting it droop over the side of the bed so he wouldn't catch sight of it. ”Please,” he said, ”get your uncle. She doesn't have to know.”

”All right.” Furio went to the door, then stopped. ”You know what,” he said, ”for a pampered son of the aristocracy born to a life of idle pleasure, you don't half get yourself banged up.”

Stheno, Gignomai thought, hoeing turnips for nine hours in the murderous heat. Pampered son, idle pleasure. ”I'm an eccentric,” he said. ”Now will you please get your uncle.”

Furio's Uncle Marzo turned the sword slowly between his fingers. ”Hold on,” he said, and ground away a patch of caked rust with his thumbnail. ”There's some writing here.”

”Where?”

”On the rica.s.so rica.s.so.”

How come a simple merchant knew the correct nomenclature for the parts of a sword? ”Is there? Sorry, I've never looked at it that closely.”

Marzo stood up and turned his chair to face the window. ”I can't quite make it out,” he said. ”Eyes aren't quite as sharp as they used to be.”

Gignomai grinned at him. ”In my right coat pocket,” he said. ”I don't know if they got busted while I was fooling about.”

Marzo retrieved the eyegla.s.ses and stood perfectly still, staring at them. ”Are these...?”

”From Home,” Gignomai said. ”Quite old, I believe. I'm glad they didn't get all smashed up.”

”I've heard of such things, but I've never seen one before.”

”Try them on,” Gignomai said. ”The spring clip goes over the bridge of your nose. Should stay put of its own accord,” he added. Marzo was holding the eyegla.s.ses in place with both hands. ”Well?”

”Amazing.” Marzo tentatively let go, like a father teaching a toddler to walk, then held his fingertips up to his face. ”d.a.m.n it, I can see all the pores in my skin.”

”They're also quite good for reading,” Gignomai said. ”Go on, try it.”

Marzo picked up one of the stolen books-Callicrates on Mechanisms, the one that had lost its cover when Gignomai got wedged in the hole. ”Unbelievable,” he said. ”I haven't been able to see stuff that clearly for ten years.” the one that had lost its cover when Gignomai got wedged in the hole. ”Unbelievable,” he said. ”I haven't been able to see stuff that clearly for ten years.”

”Must be hard in your line of work, if you have trouble reading.”

”Worst thing is my own handwriting,” Marzo said. ”Actually, I've never seen as well as this, not ever.” He took the eyegla.s.ses off his nose but didn't put them down on the table. ”I don't suppose you'd consider...”

”Selling?”

Marzo nodded hopefully.

”No.”

”Ah well.” Marzo laid the eyegla.s.ses down, but didn't quite let go of them. ”Just thought I'd ask.”

”You can have them. As a present.” Gignomai laughed, as Marzo's mouth dropped open. There was someone he never thought he'd see lost for words.