The Mad Ship. Робин Хобб
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own vomit that they slipped in.’
He twisted his head abruptly to stare up at her. ‘That makes it my fault, I suppose?’ he asked sarcastically. ‘I thought the whole purpose of paving stones was to make the ground even and safe for walking. My poor gut was severely shocked by that fall. It was no wonder I could not keep my food down. Three healers agreed with me about that. But, I am sure that my well-educated Companion knows far better than the Magnadon Satrap Cosgo or his healers.’
She stood abruptly, not caring that it unsettled him. She caught the wrist of his exploring hand and thrust it towards his own groin in disdain. ‘I am leaving. I am the Companion of your Heart. Nothing binds me to tolerate licentiousness from you.’
Cosgo sat up. He clenched his hands on his knees. ‘You forget yourself! No one walks away from the Magnadon Satrap Cosgo. Come back. I shall say when you may leave.’
Serilla drew herself up to her full height. She was easily a head taller than this pale, self-indulged young man. She looked him up and down, her green eyes flashing. ‘No. You forget yourself, Cosgo. You are not some Chalcedean so-called noble, with a harem of whores that scrabble to fondle and mouth you at your whim. You are the Satrap of Jamaillia. I am a Heart Companion, not some oiled and perfumed body tool. You say when I may leave, that is true. That does not mean I cannot leave when I find you disgusting.’ She spoke over her shoulder as she walked towards the door. ‘Send me word when you want to find out just how much trouble you can expect from Bingtown. That is my area of expertise. Find someone else to deal with your crotch.’
‘Serilla!’ he protested frantically. ‘You cannot leave me in such pain! You know it is the pain that makes me forget myself. You cannot hold that against me.’
She halted at the door. Her brow creased as she frowned at him. ‘I certainly can. And I do. Your father suffered extreme pain from his joints as he aged, yet he never treated me discourteously. Nor did he ever touch me uninvited.’
‘My father, my father,’ Cosgo whined. ‘That is all you ever say to me. That I am not as good as he was. It makes me sick to think of that shrivelled old man touching you. How could your parents have given such a young girl to such an old man? It’s disgusting.’
She advanced several steps towards him, hands knotted into fists. ‘You are disgusting, for imagining such things! My parents did not “give” me to your father. I came to Jamaillia City myself, on my own, determined to pursue my studies. He was impressed with my learning when he overheard me in the Library of the North Lands, reciting for my master. He invited me to be a Companion of his Heart, to advise him on those lands. I considered it well, for three days, before I consented and accepted his ring. I took the vow to remain at the Satrap’s side and advise him. It had nothing to do with his couch. He was a fine man. He made it possible for me to study, and he always listened well to me when I counselled him. When we disagreed, he did not blame it on a headache.’ Her voice fell. ‘I still mourn him.’
She opened the door and left the room. Outside, two stone-faced guards pretended they had not heard the squabble. She strode between them. She had not gone more than a dozen steps down the hall before she heard the door flung open. ‘Serilla! Come back!’
She ignored the imperious command.
‘Please!’ the Satrap’s voice grated.
She kept walking, her sandals whispering over the marble floor.
‘The Magnadon Satrap Cosgo courteously requests that Companion Serilla return to his chambers to advise him on the Bingtown matter.’ These words were bellowed after her down the hallway. She paused, then turned. The expression on her face was studiously polite. It was in her vows. She could not refuse him her company if he asked advice in her area of expertise. Her considered advice was all she had vowed to give him.
‘I would be honoured, Magnadon.’ She retraced her steps. He leaned in the doorway, his normally pale cheeks reddened. His dark hair was tousled over his bloodshot eyes. She had to admire the expressionless guards. She re-entered the chamber and did not flinch as he slammed the door behind her. Instead, she crossed the room and hauled the heavy curtains to one side. Afternoon sunlight spilled into the room. She went to the table, seated herself, and then leaned forward to blow out the lamp she had been using. The afternoon light was ample, once the curtains were opened. Cosgo came grudgingly to sit beside her. She had deliberately spread her elbows apart to keep him at a distance. He seated himself as close to her as he could without actually touching her. His dark eyes were reproachful.
She indicated the texts arranged on the table. ‘Here we have a copy of the original Bingtown Charter. This, the list of grievances they have submitted to us. This stack is made up of copies of new land grants you have issued in the Bingtown area.’ She turned to face him. ‘Considering their first point: I find that we have most definitely violated their original charter. All the new grants are in direct violation of the old agreement. You had no authority to issue new land grants to Bingtown lands without consulting the Traders first. That was clearly spelled out in their initial charter.’
He scowled but said nothing. She ran her fingertip down the scroll. ‘They also protest the new tariffs that have been levied, as well as the increases in the old ones. Those, I think we can justify, though we may have to be more moderate in the percentages.’ She perused the Traders’ list of grievances. ‘They complain also about the New Traders trafficking in slaves, and using slaves on their properties. And there is a final complaint about the financing of Chalcedean patrol boats and the stationing of patrol boats in Bingtown Harbour. These are areas in which I think we can negotiate compromises.’
‘Compromises,’ Cosgo muttered in disgust. ‘Am I not the Satrap? Why need I compromise at all?’
She set her chin in her hand and stared out over the gardens pensively. ‘Because you have violated the word of your ancestor. The Bingtown Traders are provincial in many ways. And conservative. They follow many of the old traditions. They keep their bargains to the written letter; a man’s word does not die with him, it is the responsibility of his heirs to honour it. They expect others to do the same. The delegation was very angry when they arrived. They had had a long voyage in which to commiserate with one another. They reinforced one another’s opinions until they were mutually convinced that their position was unassailable. And, of course, only those most angered by our recent actions would take the time to come so far to confront us. They were definitely our adversaries. Still, they might have been mollified on some of their complaints if you had agreed to meet with them personally.’ She turned back to face the Satrap.
He looked both grim and sulky. ‘I was ill that week. It was all I could do to meet with the Chalcedean trade delegation. You might also recall that there was an investiture of priests that I had to attend.’
‘You spent most of the week in a stupor, sampling the new pleasure drugs the Chalcedeans had brought you. Twice you promised me you would meet with the Bingtown delegation. Each time you kept them waiting for hours before sending word you were indisposed. You left me in a very uncomfortable position. They departed feeling snubbed and ignored. They were more convinced than ever of their own righteousness.’ She did not add that she agreed with them. It was her task to present the facts to him, not her feelings. At least, that was her present task. She hoped soon to take on more than that, if her plans prospered.
‘Stiff-necked sons of outcasts and outlaws,’ he sneered. ‘I should do as my friend Duke Yadfin advised me. Put him in place as my appointed governor in Bingtown. Dissolve their silly, feuding Councils. Old Traders, New Traders…who can keep up with it all? A little Chalcedean discipline would do that rabble good.’
Serilla could not help herself. She gaped at him. He scratched his nose negligently.
‘You cannot be serious,’ she offered at last. She was even prepared to feign amusement at his tasteless jest. Put a Chalcedean noble in authority over Bingtown?
‘Why not? Chalced is a good ally. Bingtown’s base slandering of them has proven groundless. Bingtown is closer to Chalced than it is to Jamaillia. A governor from Chalced could better regulate the folk there, and as long as I still received