The Proof House (49 page)

It was when they reached the Market Square that they all started to feel uncomfortable, because there was a full company of soldiers there when they arrived, drawn up in parade order but with their weapons uncovered and drawn.

‘Don’t say somebody’s tried to break into their treasury,’ Eseutz said. ‘Not tactful.’

‘That man’s pinning a notice on the Market Hall door,’ Athli pointed out. ‘Is he one of them?’

‘No idea. Well, come on. Let’s go and see what it says.’

The provincial office house style was brief, clear and businesslike; as from dawn on the seventeenth day of Butrepidon (‘When’s that?’ Eseutz asked. ‘Today,’ Venart replied. ‘Quiet.’) the prefect of Ap’ Escatoy, by the powers vested in him et cetera, had annexed the Island to the outer western province of the Empire. All property belonging to citizens of the Island would henceforth legally vest in the said prefect, in accordance with the practice of the Empire. There followed a list of regulations governing the transitional period leading up to full incorporation: nobody to enter or leave the territory without permission; no citizen to purport to make a binding contract with a foreigner; no public assembly or gathering to exceed ten people without previous consent; all arms and munitions of war to be surrendered immediately; all non-citizens to report to the commissioner for aliens forthwith; all buildings to be left unlocked to facilitate entry and inventory; sundry public order provisions; announcements of a census and interim taxation -

‘But they can’t,’ Eseutz said. Nobody else spoke. The man who’d pinned up the notice put his hammer back in his satchel and walked away, exchanging a few words with the captain of the guard.

‘It’s all right,’ said Venart, after a quick count. ‘There’s only four of us.’

‘Shut
up
, Ven.’ Vetriz was reading the notice for the third time. ‘That’s it, then. You and your bloody ShipOwners’ Association.’

‘What?’

‘That’s what’s done it,’ she said, quietly and angrily. ‘You thought you could pull their tails and stiff them for more money, and now look.’

Eseutz was pulling at her sleeve. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘let’s move away. Those soldiers look very tense, if you ask me.’

‘What? Oh.’ Vetriz and the others followed her to one of the small colonnades behind the Market Hall, where there were already quite a few groups of up to nine agitated-looking citizens.

‘Here’s what we do,’ Eseutz was saying, in a loud whisper. ‘We go home, pack up as much money and valuable stuff as we can comfortably carry, and try and get to the ships. If only we can get off the Island, they can’t follow us or anything, they haven’t got any ships of their own. That’s why they can never make this thing stick.’

Venart scowled at her. ‘And how do you propose we deal with all the soldiers who’re already on the damn ships? Or had you forgotten, they’re going to invade Perimadeia with them. Athli, what about you? I can’t remember, are you a citizen or a foreigner?’

Athli thought for a moment. ‘That’s a good point,’ she said. ‘Yes, I’m a citizen, because I own property here; but I might be able to kid them into thinking I’m Shastel. But how’s that going to help you?’

‘Well, somebody’s got to go and get help,’ Venart said. ‘Raise an army, throw these bastards into the sea. That’s why you’ve got to go and raise the alarm—’

Athli looked at him. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘Who on earth is going to come and rescue us?’

Venart hadn’t thought of that, obviously. ‘Mercenaries,’ said Eseutz. ‘We could hire mercenaries - the hell with how much it costs, we’ve got to get them off the Island. Once we’ve done that, we’ll be safe.’

Athli shook her head. ‘You’re dreaming,’ she said. ‘There must be - what, fifty thousand men in the expeditionary force? You’d need at least three times that for a disputed landing. Where are we going to find—?’

‘No,’ Eseutz interrupted, ‘you’re wrong. Right now there’s fifty thousand; but when they’ve gone off to attack Temrai there’ll only be a little garrison. That’s when we get them.’

Athli closed her eyes and opened them again. ‘When they’ve got our ships,’ she said. ‘Not a very sensible suggestion, is it? As soon as they hear what we’ve done, they’ll come storming back and we won’t stand a chance. Have you any idea what they do to rebels?’

‘There has to be
something -’
Eseutz stopped in mid-sentence; five soldiers and an NCO were heading towards them. Venart looked as if he was about to run away, but his sister grabbed his arm. ‘If you run, they’ll kill you,’ she whispered.

The soldiers came nearer, stopped. ‘Venart Auzeil,’ the NCO said. ‘Eseutz Mesatges.’

Venart took a deep breath. ‘I’m Venart Auzeil,’ he said. ‘What—?’

‘Eseutz Mesatges.’

Athli, Vetriz and Eseutz stayed perfectly still. The NCO waited for a few seconds, then nodded. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘we’ll take them all and sort it out later. You’re under arrest,’ he added, as an afterthought. ‘This way.’

‘I hate getting arrested,’ Eseutz said. ‘It’s so boring. You sit around for hours in cells and interview rooms and waiting rooms and anterooms, with nothing to do and nothing to read, and it’s always either too cold or too hot, and the food—’

That morning, it had been the guild secretary’s office, tucked away discreetly at the end of a corridor leading off the gallery that ran round three sides of the Merchant Venturers’ guild house. That morning, it had been a place you dreamed of being invited to; a big, fat office hidden down a little, thin passageway, a monument to the fusion of discretion and conspicuous display. Secretary Aloet Cor was known to be a fanatical collector of furniture, in particular the delicate, expensive and entirely impractical bone and ivory chairs and tables made by the Arrazin family of Perimadeia for six generations; she didn’t like them much, so they said, but she collected them because they were rare and horrendously overpriced, and likely to appreciate in value considerably now that the supply had been made finite following the death of all the Arrazins in the Fall. It was worth sitting on the hard marble bench outside for an hour or so, they said, just for a glimpse of the bizarre and rather grotesque lampstand carved by Leucas Arrazin a hundred and fifty years ago out of a single piece of whalebone.

‘Get arrested often, do you?’ Venart asked. ‘Sorry; I’m just curious.’

Eseutz shrugged. ‘It depends where you go,’ she said. ‘In some places it’s accepted, like their way of saying hello, welcome to our fair city. There was a time when I used to go to Burzouth a lot, I was on first-name terms with all the warders at the excise guardhouse. We used to play chess or I’d sew buttons on for them—’

‘You?’ Vetriz interrupted. ‘Since when have you been able to sew on a button?’

Tonight it had become the office of Major Javec, the newly appointed sub-prefect of the Island; and somehow the corridor was darker and colder, the marble bench was harder, and seeing the famous Arrazins wasn’t quite the priority it would have been a few hours earlier. In fact, Vetriz had a horrible feeling that she had just been added to a collection, and had been dumped in a stockroom waiting to be catalogued, stamped and put in a cabinet. She’d known a man once who collected the skulls of birds; he’d described to her the method of skinning them, boiling out the brains and flesh, bleaching the bone and mounting the finished exhibit; she’d actually found it rather fascinating, in a disgusting sort of way.

‘The point I was trying to make,’ Eseutz said, ‘is that different people mean different things by arresting you. For all we know, it could just be a getting-to-know-you thing, nothing more sinister than that.’

Venart sighed. ‘Then how would you account for the fact that we’re the only ones here?’ he said. ‘Do you think that, as far as they’re concerned, we’re the only people worth getting to know on the whole island?’

Eseutz made an exasperated gesture with her long, thin hands. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘be miserable, see if I care. Personally, I don’t see the point. After all, it’s not going to make things any better, you sitting there worrying yourself to death. But if that’s your idea of a good attitude, then you go ahead—’

‘Eseutz.’ Athli lifted her head and looked her in the eye. ‘Shut up. And you, Ven. I know it’s only because you’re scared, and bickering makes it easier, but you’re starting to annoy me. All right?’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Eseutz snapped. ‘I’m not in the least scared—’

The door opened and the two guards who’d been standing like architectural features behind them, blocking their way back down the corridor, motioned to them to get up and go in. ‘It’ll be all right, you’ll see,’ Eseutz whispered. The others ignored her.

Sub-Prefect Javec was a round man, short for a Son of Heaven, bald as an egg on top but fringed round his multiple chins with a little curtain of woolly beard. He looked neither threatening nor friendly; mostly, in fact, he looked very tired, which was of course perfectly understandable. Annexing a whole country is hard work.

‘Names,’ he said; not to the four Islanders but to his clerk, a young outlander with curly brown hair. The clerk read the names off a list. His pronunciation was awful; Eseutz Mesatges became Ee-soo Muzzertgees, while Venart and Vetriz both found that their family name was now Orzle. He was rather better at Perimadeian names, because apart from putting the stress on the wrong syllable of Zeuxis, he managed it quite competently.

‘Thank you,’ the sub-prefect said, and the clerk sat down and started to sort through a tray full of wax tablets, the sort that Imperial NCOs were issued with for filing reports. ‘And thank you,’ the sub-prefect continued, apparently noticing the Islanders for the first time. ‘I hope this isn’t too inconvenient for you, but these things have to be done. You are all friends of Captain Bardas Loredan—’

‘Excuse me,’ Eseutz interrupted. ‘I’m not.’

Javec moved his head a little so that he could see her without getting a crick in his neck.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Is that right?’ he went on, facing Athli, who nodded. ‘You two, is that right?’

Venart took a deep breath. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said. ‘I don’t think she’s even met him once.’

‘I see,’ Javec said. ‘Well, can’t be helped; you’ll have to stay with these three until the war’s over. Now,’ he went on, ‘you’re Vetriz Auzeil.’

‘That’s right.’ She was impressed; Javec’s pronunciation was flawless.

‘And about seven years ago you had an affair with Gorgas Loredan.’

Vetriz sighed. ‘That’s right,’ she said, before Venart could deny the statement on her behalf. Pity; she’d managed to keep it from him this long. ‘Though
affair
is probably an overstatement. I believe the usual expression is one-night stand.’

Javec nodded. ‘I stand corrected,’ he said. ‘That is what it says in the file. Well, I’m sorry about this but I’m going to have to put the four of you under house arrest for the time being - I’m sure you’re all harmless enough, but as long as Captain Loredan’s in command of a major field army, anybody who could be used against him as a hostage - well, we’ll feel happier if we know you’re out of the way and safe. I’m sure you’ll see the logic behind it if you think about it for a moment.’

Nobody said anything.

‘We’ll try to make this as painless as possible. You’ll be confined to the Auzeil house - that’s number sixteen in the fourth transverse alley, yes? I’ll be posting a guard, obviously; they’ll have their own bivouac and wash-house and cook and everything, so you won’t have to fetch and carry or feed them. You can receive visitors for an hour a day, but of course there’ll have to be soldiers present. Any questions?’

Out of the corner of her eye, Vetriz caught sight of what had to be the notorious lampstand. She turned her head a little for a better view; it was every bit as hideous as she’d imagined.

‘Overrated, if you ask me,’ the sub-prefect said. ‘Of course, I’m not an expert by any means, but I find the late-period Arrazins are almost like parodies of the products of the classic period. There’s this unfortunate tendency to try to do things on a massive scale that are better suited to small work. Take the big two-handed cup, for instance; over there, look.’

They looked in the direction he was pointing, and saw what looked unpleasantly like a human skull, mounted on a small ivory pedestal. The top had been sawn off, turning the brain cavity into a cup, and two handles, made of cunningly spliced finger-bones, had been inserted into the ear hollows. ‘That’s an interesting piece, isn’t it?’ Javec went on. ‘I believe it was originally the head of a rebel prince of the plains tribes; he lost a civil war about a century ago, and his victorious rival sent it to the City to be mounted. It was part of the loot brought back by Captain Loredan, when he was a young man. Probably a unique example, although I have a stag’s head that’s generically similar in my own collection at home; Suidas Arrazin, quite early.’

Vetriz felt slightly sick.

‘Is it valuable?’ Eseutz asked. ‘Only, I know where there’s one just like it, if you’re interested.’

(
That’s Eseutz
, Vetriz thought.)

‘Really?’ Sub-Prefect Javec leaned forward a little. ‘A genuine Arrazin? With a provenance?’

Eseutz frowned. ‘I think so. I’d have to check, obviously. If it is genuine, roughly how much are we talking about?’

‘Money isn’t really an issue,’ Javec replied. ‘If you’d care to give me the name of the person who has this thing, I’ll follow it up; thank you.’

‘Jolay Caic; he’s got a stall down by the long quay, anybody’ll tell you how to find it.’ As she spoke, Eseutz realised just what Javec had meant by,
Money isn’t really an issue
. A pity; she’d known Caic for a good few years, and he’d never done her any harm. ‘But it’s been a while,’ she added quickly. ‘For all I know, he may not have it any more.’

Javec shrugged. ‘I’m sure I’ll be able to track it down, if it does turn out to be a genuine piece. But that’s by the way.’ He moved his head slightly and fixed his eyes on Athli. ‘Now then,’ he said, ‘I imagine that you’re about to point out that I have no jurisdiction over you because you’re a Shastel citizen, and by detaining you I’m risking a diplomatic incident. Well, for a start I think that at best you’ve got dual nationality and in all likelihood you’re just as much of an Islander as these three; but I’m not going to get involved in that, because I just don’t have the time or the energy. Let me put it this way: I’d suggest to you that staying put where we can keep an eye on you and protect you is very much in your best interests, just as it’s in the best interests of your ward, Theudas Morosin. You two are probably closer to Captain Loredan than anybody else outside his family, and naturally that puts you at risk. If you accept what I’m saying - and you’re a sensible young woman, so I’m sure you do - these tiresome issues of citizenship and jurisdiction simply don’t arise, and we won’t have to waste time on them. Do you agree?’