Chapter 2
Ordered Hubbub
After Captain Kel and his crew returned to their skycity, the Archon invited Tab, Amelia and Philmon into the throne room.
Tab's eyes wandered across immense tablets, up the vast tapestries on the walls, and further up to the vaulted ceiling. The councillors sat around an intricately carved wooden table. Tab hoped she wasn't in trouble again. She wouldn't mind being yelled at in the street, but something about these walls made it seem as though her actions were being judged and recorded for all time.
Verris began. His voice echoed in the hollow space. ‘At this stage we have negotiated for some grains and spices. We hope there will be more.’
‘A shame these gems aren't icefire, or ire ore,’ commented Stelka, turning a purple stone over in her hand. ‘The council has formed the opinion that since the sky-traders are the size of children it's only fair that they play sports against people their own size. If one of our soldiers was to knock a sky-trader down they might not want to trade with us.’
Storm leaned forward. ‘It's also been some time since many of us have played these games. You three may have a fresher memory of the rules,’ she admitted. ‘Tab, Philmon, Amelia, you're our number one team. Form a schedule to teach these sky-traders as many sports as you can come up with, and agreed rules. Be creative. The resources we can trade here may need to last us for some time.’
‘The council will be very busy at the negotiating table. Not to mention debating new trading laws,’ Drass Nibhelline added.
Tab thought Drass's debate sounded like the most boring thing in the whole world. She could have saved them a lot of time, because in the end she guessed the same people were going to get rich as they did before the Upheaval.
‘We'll want to see a revised schedule each morning and a report each evening. You can dine with us here in the palace. It's going to be a busy few days,’ Verris finished.
‘Yes, sir!’ replied Tab. Her stomach grumbled at the idea of regular meals. She wondered how many courses the councillors were used to eating.
I'm a long way from Figgin's dosshouse now! she thought, breaking into a grin.
Tab waited for the council meeting to be finished and then approached the Chief Navigator as she swept along the corridor. ‘Excuse me, ma'am, I'm wondering – how is Torby?’
Tab had not seen her young friend for a few weeks. After the two of them escaped from Tolrush, the Chief Navigator had whisked him into confinement. Publicly she said the child was exhausted, and Tab thought that was partially true, but Torby also had powerful gifts, and Tab guessed that was the real reason for Stelka's interest in him.
Stelka frowned. ‘Torby suffers a great deal. Nobody knows how long he was tortured by the Tolrushians.’
Tab rubbed the palm of her hand where she bore an ugly scar – a souvenir from her own experience in Tolrush's dungeons. ‘Maybe if we could visit ...’ she began.
The Chief Navigator cut her off. ‘His mind is broken. He has very little control of his gifts. Right now he is a danger to himself and others.’
‘But ...’
‘Torby cares for you a great deal. He is grateful that you rescued him, but right now his focus is on healing and mastering his powers with the guidance of magicians versed in the ancient arts. I assure you that he is not alone at any time.’ And with that the Chief Navigator hastened down the stairs and away.
During the next few hours the three youngsters sat around a table in one of the palace antechambers thrashing out a game schedule. The broad doors were open and Tab could see lines of young recruits forming in the square. Officers from the Sky Sailors’ Guild took their names and formed them into training teams. Even Tibbid, the town crier, helped out, standing as tall as his crooked frame would allow, directing traffic from atop an upturned barrel.
‘Over here for lokey spokey.’ Tibbid pointed. ‘The line in the centre is for baubles only. Baubles will be provided, but any children with their own set of knucklebones should join the queue on the left and advise the officer when they get to the front. We are still short on hooey balls. All equipment will be returned or replaced with an item of equal value.’
Meanwhile, Tab and Philmon, overwhelmed with the task before them, had started bickering.
‘Of course you can place a reverse tile on the opponent's reverse tile. It only makes a difference if there are more than two players,’ Philmon said.
‘You can not put down a reverse tile on another reverse tile no matter how many players there are!’ Tab argued. ‘Vrod?’ she appealed to the troll marine who was leaning against the wall nearby.
He considered for a moment. Finally he growled, ‘If anyone tried to put a reverse tile on mine I'd rip his arms off.’
‘There! See? Who's going to disagree with that?’ Tab exulted.
Amelia scratched her head, trying to find a compromise. ‘Maybe we could use the noreversetile rules just for these games?’
‘Fine,’ Philmon grumbled, crossing his arms. He stared out into the square where groups of children trained under the instruction of a magician or a guard. Tab followed his gaze and smiled when the Quartermaster, Dorissa, began jumping rope while children chanted, ‘Linky, binky, dinky, dye. Poke a needle in my eye ...’
The magician who had been scribing for their meeting yawned. Tab blushed. Everyone else was pitching in and here she was arguing over such a tiny thing. There wasn't time for that.
‘Verris said he wants to see as many games as possible. How about we set up two divisions, Philmon's rules and Vrod's rules?’ she suggested. ‘We might have to draw the line at ripping off arms though.’
Philmon smiled gratefully. ‘Sounds good. All right, let's move on to flugey.’
The three bent their heads together over the city map, nutting out the best venue, choosing referees and timekeepers. The scribe reached for another sheet of parchment.
Before long Captain Kel was ferrying over his crew of sky-traders in groups of ten. They brought baskets of pastries and fruits with them, and caskets of purple gems. Soon everyone in the city was tossing a gem in one hand and munching on a pie with the other.
A sky-trader named Chak brought the three games organisers a basket of cakes.
‘Mmm!’ Amelia licked her fingers. ‘So sweet!’
‘Here,’ Chak handed them each a purple jewel.
‘What are these anyway?’ Philmon asked.
‘They're Loraskian mood stones,’ Chak replied.
‘I thought mood stones were supposed to change colour,’ Amelia said, holding it up to her eye.
‘It would if you were Loraskian,’ Chak told her. ‘But to us they're about as useful as ...’
‘Hixasic measuring irons?’ Philmon guessed.
‘You got it!’ Chak giggled. ‘Pretty though.’
Tab reached for another slab of cake. ‘Thanks.’
‘You're welcome,’ Chak said and she glided out the door, offering her basket of goodies to people as she passed by.
The sky-traders took to the training enthusiastically. The innkeepers brought their tables out into the streets, or made up trestles with crates and old boards. Inspired Quentarans used the mood stones for baubles, and soon games were breaking out on the steps of buildings or in the alleys.
The city was ringing with the sound of laughter and cheers, thundering feet and the thwack of hooey balls.
Verris came into the anteroom to check on the progress of the organising committee. He leaned against the doorframe watching the barely ordered hubbub in the square.
‘What do you think, Vrod?’ he asked the troll, who was still propped against the wall just outside.
‘Sneakiest way of moving in an army I ever seen,’ Vrod grunted.
Tab looked up, alarmed. The sky-traders seemed so friendly, and the council so keen to trade that she had automatically taken them at their word. No wonder Verris had handed over the negotiations and the organising to others! Lord Verris wanted to keep his hands free to take care of a much bigger problem.
She looked around the square and saw that around every entrance to the Archon's Palace one of Verris's guards seemed to lounge, and a whole phalanx apparently engaged in betting on flugey stood just outside the Hub. Not one of them had taken a mood stone or eaten a sky-trader's snack.
In the middle of the square Verris's right-hand man Borges sent one of the marines some sort of complicated hand signal. She saw the marine nod in reply and then he headed off down the alleyway.
One look at her friends’ faces told Tab that they hadn't seen this possibility either. Philmon wiped the cake crumbs off the table thoughtfully.
Then Tab noticed something else. That sly trickster Fontagu Wizroth III lurked in an alley beside the Halls of Justice, absently rubbing one of the purple jewels against his cheek.
What's he up to? Tab wondered.