Bequin kept herself to herself. She'd borrowed a set of fatigues from a work locker and I saw her about the ship, reading books she'd taken from my personal library. Poetry, mostly, and some historical and philosophical works. 1 didn't mind. It kept her out of my way.
On the third day of the voyage, I met Maxilla again, and we walked the upper promenade deck together. He seemed to enjoy telling me the histories and provenances of the ormolu-framed paintings displayed there. We saw the occasional servitor at work, but so far there had not been the slightest glimpse of any other living crewperson.
'Your friend, Fischig… he is an unsubtle man/ he remarked at length.
'He's no friend. And yes, he is unsubtle. Has he been asking you questions again?'
'I saw him briefly on the foredecks yesterday. He asked me if I knew a man called Eyclone. Even showed me a picture.'
And what did you say?'
He flashed his pearly teeth at me. 'Now who's interrogating?'
'Forgive my imprudence.'
He waved a lace-cuffed hand. 'Oh, forget it! Ask anyway! Get your questions out into the open so we can clear the air!'
Very well. What did you tell him?'
'That I did not.'
I nodded. 'Thank you for your candour.'
'But I was lying.'
I turned and looked at Maxilla sharply. He was still smiling. I had the sudden horrible notion that we had all walked into a trap and dearly wished I was carrying a weapon.
'Don't worry. I lied to him because he's an arrogant runt. But I'll give you the truth of it. I would never want to put myself in the path of an Imperial Inquisition.'
'A wise philosophy'
Maxilla flopped down on a satin couch and smoothed the front of his coat. 'I was last on Thracian Primaris two months ago. There was talk of some cargo and I held some meetings. The usual. And that's when this Eyclone enters the frame. Didn't call himself that, of course. Bless me, I forget the name he used. But it was him. Had others with him, a sour, tight lot. One called Crotes, a trade envoy. He tried to have me believe your man was authorised by the Guild Sinesias, but that was rubbish, even though Crotes had the paperwork.'
'What did he want?'
'He was hiring to make a ran, empty, to Gudrun, collect a cargo there, and bring it to Hubris.'
The nature of the cargo?'
We never got that far. I turned him down. It was preposterous. He was offering a decent fee, but I knew I'd make ten times that with my regular work.'
'You didn't get a contact name on Gudrun either?'
'My dear inquisitor, I'm just a shipman, not a detective.'
'Do you know who finally took his work?'
'I know who didn't.' He sat forward. 'I happen to keep up dialogues with other masters. Seems several of us turned it down, and most for the same reason/
'Which was?'
'It felt like trouble/
By the fifth day, my sleep patterns had begun to return to normal. Too normal, in fact, as Eyclone began to stalk my dreams again. In sleep, he came to me, taunting and threatening. I don't remember much detail, except the afterimage of his grinning face each time I woke.
In hindsight, though Eyclone was certainly in my dreams, I don't think it was his smiling face I was remembering.
The Essene translated back into real-space and entered the Gudrun system on the morning of the eighth day, ahead of schedule. Maxilla had boasted his ship was fast under optimum conditions and the boast hadn't been empty.
I had made arrangements with him to leave the Empyrean in the outreach of the system, considerably short of the busy local trade lanes that most arrivals to Gudrun followed. He agreed without question. It would only be a short delay.
'Who was she?' Bequin asked me as we stood at an observation bay watching the pale shape of Vibben's shrouded body slowly turn end over end as it drifted away from the Essene.
A friend. A comrade/1 replied.
'Is this how she wanted to go?' she asked.
'I don't think she wanted to go at all/ I said. Nearby, Aemos and Betan-core gazed gravely out of the thick port. Aemos's expression was unreadable. Betancore's dark face was drawn and anguished.
Lowink hadn't joined us, and neither had Fischig. But as I turned, I saw Maxilla standing respectfully at the rear of the observation bay, wearing a long mourning coat of black silk and a short periwig with black ribbons. He moved forward as he saw me look.
