The Merchant of Dreams (Night's Masque, #2)(100)

"I… I have a very great favour to ask of you, sir. One which I hope you will grant, in light of our past friendship." He paused, searching for the right words.

"Go on," Kiiren said.

He cleared his throat. "Our people have been allies for many years. Our ships harry the Spanish when they threaten your shores, and ofttimes escort your trade vessels across the Atlantic to England."

"This is true."

"And our Queen welcomed you into her realm, giving you the island of Sark for your sole use."

"For how much longer?" Kiiren asked.

Mal stared at him for a long moment. "You think the Crown will withdraw the lease?"

"You have been back to London. Are my people still welcome?"

Mal had no reply to that. When had England ever truly welcomed the skraylings? It had always been an uneasy alliance at best.

"Why Venice?" he said at last.

"They are great merchant nation, like us, and we hear they are no friends of Great Father in Rome."

"True enough, but their ships seldom venture outside the Mediterranean. If you want an alliance with a seafaring nation, the Dutch would be a better choice." He glanced at Coby, but his companion was staring at the skrayling books as if trying to decipher them by force of will alone.

"With respect to your friends," Kiiren said, "followers of Luther do not like my people either. They call us demons. No, we need friends who put profit before your God."

Mal laughed. "Then you've come to the right place after all."

"I wonder." Kiiren shook his head sadly.

"You must know why I was sent here," Mal said. "The Privy Council wishes to know what trade agreements have been made with the Venetians."

"Has not your Queen an ambassador for such things?"

"She does, but how much can he find out without endangering his position here? The truth may come out in due course, but the Council desires swifter news."

"And so you want me to tell you."

"Yes."

"There is little to tell," Kiiren said with a sigh. "We do not go forward as well as I hope."

"As well as you hope? This is not your clan's business."

"It is my people's business. Clans may vie for repute, but their successes benefit us all."

Mal frowned. None of this got him any further forward in his own mission.

"Will you at least tell me, sir, if you do make progress?"

"That will not be easy," Kiiren said. "Your game with actors cannot be repeated, I think."

"Can you not write to Master Catlyn, perhaps via a gobetween?" Coby put in. She gestured to the sheets of skrayling writing. "These letters would be as good as any cipher, if you could but teach me their meaning."

"That would hide the contents, but declare the sender as clearly as if Kiiren had raised a signal flag from the roof of the fondaco." He smiled fondly at her. "But it is a good idea for a future cipher, in less troubled circumstances."

They sat in silence for long moments, each deep in thought.

"There is one way," Mal said at last. "In my dealings with the guiser, I learnt how to dreamwalk, or at least how to control it. You and I could talk at will, and the Venetians would be none the wiser."

"Apart from your guiser friend," Kiiren said. "She has sold others' secrets; can you trust her not to betray you?"

"Aye, there's the rub." He still did not know for certain that it was she who had saved him from the strappado. Sandy was right. He could have been deceived – or had deceived himself.

"If you were to be rid of her…" Kiiren spread his hands.

"That could be difficult," Mal said. "I told her I would get rid of the skraylings first."

"What?" Coby stared at him.

"She wants to be reborn here in Venice; start a new life, free of the Bragadin scandal. As a babe, she would not be able to eavesdrop on us. But…" He could not meet their eyes. "She wants me to be her amayi."

"Amayi to one of the ancients?" Sandy – or rather, Erishen – leant on the door jamb. Mal hadn't even heard him approach. "You have come on since we last met."

Mal ignored him. "If you could persuade the elders to leave the city, just for a while…"

"Alas, I cannot," Kiiren said. "I am but–"

"–a vessel for words. Yes, I know."

"There is a solution to both our problems," Sandy said.

"Oh?"

"Hennaq's case against us is not strong. He may be open to an alternative, one that will enhance his reputation far beyond anything he currently dreams of. To be the first among us to return one of the Lost Ones to her homeland…"

"You want to give him Olivia? No."

"Why not? Do you want to be her amayi?"

"No." He gave Coby a reassuring look, and she smiled wanly. "No, I do not."

"Then you leave her to die, alone and friendless. That is not a kindness, even to your enemy."

The argument was difficult to gainsay. "I should ask her–"

"And if she refuses? What then?" Sandy sighed, and came over to crouch by Mal, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Trust me, brother, it is for the best. For everyone."