‘It was worth a try, I suppose,’ Jastrabarsk said, palming back the quoin and returning it to his pocket. ‘But perhaps it’s for the best, all things considered. We all want a prize we can retire on, don’t we? But some things are better off left in baubles, and if anything ever qualified for that, it’s the stuff the Ghosties left behind.’ He looked a bit disappointed, but only a little bit. ‘That was by means of a bonus, I need hardly add. You both have your share of the earnings from the bauble, and if the brokers pay us more than we expect, I’ll make sure you receive your dividends. Is there anything more you feel you are owed?’

‘After you rescued us, it’s us who’s in debt,’ I said. ‘But I’ve got one thing to ask, Captain. When we’ve docked at Trevenza Reach, I need to squawk a message back home. I know it’s expensive with the commercial senders, the Reach being so far out, and I wondered if you could see your way to helping me.’

‘A transmission back to Mazarile, you mean?’

I nodded humbly. ‘I wanted to put my father’s mind at ease, sir.’

‘Then let me be the one to put your mind at ease,’ Jastrabarsk answered. ‘I already signalled the worlds, once we had you. It’s common protocol in the case of a rescue – so common that I didn’t think to mention it to you until now. I can’t believe that word won’t have reached your father weeks ago.’

‘That’s very good news,’ I said.

‘If you’d like to make another short transmission, you’d of course be absolutely welcome to use the squawk.’

‘On balance,’ I said, ‘I reckon you’ve already saved me the bother.’

10

10

With the few belongings that we had to our names, Prozor and I moved through the colour and chaos of the docks. It was weightless at the spindle, or as near as it mattered, and this only added to the confusion. There were coves everywhere – not just crews, but quartermasters, brokers, customs officers, revenue enforcers, confidence tricksters, pickpockets, drunks, harlots, prospective employees, salespeople, dock workers, vendors, musicians, even animals and robots and one or two watchful aliens. The stove smoke hazed the lungstuff and with every breath you picked up the sharp, cheap tang of perfumed incense burners. Lightvine and neon advertising struggled to push through this pastel smear, fighting for the last ragged trace of our wits.

It would have been disorientating to come here directly from Mazarile, but after weeks in the dark bellies of ships, the assault to the senses felt like a brutal, calculated siege.

‘Hold onto those quoins,’ Prozor said.

‘Where are we going?’