The publisher, like the bookseller, might be forced out of business by the financial crash. That would be unquestionably tough on me, and on a lot of other writers too. But nothing like as tough as for those four and a half thousand RabaHome.com employees, or the tellers and ordinary staff who worked for the banks now bankrupt, who face the possibility of finding themselves suddenly and entirely without an income.

I was thinking about money, something I usually tried to avoid doing. But it reminded me that the University of Dearth Historical and Literary Society still had not refunded my expenses on that trip. Nor had they paid my fee.

I sent an email reminder to Professor Wendow, with copies to his assistant in the Revisionist History department, and the controller of the finance department.

That’s something else writers have to do: beg for the money that someone else has neglected to send.

Meanwhile, the news from Fellenstel was good and bad.

The stricken ship had been patched up, then examined by marine experts. She was cleared to continue her voyage as far as the destination port named on the manifest: a military base on the coast of Sudmaieure. The ship had to be fully repaired and re-examined before she would be allowed to re-enter Archipelagian waters. Details of how this stipulation might be forced on a country fighting a war were not spelled out.

The darker news was that the young conscripts had been held below decks throughout the crisis, and were still confined in the crowded quarters as the ship sailed away. There was no information about their physical or mental condition after the ordeal. I could barely think about what they must be suffering.

The small armada of rescue tugs and salvage ships dispersed. Two of the larger tugs shadowed the troopship at a distance.

More than a week went by and I still had no response from Professor Wendow. I sent a second email pointing out that he had promised a prompt refund of my expenses. I added that to break a promise was unprofessional and would likely lead to stronger action from me. I attached copies of all my receipts, also his letter in which he had made the promise and offered the honorarium.

This is the second level of escalating reminders sent to recalcitrant payers. Here the unpaid writer has thrown aside the begging bowl – now there are dark hints of connections with footpads and muggers. We all know that threats are a waste of time: what could I do in reality to coerce him? The money would only be sent as and when it suited the university finance department, but for the time being a bit of bullying had its own quiet satisfaction.