Every time a ship came into port, Plank would send his divers down to replace the sailcloth in the baffles, and to make sure the mechanisms worked smoothly. But only those divers saw how the baffles were made, and only the captains of the ships understood how the mechanisms were controlled.

It was up to the King to decide how large a crew these wallowing merchantmen would carry, and how well the men might have been trained for war.

Two years later, when Plank’s overseer, the steward of the royal factories, retired, it was Plank, and not the man’s own son, who was appointed to the post. “Because you serve me so loyally,” said Prayard, “doing for the King what the King cannot even think to ask.”

That was how Plank became Keel, master of shipyards, wagonyards, smithies, road graders, armorers, and all other manufactories that served the royal will. As Keel, he did all that the King expected, preparing Iceway to be constantly ready for war while seeming to be committed to peace, and keeping the secret of it from all but a handful of the men who labored under him.

But the deepest secret of all was this: Keel was not loyal to the King at all.

Keel was loyal to Iceway. Not to the rocks and canyons, the fertile mountain valleys fed by icy streams, the great fjords that cut their way into the bitter coast, the islands where Icewegians kept their trading posts and fishing villages.

Keel was loyal to the people, one by one and all together, the nation of Iceway. As long as the King acted in the interest of the Icewegians, Keel obeyed and served. But if the King betrayed them, Keel did what was right for the survival and the freedom of the Icefolk.

That’s why, as Plank, he had never shown the levers to King Prayard’s father, for he was the man who had lost the war and betrayed Iceway with a humiliating treaty. Prayard, though, seemed to Keel to act in the interest of the people, and so he showed him the fleet that was ready for his use, should he choose to use it.

But King Prayard did not use the fleet. He was grateful enough—Keel’s advancement to a place of greater trust and authority, not to mention wealth and status, was proof of that. But the King did not use the hidden warfleet. He stayed married to the Birdbrain of Gray, the useless Bexoi. He allowed the men of Gray to strut through the streets of Kamesham unkilled, he allowed the ambassador and his spies to have the run of the castle Nassassa without a taste of poison or the cold bite of a dagger in the ear.