Firstworld Read online

  The bank employee wrote out a receipt, signed it with a flourish and put a mage’s seal to it. Then he produced an application form for an account. In a neat hand he wrote down their particulars. They signed, received a copy each and a stack of blank checks, and twenty libers in assorted coins.

  ‘My lady, my lords, the Weal Bank is enchanted to have you among our most honored clients. Please, if there is anything we can do, let us know.’

  He escorted them to the door, and in the hall they found the manager and the other staff lined up to the door to bow them out.

  ‘Fool show,’ Kyrus said when they were back on the street. ‘Still, five point six million libers...’

  ‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ Odysson beamed contentedly. ‘Even my mother didn’t get rich that fast.’

  ‘Don’t spend it all on buying rounds for your friends,’ Kambisha said with a deadpan face. ‘You guys get us some recruits, and we meet again around seven tonight, at the Liberator statue at the harbor.’

  The Roaring Walrus on Kyrus’ list was the tavern hotel in Seatome most frequented by merchant mates and cadets. Here he hoped to find the officers to man both his ship and No-R 77.

  At four in the afternoon, the common room was full of junior officers; many of who were not yet twenty years old.

  Kyrus stood in the door opening and looked at the rowdy crowds, hazily visible through a fog of tobacco smoke and fumes-of-alcohol.

  ‘Guy,’ a voice behind him said. ‘Let a fellow pass, will you? I need to drown in my last money.’

  Kyrus turned and saw a lanky youngster no older than seventeen, dressed in a threadbare cadet officer’s coat. He had a sharp face, and his black hair cut short, with fashionable false sideburns.

  ‘Why? About to sail?’

  The boy clenched his teeth. ‘Laid off.’

  ‘Shame,’ Kyrus said. ‘How come?’

  The boy was clearly full of it, for he didn’t mind telling him.

  ‘My captain objected to my scoring only seven point five for my last examination,’ he said with a flippancy that didn’t mask his bitter despair. ‘My captain wants his cadets better than some average bumboat skipper’s level. With two scores lower than eight point six, you’re out.’

  ‘Spoilt, he is!’ Kyrus was homeschooled, and the student’s hunt for good marks filled him with horror. ‘And now what?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ the boy said harshly. ‘Shipping out as a sailor, perhaps. Officer’s berths are as rare as wyrm princess eggs these days.’

  ‘Let’s have a cawah and talk it over,’ Kyrus said. ‘No alcohol, but I’ll pay.’ He patted his pocket with the expense money.

  ‘Cawah?’ the boy said disgustedly. ‘I want to get drunk.’

  ‘You don’t, really. You want a job.’

  The boy’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You know of any?’

  ‘That’s what I would discuss.’ Kyrus understood the other’s anger and frustration, but he wasn’t going to hire guys who needed alcohol to handle their problems.

  The boy looked him over. ‘You’re not merchant navy.’

  ‘I’m not. But I’m offering cawah and some sandwiches if you’re hungry. And maybe I know of a job.’

  ‘Food.’ The boy bit his lip. ‘I haven’t eaten since five this morning. All right, I can get drunk later.’

  They went in, and several others present called out to the boy to join them, but he shook his head and walked to a table in a far corner.

  A serving maid came over. ‘Drinks?’ she said, her mind far away.

  Kyrus grinned. ‘A big pot of cawah and a stack of sandwiches.’

  Now she stared at him, shocked out of her routine. ‘You got money?’

  Kyrus put a silver coin on the table and she swept it up without looking. ‘Cawah and sandwiches coming right up.’

  ‘A rich guy,’ the boy said. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Kyrus, and you?’

  ‘Joff of Mountharbor, late cadet of the Bluewing, and a graduate of the Seatome Marine School.’

  ‘I don’t know either,’ Kyrus said. ‘I’m a Peaks guy. Why don’t you tell me?’

  The boy did need to unburden, for he put his arms on the table and told of himself, his widowed mother, genteel poverty, the school—one of those private institutions that hoped to emulate the success of PTC’s schools—and of the Bluewing, a brand-new vessel with a ruthlessly ambitious captain. And apparently the man could afford to be ruthless.

  ‘You said it’s difficult to get a berth?’ Kyrus asked when Joff was finished with his tale of rejection.

  ‘Next to impossible.’ The boy picked up another sandwich and ate hungrily. ‘Those with a PTC certificate get all the best positions. My former captain wanted guys like that without having to pay PTC wages. We from the lesser schools are cheaper, but there are a lot of us.’

  Kyrus frowned. ‘Are those PTC schools better?’ Those institutes were one of Aunt Shaw’s favorite projects, and she was very proud of them.

  The boy gave a curt laugh. ‘Not really. They got better facilities, that’s all. The difference is, PTC gives a job guarantee.’

  ‘Ah,’ Kyrus said. ‘And yours don’t. It sounds like there are too many of those lesser schools.’

  Joff shrugged. ‘My mother didn’t know that when she signed me on and our school sure didn’t tell us.’

  ‘I can see that. Well, a seven point five doesn’t sound like a bad score. What was the subject?’

  ‘Economics. It wasn’t bad at all, but he got a guy who was better.’

  Kyrus gave an understanding nod. ‘Tough.’ He sipped his cawah and scowled. ‘Bilgewater. That’s no cawah.’

  He looked at Joff. ‘Look, My crowd needs capable guys for a secret exploration project. Outside the Weal, hush-hush, and totally legal. We offer standard pay but very good prospects. There is danger, both from strange lands and possible enemies.’

  ‘A sea voyage?’ Joff’s eyes brightened. ‘Going to explore the south?’

  ‘No,’ Kyrus said. ‘And I am not going to tell you here. If you accept, I will show you. We need to crew two ships. Are there any others for hire around here?’

  ‘Several.’

  ‘Why don’t you call them over?’ Kyrus said, grinning.

  Joff grabbed the last sandwich and dove into the press. After some ten minutes he came back with four others; two boys and two girls.

  ‘These are the still sober ones.’

  Kyrus looked them over—two Vanhaari, a longhaired Kell and a Garthan.

  ‘Hi. You’re all seeking a berth?’

  ‘Sure,’ the Kell said. ‘You need explorers?’

  ‘I do,’ Kyrus said. ‘Interested?’

  ‘Anything to get out of here. A-ny-thing.’

  The others nodded.

  Kyrus rose. ‘You’re on. Let’s take a little walk.’ He looked at the timepiece over the bar. ‘A quarter to nine. My twin will be waiting for us at the Liberator; she’s the boss of our outfit.’ He slammed his fists together. ‘She was going to tackle the recruiting offices. With a bit of luck she found us some army guys, too.’

  ‘Army?’ Joff said. ‘Are we going to conquer something?’

  ‘You never know,’ Kyrus said mysteriously.

  ‘I don’t mind,’ the longhaired Kell boy said. ‘As long as it pays and is legal.’

  The Wicked Wyrm was a club, not a bar, but the scene greeting Odysson wasn’t all that different from the Walrus.

  He smiled. Only here the masses were of the mage sort, and the big signs saying “No Battle Magic Inside” on every wall were as grim as the stern-faced proctors standing ready to enforce the rule.

  He hadn’t been here for months; graduation, and his attempts at artifact collecting had absorbed most of his time, but even so he knew many faces in the crowd and he had to shake a lot of hands as he crossed the large room.

  Here, the young mages of Seatome gathered, to exchange news, look for jobs, and carouse. Not so much on alcohol; most mages found the stuff
didn’t react well to their magic, but they managed to get drunk on big talk just as easily.

  At the huge bulletin board with jobs offered and sought, he picked a blank sheet and wrote a short message. He pasted it centrally on the board, whistled, and when he had the attention of the room pointed his thumb at the note. Then he went to the bar.

  ‘You looking for a job?’ the stout barkeep said, as he mixed a double Tropical Glow Special Sparkle lemonade for him.

  Odysson paid and grinned. ‘Hiring.’

  The barkeep whistled softly. ‘Are you now? That’ll make you the man in town.’

  Soon, Odysson found himself the center of an eager crowd.

  ‘Adventure, strange lands, danger and high pay.’ A tall, thin girl clutched his shoulder. ‘I must be in! Don’t you dare go without me, Ody!’

  Odysson knew her as Noya, a particularly strong elementalist with a love of loud bangs and drama. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

  ‘Healers and mindmages get a bonus,’ a small Vanhaari said. ‘I’m both, that’s a double bonus?’

  ‘We can discuss that, Holyn.’ Odysson knew the guy was brilliant, so he was willing to pay what he asked. ‘Why haven’t you got a job yet?’

  Holyn shrugged. ‘I got offers, but they’re all boring. Lab work, testing, grading students; I expect more. If you’re going to offer me just another of these, I’ll be cross with you, Odysson Harwans.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Odysson said. ‘I promise I won’t.’

  ‘Good,’ the boy said. ‘Then I’ll come and see what you do have.’

  Another two hours later, Odysson had collected a sizable crowd. ‘Time’s up, folks. If anyone else wants to know more, let them leave their name and address on the board; I’ll be in touch.’

  The barman waved, and Odysson led them outside.

  Meanwhile Kambisha went to the Labor Exchange, where those looking for work registered.

  Here, too, she was recognized, and there fell an expectant silence as she walked past the rows of waiting applicants.

  At the counter, a stout clerk came to his feet. ‘My lady,’ he said, unable to hide his surprise at seeing the Wyrmcaller’s daughter. ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘I am hiring,’ she said. ‘Young people only, between sixteen and twenty. It is for a secret enterprise outside the Weal, with high wages and very good prospects. We need technicians, engineers, mages of all classes, mariners, soldiers, adventurers. Any others can leave their personal information and we’ll see whether we can use them.’

  ‘Give us twenty-four hours, my lady.’ The woman jotted down the details. ‘Tomorrow at five in the afternoon, will that suit you?’

  ‘Perfect,’ Kambisha said. ‘I or one of my partners will be here.’ She smiled. ‘That will be either my brother, or Lord Odysson Harwans.’

  The woman smiled. ‘Your names alone should act as a magnet, my lady.’

  Kambisha grinned back. ‘I don’t think we will disappoint them.’

  As she walked to the door, a young woman looked at her. ‘Please, my lady; do you need any tough guys?’

  ‘As long as they know how to obey orders and work within an organization, I prefer them tough. Do you know any?’

  ‘My cousin. He’s with a street gang. Not the criminal type,’ she added hastily. ‘At least not very, but I’d like them off the streets, you see. If you’d offer them a decent job and some fun, they’ll be good as gold. Their boss boy is a Kell and not the lawless type either. They’re hanging out in the old quarter, where the orphanage was.’

  Kambisha nodded. ‘I will keep it in mind; thank you.’

  A Kell gangleader? There weren’t all that many criminal Kells. The clan wouldn’t stand for it, so most of them behaved. Looking up, she saw she had instinctively chosen the road into the old quarter.

  The Clam Street orphanage, where her father and Odysson’s parents had lived, was burned down long ago, and the area had slipped even further into ruin. There was talk of demolishing everything and building new houses, but until now it had remained that, talk.

  Suddenly she found her way blocked by a wheeled barricade, and burly city guards watching her hard-eyed.

  ‘Your business?’ a sergeant snapped.

  ‘Is my own,’ she said coolly, and showed the rarely used badge that identified her as a ruler’s daughter.

  The sergeant sighed deeply and saluted. ‘I see, my lady. There is trouble ahead, and I suggest you turn back.’

  The way he said “my lady” told her he wished her a thousand miles away, and she raised an eyebrow in response.

  ‘What trouble, Sergeant? I, too, have some official business here.’

  ‘Yes, my lady?’ The sergeant didn’t believe her, but wasn’t about to challenge a ruler’s brat. ‘We’re hot on the tail of a bunch of ruffians, my lady. Street punks the city council wants arrested.’

  ‘What have they done that you came out in force? Murdered the mayor?’

  ‘No, my lady.’ For a second, the sergeant’s face was wistful—the mayor was not a popular man. ‘Gang fights, breaking and entering, that sort of thing. A few days ago, those young punks took out the Dullon Gang. Now those were murderers; kidnappers and armed robbers too, but to leave the whole gang trussed up like chickens on the Castle steps for us was too much. We can’t have that, my lady. That’s our job.’

  She fully understood his offended manhood and managed not to smile. ‘Of course. Before you go into action, let me finish my business first, Sergeant.’

  He saluted again. ‘Certainly, my lady. But beware those ruffians don’t drag you from the streets as a hostage.’

  ‘They won’t,’ she said. ‘Who leads this terrible gang?’

  ‘A Kell kid they call Ram, my lady. A hellion even if he’s only seventeen.’

  Kambisha nodded and walked past the barricade.

  This part of the town had been built long before the Unwaari war, now a hundred-and-twenty-five years old, and slowly falling apart. Most of the houses were derelicts, hollow-eyed and empty, lining streets overgrown by weeds.

  She came to Clam Street. Across from the eyesore hole that had been the orphanage was a large house. Once the home of a rich wheat merchant, Kambisha thought, noting the rows of corn sheaves that decorated the façade.

  The cracked window showed some light, and she sent out a thought. Inside the room she found six boys bunched together round a small brazier and eating something from a large tin. One of them, a massive Kell, was clearly the leader and the few times he spoke, the others listened.

  Yes, Kambisha said to herself, as she lightly skimmed their minds. That woman was right; they are what I’m looking for.

  She entered the house and walked into the room.

  ‘What?’ the Kell said sharply.

  Two boys rushed at Kambisha, big local guys with hard faces. She gripped one, lifted him off his feet and crashed him into the other. Both tumbled to the ground. A third, thinner guy screeched, and a knife flashed in his hand. Kambisha’s fist squeezed his fingers, and the knife fell. She threw the boy aside and got her strong hands on the tunics of the two lads left from the leader. She just heaved them up, shook them and dropped them contemptuously on top of the first two.

  Then, fists to her side, Kambisha faced the gangleader. He was taller, almost a full-grown male, bald-shaven and massively built, with a broken and badly healed nose and a nasty scar over his right cheek. Not beautiful, but yummy as heck, and she suppressed an urge to whistle.

  ‘Now you want to fight me?’ His voice was cool, but his eyes were both angry and reflecting the loss of being a Kell without a clan.

  ‘I didn’t come to fight you guys at all.’ Kambisha kept her face, voice and breathing steady. ‘If that’s your standard mode, you are useless to me.’

  Two boys made as if to attack again, but the leader waved a hand and they stopped. ‘If you didn’t come to fight, why are you here?’ He didn’t sound like a renegade kicked from his clan; his words had a vague coastland accen
t, but educated and confident. Better and better.

  ‘I want to hire you,’ Kambisha said bluntly. ‘Strictly legal, out of the country, decent pay, danger. Why? Because you seem the guys I need. Other point, and that has nothing to do with me, but I guess you wanna know—the guard didn’t like you pissing in their faces with that Dullon Gang. They barricaded the streets and will get you if you stay here.’

  ‘City guard?’ the thin boy said quickly. ‘How many?’

  ‘Thirty on the barricade I saw,’ Kambisha said. ‘And there were more. Too many.’

  The gangleader waved it away. ‘Who are you? You fight like a Kell, yet you are only half of one.’

  Kambisha eyed him grimly. ‘Half of half of one. Yet I come from the best and I was trained by the best. I’m Kambisha.’ She knew he’d know her. All Kells knew her, or rather, her elders, and no Kell would falsely claim to be her.

  He stared at her. ‘Kambisha daughter of Kellani daughter of Maud of the Kell. And you won’t be kidding either. All right. You got a deal. First, we need out of here. We have an escape route...’

  ‘Do you for some strange reason have to do it the heroic way?’ Kambisha said. ‘If so, by all means, but my road is quicker and circumvents problems with the law.’

  ‘In that case we do it your way,’ he said. ‘Guys, get your stuff together; we’re moving out.’

  They were efficient, Kambisha saw. In minutes, their gear was packed and all signs of their presence removed from the room.

  ‘We’re ready,’ Ram said. ‘Where do we go to?

  ‘First to the Liberator to meet my brother and hopefully some other guys. After that, you’ll see when we’re there.’

  ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Ram?’ the thin boy said.

  The leader turned his scowling eyes on the boy. ‘She’s daughter to Kell’s greatest heroes, Kellani and Queen Maud. And if that’s not enough, she’s the flippin’ Wyrmcaller’s eldest. Now shut up.’

  ‘She doesn’t look like it,’ the boy said, still rubbing his squashed hand.

  Kambisha grinned. ‘Be sure I do, mate. I got my father’s size, my mother’s muscles and my grandmother’s character. Now, if you’re ready?’