The Sword in the Sea - Chapter Five

Ravian rode to Belainus alone, travelling most of the day on the seldom-used road that was the alternative to sea travel between the manufacturing centre and the Tarcun capital. Arriving with an hour or so of daylight left, he took lodgings at a small but comfortable inn offering a pleasant view out over the shipbuilders' yards and down the harbour. After enjoying a simple but tasty dinner at his lodgings, he decided to take a walk in the warm, golden glow of sunset.

Belainus had grown at the end of a deep fissure in the otherwise unbroken line of cliffs that made up the Lee Shore. Ravian recalled from his religious studies that this chasm, a narrow "V" that reached almost a mile inland, was where the mighty sword of Delikas himself had struck during an epic battle with Kanavas, dark god of the underworld and eternal foe of everything pure and good. The uniformly precipitous cliff sides of the inlet certainly gave some weight to the legend, he thought. It was, indeed, as if some colossal blade had sliced into the coast and, apart from an area of tumbled, broken rock at the head of the inlet where the city had been built, access to the sea was limited to a small number of steep, dangerous trails.

Ravian strolled past the city's shipyard, a collection of sheds high enough above the ocean to be safe from the crashing swells of any southwesterly storm. He had visited Belainus on many occasions and knew that, on their completion, the fishing boats and smaller transport vessels produced there would be carefully lowered down what was, reputedly, the longest slipway in the Sapphire Sea.

He lingered at the top of the white stone structure, a monument to generations of toil, and admired the way its surface, as straight and smooth as a ruler, descended over the broken shoreline before disappearing into the gold-dappled ocean below. Above him, the other landmark of the town, an even greater feat of engineering than the slipway, bisected the deepening blue of the approaching twilight.

Belainus's cargo bridge, a miracle of engineering, constructed using countless layers of hardwood, arched from one side of the cliffs to the other. Its purpose, as every Tarcun knew, was not to provide a shortcut across the chasm, but to service vessels moored in the harbour below. The truck that ran backwards and forwards along the flat deck of the bridge was immobile now, its giant hook and pulley system hanging in silhouette against the sky, but Ravian knew that it could load a waiting merchantman to capacity in less time than it took for a turn of the tide.

As he had many times before, the Tarcun prince marvelled at the amount of effort that had been invested in turning what was, at best, a barely adequate natural feature into a functional port. Certainly, the generally precipitate coastline of the island meant that it was not well endowed with harbour sites and that might well have been reason enough for Belainus to develop as a fishing settlement. An odour denoting the main reason for the settlement's existence lingered in the evening air though and burned slightly in the prince's nostrils. Not far inland, he knew, a group of low hills held large quantities of copper ore, and the open mines there supplied the bulk of the raw material for the city's main industry, the smelting of bronze.

The following morning, in a discreet corner of the inn's forecourt, Ravian met with two men whose names headed a list that had been given to him by his father. Even though the town was only just beginning its working day, the foundries' pungent smell was already strong in the still, crisp air. This blended with the aroma of wood smoke from the city's many kilns, Belainus also having become a centre for pottery. The weather was fine and the sun was already warm on the prince's back when his guests arrived.

Lederalus, the smaller of Ravian' guests, was a wiry, wizened, monkey of a man who held the reputation of being the best shipwright in the city. His diminutive figure was dwarfed by the bulk of the second man, Aphorstra, who was, by reputation, the foremost metalsmith of the land. The elephantine craftsman was clearly somewhat of an Epicurean when he wasn't producing bronze products, Ravian thought to himself, Aphorstra's curly, black beard creating the impression that he had no neck at all.

Ravian greeted the pair over a table of light refreshments – far too light, said the look on Aphorstra's face – and outlined his idea. When he finished, Lederalus thoughtfully stroked his grizzled beard and said nothing, but Aphorstra was immediately scornful.

'Impossible, Your Highness!' he scoffed, his body quivering like a disturbed jellyfish. 'No one could cast a bronze the size you are talking about for your test model – let alone one big enough for a full-sized longship!'

'And just what would be the problem?' asked Ravian, trying not to let the obese man's negativity irk him.

'For start,' the metalsmith blustered, 'the keel for your model alone would consume almost all the tin currently in the treasury – the cost would be astronomical! The other thing is that, especially with the thickness of cross-section that you're talking about, the maximum length that we could cast in one piece would be no longer than a man's arm. We simply don't have the ability to produce anything longer.'

'As far as the tin goes,' replied Ravian, knowing that the metal had to be imported, 'if there isn't enough in the treasury you will just have to buy supplies from private holdings at market rates. Concerning the cost, this experiment is underwritten by the Royal House. As far as it being impossible goes, you must simply find a way.'

'There is no way – Your Highness!' Aphorstra reiterated.

Lederalus spoke for the first time, so quietly that both Aphorstra and Ravian had to lean towards him in order to hear.

'What about those big statues you occasionally flog off to the wealthy, Aphorstra?' he asked. 'Surely you don't cast them in one piece?'

Aphorstra rolled his eyes, and Ravian realised there was no love lost between the two men. His mission, he thought, was starting badly.

'Most of them we can cast in one piece but it's a different technique to what we are talking about here,' the big man explained impatiently. 'For those we make a very thin casting so that the molten bronze fills the mould in one, clean pour.'

'Yes, but what about that monstrosity in front of your house?' pursued the old shipbuilder, his eyes twinkling. 'Surely something that size couldn't possibly be cast in one pour, no matter how thin the casting was?'

Ravian would later get the point of Lederalus's jibe. The "monstrosity" he referred to was, in fact, a life-size statue of Aphorstra himself.

The metalsmith glared at the older man.

'Oh very funny, you little woodworm!' he snarled. 'As it happens, no, an artwork of that scale cannot be cast in one piece. As I recall, it was in five sections that were welded together – but welding won't be strong enough for the purpose His Highness is suggesting.'

'What is this welding technique?' asked Ravian.

Now it was the prince's turn to endure the smith's withering glare.

The bronze workers of Tarcus produced the best alloy in the world, the exact composition and ratios kept secret within an exclusive guild on pain of death, and Aphorstra clearly found it tedious to explain the basics of metalworking to a non-craftsman, even a royal one.

'Well, Your Highness,' he eventually began, 'after the individual sections have been cast, we assemble them into a master mould that holds them in finished position. We then introduce molten bronze into the small gap between the pieces, and this slightly melts the edges of the precast sections so that the whole becomes one after cooling. It is a process requiring great skill but, in the end, only a craftsman' – a poisonous look at Lederalus – 'can tell where the welding lines are. However – and I feel that I must repeat myself – this process will not be strong enough for your purposes.'

'But we are not dealing with an object of art here, Aphorstra,' pressed Ravian. 'We are planning a substantial device. Surely, if the keel must be caste in several pieces, then the joining surfaces could be shaped to key into each for additional strength?'

'Hmmm,' Aphorstra said, at least seeming to consider the idea, 'it may be possible, Your Highness, but I certainly couldn't guarantee the outcome'.

Ravian leaned across the table towards the two men and allowed his voice to rise.

'Gentlemen, I repeat; this experiment is underwritten by the Royal House and is undertaken with the king's authority. Let me assure both of you that it will' – he thumped his fist on the table – 'be carried out to the best of your abilities. You will be fully remunerated for the work and I expect your full' – another bang on the table – 'co-operation in return!'

Both men sat upright in surprise. The king's pup may have a bite, their expressions said.

'Now,' Ravian continued in a calmer tone, 'we have to consider the issue of secrecy. I want as few people as possible to know what we are about here. You will need to purchase land and build enclosures for casting the keel and – when we get to that point – building the ship. This will need to be as close to the slipway as possible. I don't care how you manage your workers, I just want you to understand that I will hold you both responsible if so much as a whisper of this project should reach the ears of anyone not directly involved with it. Is that understood?'

Both men nodded.

'I will return in ten days, when I shall expect you to report on the progress you've made,' Ravian continued. 'I gather that there is a traditional rivalry in this city, between those who work in metal and those who work in wood. Put that rivalry aside and work together, Gentlemen. The craft that I have in mind will combine both elements as one and you will, therefore, need to work as one to create it. Are there any questions?'

Both men shook their heads in silence.

'Until ten days time then, Gentlemen, goodbye,' he told them. 'If I leave now, I should just about get back to the White City by midnight.'

Ravian rode out of the city, leaving the two craftsmen to settle their differences and to begin the task of translating his idea into reality. He had liked the look of Lederalus but he was less impressed with Aphorstra's attitude. Still, he reminded himself, he had not expected a member of the bronze workers' guild to fall over himself to cooperate with the Royal House.

The manufacture of bronze implements, both for export and domestic consumption, was a hugely profitable business that had both required and funded the construction of the cargo bridge. The Tarcun bronze workers also made the world's finest weapons, however, they were forbidden to do so except by government contract and then only for the national armoury. Many of their number saw this regulation as an unfair denial of their right to the obscene wealth an export trade in arms would surely have brought them, and their resentment towards the Royal House had become embedded over generations.

The following evening, Ravian was, again, in Sinur's bed.

'I need to take Wind Song out on exercises with the fleet the day after tomorrow,' he told her after they had made love. 'We will probably be gone for seven days or so. After that, I should be back for a couple of nights before I need to return to Belainus for a few days.'

'What's the big attraction in Belainus?' Sinur asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

'My Love, I'm sorry but I can't tell you,' he said. 'In fact, I must ask you to keep my whereabouts secret whenever I ride northwest.'

'And how long do you expect this to go on?' she asked, a slight edge to her voice.

'I can't be exact, I'm afraid,' he said in a placating tone, 'but I think maybe a year – not much more.'

'All right,' Sinur sighed, putting her arm around his neck and pulling herself close to him, 'I suppose that I just have to accept the demands of the kingdom. There had better not be another woman involved, that's all.'

He looked into her eyes in the low light of the single candle in the room.

'Sinur, I love you,' he told her, meaning every word. 'You have my promise that I have eyes for no one else.'

'It's not your eyes I'm worried about,' she whispered, as she began to caress him.

Thus, Ravian began to see Sinur less frequently as he continued to perform his duties as Wind Song's captain, as well as journeying northwest to check on the progress of the experimental vessel. When the prince next returned to Belainus however, he was pleasantly surprised to find that Lederalus and Aphorstra had not been idle since their first meeting.

On his arrival, the pair presented him with a bronze keel section approximately the length of his forearm and about as wide. Its shape was quite different to his expectations – almost triangular in cross-section and with a deep recess in two sides while, below each recess, a groove half the depth of his thumb ran the length of the sample.

'It was Lederalus's idea,' said Aphorstra, 'to facilitate construction.'

Lederalus produced some lengths of wood and demonstrated how the ribs of the ship would fit into the recesses and the planks of the hull into the groove below, so that the lower edge of the keel projected like a blade from between the layers of timber.

'Caulking around the keel is going to be tricky,' the shipbuilder pronounced, 'but, overall, the strength of the hull should be no different to that of a conventional craft as long as the keel itself is as strong as a wooden one. Unfortunately, in comparing this moulding to a similar length of timber keel, I have found that it will be too heavy, even allowing for the ballast we usually place in a longship. I have asked Aphorstra to lighten it by removing some volume from the top centre.'

'Will that affect the strength of the construction?' Ravian asked, turning to Aphorstra.

The big man spread his hands.

'Your Highness, the question of strength will lie not in the thickness of the moulding, but at the points where the sections are welded together. As you can see, we have moulded a key into each section so that it can interlock with its neighbour. That should take some strain off the welds but, if they let go…well,' – he shrugged – 'you'll have a vessel with a keel that wriggles like a snake and leaks like a sieve.'

'That must not happen,' said Ravian, with some force.

'Please, Your Highness, don't insult us by thinking we don't understand that,' said Lederalus quietly. 'Once we've finalised the cross-section's shape and weight, we can go ahead and cast all the pieces that we will need to form a complete keel. When we've welded it together, we'll test the strength against a wooden keel for a vessel of the same dimensions.'

'Very well,' Ravian said, mollified to see that Lederalus and Aphorstra seemed to be taking the project seriously. 'When do you expect to be ready to weld?'

'It will take time, Your Highness,' said Aphorstra. 'We still have to finalise the cross-section of the sample. Once we've done that, each additional section will need to be individually moulded to give Lederalus the shape he requires – that will be about fifty different moulds. The best I can suggest is that, if I turn half my workforce to the task, we should have all the parts ready to weld two months from now.'

This was, in fact, faster than Ravian had expected. He was pleasantly surprised that Aphorstra was committing so much resource to the project.

'I saw that you had started work on the sheds and foundry as I rode in,' he said to the two men. 'When will you be able to move the operation inside?'

'In just a few days, Your Highness,' Lederalus replied. 'My boys can't really begin their work until the keel is completed, so I have turned them to building the new premises in the meantime. Have you considered what you will do if we take the project to full-scale production?'

'Not up until now,' Ravian admitted, 'but I think that it would be prudent to secure some more property handy to the slipway. We'll need enough land for three full-sized construction sheds, as well as foundry big enough to handle production of a full-sized keel. The purchase must be made discreetly, mind you – I'll let you make up your own story as to what it's for. Aphorstra, how are we going to be off for tin?'

'I calculate that there will, after all, be enough in the treasury for this project, Your Highness,' the bronze worker told him. 'I'd like to suggest though, that we begin to build up stocks for a full-sized keel – if the project is to go that far. If we slowly increase our rate of consumption it shouldn't affect the market prices in Ezreen and it might reduce the chances of anyone there becoming suspicious.'

Ravian returned to Belainus a few days later to inspect the remodelled keel section and, over the next few weeks, he rode out to the city to check on progress whenever his sea-going requirements allowed.

Lederalus' men had completed the new foundry and, as each section of the keel was finished, the casting took its place in a master mould laid out on its side on the floor. The mould hinted at the complete line of the keel from stem to stern and Ravian was excited as his idea continued to progress toward becoming reality.

Sinur continued to be supportive through his absences although Ravian had to accept that, when he was away, a number of different young, male Tarcuns escorted to her social functions. After all, he told himself, he couldn't expect her to attend unescorted and he certainly didn't expect her to abandon her social life on his account. Still, even though he loved her and trusted her, he couldn't avoid the occasional pang of jealousy. Then, one evening, a fateful breeze blew Wind Song into harbour fully two days before he had expected to return from a patrol about the Delenes Islands.

Ravian was aware that he had arrived on the date that a popular playwright called Crosthenes was to present a long-awaited new work. The sun was just beginning to set as he raced to the palace to quickly bathe and dress for the evening, before walking to Lemalus's house.

'She left ages ago,' Lemalus archly informed him when he got there. 'Went with some young fellow called Giogenes or something.'

The prince knew Giogenes, a young captain in the palace guard. He was a decent, likeable fellow and had escorted Sinur on more than one occasion.

Ravian walked the now familiar road down to the amphitheatre. As he arrived, he realised that the play was already over and, as was customary, the playwright, the actors and some privileged members of the audience were enjoying a celebratory wine together onstage. Loud conversation and gay laughter filled the warm evening air, as Ravian descended the stairs to look for Sinur and Giogenes. Unexpectedly, he encountered the young captain leaning against a pillar, goblet in hand and deep in conversation with another young officer he didn't know.

'How are you, Giogenes?' he began. 'Where's…?'

A burst of laughter from the stage cut his question short and, wordlessly, Giogenes rolled his eyes in that direction.

They were a group of about ten in the centre of the crowd – Sinur, Crosthenes, Precedius, some painted actors he didn't know, some citizens in gleaming white robes and…Graticus.

Ravian hadn't seen his old foe since the days of the Academy, although he was aware that Graticus had already inherited his father's house and was, from all accounts, building it into an increasingly powerful financial institution. Even though he recognised him instantly, he saw that time had already wrought some changes on his enemy. Graticus was still an impressive and powerful figure, towering above everyone else in the group, yet Ravian could see signs of excess – a slight fullness in the face, the hint of a paunch beneath the robe. It was discreetly whispered about the city that, of the many appetites that the wealthy merchant indulged in, a liking for food and wine were two of the more acceptable.

As Ravian approached the group, everybody's attention was on Graticus as he continued what was obviously a highly amusing anecdote. Sinur stood next to him, her smile broad and encouraging as the tall man made a humorous point that Ravian couldn't hear and, once again, the group roared with mirth. Laughing with the rest, Sinur put her hand on Graticus's arm and Ravian felt his intestines knot. Then she looked across and saw him, her face lighting up in a delighted smile.

'Ravian, Darling, you are home so early!' she called out. 'Come and meet an old friend of mine!'

Ravian walked forward as though in a dream, his eyes taking in every movement and detail.

The casual way that Sinur's hand dropped from Graticus's arm.

The subtle way they moved apart from each other.

The malicious smile on Precedius's painted face.

The same, malevolent, green gleam in Graticus's eyes that he remembered from his youth.

Then they were standing toe to toe, the hairs on the back of Ravian's neck lifting as if in a cold breeze.

'Graticus,' Sinur began, 'this is my Gallant Sea Captain. May I present…'

'There's no need for introductions, My Dear,' Graticus interrupted smoothly. 'Prince Ravian and I are old classmates. Isn't that right, Your Highness?'

'Well, we certainly shared some times together,' Ravian managed to get out.

Graticus was immaculately groomed and exuded a discreet scent of sandalwood. Ravian was suddenly very aware that he had barely washed and that his tussled hair was still stiff with sea salt.

'Phew!' he heard Precedius say from behind him. 'Does anyone else smell fish?'

Ravian ignored the actor.

'I understand that you have taken over your father's house,' Ravian said to Graticus. 'My congratulations.'

'Well,' replied the green-eyed man, 'someone has to make some money to pay for the navy's games.'

Ravian flushed at the blunt insult. He had been prepared to be neutral with Graticus for the sake of appearances, but he now realised that his enemy was even less in control of his animosity than he was himself.

'Now, now, Graticus,' he replied tightly, 'you know that Tarcus needs a navy so that the principles of the Nine Houses can get fat on their profits.'

At the word "fat", he let his eyes flicker meaningfully to Graticus's expanded waistline. The larger man tensed and leaned towards him and Ravian knew that – then and there, in front of the assembled citizens and actors – he and Graticus were about to do battle.

Sinur's eyes flicked disbelievingly from one man to the other and she quickly stepped between them.

'Darling, you have been away far too long,' she said, facing Ravian. 'Excuse us everybody. I want my Gallant Sea Captain all to myself for a while.'

Taking him by the arm, she gently but firmly turned him around and propelled him out of the group.

Behind them, he heard Precedius say, 'Take him, Sinur. Nobody else wants him,' followed by the sniggering of the rest of the group.

Ravian stopped and spun around to confront their vacant, laughing faces. Graticus wasn't laughing though, and his green eyes glared back at the prince as though their fight at the Academy had been only yesterday.

He felt Sinur tugging urgently on his arm and, reluctantly, followed her outside.

'Darling, what was that about?' Sinur asked as they walked towards her father's house in the moonlight.

'I'm sorry,' he replied honestly, 'but I don't really know.'

He collected himself, his blood cooling in the night air, before attempting to explain.

'It just seems that, from the first day that he and I met, Graticus and I have loathed each other. We were bitter enemies at the Academy and I haven't seen him since. Now, after all this time, it's obvious that nothing has changed. I didn't realise that you knew him.'

'Oh,' said Sinur airily, 'Graticus and I are old friends. We used to go to all the shows together.'

Again, Ravian felt his stomach knot.

'You mean that he was your boyfriend?' he asked tightly.

Sinur laughed.

'Oh, for a while,' she said. 'We were very young then and it was never serious. By the time you and I met, it was long over.'

'I would have thought it was a pretty good match,' he said harshly. 'Why did you stop seeing each other?'

She stopped and regarded him seriously in the moonlight.

'Oh, my poor, jealous Darling,' she said. 'You don't need to worry about Graticus. It very soon became obvious that the only person he cares about is himself. I don't think that he will ever marry.'

'Then can I ask that you don't see him again?' he said.

She smiled.

'You can ask all you like, My Love,' she replied. 'But the White City is such a small town that I'm bound to run into Graticus from time to time and I certainly shan't be ignoring him.'

She moved closer to him and held both his hands.

'Listen, Ravian,' she told him. 'You are the one I love and wish to marry – it's not me who is delaying our wedding. You must understand though, that, whether we are married or not, I will socialise with whomever I choose. I'm not a slave girl and I'm not a slut – but for your own sake, you must realise that everything isn't going to happen the way you want it to just because you're a member of the royal family.'

Chastened, Ravian walked her the rest of the way to her house in silence. However, by the time he had circled around and crossed the garden to her balcony, she was waiting for him with her usual ardour and they put the incident behind them.

It was becoming increasingly clear, however, that Sinur's patience regarding Ravian's absences and the delay to their marriage was wearing thin. Repeatedly, and with increasing regularity, she would raise the subject.

'Why do we have to wait so long?'

'Don't you really love me?'

'Liana is to marry Capernal and he's a sea captain too. Why can't we be married now?'

For the first time, Ravian began to have doubts about their relationship. Sinur seemed to be forgetting the priorities that lay before him and the plan that they had agreed upon.

Within the two months that he had promised, Aphorstra and his workers at Belainus had completed all the mouldings for the keel. Ravian had attended the start of the welding process and, a few days later, he returned to the shipyard for Lederalus's trial, the old shipwright having already tested two wooden keels to destruction in order to be able to make a comparison. It was the first time Ravian had seen the completed keel and, as Aphorstra had indicated, the welds were almost invisible, the outer edge running in a smooth, graceful curve.

Like an enormous sword, Ravian thought to himself, the term "swordship", coming into his mind, unbidden.

Lederalus had devised a testing apparatus that contained the rear half of the keel in a wooden casing, the bow section projecting into a massive, square frame. A system of pulleys connected the stem to the top of the frame, with a similar block and tackle running to one side. A stout cage hung from the top pulley system and, as the trial began, Lederalus's workers began to stack lead weights into this while a scribe dutifully recorded the total.

'This test is, obviously, to evaluate strength in the vertical plane,' Lederalus explained. 'We can measure the upward flex of the keel as the weight is increased, and then compare the figures with those for the wooden keel. The block and tackle exerts a force on the keel many times that of the actual weight in the baskets.'

As the workers piled more and more lead into the basket, the casing retaining the rear portion of the keel began to creak. Lederalus moved around to look over the shoulder of his scribe and whistled.

'Amazing,' he said quietly.

'What is it?' asked Ravian excitedly.

'The weight is now three quarters of that at which the wooden keel failed, Your Highness,' Lederalus said with some excitement. 'At this point, the wooden keel had flexed upwards by almost an arm's length whereas this bronze keel has barely moved at all.'

'Is a rigid keel a good thing, do you think?' asked Ravian.

'I can't be sure until we build it and sail it, Your Highness,' Lederalus replied, 'but I would imagine so.'

The workers continued loading lead until the shipbuilder halted them.

'Excellent, Your Highness,' he announced. 'At this load, the wooden keel splintered to pieces yet as you can see, the bronze keel has barely even flexed. We will now begin the test in the horizontal.'

Ravian couldn't suppress a grin of delight. He turned to Aphorstra, expecting a similar reaction, but the metalsmith's face was impassive, and Ravian realised that big man was more concerned about the horizontal test.

After unloading the vertical cage, the workers began stacking weights into the cage suspended from the horizontal block and tackle.

'This is quite remarkable,' commented Lederalus, as the test proceeded. 'On the wooden keel, flex in the horizontal was very pronounced at this point but, as you can see, the bronze keel has barely moved at all.'

Yet, even he spoke, there came a "ping" from inside the keel casing – immediately followed by a deafening "clang" as the front half of the keel slammed against the test housing. The workers scattered as keel and weight cage crashed to the ground.

Ravian' heart sank. The keel had completely sheared at the front of the casing.

With surprising composure, Lederalus looked over his scribe's shoulder at the recorded figures.

'I regret to say that the keel has failed at less than two thirds of the load of a wooden keel, Your Highness.'

'It's gone on one of the welds,' said Aphorstra. 'I told you they wouldn't be strong enough!'

Ravian stared at the ruins of the experiment – all his dreams, all the work up until now, lying in pieces on the shed floor!

'What do we do now?' he asked Lederalus.

'I don't know,' the older man quietly replied. 'We could try to thicken up the mouldings again but that would bring the weight back up and I'm not sure it will improve the strength.'

'It won't!' spat Aphorstra. 'It's letting go on the welds!'

'Or perhaps,' continued Lederalus, 'we could look at minimising the tolerances in the key shapes.'

'A waste of time,' insisted Aphorstra. 'The welds will still let go at the same point.'

Ravian took a deep breath, and controlled his inclination to lash out at the metalsmith's negativity.

'All right,' he said. 'Let's all just think about it for a while. I'll return in a couple of days and we'll see if we can't come up with a solution.'

Unable to remain a moment longer with his broken dream, Ravian rode back to the White City through that afternoon and into the night, tears blurring his vision. He had had such high expectations of the bronze keel and now it was a failure!

He immediately sought solace in Sinur's arms, but her sympathy seemed vague and it didn't take long for the source of her distraction to be revealed.

'Well, Darling,' she had said gently, 'in some ways this must be part of Delikas's plan. You are going to need more time at home anyway…because you have another responsibility on its way.'

Ravian sat up suddenly.

'You mean…?'

'Yes, Darling, I am with child.'

'Are you sure?'

'Fairly sure,' she replied. 'As sure as one can be about these things anyway. Aren't you pleased?'

'Of course I am,' he said, taking her in his arms again. 'It has just been a day of major events.'

'Humph! Well, you could at least try and be happy about this one,��� she said. 'You had better go and see both our parents tomorrow.'

He better had, he thought – they would need to marry as soon as possible.

His parents were less than enthusiastic.

'I suppose she's pregnant,' his mother stated flatly.

'No,' he lied. 'We just feel that we have known each other long enough and we don't want to wait any longer to be married.'

'Well, it seems an awful rush, all of a sudden,' Beriel pursued.

'Look!' Ravian burst out. 'If Sinur were with child – which she isn't – surely that would suit you very well. She's a daughter of one of the Nine Houses and you are the ones that worry that Jeniel still hasn't produced an heir!'

'Ravian,' his father interjected calmly, 'we certainly want what is good for the kingdom but we want what is best for you as well. Are you sure that Sinur is the woman that you wish to spend the rest of your life with?'

'Absolutely,' he replied, ignoring the little twinge of doubt that his father's words had provoked.

'Well then,' Jabacus said, with a meaningful look at his queen, 'we had better set a date to welcome Sinur into our family.'

Relieved that the interview was over, Ravian stood to take his leave.

'Before you go,' his father stopped him, 'how are things progressing in Belainus?'

'Oh...ah, we've had a bit of setback,' Ravian replied, staying on his feet.

'Hmmm,' the king mused with a frown. 'That's too bad – especially when I look at the bills you are starting to accrue. Are you still confident that this new ship of yours can be built?'

'Oh yes, reasonably confident,' Ravian lied.

'Good,' Jabacus said. 'We may need such a craft if the information I'm receiving from the North is true.'

'What's going on there?' asked Ravian, settling back to his seat.

He knew that his father maintained a network of spies all around the Spice Sea, especially in the troublesome North.

'Apparently,' the Tarcun king began, 'a recent round of assassinations in Dekane has resulted in a new ruler – Bordwar, I believe his name is. He's made friends with the Geroufens and is now starting to stir up feelings against us with some of the other northern nations. I believe that, ultimately, this Bordwar fellow intends to build an alliance with which to invade Tarcus.'

'He'd have to be mad!' Ravian burst out. 'The economies of the northern nations rely on our shipping and our harbour as much as their own!'

'I don't believe that the intention would be to destroy that which makes us such an attractive acquisition,' said Jabacus. 'But the Northerners have long been jealous of our wealth and our control of the sea lanes. If Bordwar can somehow manage to stop them stabbing each other in the back for a few months, he might be able to persuade them to invade and take over.'

'But our people would never tolerate living under the rule of the Northerners!' Ravian declared.

'I agree that most of them wouldn't,' Jabacus agreed, 'but there are those in our nation who wouldn't really care who held the crown – as long as they were permitted to hold the purse strings.'

At these words, Ravian felt the hair on the back of his neck stand erect.

'Father, do you know something you're not telling me?' he asked.

'No, I don't know anything,' the king told him. 'But if this Bordwar is working towards an invasion, he might find some Tarcuns more cooperative toward the idea than you might think.'

Ravian left the audience with his head full of his father's words.

Suddenly, what had merely been a pet project had now assumed a crucial level of strategic importance, and he knew that he must overcome any obstacles to building the swordship. He returned to Belainus burdened with the responsibility of his father's revelation where, to his surprise, a surprisingly joyful Aphorstra welcomed him at the entrance to the shipyard.

'It's so good to see you back, Your Highness,' he cried. 'We have some very good news! Come and see!'

Inside the main shed, Lederalus stood by the keel-testing apparatus where, to Ravian's astonishment, the bronze keel, back in one piece, projected once more from its frame. Even more astoundingly, a full cage of lead weights dangled from the horizontal block and tackle.

'Welcome, Your Highness,' Lederalus greeted him. 'We finished the test early this morning. The weight in the cage is exactly the same as that at which the wooden test keel failed and, as you can see, there is virtually no flex in the bronze keel at all. We thought we would leave it set up for your return.'

'But what did you do?' Ravian asked.

Aphorstra smiled proudly. He looked very tired, but was obviously delighted with himself.

'I believe that the welding process somehow changes the structure of the bronze, making it weak and brittle at the joining point,' he declared. 'After you had gone, I remembered that, in most countries, they use bronze less pure than our own, and so they have to temper their weapons by reheating them and plunging them into water. That is what we did with the keel – after we had re-welded it at the break point.'

'You must have used an enormous bucket!' exclaimed Ravian.

'It wasn't easy, Your Highness,' Aphorstra agreed, 'and it will be even more difficult with a full-sized keel. We've had to build a long, open furnace, fanned by no less than ten bellows. Adjacent to this, we've constructed a water trough big enough to take the whole keel. I think I lost half my body weight in the steam bath that resulted when we rolled the keel in, but it was worth it! Isn't it beautiful?'

Ravian had to admit that the keel, with its successfully suspended load of test weights, was probably the most splendid sight he had ever beheld.

In one of the sheds, they showed him the enormous apparatuses that they had used to temper the keel, the debris of hard and urgent labour lying scattered all about the monstrous furnace and cooling trough.

'You can't have slept much since my last visit,' he said to the pair of them.

'Oh, an hour or two here and there,' replied Aphorstra, his airy tone belying the dark rings under his eyes.

'Once Aphorstra decided he had the solution, he wouldn't let any of us sleep,' said Lederalus. 'Still, now that he has finally done his job, I can get on with mine.'

'How long?' asked Ravian.

'Two months, maybe three – although this keel design does promise to take some of the labour out of construction.'

'Three months would be fine – but as soon as you can, of course,' Ravian encouraged him. 'To be honest, I had just about given up.'

'Oh no, Your Highness,' jibed Aphorstra. 'Remember, you wanted our full co-operation.'

He pounded his hand on a nearby bench for emphasis and they all laughed.

Back at the White City, Ravian reported the progress to his father.

'That's excellent, Son,' the king said. 'I look forward to seeing the finished craft.'

'Now, there's another matter I would like to discuss with you,' Jabacus continued. 'Quite a delicate issue, really.'

Ravian' heart sank. He wasn't in the mood to defend his forth-coming marriage.

'I've had some complaints from some of the citizens about your attitude,' his father began.

Ravian was genuinely astonished.

'What do they mean, "my attitude"?' he asked incredulously.

'Well, some of them have indicated that they think you have a tendency to be rather…ah…highhanded.'

'But, Father, you know me – do you believe that?'

'Ravian, I don't think that you would knowingly abuse your royal position but I also see that, when you pursue an objective, you tend do so without too much concern for the sensibilities of those who might get in your way,' the king told him gently. 'I don't think that your military career has moderated your behaviour in this respect �� quite the opposite, in fact. Were you not my son, such behaviour might well be seen as forceful and decisive but, in a member of the royal family, it can just as easily be interpreted as arrogant and autocratic.'

Ravian was aghast. "Arrogant and autocratic" was certainly not how he saw himself.

'Father, are you saying that I should be careful not to tread on people's toes?' he asked.

'In a word – yes,' Jabacus replied. 'The Royal House may control the military, but it has never had to invoke its military powers against its own citizens. Sometimes, I must admit, I've been tempted to ride roughshod over the bickerings of the Citizens' Council, but the democratic freedom of our people is a precious and vital thing, Ravian, and it is what has made this country the vital nation that it is today. When the people see the second in line to the throne acting like an autocrat, it frightens them.'

'But, sometimes, there can only be one right decision,' Ravian defended himself. 'You don't see the captain of a ship stopping to consult the crew about which tack to take every time he needs to lay a new course.'

'That's true, Son,' his father replied, 'but it is not so much what you do, as much as the way you do it. I know that you are not an autocrat at heart, but I also know that you sometimes go at things like a bull at a gate and I'm warning you to be a bit more sensitive to the feelings of our citizens. It's always better to be popular if you possibly can be and, if you don't try and curb your abruptness, it will get you into trouble one day.'

Ravian left the meeting with his father in a state of confusion.

Could his father be right or was he simply the victim of some malicious whisperings?

Either way, Ravian decided, he would accept the wisdom of what the king had said – there was no point upsetting anybody if he didn't need to. He would make a point to be less abrupt in future.

Sinur and Ravian were married at the High Temple on the Western Arm. As he looked into his bride's eyes during the ceremony – eyes as blue as the ocean stretching out behind her – Ravian felt a welling up of happiness.

There would be no more creeping away through Lemalus's garden in the cold light of dawn. There would be no more pressure from his family to find a wife and produce an heir. He was in love with the most beautiful woman in the world and, even now, their child was growing within her womb.

After the wedding, any apprehensions that he might have had about Sinur moving into the palace soon seemed misplaced, Beriel appearing to embrace his wife as a daughter in the same way she had accepted Verene and Kasanda into the royal family.

As was the custom with newly wed longship crew, Ravian was given an extended period of shore leave, his old friend Billus – finally promoted from the immediate supervision of Admiral Acrusta – delighted to take temporary command of Wind Song. As Ravian once again set out on the road to Belainus, life seemed very good indeed and he smiled in the early morning sunshine.

Arriving at his destination, he found that progress on the ship had been swift since the successful keel test. The skeleton of the frame was now complete and Lederalus's men had half covered it with the hardwood planks that would form the hull.

'It's all pretty much conventional construction from here on,' the shipbuilder explained. 'Caulking the area around the keel was less of a problem than I thought it might be, and the structure has been a lot faster to work on than a wooden keel. We still have to complete the hull, top deck and rigging of course, but I think we should be finished in a month or so. I have it in mind to add a few more feet to the mast height – we can always trim it down if she heels too much. We are also going to have to develop some sort of carriage to get her down the slipway. Rollers aren't going to work – that keel will cut through them like a sword.'

'That's what we will call them,' said Ravian, speaking the name aloud for the first time. 'Swordships.'

'Swordships, eh?' said the old craftsman, thoughtfully stroking his chin. 'Aye, it's a good name for them.'

'What's Aphorstra up to?' asked Ravian, noting his absence.

'Well, there's not much for him to do now until the sea trial,' Lederalus replied. 'He doesn't want to start work on the full-sized moulds until then – and that's probably prudent. He's in Ezreen at present, talking to his tin suppliers. Hmmm…'

'What?' Ravian asked.

'I'm just a little concerned that he doesn't try to corner the tin market,' the shipbuilder told him.

'Ah,' Ravian said, not having considered this possibility, 'and you think that he has that much confidence in the success of the project now?'

'I have no doubt of it,' Lederalus confirmed with a chuckle. 'The crown may have bought up the land about us where the full-sized yards are to be built – so that little piece of speculation has been denied him. It hasn't stopped him buying up houses in the area like a madman though – and he has bought a large piece of land adjacent to the yards where, I believe, he is to build the biggest inn the city has ever seen.'

Ravian smiled mirthlessly.

The commercial instincts that drove, the "Golden Way", were evident in no one more so than in Aphorstra. The commencement of full-scale production would see an influx of highly paid craftsmen. Those men would need accommodation – and they would want a meal and a drink at the end of a hard day's work.

'Well,' he said, 'I hope, for his sake, that he is being discreet. If you see him before I return next, please ask him to come and see me at the palace. I think that he and I need to have a little chat. You're not making any investments yourself, Lederalus?'

The old man's eyes twinkled.

'Yes, I believe I am, Your Highness,' he said. 'I'm too old to care much about money, but I'm more than happy to invest what time and labour I have left to me to make our country stronger. I will consider it ample return if, before I die, Tarcus is protected by a fleet of swordships.'

Back at the palace, Sinur met him with tears in her eyes, and Ravian was filled with foreboding as she led him to the balcony outside their apartment and took his hands in hers.

'Darling, I'm sorry,' she told him, 'but I'm not pregnant after all.'

It took a moment for Ravian to absorb what she was saying.

'You mean we've lost the baby?' he asked, stunned.

'Either that or I just missed a cycle,' she said. 'Really, I don't know, but we can try again. We have the rest of our lives before us.'

She was calm despite her tears and, at that moment, Ravian loved her all the more for her bravery.

'Besides,' she added brightly, 'now that you have your shore leave, we'll be able to get out and socialise a bit more together. My Gallant Sea Captain was very nice, but I didn't see much of him. It will be fun to introduce people to my new husband.'

Somehow, her words shattered the tenderness of the previous moment for Ravian. Sinur was clearly ready to move on from their grievous loss a lot faster than he was.