Demansk shook his head. “Not really. I ran into his brains at a distance, you might say.” His tone was a bit rueful. “He’s an ingenious bastard, I’ll give him that. I just hope his mind turns as readily to other things as it does to figuring out new methods of mayhem.”
“I think he’d much rather be putting his mind to work at other things, Father. His brother Esmond, now . . . he’s a hater, that one. Half-consumed by it already, when I knew him, and probably eaten up completely by now. But Adrian’s a different sort. I think—”
She hesitated; then, softly: “We’ll find out, soon enough. But I think he’d rather be Vanbert’s friend than our enemy, if he can just see a way to do it . . .”
Her voice trailed off, as she groped for the right word.
” ‘Properly,’ let’s call it,” said her father. “That’s a nice neutral sort of term.”
He gave her shoulder another squeeze, this one full of affection. More in the way of a hug, really. “And now you’d best get down there yourself. The ship will be ready to sail soon.”
* * *
When Helga came aboard the ship, her attention was drawn to the stern by Trae’s cursing. Despite the volume of his voice, the profanity seemed spoken more in enthusiasm than actual anger.
“Not that way, you fucking whoresons! It’s a clamp, now, not a tripod! Are you blind as well as bastards?”
Still cradling the baby, Helga moved toward the stern, working her way around the benches and equipment spread over the entire deck. The soldiers of her escort were settling into their positions, none too quickly and with a great deal of awkwardness and uncertainty. Their own confused milling was as great an obstacle to her progress as their gear.
As a rule, soldiers coming aboard a naval vessel were able to settle in easily enough. The soldiers doubled as rowers on the upper bank when the ship was not in combat. Even in sea battles, at least in the early stages, they remained on the benches. It was only when a boarding operation was about to begin that the soldiers abandoned their oars for their assegais.
But on this trip, the soldiers were unneeded at the oars. Thicelt had hired a complete crew of rowers. The task of Helga’s escort, in case of pirate attack, was to remain hidden and out of sight until—and if—a boarding attempt needed to be repelled. The factor of surprise, added to the already ferocious skills of Confederate infantrymen, should be enough to break most pirate attacks.
Of course, that also meant that the none-too-spacious vessel was even more crowded than warships usually were. The soldiers, cursing almost as loudly as Trae, were trying to figure out where they could fit their own bodies as well as their gear. Not even Vanbert infantrymen could sleep standing up, after all. And this would be a long voyage, even with the prevailing winds in their favor.
Eventually, Helga worked her way through the press and came onto the cleared space at the very stern of the ship. “Cleared” in a manner of speaking. Trae’s assistants—special squad, it would be better to say—had managed to keep the regular soldiery from spilling into the area. But between their own numbers and the ship’s crew, the population density was only relatively lighter than that amidships.
Trae was hunched at the stern rail, apparently showing one of his aides how to do the job properly.
“We hinged the third leg, see? On board ship, the tripod doubles as a clamp. Slide it down over the rail . . . till it nestles solidly . . . then . . . The gods damn this fucking thing!” Trae’s voice faded into mumbling as Helga neared him. “There, that’s it. A bit tricky, that’s all, getting the screw to engage. Now . . . tighten it down, like this. Right-over turn to tighten, just like a screw pump.”
The man standing next to him, watching, murmured something. Trae’s half-cheerful/half-exasperated cursing came back at full volume.
“Never seen a screw pump?” The young nobleman lifted his head and gave all of his nearby special squad members a glare. “None of you, from the ox-dumb looks on your faces! Fucking peasants! Fat peasants, that’s the problem! Lounging about in the shade while the women do all the work. What little work there is on your rich bottomlands.”