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you’re either slandering Jared Black or defaming my fine boat’s reputation.’
    ‘One of the two, commodore,’ said the professor.
    ‘It’s a terrible thing, the malicious tittle-tattle in Spumehead that has attached itself to an honest fellow like me. A fellow who, as you well know, Amelia, has done nothing but sacrifice himself for the blessed Kingdom of Jackals. A war hero who has had little out of the state but the wicked attentions of her revenue men and false accusations of smuggling from lesser skippers jealous of old Blacky’s genius and skill at navigating the perilous courses of the oceans.’ He looked at the professor’s young assistant and indicated her baggage to his two u-boat men. ‘And this must be your Damson Tibar-Wellking. A pretty rose to be carried by the hard lines of my old war-boat, but we’ll see you safe to your destination, lass.’
    It seemed to Jethro that the young academic nodded rather nervously towards the commodore. Whether it was the ruffians acting as porters, the military lines of the freighter, or the declarations of the vessel’s master about his honesty that made her apprehensive, Jethro was uncertain. He didn’t need his church training in reading the souls of men to know that upright people very rarely needed to proclaim their honesty. Young Nandi kissed goodbye to her mentor and was led away inside the u-boat. The commodore watched her walk away, scratching his thick black beard. There was a speckling of white on its fringes that made it look as if snow had recently fallen and settled there.
    ‘I’ve bumped into a couple of old acquaintances I wasn’t expecting to see,’ said the professor to the old u-boat man, indicating Boxiron and Jethro. ‘They seem also to be in need of a vessel.’
    ‘I am led to believe you have Pericurian trading papers,good captain,’ said Jethro. ‘Myself and my steamman friend here need to reach Pericur to catch the supply boat to Jago.’
    ‘Jago is it now?’ said the commodore. ‘Well then, I can save you the bother of the extra leg. I’m calling at the dark isle before I head on out to Pericur.’
    ‘Someone’s paying you to go to Jago?’ said Boxiron, surprised.
    ‘The college is,’ commented the professor. ‘We’re paying for the voyage and access to their great transaction-engine vaults both.’
    ‘And a more durable craft nor a more knowledgeable skipper you could not have picked to look after your young college flower,’ said the commodore. ‘There’s not a vessel in port better qualified to navigate the perilous currents of the Fire Sea.’
    ‘I’m trusting you with Nandi’s life, Jared,’ said the professor, seriously. ‘Her mother has never forgiven me for getting her father killed down south. I don’t know whether it would be her mother or the high table back at the college that would be more upset if they knew my assistant was heading for Jago to do this research.’
    ‘Nobody’s sailed deeper into the Fire Sea than brave old Blacky,’ said the commodore. ‘I’ll get your lovely lass there as smartly as if my beautiful boat was still part of the fleet sea arm. And you two fine fellows, also, if you need to reach the blasted coast of that terrible isle.’
    ‘Our voyage requires discretion,’ said Jethro. ‘We are travelling on a somewhat delicate matter.’
    The commodore tapped the side of his nose knowingly. ‘My discretion is legendary in this port, sir.’
    Jethro Daunt did not point out the contradiction. ‘And when will your u-boat sail, good captain?’
    ‘As soon as my cargo and last passenger turns up, butI can see them both now. One having caught a lift with the other, so to speak. We should be away directly with the tide.’
    Out on the docks, threading their way through the fishermen spreading their drying nets, four flatbed wagons drawn by shire horses rattled into sight, their beds piled with wooden crates and a single passenger. The passenger was ursine, a large ginger male