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Authors: Michael Moorcock
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the Massing. I must say I am becoming increasingly curious to meet her. What about you?”
I managed to smile. “I am dreading such a meeting, my friend. I fear nothing but misery and terror will result from it.”
Von Bek looked hard at my face. “I think I would be less impressed,” he said, “if you did not have that exceptionally ghastly grin on your lips.”
4
B ARON C APTAIN A RMIAD had a favour to ask me. Since my discussion with the young students, I was not surprised when eventually he came round to asking me if I would do him the honour of accompanying him aboard another hull, just prior to the Massing. “The hulls come gradually to the Massing Ground, frequently sailing side by side for many miles before the Ground itself is reached. Already the upper lookouts have sighted three other hulls. By their signals they are the
Girl in Green
, the
Certain Scalpel
and the
New Argument
, all from the farthest anchorages. They must have made good time to be so close to the Massing Ground. It is the custom for Baron Captains to make courtesy calls, one upon another, at this time. These calls are only refused in the case of sickness aboard or some other great crisis. I should like to put up flags to the
New Argument
, telling her we wish to pay her a visit. Would you and your friend be curious to see another hull?”
“We’ll gladly come,” said I. Not only did I wish to compare the hulls, I wanted to get some idea of how the Baron Captain’s peers actually regarded him. From what he said it was not possible to refuse even him. And it was obvious to me that he wished to display his guest to the others so that the word would go round before the Massing. By this means he hoped to win their acceptance or, at very least, increase his prestige.
He was plainly relieved. His little piglike features relaxed. He all but beamed at me. “Good. Then I’ll have the signals set.”
He excused himself a little while later and left us to our own devices. We continued to explore the city ship, again finding ourselves in the company of Bellanda and her friends. These were certainly the most interesting people we had met so far. They took us high up the masts and showed us the smoke from the distant hulls, slowly moving together as they sailed towards the Massing Ground.
A pale-faced boy called Jurgin had a spyglass and knew the flags of all the ships. He called them out as he recognised them: “There’s the
Distant Bargain
, accountant to The Floating Head. And that’s the
Girl in Green
, accountant to The Jagged Jug…” I asked him how he could tell so much. He handed me the glass. “It’s simple, your highness. The flags represent what the anchorages look like on the map and the names describe what those representations most resemble. The way we name configurations of stars. The names of the hulls are ancient, in most cases, and are the names of old sailing vessels on which our ancestors first set forth. Only gradually did they grow into the moving cities on which we now live.”
I looked through the glass and eventually made out a banner flying from the tallest mast of the nearest hull. It was a red symbol on a black field. “I’d guess that’s some sort of goblin. A gargoyle.
Jurgin laughed. “That flag’s flown for The Ugly Man anchorage and therefore the hull’s the
New Argument
from the farthest north. She’s the hull you’ll visit this evening, eh?”
I was impressed by his clairvoyance. “How did you know that? Do you have spies at Court?”
He shook his head, still laughing. “It’s simpler than that, your highness.” He pointed up higher to our own mainmast, where a good score of banners flapped in the light wind. “That’s what our signals say. And the
New Argument
has replied with due courtesy (probably reluctant where our great Baron Captain is concerned) that you are welcome to visit them at the hour before twilight. Which means,” he added with a grin, “that you’ll have no more
I managed to smile. “I am dreading such a meeting, my friend. I fear nothing but misery and terror will result from it.”
Von Bek looked hard at my face. “I think I would be less impressed,” he said, “if you did not have that exceptionally ghastly grin on your lips.”
4
B ARON C APTAIN A RMIAD had a favour to ask me. Since my discussion with the young students, I was not surprised when eventually he came round to asking me if I would do him the honour of accompanying him aboard another hull, just prior to the Massing. “The hulls come gradually to the Massing Ground, frequently sailing side by side for many miles before the Ground itself is reached. Already the upper lookouts have sighted three other hulls. By their signals they are the
Girl in Green
, the
Certain Scalpel
and the
New Argument
, all from the farthest anchorages. They must have made good time to be so close to the Massing Ground. It is the custom for Baron Captains to make courtesy calls, one upon another, at this time. These calls are only refused in the case of sickness aboard or some other great crisis. I should like to put up flags to the
New Argument
, telling her we wish to pay her a visit. Would you and your friend be curious to see another hull?”
“We’ll gladly come,” said I. Not only did I wish to compare the hulls, I wanted to get some idea of how the Baron Captain’s peers actually regarded him. From what he said it was not possible to refuse even him. And it was obvious to me that he wished to display his guest to the others so that the word would go round before the Massing. By this means he hoped to win their acceptance or, at very least, increase his prestige.
He was plainly relieved. His little piglike features relaxed. He all but beamed at me. “Good. Then I’ll have the signals set.”
He excused himself a little while later and left us to our own devices. We continued to explore the city ship, again finding ourselves in the company of Bellanda and her friends. These were certainly the most interesting people we had met so far. They took us high up the masts and showed us the smoke from the distant hulls, slowly moving together as they sailed towards the Massing Ground.
A pale-faced boy called Jurgin had a spyglass and knew the flags of all the ships. He called them out as he recognised them: “There’s the
Distant Bargain
, accountant to The Floating Head. And that’s the
Girl in Green
, accountant to The Jagged Jug…” I asked him how he could tell so much. He handed me the glass. “It’s simple, your highness. The flags represent what the anchorages look like on the map and the names describe what those representations most resemble. The way we name configurations of stars. The names of the hulls are ancient, in most cases, and are the names of old sailing vessels on which our ancestors first set forth. Only gradually did they grow into the moving cities on which we now live.”
I looked through the glass and eventually made out a banner flying from the tallest mast of the nearest hull. It was a red symbol on a black field. “I’d guess that’s some sort of goblin. A gargoyle.
Jurgin laughed. “That flag’s flown for The Ugly Man anchorage and therefore the hull’s the
New Argument
from the farthest north. She’s the hull you’ll visit this evening, eh?”
I was impressed by his clairvoyance. “How did you know that? Do you have spies at Court?”
He shook his head, still laughing. “It’s simpler than that, your highness.” He pointed up higher to our own mainmast, where a good score of banners flapped in the light wind. “That’s what our signals say. And the
New Argument
has replied with due courtesy (probably reluctant where our great Baron Captain is concerned) that you are welcome to visit them at the hour before twilight. Which means,” he added with a grin, “that you’ll have no more
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