Ship of Destiny

"Secondly, every Trader family shall double their city-duty days, nor shall they be able to buy back this responsibility. Every Trader and every member of a Trader's family over fifteen years of age shall fulfill this duty personally. Lots shall be drawn for tasks to be completed, but our first efforts shall be made on our harbor, wharves and city streets, that trade may be restored."

Again, there was only a brief silent pause. Again, no one objected. A slight movement by another Council member caught Serilla's eye. She glanced at the scroll in front of him, where he had just noted, "agreed to by all." This silence was assent, then?

She gazed about incredulously. Something was happening here, in this room. This people was gathering itself up and finding the united strength to begin anew. It would have been heartwarming, save that they were doing it without her. As her eyes roved over the folk, she marked how some sat straighter. Parents held hands with one another and with their younger children. Young men and some of the women had assumed determined expressions. Then her eyes snagged on Ronica Vestrit. The old woman sat close to the front of the assemblage, in her worn dress and the dead woman's shawl. Her eyes were bird-bright and they were fixed on Serilla in glittering satisfaction.

Trader Dwicker spoke on. He called for young single men to supplement the City Guard, and read off the boundaries of the area that they would attempt to control. Within that area, merchants were urged to resume normal commerce, so that necessary trade could resume. Serilla began to see the method to their plan. They would restore order to a section of the city, attempt to bring it back to life and hope that the rejuvenation spread.

When he had finished his list, she waited, expecting that he would next defer to her. Instead, a score of Traders stood and waited silently, hoping to be recognized.

Ronica Vestrit was among them.

Serilla startled everyone, including herself, when she stood. Instantly all eyes were focused on her. All that she had earlier pla

She did not wait for Trader Dwicker to recognize her. She had been foolish to let him even begin this meeting. She should have seized control at the very start. So now she looked around at the people and nodded and smiled until those standing slowly resumed their seats. She cleared her throat.

"This is a proud day for Jamaillia," she a

When her throat began to grow dry and her voice to shake, she sought desperately for an ending. Taking a deep breath, she declared, "You have made a brave start tonight. Now, as darkness closes around our city, we must recall that dark clouds still overshadow us. Return to the safety of your homes. Keep yourselves well there, and wait for word from us as to where your efforts can best be employed. On behalf of the Satrap, your ruler, I praise and thank you for the spirit you have shown. On your way to your homes this evening, please keep him in mind. But for the threats raised against him, he would be here himself tonight. He wishes you well."

She took a breath and turned to Trader Dwicker. "Perhaps you should lead us in a closing prayer of thanksgiving to Sa before we disperse."

He came to his feet, his brow creased. She smiled at him encouragingly, and saw him lose the battle. He turned to the assembled Traders and took a breath to begin.

"Council, I would speak before we adjourn. I ask that the matter of Davad Restart's wrongful death be considered." It was Ronica Vestrit.

Trader Dwicker actually choked. For a moment, Serilla thought she had lost entirely. Then Roed Caern rose smoothly to his feet.

"Council, I submit that Ronica Vestrit speaks without authority here. She is no longer Trader for her own family, let alone Restart's. Let her sit down. Unless this matter is raised by a rightful Trader, the Council need not consider it."

The old woman stood stubbornly, two high spots of color on her cheeks. She controlled her anger and spoke clearly. "The Trader for my family ca

Dwicker managed a breath. "Ronica Vestrit, have you written authorization from Keffria Vestrit to speak as Trader for the Vestrit family?"

A silence of six heartbeats. Then, "No, Council-head Dwicker, I do not," Ronica admitted.

Dwicker managed to contain his relief. "Then, according to all our laws, I fear we ca

Ronica sank slowly back to her seat. But Serilla's relief was short-lived. Other Traders rose to their feet, and Dwicker began recognizing them in turn. One Trader rose and asked if Wharf Seven could be repaired first, as it offered the best moorage for deep draft ships. Several others quickly agreed with this idea, and in quick succession a number of men volunteered to take this as their task.

Proposal after proposal followed. Some referred to public matters, others to private. One Trader stood to offer space in his warehouse to any who would help him make quick repairs and to guard it at night. He quickly had three volunteers. Another had teams of oxen, but was ru

She had almost ceased listening to the proceedings when a somber Trader stood and asked, "Why are we being kept ignorant of what triggered this whole disaster? What has become of the Satrap? Do we know who was behind the threat to him? Have we contacted Jamaillia to explain ourselves?"

Another voice was raised. "Does Jamaillia know of our plight? Have they offered to send ships and men to help us drive out the Chalcedeans?"

All faces turned toward her. Worse, Trader Dwicker made a small motion encouraging her to speak. She gathered her thoughts hastily as she stood. "There is little that is safe to tell," she began. "There is no practical way to send swift word to Jamaillia without risk of it being intercepted. We are also uncertain whom we should consider trustworthy and loyal there. For now, the secret of the Satrap's location is best not shared with anyone. Not even Jamaillia." She smiled warmly at them as if certain of their understanding.