He looked at the cover. There was a pause.
“A catalogue of agricultural pump components.”
Kimia stared. Tarkhe adjusted his spectacles.
“An unexpectedly complex field.”
Kimia almost laughed.
The impulse broke something loose inside her. Not enough. But some.
She turned away from the terminal.
Kalgkur.
Yes.
Kalgkur had a purpose.
She crossed the library.
Tarkhe returned the agricultural pump catalogue to the shelf and followed at a distance.
When he saw where she was going his shoulders lowered slightly.
Kimia noticed that too.
Everybody was becoming intolerably readable.
Kalgkur heard her approach and lifted his head.
“Miss Kimia.”
“Kalgkur.”
His eyes traveled briefly across her.
“You have returned.”
“I said I would.”
“Yes.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am old enough to treat promises as probabilities.”
Kimia pulled out a chair.
“What happened to irrigation or Peshtulan?”
“Finished.”
“You finished bozh of zhose?”
“Sort of. I finished reviewing numerous documents.”
“Less impressive.”
“Yes.”
She sat.
The maps between them showed the Jraci Sea and the waters around Tilmuhl.
Old borders. Old port names. Islands bearing names that had changed three or four times since the charts were drawn.
Red pencil marks followed several shipping routes.
Kimia leaned closer.
“Corsairs?”
Kalgkur's head inclined.
“Privateers.”
“Difference?”
“Legal stationery.”
Kimia smiled.
“Good.”
Kalgkur moved one map toward her.
“This period.”
Kimia read the date. Centuries ago. Before several existing Tradehouses had assumed their current forms. Before modern treaties stabilized commercial boundaries. Before the VSEA. Before the present Republiek Olissingen.
Tilmuhl had still been Tilmuhl. That apparently never changed.
“What happened?”
Kalgkur considered where to begin.
His delays were longer when history was involved.
“Competition.”
“Zhat describes every century.”
“Yes.”
“More specifically.”
“House Ivenmoth required shipping access.”
“Of course.”
“Several Minor Houses required the same.”
“Also of course.”
“Tilmuhlan ports possessed varying allegiances.”
“Still true.”
“Yes.”
“Go on.”
Kalgkur placed one artificial hand upon an island west of the main shipping lane.
“Officially, Ivenmoth discouraged private seizure of merchant vessels.”
Kimia looked at him.
“Officially.”
“Yes.”
“Meaning?”
The old baxxid produced a low resonant note.
“Officially.”
Kimia leaned back.
“So zhey hired pirates.”
“No.”
“Licensed pirates.”
“No.”
“Paid pirates.”
“No.”
“Kalgkur.”
“They issued temporary letters authorizing independent maritime enforcement in defense of commercial security.”
Kimia stared. The baxxid stared back.
“Pirates.”
“Privateers.”
“Legal stationery.”
“Yes.”
Kimia laughed. Not loudly. Enough.
It felt good.
Kalgkur moved another document toward her.
“This captain.”
The name meant nothing to Kimia.
“Human?”
“Yinglet.”
She looked again.
“Really?”
“Yes.”