“If you’re not a soldier you should be careful about wearing that sword,” he said jovially. “You might sit on it and do yourself a mischief.”

Toller refused to make things easy for the captain. “The weapon is no threat to me.”

“I’ll remember your name, Maraquine,” Hlawnvert said in a low voice. At that moment the station’s timekeeper sounded the littlenight horn — tonguing the double note which was used when ptertha activity was high — and there was a general movement of pikon workers towards the safety of the buildings. Hlawnvert turned away from Toller, clapped one arm around Sisstt’s shoulders and drew him in direction of the tethered airship.

“You’re coming aboard for a drink in my cabin,” he said. “You’ll find it nice and snug in there with the hatch closed, and you’ll be able to receive Lord Glo’s orders in privacy.”

Toller shrugged and shook his head as he watched the two men depart. The captain’s excessive familiarity was a breach of the behavioural code in itself, and his blatant insincerity in embracing a man he had just thrown to the ground was nothing short of an insult. It accorded Sisstt the status of a dog which could be whipped or petted at the whim of its owner. But, true to his colours, the station chief appeared not to mind. A sudden bellowing laugh from Hlawnvert showed that Sisstt had already begun to make his little jokes, laying the groundwork for the version of the encounter he would later pass on to his staff and expect them to believe. The captain loves people to think he’s a real ogre — but when you get to know him as well as I do…