It has been seldom of late that I can find myself happy about things, but this much is true: our sojourn on Footfall has been, so far, successful. Her Ladyship should be commanded for her shrewd alliance with Liege Tocara; although House Chorda is bound to feel offended by such a wrench flung in their plan, we can take anything they will throw at us. Magos Pasqal has been busy overseeing the many rites of appeasement and mysteries of restoration required by our poor frigate, and repairs appear to be going smoothly. One can hardly step from the bridge without one's nose being assaulted by the staunch smell of holy oils, or one's ears abused by the screech of welding servitors.

Yesterday evening, however, some of the officers reached me with a most worrying — and delicate — affair; it had been going on for a few days, and they were at their wits' end. After hearing them, I decided to take the matter to the Lord-captain.

I found Her Ladyship in her study, sitting frowning by the regicide table. A printed booklet, its spine much mistreated, lay by the side, pages black with scribbles. I fancied it was some sort of instructional reference manual.

'Ah, Abelard! Do you play this wretched game?'

'I'm afraid not, lord-captain,' I said. 'Although Lady Theodora was quite proficient at it, as was Vox master Vigdis's late father, and I believe her usual partner was the Master of Whispers, curse him.'

'It should be easy. There's only so many ways pieces can move, but the end result is hellish.' Her Ladyship ran her hands through her hair and shook her head. Now that I see more of her — that we know each other better — she sometimes abandons, in private, her rigid mien. It is disconcerting: Lady Theodora would never have greeted me thus with a swear, jacket discarded, shirt sleeves rolled-up. Disconcerting but, surprisingly, I find myself enjoying the lord-captain's — I shan't say friendship — aplomb: only one perfectly sure of her authority, only one who fully trusted her seneschal, could behave that way.

By the time the lord-captain followed me to the officers' mess, however, she was once again the image of military neatness. By virtue of shore leave, as well as of my current problem, corridors and passageways were much emptier than they should have been that early in evening shift, and we made good time to our destination.

The mess was all but fully redecorated now, the smell of fresh paint and wood varnish still quite present. We passed in between the dinner tables and then down the great stairs to the drawing room, and the officers' library. That room is a favourite of many on board; walls are lined with shelves choke-full of books in genuine leather binding, armchairs and sofas welcome readers (sometimes tempting them to a nap), and a real fireplace brings cheer and warmth. The choice of literature is, true, somewhat eclectic, and more often than not on the low-brow side, but long Warp journeys appear shorter when occupied with the swash-buckling adventures of daring heroes with a satisfying love life. I believe there's also poetry and philosophy sections.

Huddled in a sofa by the fireplace was our little Lady Cassia, engrossed in a particularly thick volume. How changed was she! Although she kept always that distant regal attitude of hers and never deigned address, or even notice, any who wasn't a superior officer, her personality shone through at times. I had a feeling that removing her shoes and curling up with an old novel was a proper rebellion as to her upbringing.

I stayed back by the stairs — her powers, I am sorry to say, affect me too much — but Her Ladyship walked to the young lady, right through ripples of gold and sunshine that echoed haphazardly around. When Lady Cassia noticed Her Ladyship, she closed her book and rose to greet her, not out of cold courtesy but out of excitement. Her Ladyship, smiling, pressed her hands and sat by her side.

'What have you found, Cassia?'

'Oh, it's a book,' she said with enthusiasm. 'It's called The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon; this is actually the tenth volume!'

A wave of ticklish passion ran through me, so strong that I barely heard Her Ladyship ask if Lady Cassia liked it.

'Terribly, yes, Rogue Trader! I have read tomes of military tactics, and Theobald made me read theological and political treaties, but I never knew reading could be this delightful. It's… it's… thrilling! People there are more than names in lists!'

Her pale face was more animated than I had ever seen; her red eyes didn't weep blood but sparkled with girlish fun. If I recall correctly, the tenth volume of that series contained some quite raunchy parts. I also calculated the number of pages she must have read each day to get to this point in the series so soon after discovering the library. It was more than respectable.

Her Ladyship leant casually against the padded back of the sofa, one leg under herself — the command chair is, I swear, the only seat where she sits straight — and gravely looked at Cassia. Yet there was something in her attitude that spoke of repressed mirth, as unbecoming as it was for the situation at hand.

'I'm glad you've found something you like, Cassia,' she said. 'But do you remember what you promised when you came aboard? About controlling this power of yours?'

'I, yes, I remember. Haven't I done well?'

'Yes,' lied Her Ladyship. We had been compelled to evacuate and condemn the set of rooms beside, above and below the Sanctum Navis after those who lived in them committed suicide during Lady Cassia's first night aboard — how her own servants survived her panic attack, I'll never know. Force of habit, perhaps. 'I can see all the efforts you're doing. When I took you to Footfall, you did fantastically well in the crowd. And you're always on your best behaviour on the bridge.'

It was heartwarming, really, to see how Lady Cassia responded to the lord-captain's praise. She smiled broadly and looked at Her Ladyship the way Sister Argenta looks at a particularly holy relic. Which made it more difficult, I suppose, for Her Ladyship to deliver the blow that had been coming since she had set foot in the library: 'Then why don't you apply yourself similarly here? Cassia, people have complained. It cannot do at all. If you cannot do better, I shall have to forbid you access to the officers' mess.'

In the firelight, Lady Cassia straightened her back and bowed her head under the lord-captain's chastising. Her robes of deep purple caught reflections and changed them into pits of darkness; she was a tragic figure, still as a statue, and she joined her hands in prayer before she replied. Shadows ran over the room. As a family man myself, I both wanted to comfort her and send her to her room for such dramatics.

'Is this not a place of leisure?' she asked. 'Why cannot I relax here, same as everyone?'

'Well, you can,' said the lord-captain. 'But your relaxation should not disrupt the rest of those who want to enjoy the library, too.'

'And what right do they have to complain about me,' Cassia cried. 'They are noisy themselves, they, they talk all the time! In the mess, in the walkways, on the bridge! It's so noisy! House Orsellio has always given tracheostomies to our servants, it was much quieter on Eurac V! That way they didn't complain!'

Puzzled, Her Ladyship enquired as to what a tracheostomy was. I cleared my throat and explained: 'It is an opening in the neck that allows for a person to breathe, lord-captain. Most commonly used when the larynx and vocal cords have been surgically removed — although, when medical reasons necessitate the operation, a Vox-caster is always implanted in replacement.'

A look of horror washed over Her Ladyship's face.

'Surely, Cassia, you can't be suggesting that I mutilate the crew rather than ask you to be quiet?' Stricken by a thought, she added: 'And is that why I never heard a peep from your manservant Uve?'

'Yes?' replied expectantly Lady Cassia to both questions. 'Is that wrong?'

Her Ladyship pinched the bridge of her nose. 'Cassia. Yes. You can't treat people like things.'

'Even servants?'

'Even servants. Which officers are not, by the way. But yes, even servants. Everyone should be able to speak their mind. And enjoy their time off without being assaulted by your emotions.'

I could see the gears turning in Lady Cassia's head, and she predictably asked in a strangled voice if it pained the lord-captain that House Orsellio servants had suffered the operation. Her Ladyship didn't reply and instead jumped to her feet before disappearing between bookshelves. I didn't move. Lady Cassia examined her fingernails. After several minutes, Her Ladyship came back with an old tome.

'Here,' she said, shoving it into Lady Cassia's hands. 'Twenty-third volume of Eques Terentius's works. Read it, and until you've learnt the value there is in not treating people like things you're barred from staying in the mess hall any longer than it takes to grab a book and leave. Starting now.'

A very subdued Lady Cassia rose meekly — it must be, I reflected, the first time in her life she had been chastened so. She clumsily put on her shoes; Her Ladyship was standing, arms crossed, glaring at her. The new psychic silence was deafening. Lady Cassia then took the two books, holding them before her chest like a shield against Her Ladyship's anger, and curtsied before leaving. Her soft flats barely made a sound over the wood floorings.

I thanked the lord-captain for her help in dealing with this problem, and we went our separate ways. She had been more merciful, once again, than could have been expected but, unlike that problem with the Master of Ordnance, I found myself surprisingly happy of her leniency.

A new note about the lord-captain's character: she doesn't endure staying cooped up aboard the Emperor's Mercy for too long while there is something else, anything, to do. Today, we went back to Footfall — to gather information about our new friends, she said, justifying her personal involvement by the lack of a Master of Whispers. Of course, this meant going into the slums, and Mistress Tlass was happier than me of Her Ladyship's summons. Magos Pascal Her Ladyship tore from his work, on account of possible cogitators to seduce into spitting out the Liege's secrets. Another place in the shuttle was occupied by Sergeant Traigg, who had been promoted to local guide.

The flight from the dry dock to dock Alpha Rho was a short one — quite unfortunately, as we were deprived of the spectacular view of the whole of Footfall. Staying at anchor on more distant buoys allows one to better grasp the scale of the station. But truth be told, I'd never been on such a tour of Footfall as Sergeant Traigg took us on, and the lord-captain had a grand day. We got in another spat with a local gang, accidentally crashed a funeral and were thrown in the (functioning) cremation chamber after a case of mistaken identity, and ended up at the Adeptus Amasecus for pre-dinner drinks. All in all, a day well spent.

I do believe our sorry state helped us blend in the less than refined crowd of the Amasecus. The Magos's robes were stained in dried blood, dark brown over red; Mistress Tlass's surcoat was slightly singed, and Her Ladyship stank of piss and trash after wading through a sewer. Traigg, who had cleaned up on the ship, was back to his original state. I was the only one to have kept more or less tidy — no small feat, in these circumstances.

We strode straight to the bar, and requested the strongest spirit that could be found. The bartender, a red-haired woman with the perfunctory amiability her job required, asked for payment beforehand — and the coins the lord-captain fished from her pockets must have been too much, for the woman's eyes widened.

'Keep the change,' said the lord-captain. 'And tell me about who deals what around here.'

That was too high-handed; the woman laughed and declined to answer. But she kept the lord-captain's money.

Another client sat not far from us, half-leaning over her glass, lost in a haze of alcohol and lho-sticks. She turned to look at us with dark almond eyes peeking from underneath a shock of raven curls, and she frowned as she looked at Her Ladyship. While we fitted quite well int he dingy bar, she herself was out of place: rich clothes, jewels that had the sparkle of authentic diamonds, and discreet implants plated in gleaming rhodium. A fool, to flaunt this in such a den of villainy — or a queen of the underground.

'Have we met somewhere before?', she asked. 'Never mind, shereen, you are a rose in the desert — toast with me, will you?'

Oh, she was properly drunk. Her Ladyship removed a small, but sticky, unidentified piece of trash from her lap before raising her glass. 'With whom do I have the honour?'

'Jae Heydari, professional trader, shrewd commercial broker and crown jewel of this shithole despite what idiots may think. May Azhi steal my tongue if I'm lying, but I'm the most honest dealer on Footfall! You, shereen?'

Her Ladyship hesitated; I think she had recognised the woman, and she said quietly: 'Katov von Valancius.'

Mistress Heydari slammed her hand flat on the countertop and pointed at Her Ladyship with an unsteady index finger. 'Ha! I've seen you at Tocara's! You had to be someone special to have been granted an audience with the Liege himself, that son of a grox! Perhaps… oh, but I don't want to overstep… perhaps it would be no trouble for a person with your kind of power and standing to assist someone with my kind of predicament? I've heard a great deal about how… open-minded the members of the von Valancius dynasty are. Lady Theodora especially, rest her soul.'

She adjusted her stance on the high chair; beneath her many skirts, she wore high leather boots — and a laspistol in a holster below the knee.

'You complained to the Liege that cargo has been stolen from you,' said Her Ladyship. 'What kind of cargo?'

'Goods of incredible rarity, shereen. But it's not just that — two dozen of my people lost their lives in the impenetrable emptiness of the void to acquire them. I cannot leave their families with nothing.'

'What kind of cargo — xeno-artifacts?' The lord-captain's voice was barely a murmur above the ambient noise. Of course: ordinary smugglers do not dress so ostentatiously, nor do they turn to the patron of all Cold Trade in the Expanse when something goes wrong. 'I could have you executed on the spot for heresy.'

'Shereen! My precious flower, blossoming over rock and stone! I have said nothing of the sort — those illicit words never escaped my lips. I am merely asking for your help to recapture a few containers, and if the Azhi suddenly decides to thwart our plans, then all the void dogs will be unleashed on me alone. I swear by the Exalted One!'

Her Ladyship played with her glass, swirling the amber liquid inside. Her brow was knitted in thought. Her profile — aquiline, austere — stood out against the smoky panorama of the Amasecus. It was a good business opportunity; I didn't understand her hesitation. So I asked myself what Mistress Heydari would need from us. So little, it appeared: merely for us to drop by one dark corner of the Shadow Quarters and pound into the thieves' heads that taking Heydari's property carried certain risks. Straightforward.

'You have got yourself a deal, Jae Heydari,' said the lord-captain. 'But you will owe me, and I will expect your collaboration on a question to be asked later, aboard my ship.'

We agreed to meet the smuggler by tomorrow morning, and left after two more toasts. The gangways that led to the docks swerved somehow under my feet. Mistress Tlass, in high mood, tried to coax Magos Pascal in a dance. She failed, of course, and we were left to merely walk together. The pontoon to our shuttle was soon there, and by it stood a familiar figure clad in inquisitorial black and red, the symbol of his charge on a chain around his neck.

The lord-captain tensed; Mistress Tlass audibly groaned. Her Ladyship walked to the interrogator, hands clasped behind her back, and nodded to him.

'May I help you, Master van Calox?'

'Rogue Trader. I have begun researching the matter… the matter of which we last spoke ere I took my leave.' He shot an impassive glance towards us; the meaning was clear enough. His silhouette was full of pride and restraint. In the half-light of the hangar deck, the gold accents of his outfit caught flashes from nearby glow-globes and then fell back in shadows: he had taken a step towards the lord-captain. Her Ladyship — I couldn't see her face — slightly cocked her head and prompted him to continue. Her stance was unreadable.

'I would be most honoured if you granted me a personal audience to address that subject away from prying ears.'

She took half a second before inviting him back to the Emperor's Mercy.

Author's note: Carpe Jugulum is the 23rd book in Sir Terry Pratchett's Discworld series, and contains the famous quote « Sin, young man, is what happens when you treat people like things. »