Exiles in Arms: Night of the Necrotech (20 page)

The necrotech looked up from his labor, starting when he saw the tears in Azaam’s eyes. “Do not fret so,” he said, oblivious to the cause of the witch’s tears. “I’ll figure out what went wrong. Any problem can be solved once it is recognized.” He turned back to the disassembled Buccaneer, scrutinizing the boiler and its smokestack.

“You’d better collect what you will need,” Moritat said. “I’ll be finished here soon. We have to have our cargo ready for Lorca’s ship. I’m interested in knowing exactly how he intends to betray me. Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be big.

“These mortals do so enjoy a spectacle.”

Captain Nestor Parvolo’s office had a spare, military atmosphere about it. It held none of the exotic trophies or extravagant furnishings that far less significant officials squandered small fortunes to display. The only adornments were a coat of arms displaying the heraldry of the Cathors and a banner emblazoned with the insignia of the Five Fingers Watch.

Taryn looked over the office and leaned close to Rutger. “I’ll say this, he looks poor enough to be honest,” she whispered.

“Honesty is its own reward,” Rutger said, quoting a bit of Morrowan wisdom.

“Exactly how much ale does honesty buy?” Taryn asked. Rutger started to laugh but composed himself as Parvolo marched into the office and settled behind the desk. He motioned for his guests to take seats.

“We haven’t found Volkenrath yet,” Parvolo said. “Sculler is trying to shift responsibility for the attack on the Terraces District to me, since I was the one who made the connection between Vulger and the Nightmare Empire. He’s claiming that if I’d done my job, I could have stopped things from escalating so far.”

“And is anyone fool enough to listen to him?” Rutger asked.

Parvolo sighed. “Unfortunately, Commander Middleton is listening. He’s not stupid enough to believe Sculler, but he does need a scapegoat. Sculler has too many illicit friends, so using him would cause problems.”

“The rewards of honesty,” Taryn said, darting a look at Rutger.

“I’m afraid so,” Parvolo said. “Middleton doesn’t care for the way I run things. He feels that a bit of corruption is necessary to grease the wheels of justice. I’ve heard he has very greasy hands. This is just the excuse he needs to get rid of me. Something so big that even the lord governor can’t gainsay him.”

“That puts you in a tight spot,” Rutger said. Unlike Taryn, who was still fuming over the way Parvolo had coerced them into helping the watch, Rutger was sympathetic to what the captain was trying to accomplish with the limited resources at his command.

“If the Cryxians aren’t found . . . and soon, it’ll mean my career,” Parvolo said. His expression darkened as he reached into his desk and withdrew a thin folio of papers. “My situation isn’t much of a secret either. Lieutenant Trask brought me this report earlier. It’s from one of his informants, a cutpurse who, if you follow the strings up, works for our friend Lorca. He’s low enough in the organization that I doubt if Lorca thinks anyone is aware of the connection.”

“Then Lorca’s been seen since the attack?” Taryn asked.

“Oh yes.” Parvolo nodded. “Unlike Vulger, Lorca is very much alive, well, and making public appearances.”

“You think Lorca’s trying to leak information to the watch through this thief,” Rutger said.

“Not just any information, information that could save my neck,” Parvolo said. “Information he wouldn’t want any of the other, less honest watch captains getting their hands on for fear it might reach the ears of the high captains.”

“He knows where the Cryxians are,” Taryn said with disgust.

“Probably,” Parvolo said. “But that isn’t what he’s offering. The informant tells us to intercept a ship out of Berck called the
Majestic
tomorrow, that the Cryxians will be using it to flee Five Fingers.

“The way I see things, Lorca brought in the Cryxians to eliminate Vulger and clear the way for him to rise within Kilbride’s syndicate. Lorca’s not powerful enough to attract those kind of allies, so he has to be offering them something. Whatever it is, it must be substantial, and I suspect he isn’t too keen on paying up. Now that the monsters have served their purpose, Lorca wants to use the authorities to eliminate his friends.” Parvolo laughed bitterly. “To do that, he’s picked the one man who’s in a position where he can’t afford to ignore the chance to catch the Cryxians, no matter where the information comes from.”

“And that’s why you called us here,” Rutger said. “You want our help when you intercept that ship.”

“I’ll need all the help I can get. Certainly, I could just warn the navy and have them sink the ship, but I think that’s exactly what Lorca wants. What I want is to board that ship, capture it, and take one of the Cryxian leaders alive. The Satyxis witch you saw or the necrotech, one of the monsters with enough life in it to understand that Lorca’s betrayed them, who will point the finger back at him. I need to prove a connection back to Lorca. I can’t let him profit from brining monsters into Five Fingers.”

Rutger was about to give Parvolo his assurance that they would help, but Taryn pressed her hand against his chest and stopped him before he could speak. “What you ask is going to be very risky,” she said.

Parvolo laughed and shook his head. “No money. All I can promise is that if the ship itself is judged untainted by a priest and we aren’t forced to burn it, then you’ll both get a share of the salvage.”

“I wasn’t worried about money,” Taryn said. “I’m worried about facing those . . . things again. It’s not like fighting something normal. They’re . . . unclean.” Her body began to tremble as she thought of the pistol wraith’s eerie deliberation waiting for her to draw her magelocks, trying to force her into a duel all her experience and ability wouldn’t enable her to win. She’d stood there, helpless, while he mocked everything she was, laughing silently at her skill.

Rutger set a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Taryn, they need us.”

Taryn shook her head. “I just don’t know that I can go through that again.”

Parvolo’s voice was disappointed but understanding. “I’ll have a launch down at the Old Colossus. The informant claims the
Majestic
won’t be sailing until after dawn, and I’m inclined to trust the timetable. If you change your mind, you’ll know where to find us.”

The lodgings the mercenaries had taken in the Captain’s Prow District on Captain’s Isle were far from commodious. Their small room was partitioned down the middle by a sheet hanging from a string. There was a hearth, but the flue was so choked with soot that any effort to start a fire soon filled the entire room with smoke. Ventilation came from a single window set high enough in the wall that only an especially acrobatic burglar would bother with it. Given the dilapidated condition of the neighborhood, a robber with any degree of skill wouldn’t waste his time.

Their reason for moving to these lodgings lay chiefly in the tiny wooden door that opened out into a small yard. Taryn rather suspected the yard had been put there as a concession to the sanitary needs of the tenement as a whole, but Rutger had appropriated it as a nearby spot to store Rex. A heavy tarp protected the ’jack from both rain and chamber pots emptied from above, though Rutger had been compelled to pay a few gobbers who lived in the rigging overhead to keep inquisitive hands away from the machine. So far, the gobbers had done an exemplary job of making sure all Rex’s parts stayed where they belonged.

When they returned from seeing Captain Parvolo, Rutger finally decided to voice the question that had been nagging at his every step. He’d had a long walk across half the island to consider how to broach the subject to Taryn, whether to tease the truth out of her, confront her directly, or play on their mutual friendship and trust. As he closed the door and turned toward Taryn, all he managed to get out was her name.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” the gun mage said.

Rutger raised his hands in protest. “I didn’t say anything yet.”

“Then don’t.”

It was the tone more than the words that concerned Rutger. With anyone else, he’d call the tone angry, but he knew Taryn better than that. When she got mad, it was a cold, steely kind of anger, the sort that kept its silence until it was ready to strike. This something different. He wasn’t sure what, but it worried him.

“You know Parvolo can use our help,” he said. “We could make all the difference for them.”

Taryn shook her head. “Working for the watch isn’t exactly lucrative.”

“Some things you do because they need to be done,” Rutger countered. “But I don’t think you’re so petty that gold’s the only thing you care about. I think I know you better than that.”

She turned her back to him and paced across the room, then turned back around. “Maybe I’m afraid.”

Rutger hadn’t believed her when she gave that excuse to Parvolo. Now he wasn’t so sure. There was something in her eyes, a sort of alchemy of shame, regret, and guilt all rolled into one. Looking at her, he did get the impression she was afraid, and despising herself for it.

“Every soldier is afraid before the battle,” Rutger said, remembering his days with the trenchers. “But they fight on because it’s their duty, because they know it’s right. Because they know their comrades are depending on them.”

He meant his words to be reassuring. The last thing Rutger expected was the pained expression that crossed Taryn’s face. She quickly turned to hide the expression from him, walking over and slipping under the sheet to the portion of the room that had been partitioned for her use.

“I’m going to clean my guns,” she said.

He’d started to follow her, but that sentence stopped him short. It was a quirk of hers, like drumming her fingers against the butts of her magelocks when she was feeling anxious. When Taryn said she was going to clean her guns, it meant that she wanted to be alone.

Rutger walked to the little side door and drew back the bar. He stepped out into the yard and made a quick inspection of Rex. The tarp was filthy from a midday shower, but the Toro itself was in good shape. Junkers Zahn had patched up the damage the Cryxian ’jacks inflicted. Except for the left hand, the injuries had only been superficial. Zahn was getting quite familiar with the ’jack, even suggesting that with the frequency of its visits that he should probably start painting advertisements on the Toro’s hull to direct customers to his workshop.

The image brought a smile to Rutger, and also an idea. Where sympathy and reason might not be enough to get past whatever Taryn was afraid of, maybe a bit of levity would. He stepped back into the tiny apartment.

“Has it occurred to you what splendid advertising helping the watch is going to be?” he said. “We’ll accrue a lot of goodwill and earn quite a reputation helping Parvolo sort out this Cryx incursion. Just the sort of thing to bolster our careers as mercenaries.”

He fell quiet for a minute, waiting for any kind of comment from Taryn. The only sound was the rustle of the sheet flapping in the breeze.

Rutger stared at the sheet for a moment, his curiosity aroused. He glanced behind him, thinking maybe he’d left the side door open. It was closed. With the chimney blocked, there was only one way a breeze could find its way into the room. “Taryn?” he called.

Still no answer. This time, he pulled back the sheet.

Taryn’s side of the room was deserted. There was no sign of her, only the cool breeze rushing in through the open window.