Retribution Falls (47 page)

Thade said nothing, but his gaze was murderous.

‘You’re going to take his word for what kind of guns he has on his craft?’ Grephen spluttered.

‘I know what kind of guns he has on his craft,’ Drave said. ‘We have it in our possession.’

Frey’s heart leaped. That could mean only one thing: Jez. Somehow, she’d found the Century Knights and told them what was going on. A flicker of real hope ignited in him.

‘He’s playing for time!’ Grephen accused. ‘He’s leading you on a wild goose chase. You’re not really thinking of letting him lead you all over Vardia in search of some mythical pirate port?’

Drave looked at Frey. ‘Is that what you’re doing? Playing for time?’

‘If you’ll permit me . . .’ said Frey. He reached down into his trousers and began groping around at his crotch. Several guards covered him with guns. Samandra Bree raised an eyebrow.

After a moment, he pulled out a tightly folded piece of paper and proffered it across the podium. Drave looked at it, then nodded at Samandra.

‘Me?’ she cried in protest. She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine!’ she groaned.

She took the paper delicately from Frey’s hand, touching it as little as possible. ‘That’s been down there for days, right?’

‘Ever since Dracken captured us,’ Frey said, with a wink. ‘Lucky they didn’t search us too closely.’

Samandra wrinkled her pretty nose. ‘Ugh.’

She handed the paper to Drave, who unfolded it, apparently unconcerned by the moistness and the smell.

‘It’s a page from the dock master’s book at Retribution Falls. You can see his name and title signed down there in the bottom corner,’ Frey told him.

‘I see it,’ said Drave. He turned the paper over. ‘I don’t see the Ketty Jay on here, though.’

‘We weren’t calling ourselves the Ketty Jay at the time. It would have been a bit stupid with half of Vardia trying to catch or kill us.’

‘How convenient!’ Grephen crowed.

‘I’m not showing it to you to prove I was there. The fact that you hold it in your hand is proof enough that I was there,’ Frey replied. ‘The name you should be looking at is the Moment of Silence. If you look up her records you’ll find she’s a craft registered to the Awakeners. The signature will also match the captain’s. She was the craft shuttling Awakener gold to Retribution Falls to finance the army.’

Grephen was becoming short of breath. ‘That . . . that piece of paper doesn’t prove anything! A forged piece of rubbish!’

There were many tales told about Kedmund Drave. Like all the Century Knights, he had his own kind of legend. One of the less unpleasant stories claimed that he could tell if a man was lying just by looking into his eyes. He looked now: a penetrating gaze, boring into the Duke.

Grephen backed off a step. ‘You’re going to take the word of a convict over that of a Duke?’

‘A Duke who still hasn’t told me why he’s attempting to execute these prisoners when he knows they should have gone to the Archduke for trial.’

‘This is ridiculous!’ Grephen cried, flailing. ‘I’m not answering to you! I don’t have to answer to anyone but the Archduke in my own duchy.’

‘We act for the Archduke,’ said Drave. ‘So you answer to me!’

‘Come on, Grephen!’ Frey jeered. ‘Tell him why you want me dead! Tell him about Orkmund and all your pirate friends!’

‘And you!’ Grephen cried, thrusting a shaky finger at him. ‘I’ve had quite enough out of you.’ He looked at the executioner, who was still standing on the podium, holding Frey’s cutlass. ‘Kill him!’ Grephen ordered.

Two lever-action shotguns spun out from beneath Samandra Bree’s long coat, and fixed on the executioner. ‘Raise that sword and you’re the first to die,’ she said.

The executioner stayed where he was, his gaze flicking between the Duke and the twin barrels aimed at his face. Frey was in no doubt which would prove most persuasive.

The Duke’s guards were stirring uneasily now. Their loyalty was to their Duke, and they didn’t like to see him bullied. Colden Grudge, sensing the tension, flung back his cloak to allow himself easy access to the double-bladed hand-axes hanging at his belt.

‘Your Grace, I think you had better come with me,’ said Drave, ‘until we can verify your innocence.’

‘You’re arresting me?’ Grephen gasped. He looked left and right, eyes bulging, a cornered animal searching for a way out. The elderly judge had already retreated, distancing himself from the Duke.

‘Your Grace!’ Thade snapped, seeing the panic on his companion’s face. ‘Calm yourself!’

‘I’m requesting the pleasure of your company on the Archduke’s behalf,’ Drake insisted steadily. ‘You won’t be locked up. We just need to be sure you aren’t going anywhere. If these allegations are groundless, you’ve nothing to fear.’

‘Nothing to fear?’ he screeched. ‘I’m a Duke! Spit and blood, I’m a Duke of Vardia! You can’t treat me like this in my own house!’ He hesitated, gaping, as if shocked by the enormity of what he was about to do. Then he turned to his captain of the guard and shouted: ‘Seize them! Arrest those Knights!’

Chaos erupted in the courtyard. The militia surged in on the Knights. Samandra Bree’s shotguns bellowed, and two men flew backwards in a cloud of blood. Colden Grudge swung his axes, severing limbs and fingers. Kedmund Drave moved faster than his bulk and armour suggested he could, slipping out of the grasp of two soldiers, coming up with pistols blazing. In seconds, the space in front of Frey’s makeshift gallows became a battlefield as the militia tried to overwhelm the Century Knights, and the Knights retaliated with lethal force.

The executioner was standing agape. Frey turned to him, holding out his hands.

‘Cut the ropes!’ he said. It was addressed to the cutlass rather than the man holding it.

The blade moved of its own accord, slashing through the air and dividing the rope between Frey’s wrists. As soon as his hands were free, the cutlass somersaulted from the executioner’s hands and into his. An instant later, Frey had the tip at the confused executioner’s throat. The man’s eyes bulged in incomprehension. Frey delivered a good, solid kick square between the legs. His eyes bulged even further as he sank gently to the ground.

Pinn was cheering from inside the cage. Crake shouted at Frey and pointed. ‘Dracken’s running!’ he cried.

Frey looked. The melee in the courtyard had become fiercer. The Knights were many times outnumbered but they still wouldn’t go down. Several bloodied bodies lay on the ground. The militia had given up trying to seize anyone and were just trying to kill them now, but their rifles were unwieldy in such close quarters. Some had reverted to pistols and knives. The Knights slipped between the bullets and blades with practised savagery, and their opponents couldn’t lay a hand on them.

Beyond it all, Frey could see Trinica Dracken. She was fleeing towards the door that led into the barracks building, away from the courtyard. Duke Grephen was backing away from the knot of men struggling with the Knights. He looked dazed, startled by the carnage he’d unleashed. Inadvertently, he strayed too close to the cage where the Ketty Jay’s crew were imprisoned, and Malvery reached out and grabbed him with his thick arms, hugging him close to the bars.

‘I’ve got this one, Cap’n!’ Malvery yelled, as Frey launched off the platform in pursuit of Trinica. He sprinted across the courtyard as she disappeared through the door. From the corner of his eye, he saw Gallian Thade running for the same door. The aristocrat had obviously decided that Trinica had the right idea and had abandoned his Duke in favour of a quick escape.

The two of them raced across the courtyard, and for a moment it looked as if they’d reach their destination at the same time. But then Frey saw Kedmund Drave raise his pistol and fire through the press of bodies that surrounded him. Thade’s sprint became a stumble, tripping forward under his own momentum. His face went slack, and he crashed to the ground in a heap of dust, his fine jacket holed and stained with blood.

Frey ran on, fearing a bullet in his own back at any moment, but Drave was too busy saving himself to spare more than a split second to deal with anyone else. Pinn and Malvery cheered him on as he flew through the open doorway, out of the courtyard and into the cool stone corridors of the barracks.

Trinica was just disappearing around a corner, and he gave chase. Her compass and charts were the only bargaining chips he had; if she got away with them, he and his crew would still hang for their part in the crime. As he rounded the corner, he glimpsed her again - her black-clad figure, her roughly cropped white hair. Hearing his footsteps, she looked back at him. Her eyes showed him nothing, not even surprise. She dodged around another corner and was lost from sight.

Frey sprinted, arms pumping, his cutlass cutting the air. The barracks were deserted, and the walls rang with the hollow echoes of his bootsteps. He swung round the corner after Trinica.

She was standing there, a few metres away, her pistol aimed at his chest. Frey felt a moment of dreadful surprise, and then she shot him.

The gunshots were deafening. He didn’t even have time to skid to a halt before she pulled the trigger twice in succession, shooting at virtually point-blank range. Frey’s momentum was violently checked. He tottered on his heels and fell onto his back.

Trinica had dismissed him before he’d even hit the floor. She holstered her pistol and ran on, not interested in wasting a moment of her escape on sentiment.

Frey heard her footsteps disappear up the corridor. His chest heaved. His brain and body gradually slipped out of a state of shock.

He got up on his elbows. He felt around his chest in disbelief.

There were no holes in his shirt. He was unharmed. He got to his feet, looking around himself as if there might be an answer lying there.

I’m not dead, he thought, dumbly. Why aren’t I dead?

There was only one thing he could think of. He looked down at his hand, which was still holding the cutlass.

The daemon-thralled blade had deflected the bullets.

‘I didn’t know it could do that,’ he murmured, staring at it in wonder. It wasn’t even marked. ‘Crake, you’re a bloody genius.’

But there was no time for amazement. Matters were too urgent to wallow in good fortune.

The corridor ended in a T-junction, which brought him to a halt. He looked both ways. A door was ajar some way down the left corridor. He crept towards it. As he neared, he heard the sounds of muted rummaging inside, and the click of case-locks. Suddenly, the door flew open and Trinica burst out. His arm snapped up, the edge of the cutlass resting against her throat, and she froze. In one hand was her pistol; in the other was the case he’d seen her carrying when they were shuttled down from the Delirium Trigger. The case holding the charts and the compass that would lead him back to Retribution Falls.

‘Ah-ah, Trinica,’ he said chidingly. ‘You’re not going anywhere. Drop the gun.’

She stared at him, her eyes black, and said nothing.

‘Don’t think I’ll do it?’ he asked. ‘Try me. After what you just pulled, I’d be glad to be rid of you.’

Trinica dropped her gun. Frey kicked it away from her. ‘Give me the case,’ he told her. She did so. She didn’t seem surprised that he was still alive, and she didn’t ask how.

‘They’ll kill me, Darian,’ she said. ‘When Grephen’s plan comes to light, they’ll hang me as a conspirator.’

‘Probably,’ said Frey. He was still angry enough not to care. The fact that she’d pulled the trigger on him had wounded him deeply. Somehow, he’d always thought she wouldn’t be able to do it. Watching him die was one thing, but this had a whole new level of cold-bloodedness to it. He felt unreasonably betrayed. Their past should have counted for something at that moment. You shouldn’t be capable of killing someone you once loved.

Trinica stared at him for a long moment. ‘What now? Are you going to take me back to them?’

Frey didn’t answer that. He hadn’t thought beyond reclaiming the charts. He hadn’t considered what he might do with Trinica.

‘You know there’s no guarantee they’ll pardon you, don’t you?’ she said. ‘You know they could just force you to co-operate. They might go back on their word after you’ve done what you said you would. Because whatever way you cut it, you fired on the Ace of Skulls. You were attacking it when it exploded. You think the Archduke is going to want to pardon the man who killed his only son?’ The corner of her mouth quirked into a smile. ‘You’re a traitor and a pirate, just like I am.’

Frey wanted to deny that intimacy. He wanted to tell her that they were not the same. But he knew she was right. She spoke to all his deepest fears. His whole plan relied on making a deal with the authorities, and he knew how authorities could be. There was no fairness or justice in them. They had the power to go back on any deal they made, if it suited them.

‘Come with me, Darian,’ Trinica said. That shocked him.

‘With you?’ he sneered, automatically.

‘I’ll drop you at a safe port. You can make your way from there. We’ll be under terms of truce, as one captain to another; I’ll see you’re not harmed.’

Frey hesitated, the sneer dropping from his face. He believed her. There was honour among pirates of a kind there never had been among the aristocracy. And yet it enraged him how even this slender invitation made his heart jump. Though he’d loathed her all these years, his body seemed never to forget the love they’d once shared. The merest hint of reconciliation, of alliance, ignited a yearning in his guts that disgusted him. He reacted by hardening his resolve.

Damn her. Damn her and her terms of truce.

She was no longer the woman he’d loved. The woman he loved no longer existed. Instead, he was haunted by her ghost.

‘Why take the risk, Darian?’ she said. ‘If you go back there, they’ll hang you.’

‘If I don’t go back, they’ll hang my crew for sure.’

‘Since when did that matter to you?’

He didn’t know the answer to that. It wasn’t really important. It had been an accumulation of moments: a clutter of drunken laughter, of triumphant grins, of gunfights and arguments and sarcastic little quips. The feeling had crept up on him stealthily, and by the time he was aware of it, he’d been overtaken.