Scimitar War (42 page)

“Ah! That’ll give us some kind of estimate of its speed. And did you see any imperial ships headed south?”

“No, no odda ships.”

“So they’ve already reached Joslan…” Cynthia bit her lip as she considered the information.

Chula glanced over as someone else entered the hallway, then stared. “Miss Cammy! We heard you was—”

“Chula!” Her eyes were filled with tears, and she wrung her hands in white-knuckled fists. “Is…is Paska with you, or Tipos? I’ve got to explain…”

“Paska and Tipos are at Ghelfan’s, Miss Cammy.” He looked at Norris, behind him to the unobtrusive secretary, Huffington, and then back to her. “I guess dat whole plan worked, ay?”

“It worked,” the count said, moving to put an arm around Camilla’s slim waist. “It’s a very long story, but you needn’t have left Paska and Tipos behind.” He looked conspicuously at the two imperial guards, and added. “After rescuing Camilla, the facts became clear to everyone.”

“Well, dat’s somet’in’! I had a knock-down drag-out argument wit’ Paska to keep her from comin’ here, and it was all for not’in’! Ha!” He clapped the count on the shoulder. “It good to be seein’ ya safe an’ sound, Miss Cammy, but…” He paused for a moment, unsure of how to say it, then just blurted it out. “Dat bloody pirate Parek is here.”

“Here?” Camilla paled and clutched Norris’ arm. Norris held her steady, his arm around her protectively. “Here in Tsing? How do you know?”

“Seems he stopped at Ghelfan’s shipyard fer repairs. He fed ‘em some story ‘bout gettin’ a recommendation from…uh…you, Miss Cammy. He had his ship refitted and trimmed up ta look like a merchantman. He renamed her
Lady Belle
, and we seen dat very ship in de harbor here.”

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Norris said, and he kissed Camilla’s hair. “He can’t know you’re here. You’re safe.”

“Aye, and wit’ de whole crew of de
Pride
here in Tsing, we can make double sure of dat, Miss Cammy.” Chula turned to Cynthia. “An’ dat reminds me o’ what I was lookin’ ta tell Capt’n Feldrin. Dem imperial navy types impounded
Orin’s Pride
, Mistress. Dere was not a t’ing we could be doin’ about it. I’m sorry.”

“I knew they would, Chula,” Cynthia replied with a sigh. “If every sailor in the navy wasn’t working on city defenses, the emperor would probably have her hauled and dismantled before the day was out so his naval architect could…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes slowly widened. Her gaze drifted away from Chula to the two bored imperial guards. She edged forward and gripped Norris’ arm, lowering her voice to a bare whisper. “That’s it!”

“What’s what?” Norris asked.

“That’s
everything
! Don’t you see?” She glanced again at her imperial escort. “We should sit down and discuss this, Count Norris. There are…implications.”

“Of course.”

Norris, Chula saw, was no fool when it came to keeping secrets, yet another advantage to a career in diplomacy, he supposed. The count ushered them to a quiet sitting room, and called for drinks. He had Huffington see to the comfort of the two imperial guards, who remained in the foyer, comfortably seated with a small table between them, sharing a pot of blackbrew and a plate of sweet biscuits.

When the door finally closed, Cynthia continued in a low voice, “I completely forgot about the confiscation of our property! The empire took everything Feldrin and I own.”

Chula wondered how that could be a good thing, but Cynthia seemed elated.

Cynthia turned to Norris. “Are there any magistrates in Tsing who owe you a favor? A
big
favor? Or who perhaps can be…bought?”

“There are several who owe me favors,” Norris answered with a wry smile. “Why?”

“I need to draft some documents, have them ratified for about a month ago, and get them to Southaven immediately.”

“The magistrate is no problem, but it’s weeks by courier to Southaven, and there will be no ships heading there anytime soon.”

Cynthia chewed her thumbnail, then brightened. “Could you contact ambassador Troielstian to arrange a meeting here with the elves?”

“Certainly.”

“Thank you!”

Chula had watched the exchange with no comprehension of what they were talking about, but that wasn’t his affair. “Dere’s somethin’ else we need to be doin’, Mistress,” he said as Norris got up to leave the room. “We gotta be findin’ dis pirate, Parek.”

“Parek…” Camilla whispered as she cringed into the couch, her arms clutched around her waist.

Cynthia stared at Chula as if he were crazy. “Why in all the Nine Hells would you want to find him, Chula?”

“Two reasons, Shambata Daroo: blood and money.” Fury boiled through Chula as he looked at Camilla’s fear-stricken face; the woman was a mere shadow of her former self. “His blood, and your money.”

His words wrought a peculiar change in Camilla. She slowly sat up, straightening her back and raising her head, muscles clenching at her jaw. Something dark and dangerous glinted in her eyes, and she mouthed a word that only he seemed to see.
Blood
.

“We’ll need help to find him,” Horace said. “We don’t know the city so good.”

“That’s easy,” Tim said with a feral grin, “Father’s got just the man to track him down.”

≈

“Wha’de ya think, Capt’n?” Quid asked as they stood at the opposite corner of the block and stared at the tall, white-painted townhouse that Kori had disappeared into.

“I think it’s a bloody nice place fer a common pirate to afford.” He nudged Quid and they withdrew around the corner. “Looks like they took a fair prize, then skipped out before we got back.”

“Bloody traitors, cuttin’ out so they wouldn’t have to share it with us.” Quid spat onto the cobbles.

“Don’t know if that’s the case, yet, Quid,” Farin said, rubbing his jaw in thought. “With all them warships about, they might have been forced to hightail it. But I know one thing; we’re gonna pay the good Master Kori a visit and find out.”

“Shall I round up the crew?”

“Aye, as many as are still in town. If Kori’s new digs are any indication of the plunder Parek took, they’ll want to be in on this.” He looked to Quid and grinned. “Like the oath says: loyal as one, or a watery grave.”

Chapter 29

The Hunt

“Ahoy, Lady Belle,” Horace called as they approached the sleek vessel.

Huffington sat in the prow of the launch, looking every bit the rich man’s secretary. He ran his gaze appraisingly over
Lady Belle
and made a nonsensical note in the small book he balanced on his knee.

“They changed her rake and rig, but I recognize her now,” Tim said in a low voice as he nodded toward the stern. “Father and I climbed up her transom looking for Miss Cammy.”

“Quiet now, Tim,” Huffington warned, trying to imagine his master climbing up through the transom windows, a dagger in his teeth. He failed, but it brought a thin smile to his lips. “We don’t know who’s aboard her yet. Just give me a nod if you recognize any pirates.”

Horace called out again, and finally a figure appeared at the gunwale.

“Ahoy the launch. What’s yer business?”

“We’d like a word with the captain, if he’s about,” Huffington called out. When the sailor disappeared, Huffington glanced at Tim, but the boy shook his head; not a pirate. At least, not a pirate he knew.

A moment later, another man appeared and leaned over the rail. He was older and heftier than the first, and had an air of command about him. Huffington feigned a lurch with a roll of the launch, glancing back at Tim. Again, Tim shook his head; not a pirate.

“I’m the captain. What’s this about? Don’t tell me the commodore’s changed his mind and decided to commandeer us. You don’t look like imperials.”

“No, sir,” Huffington said. “My master’s in the market to expand his fleet, and this fine ship caught his eye. She isn’t perchance for sale, is she?”

“Sorry, mate, but I just bought her myself.” The man grinned triumphantly, thumbs in his broad belt. “She is a beauty, ain’t she?”

“Oh! My master’s not going to be happy with that.” Huffington put on a pained expression, then looked back up with a ray of hope. “Could you maybe give me the name of the chap you bought her from? Perhaps he has additional vessels for sale.”

“It was a fat banker type. Had it on auction. Got it on a writ of foreclosure for debt, he did. Let’s see, the fellow’s name was…Tree-somethin’… Trifold! That’s it.”

“Thank you, sir! Sorry to have disturbed you,” Huffington called, then nodded to Horace. The six crewmen from
Orin’s Pride
dipped their oars and pulled toward shore. They were on the scent.

≈

“Good evening, Master Trifold. Might I have a word with you, sir?”

The rotund financier turned from the door of his opulent uptown office, which he had just secured with a large set of brass keys. He didn’t look impressed with Huffington. Trifold’s bodyguard, a burly chap with a heavy cudgel at his hip, was more responsive to Huffington’s approach; his glare would have given a mounted lancer pause.

“My office is closed for the day. You can make an appointment tomorrow, but until then, I must bid you good night.” He started up the street, his bodyguard at his heels. Huffington smoothly kept pace.

“Your pardon, sir,” Huffington said, “but we really must speak now. My lord, Count Norris, is conducting an investigation concerning the sale of a certain vessel, the
Lady Belle
. You do, of course, know the ship.”

Trifold frowned. “I purchase and sell a great many things, sir. I do not recall a ship by that name. Excuse me.” He quickened his pace, walking now as fast as an overweight, sedentary man could.

“Come now, sir,” Huffington said with a thin smile, “you must remember. A small galleon with slim lines, newly refitted. Her master’s name was
Parek
, I believe.”

A flash of tension before the façade of indignation closed back over the financier’s piggish features confirmed the man’s association with the pirate.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone by that name. If Count Norris wishes to investigate my business dealings, he is free to do so,
after
he has acquired a writ from a magistrate. Now, sir, I must bid you good night!”

“How very fortunate, then, that I procured such a writ before I came.” Huffington slowly withdrew a folded piece of fine, heavy paper from his inner coat pocket and held it out to the financier. The magistrate who had been busy notarizing the seamage’s documents had not even noticed one more slipped into the pile. “Now, we can either discuss this like civilized men, or I can serve this writ and gather my information from the documents I am legally entitled to confiscate from your office. Your choice, Master Trifold.”

The fat man stopped abruptly and stared at the paper. Huffington could almost see his thoughts churning, trying to determine just how damaging an imperial investigation of his business would be. Huffington had seen the type before, and knew that Trifold had more to lose than the proceeds from one client. He would cough Parek up like a bad oyster, given the right inducement.

“Well then!” the man blustered as he waved back his growling bodyguard. “I suppose I have some time for you, sir. Let us walk back to my office where we can discuss this in comfort.”

Huffington smiled as he tucked the writ back into his coat pocket. “Very good, sir. Thank you for your cooperation.”

≈

“Excuse me, milord, but there’s some…um…people at the door.”

Emil glanced up from where he sat with Camilla and Cynthia, enjoying an after-dinner glass of port, to see his housekeeper standing in the doorway, her eyes wide and jaw slack.

“People?” he asked, frowning with worry.

“Yes, milord.” Her voice reduced to a whisper. “Queer folk, they are, too.”

“The elves,” Cynthia said with a nervous smile.

“Excellent!” The count stood and held his arm out for Camilla. She slipped her hand lightly around it. He smiled at her; he’d been afraid that Chula’s information about Parek might cause a setback in her condition, but instead, she actually seemed to be a bit calmer tonight, steadier.

“Thank you, Mrs. Grembly,” he said as they passed the housekeeper. “That will be all.”

In the foyer stood the elves, tall and graceful. The two imperial guards, Cynthia’s escort, stared wide-eyed at the pair.

“How delightful that you could come.” Emil bowed low as Cynthia introduced everyone, then waved the company toward the parlor.

“We are pleased to attend,” said Xoihe. “Any assistance we can provide Seamage Flaxal Brelak is a worthy request.”

Emil pulled the doors closed before the imperial guards could follow. His housekeeper was already laying out some more blackbrew and biscuits, and they didn’t even seem to notice they were being excluded again. Norris smiled and latched the door.

When he turned, Cynthia was already talking softly with the elves, handing them a thick, leather-bound packet. He knew what the packet contained. They had spent most of the afternoon drafting the documents.

“If you could get this to Southaven quickly, I’ll be forever in your debt,” Cynthia said.

“We will do this, Seamage Flaxal Brelak, but we require no obligation from you,” Tierl said as she tucked the packet into her robes and smiled, bowing like a willow swaying in a summer breeze. “The burden of our folly rests on your shoulders. Edan is of our creation, after all. The perils you face stem from our thoughtlessness and pride.”

“The city is a beautiful creation,” Cynthia insisted. “Asking you to destroy it would be like someone asking me to destroy my ships; impossible.”

“Regardless, we wish you success.” The elves lifted the hoods of their cloaks. Even with their distinctive features out of sight, they possessed a grace that distinguished them from every human in the room.

“I will deliver your package to Southaven immediately,” Tierl said to Cynthia, “and Xoihe will remain in the city until your task is finished. If we can provide any other service, you have but to ask.”

“Thank you!” she said as the elves turned toward the door.

Emil escorted their guests through the foyer to the front entrance. The elves merely bowed their hooded heads and descended the stairs to the street. He watched them walk away, incongruous in their urban surroundings, but so fluid and calm in their movements. He closed the door and turned back to see Camilla and Cynthia emerging from the parlor arm in arm. For the first time Camilla was not the one being supported, but instead was lending her strength to Cynthia, who looked tired but pleased.

“I’m off to bed, then,” Cynthia said. “I’ve a long day tomorrow.”

“I’ll go up, too,” Camilla said. She tilted her head up to Emil. He bent to kiss her and was surprised to feel her ardent response. She
was
feeling better.

“I won’t be long,” he promised her as he squeezed her hand, then watched them ascend the stairs, trailed by Cynthia’s ever-present guards. He considered how much his life had changed since his first trip to Plume Isle.
Today I helped prepare fraudulent documents, coerced a magistrate into signing them, hosted a conspiracy and lied to imperial guards
, he thought.
It’s not quite the same thrill as stealing a sword and leaping into the sea from the deck of a ship, but in the halls of politics, it might just be the equivalent
.