The Guild of the Cowry Catchers, Book 1: Embers, Deluxe Illustrated Edition (19 page)

“Gerard!” cried the other. “Come home at
last, have you? With your tail between your legs, I hope.”

Gerard said nothing. His hand was itching for
his sword.

“I hope you didn’t bring that whore with
you,” continued Jaleel. He was a little shorter than Gerard with
the same large dark eyes, but lighter hair.

Silveo came strolling down from the
quarterdeck at that moment, wearing his most dangerous smile. “I
don’t usually let shelts call me that on my own ship,” he said
cheerfully. “In fact, come to think of it, I use shelts who call me
that as fishing weights.”

Gerard glanced at him. For Silveo to
willingly own an insult intended for Thessalyn made him feel
absurdly grateful.

Jaleel blanched. “S-sir,” he stammered, “I
didn’t mean— I meant—”

“You doubtless have confused us with another
ship,” continued Silveo. “As anxious as you may be for whores, we
are not that kind of merchant. In fact, we’re not a merchant at
all. As any fool who didn’t grow up in a wyvern-forsaken backwater
could see, this is the
Fang
of the Temple Sea Watch, and we
are in need of supplies. Please go tell your harbormaster that my
quartermaster will wait upon him shortly, and if your king isn’t a
complete fool, he might think of inviting us to dinner. Now get off
my ship.”

Jaleel tried again to apologize, but Silveo
had already turned and stalked away. “Is he still talking?” he said
loudly to Farell. “Someone go toss him overboard.”

The sloop departed in some haste, and Gerard
watched them sail away. Silveo was grinning from ear to ear. “Your
brother?” he asked Gerard.

“My brother,” said Gerard with a faint
smile.

“Charming.” Silveo was positively gleeful.
“Did you see the color he turned when I came down on deck?”

“I saw,” said Gerard, who was beginning to
realize that Silveo’s purpose in coming here might not have been to
torment him after all.

“Is your father anything like you at all,
Gerard?”

Gerard thought for a moment. “He looks like
me.”

Alsair piped up behind him. “Yeah, but
you’re
not a total bastard.”

“A good point,” said Silveo.

It was all Gerard could do to keep from
gaping.
You just said something to Alsair! You never say
anything to Alsair!
Gerard licked his lips.
“My father only thinks in terms of what’s good for Holovarus.
Usually that means cowries, but sometimes other things. Public
relations, appearances—”

“Marriages,” supplied Silveo.

Gerard nodded.

“Good enough. He’ll invite us to dinner.
He’ll have to. It would look terrible otherwise.” Silveo walked off
to his cabin humming.

Chapter 25. Shinies and Lord
Holovar

Zeds are zebra shelts, and evidence suggests
that they are not long-time residents of Wefrivain at all, but were
imported from the Lawless Lands for hunting on Maijha Minor. They
have some traits in common with the hunti, including a
female-dominated warrior culture. Of all the creatures living on
Maijha Minor, the zeds seem to embrace their predicament most
readily. They regard themselves as hunters of grishnards, rather
than game animals.

—Gwain,
The Non-grishnards of Wefrivain

Silveo reappeared half a watch later dressed
in his zed-skin pants and frilly, white silk shirt. He wore a red
felt hat with a monstrous canary yellow plume, a pegasus-skin cape
of brilliant purple and gold feathers, and his bright yellow boots.
He had three earrings in one ear and five in the other, in a
variety of shapes and colors. He’d braided tiny golden bells on
golden thread into his tail and re-kohled his eyes so that the pale
blue irises flashed in the fading light.

Gerard stared at him. Silveo grinned back.
“Do I look like a more expensive version of something from the
pleasure districts of Sern?”

“I wouldn’t have said it that way.”

“No, of course you
wouldn’t. You would have just grimaced and given me that
look.”

“What look?” asked Gerard, but Silveo only
sniffed and flipped his tail.

Thessalyn had come cautiously up on deck to
stand in the late afternoon sunlight. “Let me see,” she said.
Silveo let her fingers dance over his attire. Thessalyn giggled
when she got to his earrings. “Silveo, this is a lot even for
you.”

“I know,” he said. “I jingle every time I
turn my head.” He demonstrated. “And you didn’t ‘see’ my tail.
Listen.” He waved it, and the bells rang merrily.

“Are you trying to annoy Lord Holovar?” asked
Thessalyn.

“The lady is brilliant. I am trying to be
completely shocking and offensive.”

“I think you’ll succeed,” said Gerard.

“Are you coming with us, Thess?” asked
Silveo.

Thessalyn hesitated. “I—I’d rather not.
Unless you really want me to.”

Silveo shook his head, earrings tinkling.
“No, stay here. I will order something edible brought to your cabin
and someone to read to you while you eat it. Or you can play and
sing. Whatever suits. You don’t have to touch this island if you
don’t want to.”

Alsair wanted to come, but Gerard shook his
head. “Father will regard you as a weapon. I might as well walk in
there with a drawn sword.”

“I
am
a weapon,” growled Alsair.
“Weapons keep you safe.”

“Not when they’re seen as a threat. You’ll
only end up in a fight with some of the other house griffins. There
are lots of them and only one of you. Please honor what I told you
earlier.”

A quarter watch later, a
lantern-lit boat put out from the pier and glided towards them.
Farell and his ten captains were all dressed in quieter clothes,
ready for a formal dinner. “I’ll tell you something else about
shinies,” said Silveo to Gerard while they waited. “I’m not just
invisible when I’m
not
wearing them. I’m invisible even when I
am.”

Gerard thought about that.

“I poisoned a shelt one time while he was
looking right at me,” continued Silveo. “I was wearing these
earrings, in fact, and he just couldn’t get his eyes off them. I
reached over and dumped felbain in his glass, and he didn’t even
notice.”

“You’re not planning on poisoning my father?”
asked Gerard in some alarm.

“Probably not,” said Silveo. “What’s his name
anyway?”

“Mishael. But no one ever calls him—”

He saw Silveo’s grin and shook his head. “He
has a temper, Silveo. Be careful.”

“Does he have a wife?”

“Not unless a lot has changed. Mother died
when we were young, and he never remarried.”

Something in Gerard’s voice must have
betrayed him, because Silveo turned to look at him. There was a
long pause, and then Silveo thumped his bells against the side of
the ship. “Very occasionally I am slow, but I do catch on in the
end.”

You’re never slow,
thought Gerard.
You are
annoyingly not slow.

“He wanted Thess, didn’t he?”

Gerard said nothing.

“Yes, yes,” Silveo continued. “No wonder he
paid for her schooling—pretty, talented girl. He probably thought
he’d bought her.”

Gerard scowled. He drew a deep breath. “Most
minstrels are sons or daughters of great houses, and they marry
well. Females of humble birth are in a tough position and often end
up as court mistresses to some great lord.”

Silveo shrugged. “One could do worse than
Lord Holovar.”

Gerard looked up at the
night sky.
I loved her, and he didn’t. But
you really don’t know what that means, do you?
“One day, I remember we were walking on the beach—he and
Jaleel and I and several of his councilors. Thess had come, and she
was trailing behind, feeling with her paws for shells, the way she
likes to do. She was wearing an expensive gown, and it would trail
in the sand every time she bent over to pick one up. My father saw
her, told her to stop; the gown was too expensive to be doing that.
She protested, and he hit her—casually across the face, the way you
might slap a dumb animal that was misbehaving.”
She looked so surprised, so lost, so hurt.

Silveo’s eyes had narrowed to slits. Gerard
couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Finally, he said, “Did he ever
hit you?”

Gerard was taken a little off guard.
“Sometimes—not often and never to wound. He would never have
married Thess. That might have confused the succession. He would
have cared for her children, of course, and for some girls that
would have been enough. But Thess…symbols mean a lot to her, and
being hit—”

“I know all about being hit,” snapped
Silveo. He said nothing else for the rest of the ride to the
pier.

Chapter 26. Thank
You

The wyverns did something clever when they
came to Wefrivain. They chose the largest, most aggressive shelt
species in the islands and helped them subjugate all the other
creatures. They made sure that the grishnards would control
everyone else. Then all the wyverns had to do was control the
grishnards.

—Gwain,
The Truth About Wyverns

Servants had been sent to bring them up to
the castle. Again, Gerard knew them all. They stared at him
curiously, but when they saw Silveo, they almost forgot about
Gerard. By the time they reached the end of the little harbor town
and started up the castle hill, Gerard thought that half the
population of Holovarus must have turned out to have a look.

“Embarrassed to be seen with me, Gerard?”
asked Silveo, chiming with every step.

“No,” said Gerard, and found that it was
true. He didn’t belong on this island anymore. The knowledge came
as a shock and a relief.

Formally dressed servants met them at the
castle entrance. They were too polite to stare, but they kept
shooting little glances at Silveo out of the corners of their eyes.
Lord Holovar was waiting in the antechamber outside the dining
hall. “Oh, look,” said Silveo softly, “it’s you in thirty years—if
you live that long.”

Lord Holovar was slightly taller than Gerard.
He had the hard profile of an active shelt, a face prematurely
lined with sun and wind, and iron gray hair that had once been
black. He was not the kind of person who smiled often. Gerard could
feel his stomach knotting again. He felt as though he were twelve
years old and being called in to account for mishandling of the
island’s resources or neglect of some duty. Jaleel was standing
slightly behind his father, looking sullen. He whispered something
as they entered.

“Stop that,” snapped Silveo, and Gerard
realized he’d been slapping Silveo on the back of the head with his
own lashing tail. “Don’t fidget,” hissed Silveo. “Hold your head
up, stay with me, and keep your mouth shut. If you must talk,
remember that you are the captain of the Temple Police.”

He strode to the front of the group.
“Mishael,” he said just as the king was opening his mouth to speak.
“You have the honor of hosting the Temple Sea Watch and the Police
this evening, and I’m sure you’re charmed. No doubt your little
dining hall is delightful, but I have been on my ship for days and
would like to stretch my legs first. May we have a tour of
this…uh…fort…castle…whatever…first?” Silveo flipped his hand
languidly as he spoke, jingling and glittering with every move.

Gerard watched his father, who was staring in
open horror at Silveo. His mouth twitched. His teeth were fairly on
edge as he said, “I take it you are Admiral Lamire.”

Silveo yawned. “Yes, yes, my fame precedes me
throughout the lesser kingdoms.”

Gerard forced himself not to smile. Silveo
had hit a nerve. The lords of these little islands preferred “small
kingdoms,” not “lesser,” and his father was prickly on the
point.

Jaleel made a hiss, and the king’s tail
lashed once. “The food,” said Mishael Holovar with studied calm,
“will be cold if we do not proceed to dinner. I will be happy to
take you on a tour after we have eaten. However, there is one point
we must discuss first.”

Silveo raised an eyebrow. “If the food
congeals, I’m sure the servants can reheat it. They can probably
re-poison it, too; I hope you didn’t use anything expensive.”

Jaleel made another little noise. “I can
assure you that nothing you eat in my castle will be poisoned,”
said Lord Holovar.

“Good, good,” said Silveo. “My Mistress takes
a dim view of those who poison her servants. Now what was this
point of yours?”

“My son,” said Mishael Holovar, “is not
welcome here unless he has come to apologize on his knees and make
appropriate restitution. Otherwise, he is not to set foot on this
island.”

Gerard glanced sideways at
Silveo. He remembered the advice Silveo had given him on the way to
Sern.
Is this what you brought me here
for, Silveo?