The Cartographer Complete Series

by A. C. Cobble

  “Sorcery,” guessed Philip. “Neither of you dropped the investigation, did you? You don’t think this is over. Tell me, and I can help you.”

  “The clock is ticking, m’lord,” repeated the strange woman.

  He turned to go.

  The Cartographer XXIII

  He stumbled out of the bed and nearly crashed to the floor, slumping against the table and rocking the crystal stemware there. His breathing was raw and ragged. Sweat beaded his forehead and he could feel the chill of it on his back as he was exposed to the cool air in the room. His legs trembled, and raw scratches marred his shoulders and his arms. His lower back ached from vigorous activity that he was certain had eclipsed a full cycle of the day. His most tender bits felt like they’d been subjected to unending pummeling, though more often than not over the course of the day, he’d been the one doing the pummeling.

  On the floor near the door was folded sheet of parchment. On wobbly legs, he walked over and picked it up. It was written in Winchester’s jagged handwriting. Sam was awake, and his brother had gone to see her. Oliver scowled.

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a week,” called a voice from behind him.

  He turned, taking in the vision that was Aria Child. Sprawled out on her silk sheets, her hair a mess, her makeup long since smeared away onto him or her pillow, her chest rising and falling in a failing attempt to get her breath, she couldn’t have looked more beautiful.

  “That was the idea,” he muttered.

  She snorted, the sound odd coming from her delicate features. “What? You plan to go see my sister while I’m incapacitated?”

  He shook his head, walking back to the table. “I think she’d kill me if I did, one way or the other.”

  Rolling her eyes, Aria let her head fall back onto the pillow. “She would kill you, but you’d enjoy every minute of it. Go on, then. Run off to Isabella. I’ll pretend I don’t know.”

  “I’m not going to see Isabella,” he insisted. “In fact, if I can, I aim to sneak out of here before she can track me down. I-I have something I must do, something I hope I can do now that… I have to go, Aria.”

  “I heard the knocking on the door,” said Aria, glancing at him. He struggled to meet her eyes and not let his gaze rove over her naked body. “It was Winchester, wasn’t it? Let me guess. The girl is awake, the common one you’ve been spending time with, a priestess? What do you see in that girl that you do not see in me or my sister? Isabella, I could live with. She looks just like me, for one, so I cannot fault you there. This other girl, though… Samantha, right? I do not like it, Oliver.”

  “It’s not like that, Aria,” he responded. “First of all, she’s a priestess, and they, well, she does, ah… She’s a priestess. Second, she prefers women. I suppose she’s been with a man before, but it’s only women she invites into her bed now.”

  Aria blinked at him. “Are you lying to me?”

  “No,” he answered, crossing his arms and realizing he was leaning against her table, stark naked. Not that there was any part of him she hadn’t seen and thoroughly explored, but it did feel a bit uncomfortable to be standing in the cool air with nothing to drape over himself. “I tell you this true. I’ve never slept with Sam.”

  “Really?” asked Aria, rising up on one elbow. “You haven’t even, I don’t know, haven’t done anything with her?”

  “Not like that,” said Oliver, letting his hands fall down so they covered his manhood and then shifting again as that felt entirely awkward.

  “Interesting,” murmured Aria, one slender finger tapping her lips.

  “Why is that interesting?” wondered Oliver, suddenly nervous.

  “Well, I can imagine there are certain activities where another woman may excel,” explained the baroness. “You men, you think we only like one thing.”

  He frowned at her. “Sam said much the same.”

  “Perhaps I would enjoy this girl,” purred Aria. “Will you introduce us when you have finished whatever it is you plan to do?”

  “Introduce you?” exclaimed Oliver.

  “Why not?” questioned Aria. “She is not attached, is she?”

  “Well, no, not really,” muttered Oliver. “She, ah, has a friend that… It’s just not proper.”

  “Yes, propriety, something you’ve always been deeply concerned about.” Aria laughed. “Introduce us, my sweet duke, and perhaps she and I will get along well. And don’t worry, Oliver, I won’t leave you out in the cold. Whatever the girl’s preferences, I’m sure she and I could find some way to keep you happy.”

  Despite himself, he felt a stirring and decided if he was going to make it out of the room, he’d have to do it very soon.

  “You like that, don’t you?” teased Aria. “Come back to bed, and let’s talk about it. Tell me what you’d like, what you’re thinking about. I’m so curious.”

  “I-I have to go,” he said hoarsely, shuffling toward his trousers.

  “My father is beginning to wonder when Isabella and I will settle down, Oliver,” she claimed. “He worries we’ll grow old and all of our prospects will disappear. There’s some truth to that, don’t you think? Men want a young wife, one who is still nubile and eager to please. I kept you here so long, Oliver, because I need to convince you that I am what you want. If I am, then it’s time to make it known. My father will not let me stay unattached for much longer.”

  Pulling his shirt over his head, Oliver turned to study Aria. For the first time in a day, she was serious about something. He could see she meant every word she was saying.

  “I understand, baroness, but now is not the time,” he insisted.

  She let one of her legs slide up on top of the other, her knee pointing skyward, the space between those legs widening. “Maybe it is not, but it will be soon. The clock is ticking, Oliver.”

  Grunting, he turned to go.

  “Your brother is looking for you,” mentioned Sam the moment he ducked through the curtain surrounding her bed.

  “Yes, I imagined he would be,” said Oliver. “I’ve been hiding out where he’d be loath to catch me. He spoke to you? What did you tell him?”

  “I told him I couldn’t remember anything,” she replied.

  “Can you remember anything?” asked Oliver.

  “I remember enough to know we need to be moving,” she said, shifting underneath of her blankets. “I think I can make my way out of here with a little help.”

  “I brought some of your potions,” said Oliver, setting her pack on the bed beside her. “There’s a few other things in there from Kalbeth. She stopped by, did you know? She began applying some tinctures and ointments while you were unconscious, but the physicians were getting suspicious. You seemed stable, so she left before they asked too many questions. I don’t know which vials are which, but maybe there’s something…”

  “The stone vials,” said Sam, rummaging through the open pack. “Philip told me you’d claimed I was injured during a bout of rough sex.”

  Oliver winced, rubbing his arm where one of Aria’s nails had dragged deep. He coughed and then replied, “It can happen. I hope you’re not offended.”

  “I’m a big girl,” replied Sam, producing one of the stone vials he recalled her drinking on the train to Middlebury. She unstoppered it and downed it without pause. “That should help. These other mixtures, that is what Kalbeth applied? I owe thanks to Ivar val Drongko.”

  “Who?”

  “The man I killed in Romalla,” replied Sam.

  “There’s clothing in there as well,” Oliver said. “The outfit you were wearing is rubbish now.”

  Pulling out a fresh pair of trousers, vest, and shirt, she remarked, “I need to get more clothes.”

  “Perhaps after we’ve…” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “After we’ve killed the last sorcerer in this dark trinity. Don’t you think that would be a better time to go to the shops?”

  “No time for shopping but time for sex?” questioned Sam. “Don
’t deny it. I can smell it all over you.”

  Frowning, Oliver stood and raised his arm, sniffing delicately.

  “Not there,” said Sam with a sigh. “It’s… Never mind.” She flipped back the blankets and levered her legs over the edge of the bed. “Help me get dressed, will you? Until that potion has had time to work, I’m going to be a bit woozy. The bench nearly cracked my skull, I think.”

  “Bench?” wondered Oliver. “You fell on a bench?”

  “No, it was thrown at me,” she claimed.

  He blinked in confusion.

  “We have a lot to catch up on,” she said. “The monster was gone, I take it, or you would know how a stone bench was thrown at me.”

  “Nothing like that has been reported,” he said, letting his voice drop even lower. “The only things I found at the bishop’s mansion were dead bodies and you. When you didn’t arrive at the meet, I went looking for you. What caused that kind of destruction, Sam? There was a man missing everything but his legs and feet. What happened to the rest of him?”

  She shrugged, evidently unsurprised a dead man was missing everything but his lower limbs. “Later, when we can speak privately.”

  Nodding, he helped her up, and trying not to look too hard at her naked body, he helped her get dressed.

  “How was the baroness?” she asked.

  He shot up, frowning at her. “How did you… Ah, Philip told you. It… I wasn’t going to leave without you, and I didn’t want to try to wake you until your body was ready. Truth be told, I didn’t want to sleep in my own bed, either. I did my best to keep your location secret, and, well, I did a bit of hiding of my own.”

  “Hiding the sausage.” Sam snickered.

  He rolled his eyes, muttering, “Childish…”

  “I don’t know how you keep those two so interested,” she continued. “In my experience, you men have one trick, and you insist on using it every time. With a creative woman, the possibilities are endless. It’s about a journey, a range of experiences, and not just the sausage you have hanging between your legs. You’re missing out, Duke, but the biggest crime is what your partners are missing.”

  “I haven’t had any complaints,” snapped Oliver.

  “Don’t let those two ever experience another woman, then. They won’t be the same afterward,” advised Sam. She must have noticed his startled jump. “What? What did I… Ah, a woman. Perhaps you can introduce me to the baronesses one day? I think I’d enjoy that.”

  “We need to go,” growled Oliver, helping Sam shrug into her vest and then collecting the belt with her kris daggers. He stuffed them into her pack and slung it over his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here before my brother— Oh, hello, Philip.”

  His brother was standing outside of the curtain with his arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face.

  “What did you hear?” asked Oliver.

  Philip snorted. “Nothing, but spare me your lies about whatever it is you’re going to claim you were discussing. You are leaving, is it, without talking to me?”

  “We did talk…” mumbled Oliver, glancing back at Sam then to his brother.

  “You did this, all of it!” said Philip, his voice quiet but tight with palpable tension. He stepped close and glanced around the infirmary to ensure they were alone. “Somehow, you’re responsible for what happened in my study. You know what happened at Bishop Yates’ mansion as well, don’t you? What is going on, Oliver? Do you know where Director Raffles is? He’s gone missing, and the Company is going to be apoplectic if we cannot find him.”

  Oliver drew his shoulders back and forced his arms to hang loosely by his side.

  Philip reached out and gripped his brother’s shoulder. “I know you, brother. I trust you, but to maintain that trust, you have to tell me what is happening! Is it sorcery again?”

  “Yates and Raffles were sorcerers, brother,” confirmed Oliver quietly. “They’re part of a trinity that is trying to bind a dark, terrible power. They planned to sacrifice Middlebury, Philip. They would have killed everyone within the city. It’d be Northundon all over again. They were going to use the power from those captured souls to penetrate the barrier to the other side and bind spirits stronger than you or I can imagine. Tens of thousands of people would have died, and that’d just be the beginning. That’s why we did what we did. We had to.”

  “You expect me to believe—”

  “What do you think happened to Northundon, Philip?” interjected Oliver. “The city was sacrificed, and it would have happened again. These men would have brought down Enhover, would have brought down everything. Everything!”

  His brother shook his head like he was trying to keep out the information Oliver was sharing with him. Finally, he tightened his grip and looked into his brother’s eyes. “You have proof?”

  “Go to Bishop Yates’ mansion,” suggested Oliver. “Look for yourself what happened there. Decide if you think that destruction could have come from anything in this world. If you cannot fathom it, Philip, then that is your proof.”

  “I’ve heard the report,” growled the prince. “How do you know? What if—”

  “We serve the Crown, brother,” said Oliver, interrupting the prince in a whisper, “both of us in our own ways, we serve the Crown. Trust that I serve the Crown, Philip. That night, Sam and I killed two of the three sorcerers. I heard the words from Raffles’ own mouth. He is what I say he was. Yates was as well. There were three of them, Philip. The third is in Southundon.”

  Philip let go of Oliver’s shoulder and stepped back. “Who is it?”

  “I don’t know yet,” admitted Oliver, shaking his head. “I don’t know, but we have the means to find out. We can follow the taint of the underworld to whoever it is, and once we’ve identified them, we will prove it. Then, we will act.”

  “I’ll let Father know,” said Philip, pinching his chin with his fingers. “Between him, Admiral Brach, and William, we can support you—”

  “No,” said Oliver. “In Westundon, it was Yates and Raffles, two men almost as close to you as I am. I don’t know who we’ll find in Southundon, but if Father begins to alert his top echelon of advisors…”

  “If those men were almost as close to me as you are, you’d be in gaol right now,” remarked Philip. “The Crown and the family, there is nothing more important. Father taught us that. Family, we are nothing without each other. Let me tell—”

  “I’d never turn my back on our family,” insisted Oliver. “I do this for us. The Crown and the Wellesleys.”

  “I hope so,” said Philip, stepping back. “Is there anything I can do? There must be some way I can help.”

  “No one must be allowed inside Bishop Yates’ of Director Raffles’ homes. There could be things in there, books or materials, which can be used in sorcery. Anyone who sees it is in danger of starting the dark path. It must all be destroyed without anyone knowing the truth. And, Philip, don’t tell Father we’re coming,” said Oliver. “Don’t tell anyone. If we fail… Let us hope we do not fail.”

  “Spirits bless you, brother.”

  “Spirits bless Enhover, the Crown, and our family,” replied Oliver.

  Then, he led Sam out of the infirmary, the palace, and down to the airship bridge. They had a mystery to solve.

  The Priestess XXI

  “Middlebury, he said?” she asked Duke.

  “That’s what he said,” replied the nobleman. “The moment I told him I knew of the sacrifice, he thought that’s what I meant. It was the only thing he was truly concerned about. He aimed to torture me until I told him how I found out about it.”

  “They did not achieve what they aimed for in Northundon,” mused Sam. “Your mother escaped, for one. Do you think they’ve been fiddling with the ritual since then? Both men were getting on in years, and if they hoped to obtain immortality, I know I’d much rather live it as a young woman than an old one.”

  “Do you think they could do it in Middlebury?” asked Duke. “Bind the dark trinity to th
eir bidding?”

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Whether it worked or not, Middlebury would be gone, as dead as Northundon. That, Duke, is what matters. That’s why the Church formed the Council of Seven so long ago. For years, I did not understand it, but now, I do. Nothing can be allowed to sink to those depths of evil. Someone has to stop it.”

  “We will,” said Duke with more conviction than she thought was earned, but she didn’t disagree with the sentiment. Whatever they had to do, they would stop it.

  Sitting at the small table in the captain’s cabin of the Cloud Serpent, Ainsley noisily cleared her throat and then refilled the copper cup sitting in front of her. She’d kept none of the fine wine Captain Haines had traveled with, unfortunately. Ainsley preferred her grog. She said it got the job done quicker, which Sam supposed was true, but there was such a thing as getting the job done, and getting the job done in style.

  The captain had her own sense of finesse, though. Laid in front of her were her two cutlasses, her two pistols, two empty glass bottles that had once been full of rum, and a sinister-looking clay orb that made Sam want to cry out every time the tilt of the airship shifted, and the thing rolled across the table. More than once, Ainsley caught it before it crashed to the floor.

  “Is that, ah… What…”

  “Grog,” slurred Ainsley, a hand on what really looked an awful lot like a grenado. “I’m drinking grog.”

  “We know,” mentioned Duke, glancing between Sam and the captain. “You… Shall we bring Pettybone in?”

  “What? Just because he’s sober?” muttered Ainsley.

  “Well, yes,” replied Duke slowly.

  Ainsley snorted.

  Grumbling to himself, Duke tried to continue the conversation. “Raffles acted like he did not know where my mother was.”

  “He likely doesn’t know,” said Sam. “If he did, I think he’d capture or kill her, right? She’s the missing piece in completing the sacrifice. That’s what the spirits told you, isn’t it?”