Over the Night Horizon

Home > Other > Over the Night Horizon > Page 8
Over the Night Horizon Page 8

by Kacey Ezell


  One by one, the Sources stepped forward. On the table lay a stack of Eventide Guidebooks. One of the newer Sources hesitantly reached for one of them.

  “Go on. If you need it, it’s yours. If you’re not ready to leave the trade, may it bring you solace. We’ll always welcome you into the life of the light.” Amelia smiled.

  “Thank you. You’re so kind. You don’t lecture like the other Sisters.”

  “I was once one of you. I believe kindness is better than scolding. I can have a medic come by if your cough needs attention. Here, I stashed these at dinner. They may help your cough in the meantime.” Amelia offered a couple sachets of mint tea. The woman had to have been around Amelia’s age when she’d started Sourcing.

  “Please, could you? And thank you,” the young woman replied as she beamed and hurried away with her items, including the tea Amelia had pulled from her robe pocket.

  * * *

  At the last stop on Amelia’s rounds, she paused outside the bunkhouse. She scribbled notes on a piece of parchment to let the next Eventides know what was needed. As she tucked her personal notes in her robe pocket, footsteps on the dock drew her attention.

  “Sister, it’s a delight to see you,” Captain de Graaf said as he approached.

  Amelia looked around for a way to avoid him and came up wanting. Fine. Perhaps it was time for them to have a talk. Amelia steeled herself and smiled politely.

  “Yes, I was tending to the Sources. We provide some extra comfort and counsel. I’m just on my way to have dinner before going back to the Order. I can tell you’ve already dined.”

  “I did. May I buy your evening meal?” de Graaf offered with a gesture back to the main street.

  “You may. As it happens, I wish to speak to you in private, away from my cousin.”

  De Graaf bowed. “You have my complete attention and confidences, Sister. Come, there’s a good place for a meal here.”

  De Graaf escorted Sister Amelia to a nearby cafe and helped her as she lifted the hem of her habit clear of the patches of mud and pools of water in the street.

  Once seated in the bustling cafe filled with patrons dining on their early evening meal, de Graaf gestured at the menu sheet. “Please, dine as you like. Lucia mentioned you haven’t had much respite recently. Have a good meal and a momentary break, and talk freely.”

  Amelia poured a cup of tea for herself, offered the pot to de Graaf, and set a few Eventide booklets on the table.

  “If anyone looks, it will appear as if I’m offering your crew counsel. Now, Lucia,” Amelia explained.

  “Yes. You and I are never going to see eye to eye, I suspect, and I don’t need to pry much into the why and wherefore of that. Lucia’s given me only the barest of details in deference to your privacy. It’s clear where our differences begin, and I hope to come to some amends over time, and even friendship.” De Graaf held his cup of tea and took the smallest of sips.

  “I don’t like your interest in Lucia, though I can understand it. She won’t be content in a country estate. Her parents know this, even if they play to appearances and encourage her to do so as well. I appreciate your help with the Eventides, but I suspect an ulterior motive in you.” Amelia paused to eat a few bites of her meal.

  “And that motive is?” De Graaf topped up her cup of tea.

  “That you’re trying to make me like you, and trust you, too.”

  De Graaf shrugged. “I am, but I also have no ill-intent toward you, Lucia, or any of my business clients. I was raised with manners by my mother so very long ago, and I haven’t felt the need to abandon the lessons of my youth.”

  Amelia smiled. “She did her job well. She would be proud. Did she know you turned Immortal?”

  De Graaf nodded. “Aye. She cried for a week, and then told me to remain as honorable as I was as a mortal, that it would serve me well in the centuries. She was not wrong. I was able to keep her in luxury for the remainder of her days and hired the best servants and medics to tend to her in her later years.”

  Amelia set her cutlery on her plate and looked down at the remains of her substantial meal. De Graaf was so attentive and courteous. His actions seemed to substantiate his reputation, and yet he was Immortal. Charm was part and parcel of their reputation; she knew that well. Amelia struggled in her mind to resign the two aspects of de Graaf. The more time she spent with him, the less uneasy she felt around him, which caused her unease of a different sort altogether.

  “You’re not completely in the clear yet, sir. But I do thank you for the meal and the pleasant conversation. Now I must finish my rounds and return to the Compound.”

  “I can cover the cost of your carriage home. It’s the least I can do. I don’t wish to get underfoot in your duties, but I would like to be close by; the streets aren’t so safe, even for the Eventides.”

  Amelia laughed. “I assure you, we’re safe as saints, but if it gives you comfort, you can watch from a distance. I’d hope we could save your soul, but clearly we’re much too late to offer you redemption.”

  De Graaf laughed softly as the two exited the cafe. “Dearest Sister, I neither need nor deserve redemption. Go, offer comfort to the Sources, and I’ll take the time to check on my ship. Come aboard when you’re ready to return. I’ll have my staff summon you a carriage then.”

  * * *

  De Graaf watched while Amelia made her way to the Sources’ dock houses, where she was greeted by her waiting clients. He couldn’t see Matthias in the mob surrounding Amelia, but there was Lisette, in an ornate gold and black silk scarf that contrasted pleasantly with her plain gray day dress. He had no desire to feed tonight, so as Amelia carried on with her work, de Graaf boarded the silent Leeuwin.

  “Good evening, sir,” the hired guard greeted Johannes, but didn’t dare impede the captain.

  “And a good evening to you in return. I’m expecting a guest, an Eventide Sister; she’s family of one of my business associates. Please allow her access when she approaches, and have Florian find me when she boards. I’ll be staying onboard for the day; I’ll be in my office or on deck until sunrise.”

  “It’ll be noisy, Sir,” the guard reminded him.

  “I’m aware of that. Just keep the crew and repairmen from wandering in,” de Graaf replied, slipping the guard a few more gold coins.

  De Graaf walked the corridors of his ship, the smell of fresh wood and polish potent in the air as the workers replaced worn decking and filled in the great, wounding hole in the hull.

  As de Graaf made a cursory round of his ship, he found Florian, the ship’s day-steward, busy in the galley stocking cabinets with goods from several boxes and baskets lined up on the small kitchen’s counter.

  “Captain, good to see you,” Florian greeted him; de Graaf didn’t insist on formality at dock. “Everything well?”

  “Quite. I mean, as well as can be, stuck at dock. I’m longing to set sail. We’re headed back to Paris shortly, then the winter routes south. If you can spare a moment, could you set aside some tea and goods for the Eventides? I have a Sister coming by to pick up a few things we have to spare. I’m certain there are blankets in the hold we haven’t used for some time, and some lanterns. If Sister Amelia is willing, she can help herself to the supply hold. Be generous.”

  “First you sent Marit off to help them, now this. Are you turning a new leaf and venturing into philanthropy?” Florian asked with a wry smile.

  “The Order’s been swamped with caring for an abundance of illness spreading through the city, and there’s no reason for us to carry excess cargo. We can spare some in generosity.”

  Florian nodded. “And it makes us seem less like the unsavory folk some see us as. You’re seen as benevolent, and nothing wrong with a bit of it to soothe some less than stellar opinions, right?” he spoke as he worked, stashing food supplies for the mortal crew in the cozy galley. Florian turned, and as the ship shifted slightly in the breeze, sending the pots on their hooks clanging, one cracked against his head with a so
lid bump. De Graaf winced in sympathy.

  “Exactly, my wise friend. See that Sister Amelia has what she needs, and have a carriage take her to the Order. We should, at some point, rebuild this galley and hire extra crew. Perhaps if we have a good winter season. Is your head all right?”

  Florian nodded. “A mere knock. I’m fine. And I was meaning to advise you about fixing this space. We’ll make do for another year. Go, take some rest in your cabin, and when the Sister arrives, I’ll fetch you.”

  * * *

  De Graaf paused at the crew lounge on the way back, tucking books into neat stacks, and sweeping the table with his hand. With a swift gesture, he stashed the crew’s dice and cards in a cabinet and stacked teacups away. Sister Amelia surely knew the crew had such pastimes on sail, but she didn’t need to see it sitting out.

  And you’re awfully concerned about impressing a Sister who would rather see you a hundred fathoms deep in the ocean, Johannes, he thought to himself. But assuring Amelia that he wasn’t like the Immortal she’d fled somehow mattered to him. He hadn’t risen to the rank he had without showing consideration. Deeply ingrained habits ruled his actions.

  * * *

  Amelia paused at the gangway to the Leeuwin to stare at the large ship. She rang the bell to alert a crewman to her wish to board.

  “Sister Amelia? I was told you’d be arriving, come on up. De Graaf is onboard, if you wish to speak to him,” the jovial day steward called to Amelia.

  Amelia shook her head. “I’m only here for the supplies de Graaf offered.” She lifted the hem of her robes and stepped up the narrow gangway to the ship. The Leeuwin appeared far tidier than the ships she’d been on in the past. She stepped into the interior deck as Captain de Graaf approached to greet her.

  “Sister Amelia, welcome aboard. Please, come to my office, have some tea, and then I’ll get that carriage as you and Florian raid our supply storage.” de Graaf gestured.

  Amelia hesitated again, replaying memories. Her former client chasing her down the halls of a NightShip, raging at her as she stumbled and fell. Her clothes in tatters, her neck bleeding from multiple bites. Strong arms had grabbed her and hoisted her over the side of the ship, to a long fall into the ice-cold dark depths below.

  “Sister…are you all right?” a soft tenor voice broke her reverie.

  Amelia looked up. “Yes. Quite. Tea would be nice.”

  In de Graaf’s cabin shortly after, Amelia sat across from him at the desk. “I appreciate the goods to take to the Order. Our resources have been stretched thin. Perhaps the Mothers will warm to you yet.”

  “I doubt I’ll be baking bread in the kitchens any time soon, but I’m always at the Order’s service. I called you in to write down what the Order needs, and I’ll see to it the list is always filled.” de Graaf pushed a piece of parchment and a pen over to Amelia.

  Amelia took the pen with a shaking hand and scrawled down items of food, medicine, and goods that she recalled the Order fretting over needing. She slid the paper back to de Graaf.

  “I wish I knew why you’ve been shaking like a leaf since you came onboard. I have stronger fortification, if you need it,” de Graaf said as he looked over the list and nodded.

  “My issue with Immortals isn’t your concern. Do well by Lucia, and we’ll get along fine,” Amelia said.

  * * *

  It wasn’t quite full dusk, but that time when the last light of the sun glinted in over the harbor and blinded the eyes of the unwary. An unmarked carriage wound its way through the narrow streets of the dockside warehouse district, moving slowly, as if someone inside were looking for something…or someone…outside.

  Four blocks from the water’s edge where the Sources and Consorts plied their trade, the carriage pulled up alongside the thin, shivering figure of Matthias. The door of the carriage opened, and the young man recoiled, as if startled by what…or whom…he saw inside.

  No one was close enough to hear the words exchanged, but later, witnesses said the young man got into the carriage of his own free will, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

  * * *

  “Are you surprised to see me, my son?” the nobleman inside the carriage asked once his guest was seated, and the door was again safely closed.

  “I’m no longer your son,” the young man rasped. “Isn’t that what you told me? ‘Don’t try to come home. You’re no longer my son. My son is dead. I have no son.’ I remember very clearly.”

  “I was angry,” the nobleman said.

  “I noticed,” Matthias replied, anger giving him a bit more spine than he’d have felt otherwise. He’d become very used to being downtrodden in the years since the man across from him had cast him out.

  “You don’t look well,” the nobleman said softly.

  The young man laughed out loud, throwing his hair back and exposing his thin, bruised throat.

  “Do I not? How strange. My life is one of ease and pleasure, can you not tell?” The sarcasm felt good. Lashing out at his onetime father felt good. Like the sweet burn of rum, or the rush of the Bliss.

  “You must hate me now,” the nobleman said, “and I suppose I can’t blame you. And yet I find that I must say what I’ve come to say. I was wrong when I said those things to you. I want you to come home and take your place once again as my son and heir.”

  The young man’s next scathing comment died unsaid. Of all the things the nobleman could have said, this was the very last the young man had expected. The anger and sarcasm drained away, replaced by a sudden, undeniable longing.

  “You’re not serious,” the young man said, his voice suddenly shaking.

  “I am,” the nobleman said. “I want you to forgive me, and I shall forgive you. I want you to come home.”

  Those words cut through the young man like a knife to the gut. “Father…” he breathed. “Truly?”

  The nobleman smiled. “Truly. I know you’ve been searching for a…love, I suppose, out here on the docks. My son, come home and find the love that’s waiting for you there.”

  Before he could stop them, tears filled the young man’s eyes and ran in twin tracks down his face. He blinked furiously to clear them, but it was no use. The dam had broken. His father was right. The alcohol, the Bliss, all of it…it was all a poor substitute for the love his soul craved. The love he hadn’t felt since his mother had died. The love he’d so desperately wanted from this man…his father. Who now offered it with open hands.

  “I can come home? Just like that?” he asked.

  “Yes,” the nobleman said. “You can. But you must do something for me first.”

  Suspicion flitted in the young man’s eyes. “What?”

  The nobleman smiled and spread his hands. “Nothing difficult, my child. I merely need you to point out to my driver the location of the place where you sleep. It’s near the Delsarte warehouse complex, yes?”

  The young man smiled through his tears. “Yes, father, it is.”

  The nobleman returned his smile. “Excellent. We can’t take you there now, as I’ve been weakened by a spring cold and don’t wish to risk the fever. But tell my driver how to get there, and he’ll call for you in the morning. I only wish…well. Never mind.”

  “What?”

  The nobleman sighed, covered his face with one hand, and looked his son full in the face. “My son, sometimes fate seems to hand us everything we want all at once. I must tell you a story.

  “Your mother was a saintly woman. This you know, I believe, though she died when you were so young. You can hardly be expected to remember her face, but I remember. I remember very well. The curve of her cheek, the sweep of her lashes, the shine of her lips when she laughed in the summer sun…she was beautiful, and the love of my life.

  “Her family was wealthy, but they lacked a noble name. Our name is ancient, but generations of spendthrift wastrels had reduced our fortunes to a pittance, and our title had lost much of its luster. Your mother changed all that. She came to me with an open, generous heart, and a surp
rising business acumen. Between her grace and shrewdness, and my influence and contacts, we began to turn things around for our family.

  “But underneath it all, she was a sentimentalist. There was a jewel. The jewel, I should perhaps call it. Her great grandfather obtained it on one of his journeys around the world, and it passed down the matrilineal line. An emerald unlike any I’ve seen before, or since. She loved that stone and would never sell it. She called it her lucky charm, and continually searched for a jeweler skilled enough to set it into a proper piece.

  “She thought she’d found him. He was an Immortal travelling with the Night Ships, caring for the curious metal mechanisms that power their unnatural flight. She met him through a business contact, and he wooed her with sketches and examples of his intricate work. We paid him half a fortune to set that stone. But in the end, he stole it, and never returned.

  “Your mother died not long after. To this day, I believe her heart was broken by the loss of her lucky charm.”

  Tears flowed freely down Matthias’ cheeks. “But…I don’t understand what this has to do with me, father.”

  The nobleman smiled. “I saw the stone earlier this week, on the neck of Lucia Delsarte. Somehow it has returned to us. I contacted the duke, offered to buy the necklace. Offered to nearly beggar us in order to get your mother’s stone back. But alas, my pleas fell on deaf ears. The duke,” he said, allowing a bit of molten contempt into his tone, “is not interested in selling. Except, perhaps, to another of the filthy Immortals who stole your mother’s life. It seems he bargains with one named de Graaf.”

  Matthias blinked, his eyes going wide. “I can…” he whispered. “I believe I can get it for you.”

 

‹ Prev