“Because you’re going to see to it?”
Marta smiled. “Good. I was wondering if you were paying attention. Take what you think you need, but clothing for the audience will be provided.”
“I thought I found something suitable,” Callowyn said.
“It was certainly a step in the right direction in that it could be accurately described as a dress, but Count Maton has been assisting me on the matter. I think we can do better.”
Callowyn shrugged. “I will defer on that point, but I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“So do I. Now go and prepare…and keep the weaponry to a minimum.”
“You mean leave Master Solthyr’s sword on board.”
Marta smiled. “I mean confine yourself to something easily concealed, and that sword does not qualify. Regardless, unless I keep my side of the bargain, it might as well be in your father’s arsenal. I can’t touch it.”
Callowyn sighed. “I do know that. But the pirate in me had to voice its suspicions.”
“Fair enough. Now go. You don’t have a great deal of time.”
A short time later Marta stood with Sela on deck as they watched Count Maton’s carriage leave the docks and head toward the center of the city.
“Is there anything I need to do?” Sela asked.
“It would be helpful if you didn’t kill Longfeather.”
Sela frowned. “I’ve managed so far.”
“While he was a hawk. I’m going to need him to be a man again.”
“Oh,” Sela said.
“It can’t be helped. For this assignment I need a pirate…and not one of Callowyn’s men—they have other duties.”
“Okay, I won’t kill him. Unless he tries to touch me or otherwise gives me cause. I can’t promise anything beyond that.”
“Then it will have to do.”
Sela did decide to absent herself from the immediate vicinity while Marta worked the transformation, and Marta for her part was grateful that the magic contract that governed a debt bond meant the person or thing returned to their original state would be, literally, returned to their original state. Meaning, in Longfeather’s case, he now stood before Marta dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing upon his original transformation. Marta sometimes wondered if his clothes were transformed into feathers, or fur or scales depending on the sort of animal, but past a point such concerns were little more than trivia, and useless at best, distracting at worst. Now was not a time when Marta could afford distractions.
It was perhaps an exaggeration to say that Longfeather “stood” before Marta, since he was so unused to human legs that he promptly fell on his rear to the deck with a thump that Marta could feel through her shoes.
“Owww!”
“Take your time,” Marta said. “But I will expect you on your feet in the next few minutes.”
“You could warn a person, you know.”
Marta considered the matter. “You’re right. I could have done that. A better person might have. But I am a vicious, heartless witch, or so I hear.”
“I never said so,” Longfeather muttered.
“Well, not to me, anyway,” Marta said.
She didn’t need the sudden flush of Longfeather’s cheeks to know she hadn’t been very far off the mark there, but the redness didn’t last very long as Longfeather’s cheeks turned a bit more to the pale side. He slowly rose from the deck, and winced during the process.
“Callowyn?”
“Is not here, as you well know. You also know that for me to reveal you to her would be as if I’d revealed you to Boranac, which would negate our bargain.”
“If a member of her crew sees me it’s all the same, Lady Marta.”
“They’re off on their own errands right now, and Sela doesn’t even want to look at you. It’s just us for the moment, and I have a something I need you to do.” Marta spoke her instructions softly so that her voice did not carry, but Longfeather heard well enough. His response was a harsh whisper.
“You want me to sell Callowyn to Duke Okandis??”
“Yes. Specifically, I want you to tell him that Callowyn is aboard the Blue Moon.”
Longfeather frowned. “But she isn’t.”
“You’ll be lying, of course, but I can’t imagine that’s a new experience for you.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something? I’m a pirate too, and Okandis would just as soon hang me as Callowyn!”
“Somehow I doubt that. With all due respect to your opinion of yourself, the daughter of the Chief of the Five Isles is a much bigger prize. Why hang one pirate when you can seize Boranac’s daughter and strike a blow at all of them? Oh, I’m sure he’d like to hang you, but if he does, he takes on your debt. That would be bad for him. Regardless, your information is worth more than your neck.”
“Easy to say, when it’s not your neck in the rope,” Longfeather muttered.
“True enough, but there it is—we must trust the rest to that honeyed tongue of yours. Go.”
Longfeather, still muttering, did as he was told. Only then did Sela emerge from somewhere on the other side of the cabins.
“How much did you hear?” Marta asked.
“Well…pretty much all of it,” Sela admitted. “I didn’t go so far away as all that. Can you trust him?”
“As Bonetapper could tell you, having a debt bond to me doesn’t actually prevent you from doing something foolish. It simply means that there will be consequences. I tried to teach that lesson to Longfeather early on—recall the boar-hog?”
Sela grinned. “I do.”
“For our sake and his own, let’s hope that Longfeather does, too. Now then…Duke Okandis has no official position in either Conmyre or Amurlee, so there’s a limit to what he can do directly. Assuming Longfeather succeeds, what would you do in the good Duke’s position?”
“Well, the sensible thing to do would be to alert the local authorities of the presence of a pirate vessel at their port and let Amurlean justice handle the matter.”
Marta smiled. “And is that what you think Okandis will do?”
“Of course not. Callowyn herself said it was personal with him, and I’ve seen enough to agree with her. If there’s anything to be done, he’s going to want to do it himself. I would reconnoiter and choose my time carefully, but a discreet attack with a limited number of retainers would likely succeed in capturing the target without drawing too much attention to the operation. An assassination would be easier, but then he wouldn’t be able to haul her back to Balanar for a triumphant execution. I think it’s a risk he would take.”
“So do I. Callowyn’s men have been informed. They’re all going to ground within the city. None will return to the Blue Moon until after the audience. If matters go badly, Callowyn has instructed them to take the ship and set sail immediately and escape if they can.”
“What if Okandis doesn’t wait for the audience? If he doesn’t find Callowyn on board—“
“He’s going to find me instead.”
“You?”
“Yes. I’ve decided that the good Duke and I should have a chat.”
Ω
10 the limits of diplomacy
“Most men would count themselves among the virtuous if they’ve only done half of the things they’re accused of.” – Seb of the Kuldun Order
As the night wore on, Marta found herself feeling more and more uneasy, and it wasn’t because she was expecting a party of armed thugs to break into the cabin at any moment. It was because they had not yet already done so. Nor had Longfeather returned.
Something is wrong….
She knew it even before the thought had finished forming. The feeling had been building all evening, but she’d lost it in her anxiety and anticipation as the events she had triggered began to unfold. Marta knew she should have recognized the signs earlier, but there was no time to malign herself. There might not be enough time for anything.
“Sela!”
Sela emerged from where she’d been
hiding. “No one’s here. What’s wrong?”
“That is what’s wrong!”
Sela’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “Callowyn—“
Marta summoned Bonetapper to her but there was no sign of the bird when they emerged on deck. She couldn’t feel his presence as she could when he was closer, and there was no time to wait for him to answer. “Let’s go.”
Marta and Sela tore through the streets of Amurlee like madwomen. City guards stared at them as they flew by and some even checked to see if they were being pursued. A few tried to chase them but gave up quickly. They arrived at Count Maton’s door out of breath and fearing the worst. There was nothing but silence from within but the Count himself greeted them at the door.
“Come in. We were just tidying up.”
“Callowyn?”
“She’s fine. We all are. The others…not so well.”
It was only then that Marta spotted the two bodies heaped in the corner of Count Maton’s dining hall. Count Maton excused himself to sit down and continue what he’d apparently been doing when Marta and Sela arrived—cleaning the blood off his sword. He’d no sooner taken his seat when a pair of stony-faced soldiers appeared on the stairway carrying what appeared to be a third body.
“Is that the last of them?” the Count asked.
“No, my lord. One was taken alive. The lady is bringing him.”
“Our guest? Why?”
“She’s the one who caught him.”
“Splendid.”
For a moment or two all Marta could do was stare, but Sela nodded, then leaned close and whispered. “I told you he moved like a swordsman.”
“It would seem you were right,” Marta said, returning the whisper.
There was cursing from the stairway and then Callowyn appeared, somewhat disheveled but unharmed, pushing a balding, leather-clad man before her. She had both of his arms tied behind him and held a dagger to his back.
“I’m not sure how they got past the gate,” Count Maton said, “but my watchmen spotted them on the grounds immediately and raised the alarm.”
“This one made it up the stairs,” Callowyn said, and gave him a shove down the last few steps so that he fell sprawling in front of Count Maton. The thug would have slid further across the stone floor except Maton put up his boot and let the man slide face-first into it before shoving him a few feet away.
“Threatening a lady and a guest in my own home,” Maton said. “I am not happy.”
The would-be assassin groaned, then looked up from the floor. Both eyes had been blackened. “Kill me if you want,” he muttered. “I won’t tell you anything.”
“I don’t recall asking anything,” Count Maton said softly. “Lady Marta, do you have any questions for this…person?”
“Not directly, though I do admit to a certain curiosity,” Marta said. “Right now I’m wondering how he would look as a snail. Something useful, perhaps, to scavenge the scum at the bottom of your lovely fish pond? I would think such would be an improvement.”
The man looked up from the floor again, this time at Marta. There was an expression on his face that Marta recognized. She had come to hate it, even though she often found it very useful.
“Kill me. Don’t give me to that witch!” he said.
“You invaded my home and attempted to murder my guest. For that alone I would gladly kill you, but for the moment I will defer to the judgment of others,” Count Maton said.
“We already know why you are here and who sent you,” Callowyn said. “Now, if you had something of value to offer, that might be another matter. As things stand, you don’t have any say in what we do with you.”
“We never came to kill you,” the man said. “We were ordered to kidnap you, that’s all.”
“Or kill me if that failed,” Callowyn said. “Do you even know who I am? Or was that even a consideration?”
“I do as I’m told, if there’s enough gold in it to keep my family fed,” the man said.
“Stop lying. You don’t have a family,” Marta said.
“I ask your pardon, Lady, but I do,” the man said. “A wife. Three children.”
“Names?”
“Uh…Oleta. Mokan, Dumar….”
“And you forgot.”
“Kenat. His name’s Kenat.”
“How old is your wife, and where did you marry?”
For a man of his profession, he wasn’t a very agile liar. After the next hesitation, Marta just sighed. “After further consideration, I’ve concluded that being a snail is too good for you.”
“Fine,” he said. “I was lying. I was offered gold, as were my late companions, and that was enough. Yet our employer did prefer you alive, Lady,” he said, turning his head toward Callowyn. “For whatever that might be worth.”
“A great deal to the man himself, I’ll wager. Not so much to me,” Callowyn said. She turned to Marta. “What shall we do with him? I have a few suggestions, if you’re interested.”
“We’ve wasted too much time as matters stand. Count Maton, do you have a secure place to keep this fellow? You can decide his fate later.”
“I do believe I should talk to him more at the proper time. As for keeping him, easily done.” Maton merely glanced at his two watchmen, who nodded in unison and proceeded to haul the man to his feet and half-lead, half-carry him out of the room. “Seriously, what proper villa doesn’t have at least one dungeon?”
“You believe it was Okandis?” Marta asked.
“Okandis,” Maton confirmed. “Or I really must pay better attention.”
“That was my understanding as well, but why did they come here rather than to the ship?”
“More to the point, how did they know Callowyn wasn’t on the ship?” Sela asked.
Marta looked at Sela. “I think I do know, unfortunately.”
Callown frowned. “Well, I don’t.”
“Neither do I,” Maton said.
“I’m sorry, but matters will have to remain as they are for now. Count Maton, can you get members of the city guard stationed at your door until tomorrow evening? It’s too risky to move…your guest, again, before the audience.”
“Easily done,” Maton said, and took his leave of them to make arrangements.
“I have to apologize to you, Callowyn,” Marta said. “I made a mistake, and put you in danger.”
Callowyn just shrugged. “I was already in danger,” she said. “Fortunately for me, you chose your allies well—Count Maton is not the effete courtier he sometimes appears.”
“Oh, he’s that too, when he needs to be. But yes, a good man to have one one’s side.”
Would that I could say the same of all my servants.
Marta and Sela stepped onto the grounds briefly when Marta sensed Bonetapper’s arrival soon after. He perched on the fence. “You summoned me?”
“I did. Where is Longfeather?”
“I haven’t seen him.”
That could be good or bad. Marta was not yet sure. “He’ll be in his human form…most recently at Duke Okandis’ villa near the west wall. He may still be inside, but that’s not certain. Find him.”
“As you wish.”
Bonetapper flew away. Sela scowled. “Okandis’ men should have come to the ship. Instead they came to Count Maton’s home. Why?”
Marta took a long breath. “Longfeather.”
Sela’s scowl deepened. “You’re certain?”
“Such actions affect an individual’s debt. I can’t not know who was responsible. It was Longfeather, and he worked against my interests and his own obligations.”
“I didn’t think such was possible,” Sela said.
“Marta’s smile was grim. “Oh, it’s possible, and he did it. Considering his nature, that’s the one part of the entire affair that makes sense. What does puzzle me is how he expects to escape the consequences.”
§
“You heard the entire thing? You’re sure?” Dena asked.
“Absolutely...well, mo
st of it. I’m certain of this—one of Marta’s minions betrayed her, the one that looks like a goshawk most of the time. I have no idea how or in what regard. I believe it does involve Count Maton and the woman from that ship, but again….” Kel spread his hands. “I don’t know what it means.”
“One thing it means is that goshawk must have a bird’s brain to go with that bird body. He can’t run away, he can’t hide from her, whatever he may think. His debt to her is now increased, and if he ever thought of freedom it’s much farther away now than it was before, even assuming she doesn’t extract retribution…which I would do, so don’t get any ideas,” she finished, with a pointed stare at Kel.
“Perish the thought, Mistress.”
“Regardless, this may or may not have anything to do with Marta’s true purpose. I sense that most of her business here involves a contract that she is fulfilling.”
“She’s going to a lot of trouble,” Kel pointed out. “When usually such things seem to be relatively straightforward.”
“Oh, what do you—“ Dena stopped with the thought only half expressed. She had suddenly pulled down a new thought, and it was Kel who had triggered it. “She is, isn’t she? It may be no more than the execution of an agreement, but the chaos and uncertainty swirling around it suggests that there’s more to it. Did you or did you not tell me that there was a sword among Marta’s belongings back in Shalas? One similar to the one in Sela’s possession?”
“I did.”
“And did you not, as part of your report to me, mention that one of the items Prince Dolan showed Marta in the library was a picture of swords?”
“Again, yes,” Kel said.
Dena nodded. “I want you to fly back to Shalas. When you get there, I’m going to turn you into a serpent again, just for a little while.”
“As you wish, mistress, but may I ask why? Even in my gull form it will take a few days.”
“So you can sneak back into the stables, of course. I want you to tell me if that sword you saw in Marta’s cart is still there.”
§
“Are we ready?” Sela asked.
Marta studied her reflection in the mirror. “Ready or not ready, it’s time.”
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