“You are a traitor, Henry. I should clap you in irons, lock you in the brig, and carry you back to Freya.”
Henry was tired and in pain. “All the years of our friendship you have trusted me, Alan.”
“All these years, you have never betrayed our friendship!” Alan retorted. “For the sake of your wife and children, I will not expose them to the shame of seeing you stand trial. But from this moment, our friendship is at an end. I denounce you. I no longer know you.”
Alan waited a moment to give Henry a chance to say something, perhaps apologize or plead for forgiveness. The wind rustled the leaves. A bird sang nearby. Henry sat unmoving, his head bowed.
“Since you will not be returning to the ship, I will send a sailor with your things,” said Alan. “I assume you will be in your usual lodgings.”
Henry raised his head. “Tell Mr. Sloan—”
But Alan was gone.
* * *
Henry Wallace kept hired lodgings in every major city and many minor ones throughout the world under one or another of his aliases. He generally chose nondescript boarding houses for single gentlemen and in each he kept a locked chest containing clothing, papers to prove false identities, funds in the local currency, pistols, powder, and ammunition. He paid well for the privilege of being left undisturbed.
The boarding house in Wellinsport overlooked the harbor. His single room was sparsely furnished, stuffy, hot and cheerless, and smelled of boiled cabbage. He opened the window to air it out and stood watching the ships. The first of the Guundaran warships was just entering the harbor when there was a knock on his door.
“Who is there?” Henry called, hoping without much hope it would be Alan.
“Perry,” was the answer.
Henry opened the door to find the surgeon with his black bag, accompanied by a burly sailor lugging Henry’s sea chest.
“Put it there,” said Henry, pointing.
The sailor deposited the chest on the floor. Henry paid him for his trouble and the sailor left.
Perry looked about the small room in some surprise. “Quite cozy, my lord.”
“Indeed, sir,” said Henry, smiling. Perry was nothing if not diplomatic. “How can I help you, sir?”
“Captain Northrop said you had decided to stay in the city. I came to check your wound and change the bandages.”
Henry offered Perry the only chair and sat down on the end of the bed. Perry removed the sling, studied the wound, sniffed at it for signs of putrefaction, and smiled.
“Healing nicely,” he said. “The bones are knitting well. Still in pain?”
“Not that I notice,” Henry lied.
“I can give you something for it,” said Perry, having learned not to believe his patients.
“Thank you, no,” said Henry.
Perry began to rummage about in his bag. “Captain Northrop says you have business in Wellinsport and will not be returning to the ship. I will leave clean bandages and a jar of this healing ointment. Spread it liberally over the wound three times a day. And keep your arm in the sling,” he added, noting that Henry had removed it and flung it on the bed.
Henry grimaced, but he obediently slipped the sling over his head and gingerly slid his arm inside. He eyed the Guundaran ship, the Godswald, as it glided past. He noted some signs of damage, but most of it was superficial, nothing that couldn’t have been done deliberately and easily repaired.
“Anything else you require, my lord?” Perry asked.
“Thank you, sir, no,” said Henry.
Perry packed up his bag. Henry accompanied the surgeon to the door and opened it for him.
Perry wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Judging by the smell from the kitchen, I recommend for the sake of your health that you take your meals elsewhere.”
Henry laughed and agreed to do so. But his laughter must have sounded hollow, for Perry regarded him intently.
“Is everything all right, my lord?”
Alan would not have said anything to reveal that he and Henry had parted in anger, but Alan was easy to read, and Perry was both astute and observant.
Henry held out his hand. “Good-bye, sir. Thank you for coming.”
“Good luck, sir,” Perry said, shaking hands. “Send word to me if you need anything.”
Henry promised that he would. Perry departed and Henry went back to watching out the window, just as the second Guundaran warship was starting to sail into the harbor.
THIRTY-SIX
The Winter Witch, having blown the Terrapin off course, was not content with that. She caught Kate and Dalgren in her grasp on the second day of their journey to the Aligoes. The Witch tore at them with bitter cold, buffeted them with fierce winds and stinging sleet, and tried her best to kill them with lethal bolts of magical purple lightning.
Kate wore a griffin-rider’s helm to protect her from the elements, but the rain and sleet coated the helm’s visor, and she had to remove it, for she couldn’t see. She spent most of the journey pressing her head against Dalgren’s neck.
The cold was biting, seeming to sink through her clothes, her flesh, bone, and muscle, into her very soul. They flew all day the first day and when darkness fell, Kate was tempted to tell Dalgren to find someplace to land for the night, for she was shivering uncontrollably.
But she knew Commander Franklin of the Naofa, having served as his crafter when she made her short and disastrous journey Below. Franklin was dedicated to his mission. He was the one who had fired the green-beam gun that struck the palace and killed the queen. He would not stop for any reason on his way to Maribeau to kill dragons. Kate gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering, and she and Dalgren pressed on long after dark.
She had no idea where they were. Every time she tried to look for the lighthouses that marked the safest route through the Breath, she was blinded by sleet and rain. Dragons have excellent night vision and possess an unerring sense of direction; she trusted Dalgren to find the way.
They flew through the storm until Dalgren’s indefatigable strength began to flag and he had to rest. He landed on a what passed for an island, but which was really nothing more than a large chunk of floating rock. At least the boulders provided shelter from the Witch’s fury.
Kate tried to climb down from Dalgren’s back, but she was so stiff from the cold that her hands lost their grip and she collapsed onto the ground. She could not move, but lay there, shivering. Dalgren heated the stones around her, breathing on them with his fiery breath until they radiated warmth. Then he lay down beside her and draped one wing over her, to protect her from the wind.
Kate gradually warmed enough to move. She had to dry her wet clothes or she would “catch her death” as her mother had always said. She opened the valise where Amelia had packed a change of clothes, as well as food. Kate put on the dry clothes and spread her coat and stocking hat and other rain-soaked clothing over the heated rocks.
She slept on the ground, pressing against Dalgren’s rib cage beneath his wing, and woke in the morning to clear skies and warm sunshine. She ate some of her rations, then began packing her things.
“You must be starving,” she said to Dalgren.
“I can hold out until we reach the Aligoes,” he replied. “We are not far from Maribeau. About a day’s journey.”
“And no storms in sight,” said Kate. “I wonder where the black ship is. They had a head start on us, but the storm would have slowed them or maybe even blown them off course.”
“Maybe it sent them to the bottom,” Dalgren growled.
“From your mouth to the Witch’s ear! I still feel guilty about repairing that green-beam gun,” said Kate. “I was the one who brought it back to life.”
“You had no choice,” Dalgren pointed out. “You were their prisoner. They would have killed you.”
Kate knew it was more complicated than that, but she wasn’t going to try to explain. She changed the subject.
“As you say, we’ll reach Maribeau today. I’ve been to Ile
de Feuroi, but I don’t recall ever seeing Fort Vaila, the brigade headquarters. Is it close to the city?”
“No, and for good reason,” said Dalgren. “City dwellers would not want their skies filled with dragons. Fort Vaila is a half day’s journey, located on the north side of the island at its highest point.”
Kate was thoughtful. “I suppose the dragons post lookouts at the fort.”
“Day and night,” said Dalgren.
“What will they do when they see us?” Kate asked, as she put on her coat and her helm.
“The dragons will fly out to challenge me,” said Dalgren. “Once they know who I am, they will take me into custody.”
He sounded matter-of-fact, almost nonchalant.
“Then we won’t fly that close,” said Kate, fastening the chin strap of the helm. “Is there someplace near the fort where you can hide?”
“I’m not going to hide, Kate,” Dalgren said sternly. “I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life hiding. I’ve given a lot of thought to what Father Jacob said to me about accepting the fact that I deserved my punishment. He was right. I may have admitted my guilt at my trial, but I didn’t really mean it.”
“You had good reason to do what you did at the Battle of the Royal Sail and so I will tell Captain Thorgrimson,” said Kate, indignant on his behalf. “Your own navy fired on you and the other members of the brigade.”
She climbed up on his foreleg and began to tie herself securely to his back.
“True, but that didn’t justify my response,” Dalgren said. “I should have stayed in the brigade like Captain de Guichen and denounced those who committed that vile act. The truth was that I was sick of the killing. As I’ve told you before, Kate, it was easier to fly away and put the blood and death behind me. So I’ve made up my mind. I will accept the Banishment. I’ve been thinking I could return to Below and spend my life helping the Bottom Dwellers and Father Jacob. That will be my penance.”
Kate remembered Below, the island at the bottom of the world. She remembered the loneliness, the isolation, the bleak and desolate landscape, the scarcity of food, the hostility of the people. Admittedly they had reason to be hostile, for the world had tried to kill them. She couldn’t imagine spending her life among them.
“I don’t think I could go back there, Dalgren,” she said. “Why can’t you find people up here who need your help?”
“I’m going, Kate,” said Dalgren. “I’ve made up my mind. I don’t expect you to come with me.”
“But, you can’t go off and leave me! You’re my dearest friend. I need you!”
Dalgren gently shook his head. “I will always be your friend, Kate. But you have a life here now, with humans who are dear to you. My life is down there, where I can make reparation for my crime by being of service to those in need.”
Kate was upset and angry. Dalgren had known she wouldn’t approve and he had deliberately waited to tell her his decision when she didn’t have time to talk him out of it.
“We’ll discuss this later,” Kate said, and slammed down the visor of the helm.
Now that the weather had cleared, she watched for the black ship as she and Dalgren flew toward Maribeau, traveling the well-marked shipping lane that ran between Freya and the Aligoes. Much the way ships of the sea followed the same routes crossing the inland oceans, ships of the air traveled shipping routes.
The Breath was like the sea, having its own currents, waves, eddies, and winds, as well as magical tides that ebbed and flowed. Mariners down through the ages had determined the fastest and safest routes for crossing the Breath and charted them on maps.
Following the Blackfire War, when the world was finally at peace, the powerful Church of the Breath began a vigorous campaign of establishing churches to convert the benighted throughout the world. Their missionaries required safe, swift passage through the Breath and the Church undertook an ambitious program to mark major shipping lanes with lighthouses that relied on magic and liquid Breath to remain in place.
The lighthouses were ships much like those that sailed the Breath, but instead of being designed to sail, these were designed to remain in stationary locations amid the tides and currents within the Breath.
The hulls had to be strong enough to withstand the currents of magic in the Breath and also to support a thirty-foot tower topped by a magical white light that flashed every twenty seconds, with red and green lights that remained constantly lit.
Six airscrews located around the middle of the vessel allowed for easy maneuverability. Four large lift tanks built into the upper part of the hull provided steady lift and stability, while each lighthouse had an additional pair of lift tanks to provide ballast. The lowest section of the vessel housed water barrels that were refilled by rainwater channeled off the hull.
Each lighthouse operated with a crew of two or three people who were stationed on the vessel for one month, then rotated to one of the resupply ships that traveled from lighthouse to lighthouse for two months.
Kate and Dalgren flew low over the shipping lanes in order to view the ships sailing beneath them. She was hoping to catch the Naofa out in the open Breath in the daylight, so that the ship would not have a chance to run for cover along the coastline. Dalgren could swoop down on it from the air, catch the crew by surprise, and use his fiery breath, claws, and tail to destroy the gun, before they could turn the green beam on him.
They covered a vast area of the Breath, but morning passed into late afternoon and still they saw no sign of a black ship. Kate’s eyes ached from the strain of watching and she eventually gave up.
The sun was starting to set as they reached the first of the islands known by mariners as the Channel Islands, which bordered the Imperial Channel. Maribeau was about a two-day journey from Wellinsport, which was off the Trame Channel. Kate had traveled to Wellinsport often, to sell her salvage at auction. She had only ever visited Maribeau with her father, and wasn’t nearly as familiar with it.
Kate looked for Mount Eridous, one of the Six Old Men, the six mountains that had their roots in the bottom of the world. Their peaks thrusting up out of the Breath formed landmarks used by sailors to navigate their way among the islands.
Dalgren flew southeast of the Channel Islands until Mount Eridous came into view. From there he turned due east. Kate gave Dalgren a pat to indicate he had done a good job of navigating. They followed the Imperial Channel until they reached Ile de Feuroi, home of the Rosian city of Maribeau and Fort Vaila.
By the time they reached the fort, night had fallen. The stars were bright in a cloudless sky, and they could see an immense cliff rising up from the mists of the Breath.
Kate had worried the entire journey that the Naofa might have reached the fort ahead of them and destroyed it. With relief, she caught sight of a building blazing with light. Raising her visor, she shouted to Dalgren, “Is that the fort? Is everything all right?”
Dalgren also gave a relieved sigh that sent clouds of smoke puffing from his nostrils.
“The fort is safe! We arrived in time!”
Kate was about to cheer, when Dalgren shook his head. The scales between his eyes wrinkled. “That’s odd.”
“What’s odd?” Kate asked, alarmed.
“The fact that the fort is lit up like a Yule tree,” said Dalgren.
“Maybe they’re hosting a party,” said Kate. “That’s what it looks like.”
“The Brigade does not encourage visitors,” said Dalgren. “Still, I think you might be right. I can see two large yachts and several smaller ones docked nearby.”
“Can you see the names on the yachts? What flags are they flying?”
Dalgren shook his head. “Even my eyes aren’t that good. We’ll have to fly closer.”
“If we do, the lookouts will see us,” said Kate.
“They already have,” said Dalgren calmly.
As he spoke, two dragons rose into the air and flew toward them. Dalgren slowed almost to a stop, hovering in the air, to show them he was
not a threat. “Something is wrong. Ordinarily the dragons would have questioned me on their own. These dragons have riders.”
Kate shifted uneasily on Dalgren’s back.
“I’ve … uh … been meaning to tell you,” she said. “I’m wanted by the Rosian authorities. The brigade members could arrest me.”
“Arrest?” Dalgren whipped his head around to glare at her. “What did you do? And why didn’t you say anything before now?”
“I’m a fugitive from justice. I escaped from a Rosian prison on Maribeau the night before I was supposed to be hanged for piracy,” Kate explained. “And I did say something. I told you about that.”
“You told me Thomas obtained pardons!” Dalgren roared.
“He did,” said Kate. “He obtained pardons for my crew, but he couldn’t get one for me.”
“And you’re just now telling me this?” Dalgren demanded.
“I knew you wouldn’t let me come with you,” said Kate.
“Damn right I wouldn’t!”
“If I’m lucky, the officers won’t recognize me,” said Kate. “They don’t know what I look like. I won’t tell them my real name and you shouldn’t tell them yours.”
“If any of the dragons or the officers were present at my trial, they will recognize you,” Dalgren growled.
“The dragons from the Aligoes didn’t attend your trial,” Kate said triumphantly. “Captain Thorgrimson wasn’t even there. He and the brigade were helping the Rosian navy clear out the pirates. I have a plan.…”
Dalgren snorted fire from his nostrils. The Brigade dragons and their riders were drawing closer, flying slowly and warily, not certain what to expect from a strange dragon.
“My last plan worked,” Kate told him, annoyed. “All you have to do is keep your mouth shut. I will warn these riders about the black ship and then you and I will leave—”
“Forget it, Kate,” said Dalgren grimly. He had been watching the dragons. “I know the lead dragon and so do you. It’s the judge from my trial. Countess Anasi.”
“Bloody hell,” said Kate with a sigh.
Kingmaker (The Dragon Corsairs) Page 35