The surgeon departed and Henry shut the door behind him. He turned to face Alan, who rose to greet him.
Neither spoke and then both spoke at once.
“I was wrong—”
“I am sorry—”
They stopped, discomfited, then Alan laughed and reached out. Henry grasped his hand and shook it heartily. He looked anxiously at the burns.
“That looks painful. What does Perry say?”
“That I was a damn fool,” said Alan, grinning.
“A damn fool who sank five enemy warships!” Henry regarded his friend with pride. “You will be knighted, honored throughout Freya. And you deserve it, my friend. You saved Wellinsport.”
“The least I could do since I was responsible for nearly losing it,” said Alan ruefully. “You were right about the Guundaran warships.”
“And you were right to remind me Freya and Guundar were not at war,” said Henry. “A situation that has now changed.”
They sat down at the table. Alan produced a bottle of Calvados.
“King Ullr thought to snap up two easy prizes: Wellinsport and my ship,” said Alan, pouring them each a glass. “He failed in both, but that does not mean he will fail in his main objective, which is to rule Freya. Pip told me Ullr plans to invade on Hallen Day, which is not that far off. He caught us with our britches down around our ankles, our fleets scattered to the four winds. I fear our country may fall, Henry.”
“I would have agreed with you yesterday, but not today,” said Henry. “This day I have witnessed the courage and the spirit of our people, Alan. King Ullr will try to frighten us with his warships and his rockets and his high-stepping troops with their rows of gleaming bayonets. I saw our women fight those swords and rifles with broom handles. Our children pelted his soldiers with rocks. Our elderly rolled their wheeled chairs into the fray with the vigor of youth and our youth were prepared to give up their young lives for our country.”
Alan regarded his friend intently. “I have never heard you speak with such emotion. You give me hope. You went searching for Simon’s Wall of Frozen Fog. Did you find it?”
“You will be astonished to hear that I did,” said Henry. “Almost right where he said it would be.”
“Good God!” Alan exclaimed. “Are you serious?”
“I am. A vast pool of liquid Breath not far from Nydrian’s Cove. If Freya survives, our country will be wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Alan, marveling. “Simon was right.”
“And you may be certain he will remind us of that daily,” said Henry. “How soon can the Terrapin be ready to sail? I grudge every moment that passes. Can we be in Freya by Hallen Day?”
Alan mentally calculated and looked somber. “We will do our damnedest, Henry, but we must have fair winds and clear skies and that’s rare this time of year. I will give the orders to set sail now. I was waiting only to hear word of you.”
He rose to his feet, then stopped to rest his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “I am glad you are safe, my friend. Our country needs you.”
Henry gave a faint smile and shook his head. “No longer, Alan. If our nation survives, I am planning to hand His Majesty my resignation.”
“Bah! You have said that before and you never mean it,” Alan reminded him with a smile. “You are in low spirits, that’s all. You will feel better after a hot meal and a good night’s sleep.”
Alan hurried up on deck and in a few moments Henry heard the Terrapin’s airscrews whir to life. He could hear the sailors running to their stations and feel the quiver of anticipation that ran through the ship at the prospect of setting out on the next voyage.
He felt the same quiver of anticipation run through him.
“This time, I mean it,” he said.
FORTY-SEVEN
Thomas had been eager to meet with Randolph Baker after learning he was a particular friend of Sir Henry’s. He hoped the admiral would have news of his friends for him. Since Smythe had made certain Thomas was no longer receiving messages through the Haever Gazette, he had not been able to find out if Phillip had managed to escape the country, nor did he know if Sophia and Miss Amelia were safe, or if Kate and Dalgren had arrived in time to warn the Dragon Brigade about the black ship.
He lived in dread every day that Smythe would come to gleefully report that he had captured the princess or that Phillip had been shot while attempting to evade arrest. Thomas guessed that he hadn’t done either, because Smythe walked about the palace with a sour expression and a bandaged forehead.
Thomas kept watch for the admiral, and when he heard a booming voice outside his office announcing that Admiral Randolph Baker requested an audience, Thomas rose with alacrity and went to personally invite him to enter.
He was favorably impressed with the bluff, florid-faced, and outspoken man.
“Your servant, Your Majesty,” said Randolph with a portly bow.
“A pleasure to meet you, Admiral,” said Thomas formally. “I am interested to hear how the refitting of the ships of the Expeditionary Fleet progresses.”
Thomas escorted the admiral into his office and shut the door.
“Be careful what you say, sir,” Thomas added in an undertone. “My secretary acts as a spy for Smythe.”
Randolph grunted. “I thought the bastard had a slimy look about him. I was tempted to punch his head.”
Thomas smiled and invited the admiral to be seated.
Randolph reached inside his coat and took out a letter, which he handed to Thomas. “Miss Amelia asks that you destroy it once you have read it, sir.”
Thomas took the letter. He glanced at the closed door, aware that his secretary would have his ear pressed to it. “Keep talking, sir. Tell me about the refitting.”
As he read, Randolph went into a loud, grumbling, and profanity-laced account of the refitting of the ships of the fleet, professing his certainty that the ships were going to sink the moment they left the dock. Thomas would have been concerned to receive such a report, but he discounted much of it. He knew from reading his own reports on the subject that the refitting was almost complete and initial results were most satisfactory. He had also learned that the admiral’s nickname among the sailors was “Old Doom and Gloom.”
Thomas concentrated on his letter. Amelia reported that she and her “friend” were residing with a mutual friend, “Y,” and that all were safe and they were both well. Their other friend, “K,” had safely embarked upon her travels.
Thomas smiled, a burden lifted from his spirits. He walked over to the fireplace, tossed the letter into the flames, and watched it burn. He stirred the ashes with the poker, then returned to his desk, sat down, and motioned Randolph to draw his chair closer.
“Who is the ‘Y’ mentioned in the letter, sir?” Thomas asked quietly.
“That would be our friend, Simon Yates, sir.”
“I don’t know him,” said Thomas. “Though the name is familiar.”
“I’ll wager you know his house, sir. Welkinstead. The house that once floated over Haever. The one the black ship shot down.”
“Yes, of course. I assume, then, that the house landed safely on the ground somewhere and that Sophia is staying there.”
“Correct, sir.”
“I won’t ask where,” said Thomas. “So long as Her Highness is safe. Have you heard anything of His Grace, Phillip Masterson? Is he safe? Did he escape the country?”
“Last I heard, His Grace was on his way to the Aligoes to warn Henry of King Ullr’s planned invasion of Freya—presuming Henry is still alive, which I doubt,” Randolph added gloomily. “He looked like a goddamn corpse the last time I saw him. Surgeon was with him, but I don’t trust those butchers. Goddamn drunks, the lot of ’em.”
Randolph eyed the door, then leaned close to speak to Thomas in a low voice. “Miss Amelia told me what you discovered, sir. That King Ullr plans to invade Freya. I’ve been doing some investigating.”
“What have
you found out?”
“It’s what I haven’t found out that worries me, sir.”
“Very well, Admiral,” said Thomas. “What haven’t you found out?”
“The whereabouts of the goddamn Guundaran navy, sir,” said Randolph.
“I do not understand.”
“They’ve goddamn vanished!” Randolph stated loudly, slamming his hand on the desk.
Thomas cast a warning glance toward the door.
Randolph muttered something and again sat forward in his chair, his heavy shoulders hunched. He spoke quietly and grimly. “No one knows the location of any of the Guundaran fleets, sir. As I said, they’ve up and vanished.”
“But how is that possible?” Thomas demanded.
“It’s a helluva big world, Your Majesty,” said Randolph.
Thomas did not find this information particularly helpful. “I need details, sir.”
“Yes, sir.” Randolph drew out a notebook and referred to it. “The largest fleet in the Guundaran navy is the Braffan Fleet. It is divided into two squadrons with the northern squadron stationed in Braffa itself, while the southern guards the liquid Breath refineries. The northern squadron set sail from Braffa a month ago and no one’s seen them since.
“The second largest Guundaran fleet is the Home Fleet. As the name implies, it guards the homeland. Ullr has been increasing the size of that fleet in the past year. He now has thirty warships, fourteen heavy frigates, twelve two-deckers, and four with three full gun decks each. Our agents heard they were planning to conduct naval exercises in the Breath, but the Home Fleet has also disappeared.
“To make matters worse, we have since received reports of a previously unknown fleet of twenty Guundaran ships with twelve ships of the line operating between Guundar and Travia. That fleet has also disappeared.”
Randolph closed the notebook. “I have no need to tell Your Majesty that it is my opinion that these Guundaran fleets are now in a position to attack Freya. They could strike us any time from any direction.”
Thomas sighed. “I have worse news. I have reason to believe Ullr is now in possession of five green-beam guns that can work without blood magic. We have to expect that at least some of his ships will be armed with them.”
“Green-beam guns!” Randolph repeated, stunned. “Are you certain, sir?”
“I heard him boast about them myself,” said Thomas.
“May God and all the goddamn saints in heaven preserve us,” Randolph muttered.
“Where are our fleets located?” Thomas asked. “Will they be able to reach Haever in time?”
Randolph handed over the notebook. “I’ve written everything down for you, sir.”
Thomas read over the information:
Expeditionary Fleet, Admiral Baker. Ships undergoing refitting. Only two, HMS Terrapin and HMS Valor, ready for service.
“And the Terrapin is in the Aligoes, sir,” said Randolph.
“She’s there on my orders, sailing into an ambush. Let us hope Pip reaches Captain Northrop in time to warn him.”
The Aligoes Fleet, Admiral Tower. Sailing the Trame Channel, maintaining its neutrality, as well as guarding the valuable Deep Breath port in Wellinsport.
“At least Admiral Tower and his fleet are in Wellinsport,” said Thomas.
“Begging your pardon, but he’s not, sir,” said Randolph. “The Aligoes Fleet is in Sornhagen.”
“On whose orders?” Thomas asked.
“The Chancellor of War, sir. Smythe informed the Admiralty that the Rosians threatened Sornhagen.”
“So the Terrapin is the lone ship guarding Wellinsport and the Guundarans are waiting for her,” said Thomas. He sighed and read on.
The Channel Fleet, Admiral Dorchester. Patrolling the Strait de Domcado between Rosia and Estara.
“I’ve dispatched urgent messages to Admiral Dorchester to set sail for home, but I doubt he can reach Freya in time,” said Randolph. “He will have to cross the Breath in the teeth of the Winter Witch. Undoubtedly why goddamn Ullr chose this time of year to launch his attack.”
Thomas shook his head and continued reading.
Vanguard Fleet. Ships were decommissioned due to lack of funding. Parliament determined they were not needed during peacetime.
“I gave orders for the fleet to come back into service, sir,” said Randolph. “Their commanders are assembling their crews now and working to have their ships ready for action. We couldn’t do that in secret, of course, sir, so Ullr probably knows all about it.”
“He doesn’t appear particularly worried,” said Thomas dryly.
Western Fleet, Rear Admiral Green, patrols the Breath around Upper and Lower Milton.
“The smallest fleet, meant to deter pirates along the southern coast,” Randolph explained. “The largest ship is twenty-four guns. Ullr has pleasure yachts that could blow that fleet out of the Breath.”
“What about the Guundaran mercenaries serving in Fort Upton?”
“I warned the commander, sir. He is keeping watch on them,” said Randolph. “If they try to seize the fort, they’ll be in for a nasty surprise. The question now is, where will Ullr strike first? The only person who might be able to figure it out is Simon.”
“Miss Amelia knows where to find him,” said Thomas. “You said yourself he must be ‘Y.’”
“If anyone can discover what Ullr is up to, it will be Simon. I’ll get a message to Miss Amelia.”
“Take care, sir. Smythe undoubtedly has agents watching you.”
Randolph winked. “I know he goddamn does. I led them on a merry chase yesterday, sir. I walked round and round Wately Circle twenty times, then gave ’em the slip. Henry taught me how.”
“I will continue to keep watch on King Ullr and Smythe,” said Thomas. “How do we communicate?”
“I have given the matter some thought, sir,” said Randolph.
He reached into a small pocket on his breeches, encountering some difficulty due to the tightness of the waistband around his expansive middle, and fished out a coin, which he handed to Thomas. The coin bore an insignia of a griffin with a crown around its neck on one side and a frigate in full sail on the other.
“How does this help?” Thomas asked, gazing at it. “This is not a Freyan coin, is it?”
“It’s known as a challenge coin,” said Randolph. “The tradition dates back to the days of the Sunlit Empire. Officers had coins struck with the insignia of their legions and awarded them to soldiers who fought well in battle. During the Blackfire War, an admiral in the Freyan navy heard that story and had his own coins struck in order to reward his crew for deeds of valor.
“These days,” Randolph continued, “it’s the tradition for a sailor to slam down his coin on a bar and challenge his fellows to do the same. Anyone without his coin on him must buy the ale.”
Randolph pointed to the coin in Thomas’s hand. “If Your Majesty needs to contact me, day or night, send that coin to the Naval Club with instructions to give it to me. I’ll know the meaning of it and I’ll come straightaway to the palace.”
“An excellent idea, sir. Thank you,” said Thomas.
He tucked the coin into his own watch pocket, then gratefully shook hands with the admiral and rang a bell, summoning the servants.
The admiral had not been gone five minutes, by Thomas’s estimation, when Smythe entered the room. Thomas guessed he must have been waiting outside the office, fuming that Thomas was meeting with someone on his own and trying to overhear the conversation.
Thomas braced himself for an unpleasant encounter, but instead of issuing threats or berating him, Smythe placed papers in front of him, saying only that he needed his signature.
As Thomas was signing, Smythe mildly inquired, “How was Your Majesty’s meeting with the admiral?”
Thomas was wary. He trusted Smythe even less when he was trying to be pleasant, if that was possible. “We discussed the refitting of the Expeditionary Fleet to utilize the crystals of the Breath.”
&nb
sp; “A pity I could not be present to speak with the admiral, sir,” said Smythe. “An idea occurred to me. I suggest that we put on a particularly splendid Hallen Day celebration in honor of the Royal Navy and I was hoping to ask his advice.”
Hallen Day …
Thomas was reading through the document and he was glad Smythe could not see his face, for he was having difficulty controlling his expression.
“Why choose that holiday to celebrate the navy?” he asked, feigning ignorance.
Smythe was an adept liar and dissembler, but he had not been expecting the question. Thomas saw a faint flush redden his neck. His pupils dilated, and his jaw tightened. Smythe mastered himself in an instant and resumed his usual expression of disdain and thinly veiled contempt.
“As Your Majesty should know, Hallen Day celebrates the Battle of Hallen, the first time cannons were used in action, with catastrophic results for the Rosian navy. It is the custom for the reigning monarch to review the fleet from on board the royal yacht. I will make the arrangements.”
Smythe had kept his voice bland and mild. His eyes met Thomas’s eyes and held them.
“Thank you, Chancellor,” said Thomas.
Smythe bowed and took his leave.
Thomas tried to return to his work, but he was restless and could not concentrate. He decided to go riding, exercise his horse. He informed his secretary where he was going, knowing that the secretary would inform Smythe and that those tasked with keeping watch on him would be scrambling to reach their horses in time.
Thomas changed clothes and walked to the stables. The air was clear and cold. He could see steaming puffs of breath rising from the horses in their stalls. He was talking with a groom about one of his favorite horses, who had developed a slight limp, when he heard a commotion outside in the stable yard.
Thomas looked out the door to see King Ullr and members of his staff on horseback, apparently returning from a gallop. Ullr was in a good mood, chatting and laughing as grooms and servants came running to assist them.
Thomas stepped back into the shadows of the horse barn. He had come to be alone with his thoughts, at least as alone as a king could ever be, and the last person he wanted to see was the man making secret plans to invade his country.
Kingmaker (The Dragon Corsairs) Page 45