Flintlock (Cutlass Series)

by Ashley Nixon

  Windows stretched along the left wall, covered by heavy folds of fabric. The walls were white but accented by dark molding. The ceiling was an intricate crisscross of wooden beams, and at the center of the room a wrought-iron chandelier hung tiered with candles. On the right side of the room, a dark wood desk rested, covered in parchment and rolled scrolls. It was evident Cove wasn’t the most organized, which was a strange characteristic for Barren to observe in his friend considering he appeared so put together.

  “I’ll return shortly with some tea,” the old woman said. “Oh! And before I forget, my name is Camille, if you need anything.”

  Barren kept expecting the woman to react to them differently or to show her disfavor, but she seemed cheery, and if she didn’t like them, she hid it well. He wondered how she felt about being placed in this situation, if Cove was ever exposed as having an alliance with pirates, she would be guilty by association.

  A knock sounded at the front door of the mansion, and Barren’s anxiety heightened. It was possible that every sound would cause him panic until they left.

  “Better get that!” Camille said and hurried off, closing the door behind her.

  After a moment Leaf said. “It’s Hollow,” he paused. “Huh, seems they’ve had some trouble with vandalism at Cove’s port.” As much as the Elf complained about his excellent hearing, it was a useful tool.

  What kind of vandalism, Barren wondered. He went over their practices before leaving the ship. He’d made sure to bring his journal, and everything had been placed under lock and key.

  The handle of the door moved and Hollow entered the study. He didn’t appear any different now than he had when he shoved them all down the tunnel.

  “Why’d you have to take the long way around?” asked Leaf. “Too good for the tunnel of dirt?”

  Hollow was not amused. “We must at least attempt to live the lies we craft,” he said simply. “Besides, you needed to be familiar with the tunnel. It is your only hope for escape if anything goes awry while you’re here.”

  “You and Cove seem more nervous than usual,” said Leaf, narrowing his eyes.

  “Our situation is different now, in case the five dead men on Cove’s ship didn’t give that away,” said Hollow evenly. “And while you are all here, let me be perfectly clear. While Cove finds you incredibly helpful, I do not. I cannot imagine why he brought you here unless it is to cause more grief for himself.”

  “Don’t hold back your true feelings,” Leaf muttered.

  It had never occurred to Barren that Hollow didn’t actually want him and his crew here. This was where Cove’s duel life became difficult: What did he do when both sides weighed him down with pressures? Which did he choose? And who suffered without his help?

  Before Barren could respond, Hollow held his hand up to silence him.

  “Spare me the defense,” he said. “I know why you are here, but we are not dealing with the same situation as before.”

  “So what has changed?” Barren prompted.

  Hollow narrowed his eyes a bit. “There is a new power rising with a wish to overthrow the king. They are called the Commonwealth. Not surprisingly, they are also opposed to piracy. We believe one of the leaders of the group is a man named Ben Willow, a lawyer here in Arcarum.”

  “Ben Willow?” Larkin’s voice rose to scoff at that name. “How has he gained popularity in such a small amount of time? Last I heard, he was just an apprentice.”

  “He’s recently become a lawyer,” said Hollow. “He works with Frank Rosamund and is now engaged to his daughter.”

  Larkin appeared surprised. It seemed that bit of information had been unexpected.

  “And why is he such a threat to you?” asked Barren.

  Hollow stiffened and Barren could tell he hadn’t expected that question.

  “He is a threat to all of us, including you,” said Hollow. “Specifically because he is running against me for the position I have held the last six years and because he has been able to pinpoint every last member of Cove’s crew.”

  “Well, how odd can that really be?” asked Leaf. “You’re all friends.”

  “Friends, yes. But Cove’s crew is vast and our association with each other is private. Only those closest to us know who we spend our time with. Most of our crew and network do not openly interact with Cove or me. They man their own ships as instructed by Cove.”

  “Do you think someone has betrayed you?”

  “Consider instead the possibility that Ben Willow is getting information from sources closer to the king.”

  That could be anyone but most likely the princes, Datherious and Natherious.

  “If Ben were to win my position, he would use it to make the Commonwealth stronger. While he is not a fan of the king, his greatest motivation is to see Cove destroyed.”

  It was strange to hear Hollow say so much, but Barren knew what he was doing. Cove and Hollow had been friends a long time and Hollow, whether he’d say it or not, feared for Cove.

  “Why?”

  “Perhaps he is jealous.” The way Hollow suggested it made Barren feel like there was more behind their rivalry.

  “If Ben is Cove’s enemy, why would he go after your position? Why not go after Cove’s?” said Barren.

  “Cove is too popular with the people of Arcarum to be attacked directly. Ben’s job is to find something to shock people with. If he were able to take my position as Senator of Kentworth, he would not only oversee the province in which the ambassador lives but also be forced to work very closely with him. Ben will take full advantage of that if given the chance.” The senator walked over to a cabinet and withdrew a decanter and a glass. He poured the golden liquid into the glass and swallowed it in one gulp.

  “I’m not telling you this so you’ll get involved. I’m telling you this so you’ll stay out of it. I will deal with Ben Willow and the Commonwealth on my own. Understand?”

  The warning in the man’s voice was clear and to drive the point home, he glared at each of them with his coal-black eyes.

  Shortly after Hollow’s threat, Camille returned with food and tea, and Hollow excused himself. The pirates were thankful for something to diffuse the tension, though now the silence was filled with the clank of silverware and the sounds of chewing. Barren ate, though the food was not enough of a distraction to keep him from realizing Cove had yet to return from Dr. Newell’s office. He began to worry that the ambassador had run into trouble, which made the food less appetizing.

  Camille maintained her cheeriness as she led the pirates up four flights of stairs to their rooms. She instructed them to keep their doors locked and their window coverings drawn while offering up a silver key to each. Of course she was well-aware of who they were and it sounded as if she wasn’t a stranger to these sorts of things.

  Before she left Barren and Larkin at their door, she turned to Larkin. “I’ve often said that if God above has any humor, he’d have given Christopher Lee a son destined for the sea…boy did he ever pull one over on me.”

  Datherious came here because he had to. The place was known as Wine Hall. Though the name implied a greater sense of sophistication, this pub had none. He moved through the crowded space, his hood drawn over his head. The farther he could retreat into the darkness, the less chance he had of being recognized. No good would come of his presence here.

  He moved between the people crowded around the tables and the bar, guzzling their drinks and eating their fill of stew. Smoke created clouds that hung low from the ceiling. Most of the barflies smelled of sweat and salt and had probably retreated to this place after a day spent at port. Suddenly, Datherious was reminded of his times at sea with Barren Reed. He and his brother had spent two months with the pirate, learning Barren’s weaknesses, his plans, his connections. It had all been a carefully crafted ruse, a service to his ungrateful father.

  He’d experienced failure so publically then, when Barren Reed had returned him, his brother, and Christopher Lee to Maris in chains. Now
, Tetherion only looked upon him with disdain, and his blood boiled at the thought.

  Datherious moved to the stairwell and up to the loft, which overlooked the floor below. Though he knew he was alone, he could not help looking behind him. It was strange not to have his shadow, Natherious, the silent twin, but even he must remain ignorant of this. There was no other way. In good time, he would come to know. In good time, everyone would.

  He sat in the farthest corner and waited. He had come early to Wine Hall, but he did not sit long before the silhouette of a man rose from the stairwell. He paused at the entrance, startled by Datherious’s presence. Clearly he had thought to come early, too. The man moved forward.

  “Prince,” he said. “You seem ever-eager to meet.”

  “If I am early, it is only because I wish to get this over with,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything more.”

  The man sat down, but he did not remove his hood. “So you are him?” Datherious kept his hands on the table, spinning a gold piece around and letting it fall with a clank. “The leader of the Commonwealth? My father has lost hair searching for you.”

  The man said nothing and Datherious laughed. “Are you afraid I will have you dragged away to the noose?”

  “No,” the man replied evenly, and truly there was no hint of fear in his voice, which set Datherious on edge. He didn’t like when people weren’t afraid of him. The spinning coin fell flat.

  “Odd, perhaps you should be.”

  “I sit before a restless prince eager for his father’s throne. I am in no danger.”

  “We are always in danger,” said Datherious. “To think otherwise is unwise.”

  He picked the coin up again.

  “It is unwise for you to linger here. For what purpose have you called me?”

  “You are quite bold,” he spun the coin. “I haven’t decided if I like you yet.”

  “You called forth your enemy,” the man replied. “You’ve little time to decide if you like me.”

  Datherious laughed. Slamming his hand down on the coin, he pushed it forward with his palm. “I am giving you a task. Find me an assassin.”

  The man reached for the coin, taking it into his hand.

  “An assassin? For who?” There was no surprise in the man’s voice, but his eyes seemed to gleam from inside the hood.

  “That is my secret for now,” replied the prince.

  “It is not common for me to do this type of work.”

  “Oh, I think it is. You’ve a past, one you likely do not wish to be known.”

  It seemed he’d hit on something with that statement, and the man wrapped his fingers around the coin and stood.

  “When do you want her?” he asked.

  “Her?”

  “Yes, I am assuming you want the best assassin I know, and she is a woman. When do you need her?”

  Datherious narrowed his eyes and the man stood. “As soon as possible. Before the Autumn Ball.”

  “That does not leave me much time.”

  “Then you’d better hurry,” Datherious replied.

  The man nodded and turned, but as he was about to leave, he paused.

  “You are correct, prince, it is a dangerous world. Do not be fooled by a pretty face or you’ll find yourself in an early grave.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  Datherious could not see the man’s face, but he knew he smiled. “No, think of it as friendly advice...from a partner.”

  ***

  Cove stood behind his desk in his study. He’d gotten a late start to the day. He hated how unorganized he felt. Discovering three of his brethren had been hanged and finding five others in the Orient had thrown everything he’d been planning off course. He’d been preparing for the Autumn Ball, which would take place tonight. He needed this night to go smoothly. It would keep Ben Willow from gaining support and the Commonwealth from gaining momentum.

  Cove was sure the two were connected, but he didn’t have proof, mainly because he couldn’t find any information on Ben Willow. He had gathered only enough information to know Willow’s past had been contrived. He’d been in Arcarum for five years. He’d worked as Frank Rosamund’s apprentice until recently, when he’d become a practicing lawyer himself. Now he was interested in politics, and not just any position would do. He wanted Hollow’s province.

  In reality, it was only a matter of time before someone challenged Hollow’s position, but Cove didn’t trust Ben Willow. Since he’d announced his nomination, Cove couldn’t go anywhere without seeing him. Willow was always there, watching, waiting, expectant.

  Their encounter this morning was just one such example. He had been visiting the courthouse when Ben approached.

  “Ambassador Rowell,” Ben said, looking him up and down. “Feeling well?”

  “Perfectly,” he’d replied.

  “Really? I’d have thought you’d have to feel ill to visit Dr. Newell so late in the night.”

  He’d smiled. “That’s the magic of a great doctor, Mr. Willow.”

  Ben had left then without another word.

  After the encounter Cove sent Jonas to notify Dr. Newell, though he wasn’t sure how much good it would do. He could only hope the doctor had hid the bodies he’d brought from sea well enough, and if they were discovered, he hoped Dr. Newell was a good liar. He knew it wasn’t the best idea to bring the pirates here, but this was something he had to do.

  A knock interrupted his thoughts and he uncurled the fingers he hadn’t realized he’d been clenching. He waited, expecting Camille to answer or enter the study any minute to tell him someone was here to see him. Though he didn’t have any appointments that he was aware of, it wasn’t unlikely for someone to drop by for a few moments.

  The knock sounded again. Camille and Nob must be busy, he thought. He strode into the foyer and opened the door.

  “Cove!”

  “Sara,” Cove took a step back, trying to stifle the surprise in his voice as he took in the woman at his door. She was Sara Rosamund—a friend, and the daughter of Frank Rosamund. Her sapphire blue eyes were painfully innocent and so kind, and set within the prettiest face, heart-shaped and fair-skinned. Her blond hair was pinned up in a bun, but she could never quite catch all the strands, as loose curls always managed to make their way free. Her lithe frame was draped in blue, a coat with black clasps kept her gown hidden, and white gloves covered her fragile hands. They’d grown up together, both having fathers in politics, and had spent many nights walking the gardens behind his house during balls and their fathers’ social calls.

  “What a surprise,” he gestured to his foyer. “Come in.”

  He closed the door behind her and as he turned to face her, Camille appeared from the hallway. “Apologies, Master Rowell,” she said, and then her eyes moved to Sara. “Ah! Miss Rosamund, it is good to see you!”

  She swept forward and took her hand. A warm smile spread across Sara’s face as she folded her hand over Camille’s. “You look as lovely as a flower!”

  “Camille,” Cove interrupted. They both turned to look at him, and he felt bad for halting their reunion. “Will you bring Miss Rosamund tea?”

  “Why yes, of course!” she said and patted Sara’s hand before running off toward the kitchen. An awkwardness fell between them in Camille’s absence.

  “Shall we sit?” Cove asked, indicating the open doors of his study. He permitted Sara to walk before him, feeling a little self-conscious at the clutter he’d allowed to overtake the space. She didn’t seem to mind and went straight for the chair she’d always claimed as hers, the one closest to the windows. His heart felt heavy as he recalled the many nights she’d sat there, staring out the unblocked windows, admiring the starry sky.

  “Does the daylight bother your work?” she asked, looking at the heavy curtains that now covered the windows. He hadn’t bothered to open them since returning from his adventure with Barren. Perhaps this space offered too many memories.

  “No, not usually
,” he said. When she did not seem to like his response he added, “Though it does get warm in here with the windows unblocked.”

  She seemed to comprehend, mouthing ‘Oh’ in understanding, but silence fell between them again, and tension built. Why was this difficult? Things with Sara had never been difficult before.

  Camille brought tea. Any other time, her excited chatter would not bother Cove, but today he was feeling impatient. He had a long list of things to do to prepare for the ball, and there were pirates in his house. Not to mention Camille’s love for Sara was just a reminder of what once was.

  Camille left when the doorbell rang, and Cove was glad for it until silence filled the room again. For a while the clank of Sara’s cup and saucer sounded as she sipped tea. After a moment, she set the china aside.

  “I’m sorry if you are busy,” Sara said. She played with the hem of her sleeve, pulling it down over her hand. Cove watched the motion closely. It was a strange thing to think, but he’d never noticed that habit before. Was she nervous? “I know the ball is tonight, and I could have waited to speak with you then, but I wasn't certain I could catch you alone. I tried to call earlier in the week, but Camille said you were away,” she paused and finally met his gaze. Her sapphire eyes were so sincere. “You're gone so often now."

  "It is the nature of my job," he said. "As you well know."

  "Yes," she said with a hesitant smile. "I suppose, yet it was not so in the beginning."

  "Times are changing. The sea is...unpredictable."

  “Are you speaking of piracy?”

  He stared back at her, taking a sip of tea. “Yes, among other things,” he replied.

  “Oh, it is awful,” she said. “There were three men hanged in Maris just yesterday. I don’t understand why we must make a spectacle of a human’s life, no matter their transgressions.”