Spymaster

by Margaret Weis

  “Then you will have no objection if I search for myself,” said Kate. “Come, my lord, I know you have the key. I suggest you look through those hidden pockets of yours until you find it. I can put bullets in places that will not affect your usefulness to me.”

  Henry smiled. “I do seem to recall that I might have the key somewhere about my person. If I may put my hand beneath my coat?…”

  Kate nodded permission, keeping the pistol aimed at him. Sir Henry placed the lantern on the deck and reached into his coat to draw out his pocket watch. A key hung from the fob. He removed the key and inserted it into the lock. He turned the key half a rotation to the right; then, taking hold of the bow, he rotated the bow on the shank a full rotation to the left. The key glowed blue. The warding constructs on the hatch flared and Kate backed up a step, just in case. The blue glow dimmed, however, and the padlock released and dropped to the deck.

  At Kate’s direction, Henry opened the hatch. She looked past him to see steps leading into pitch darkness, redolent with the smell of whiskey. The hold was dark and well sealed, for both sunlight and rain could ruin cargo.

  “You go first, Sir Henry,” said Kate. “Take the lantern with you. My pistol and I will be right behind.”

  Sir Henry did as ordered. Picking up the lantern, he descended the ladder leading down into the hold. Kate followed, holding her pistol.

  “I’m leaving the hatch open,” she told him. “My men will hear me if I shout for them, so don’t be a hero.”

  “I would not dream of such a thing,” said Henry. “I am the world’s most inveterate coward. You can ask my friend, Captain Northrop. I believe you two know each other. Alan speaks quite highly of you.”

  Kate almost missed her footing on a rung and had to grab hold of a beam to keep herself from falling. She cursed herself for having let him rattle her.

  “Alan speaks highly of you as well, my lord,” said Kate coolly, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “Take me to the gold and we can discuss our mutual acquaintances over a drink to celebrate my good fortune.”

  “I assure you once again, Captain, you are wasting your time,” said Henry. “There is no gold on board this ship.”

  “Thank you for your advice, Sir Henry. But I hope you won’t mind if I see for myself. Keep walking.”

  Henry shrugged and began making his way through the maze of barrels, bales, sacks, kegs, chests, and coils of metal hoops for barrels. He held the lantern high to make certain he didn’t bump into anything. Kate followed closely, trying to keep her mind on her work, although she was intensely curious to know why he had mentioned her to Alan, and exactly what Alan had said about her. She considered asking, but she’d be damned if she would give him the satisfaction.

  Henry came to a sudden halt, lowering the lantern.

  “What’s the problem now?” Kate asked, annoyed at the delay.

  “My luggage is in the stern. This netting is in the way. I can’t get past.”

  Thick rope netting hung from the beams, rigged to keep large, heavy sacks of grain from shifting. Some of the netting had come loose and tumbled down, blocking their route.

  “Shove it to one side,” said Kate.

  Henry placed the lantern on top of a barrel marked “whiskey” and tried to move the netting. Kate stood behind him, impatiently waiting for him to proceed. The rope was heavy and he was having difficulty—or feigning having difficulty.

  Fuming, Kate started to go to his aid.

  She heard a faint creak, coming from behind her. Kate was familiar with the sounds of a ship: the creak of wooden planks expanding or contracting, the creak of the blades of the airscrews, the creaking of barrels rubbing against each other. The creak she heard was different, as of something heavy treading on a wooden step.

  A shaft of sunlight slanted through the open hatch. By its light, Kate could see three men moving slowly and stealthily down into the hold. She stared, astonished. She recognized one of them, Greenstreet’s grunting henchman, Jacob. She didn’t know the names of other two, but she had seen them around Freeport and knew they too worked for Greenstreet. All three were carrying pistols.

  They must have sneaked on board Victorie with the rest of the men Greenstreet had sent. But why the secrecy? What were they doing down here?

  They’ve come to take the gold! Kate realized. Cheat me out of my share! No wonder that bastard Greenstreet was so damned generous!

  She was furious and was prepared to storm over to Jacob, ready to tell him where he and his thugs could go and what they could do with themselves when they got there.

  Before she could stir, Jacob pointed and shouted, “There! By the lantern!”

  He and his friends turned toward her and raised their pistols.

  “Jacob, what the hell do you think you are doing?” Kate shouted. And then she realized they were not aiming at her.

  They were aiming at Henry.

  Kate shifted her aim from Henry’s skull to Jacob and his cronies. She couldn’t take time to try to understand what was going on. All she knew was that these three were about to shoot her dream in the back. She fired at the beam over Jacob’s head. Startled, he flinched and ducked, giving Kate time to give Henry a violent shove, knocking him to the deck. She flung herself down after him, landing on a sack of wool.

  Shots slammed into the beams, one right where Wallace had been standing.

  “Are you all right?” Kate whispered.

  Sir Henry had gone down hard and was lying flat on his stomach. Stirring, he started to raise his head.

  “Stay down!” she hissed. She dropped her empty pistol and drew the other from her belt. “There are three of them. All armed.”

  Henry nodded, keeping his head low. “I take it you are not in league with them?”

  “I’m not planning to shoot you—at least not until you tell me where the gold is…” Kate paused in sudden, bitter understanding.

  Jacob and his men weren’t here for gold. They were here to kill Wallace. Greenstreet had used her, played her for a fool. He had concocted this whole elaborate scheme to assassinate Sir Henry Wallace and blame his death on pirates or—even better—on her. Greenstreet had known exactly the type of bait to dangle in front of Kate and she had been stupid enough to bite.

  “There is no gold, is there, my lord?” Kate said.

  “I am sorry, Captain,” said Henry with a faint smile. “For your sake, I could almost wish there was.”

  “Bloody hell,” Kate muttered.

  Another shot rang out, hitting the whiskey barrel not far from where they were hiding.

  “You need to douse that light,” Kate said, indicating the lantern Henry had placed on top of the barrel. “I can’t reach it.”

  “Agreed,” said Henry.

  Twisting around, he took off one of his shoes and flung it at the lantern, knocking it off the barrel. The lantern fell to the deck with a crash, breaking the glass and disrupting the magical constructs that gave off the bright glow.

  The only light now was coming through the hatch, shining on Jacob and his henchmen. Kate raised her pistol, hoping for a shot, but they must have realized they made excellent targets, for Jacob slammed shut the hatch and jumped to the deck. Kate could hear the three talking, as they scrambled about in the darkness.

  “Why the hell is that bitch shooting at us?” one demanded. “You said she was working for Greenstreet!”

  “Shut up!” Jacob ordered angrily. He raised his voice. “Kate, this is none of your concern! You can leave. No harm done.”

  Kate couldn’t see, but she could hear the three stumbling about. Then came the creaking sound of a pulley.

  “What are they doing?” Henry whispered.

  “They’re going to light the lanterns, make the hold bright as day,” Kate whispered back.

  Cargo holds were lit by lanterns suspended on ropes from the overhead. In order to light them, the sailors would lower the lanterns one by one, activate the magic, then raise them back up.

  “How man
y pistols do you have?” Sir Henry asked.

  “One,” said Kate.

  “I have one, as well,” said Sir Henry.

  “No, you don’t,” Kate returned. “Akiel took it from you.”

  “He took the pistol he found,” Henry corrected. He flourished a pocket pistol. “Do you have any powder? Shot?”

  Kate had brought a powder horn and bullets. She had made certain to pack them in a pouch on the dragon saddle. And that’s where she had left them.

  “No,” she said, angry at herself.

  “We have two shots for three men,” said Henry.

  Jacob must have lit the first lantern, for Kate could see the light, swinging back and forth, rising up to the ceiling. The lantern was not that close, but already it was having an effect. Dim light seeped around them.

  “I suggest we move,” Henry said, hunkering back into the shadows. “Ouch! Mind the broken glass!” he added with a curse.

  “Wait!” said Kate softly. He had given her an idea. “Is that lantern close by? Can you reach it?”

  Sir Henry searched for the lantern. He found his shoe, retrieved it, and discovered the lantern on the other side of the barrel. Broken shards of glass still clung to the brass frame and he took care as he lifted it.

  He handed it to Kate, who was pleased to see the brass frame of the lantern still intact.

  “I need big pieces of broken glass!” Kate whispered.

  Henry raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told, plucking shards of glass off the floor. Jacob and his men were on the move, lighting the next lantern.

  Kate used her cutlass to slash open a hole in the sack of wool, yanked out a handful, and stuffed the wool into the lantern. She added more wool until the frame was filled, then stuck pieces of broken glass into the wadding.

  “Are you a decent shot with that thing?” Kate asked, indicating Henry’s pistol.

  “Fair,” he replied with a smile.

  “Then slow them down,” she told him. “I need time!”

  Henry crawled over to take cover behind the whiskey barrel. He raised up, peered over the top. Kate began sprinkling the gunpowder from her second pistol onto the wool.

  “Why does Greenstreet want you dead, my lord?” Kate asked.

  “I have no idea,” said Henry. “I do not know the man. Who is he?”

  “He’s behind almost every criminal operation in the Aligoes,” Kate said.

  Henry rose swiftly and fired, then ducked back down. He must have hit something, for there was a cry and a crash and swearing. Someone fired back and then the men retreated, tumbling over things in their haste.

  “I don’t think that fellow will stand in the light anymore,” Henry remarked.

  Kate heard Jacob say, “How’s Jo? Was he hit?”

  “Shot dead,” the other answered.

  Kate stopped her work to stare at Henry in amazement.

  He shrugged. “Lucky shot.”

  Kate shook her head and continued to work. She fished her knife from her boot and began to crudely etch a simple magical construct on the brass, whispering beneath her breath as she worked.

  When she was finished, she said softly, “All right, be ready to run.”

  Henry nodded. “Good luck. Oh, and thank you for saving my life, Captain.”

  Kate grunted. “I haven’t saved either of us yet.” Raising her voice, she called, “Don’t shoot, Jacob! Wallace is dead and I’m wounded. I’m coming out.”

  “Keep your hands where I can see them,” Jacob shouted.

  Kate stood up, holding her left hand in the air, carrying the wool-stuffed lantern in her right. Jacob could probably see just a shadowy form, if he made her out at all.

  “You’ll tell Greenstreet I never meant to hurt Jo, won’t you, Jacob?” Kate said, creeping forward.

  “Sure, Kate. I’ll tell him,” said Jacob.

  “Liar!” Kate muttered.

  Jacob had taken cover behind the ladder and she could see him start to raise his pistol. His friend was behind him, his pistol aimed at her. Kate needed to get close enough to throw the lantern, even if that meant walking into pistol range. She kept her eyes fixed on Jacob’s hand and when he pulled back the hammer, Kate flung the lantern as far as she could, then dropped to the deck.

  She heard the brass lantern clang on wood and for an instant nothing more happened. Just as Kate was about to start swearing, certain she had failed, magical blue light glowed, igniting the wool and setting off the gunpowder. The lantern blew apart.

  Kate flung her arms over her head. Brass fragments and splinters of glass flew through the hold. Someone was screaming, horrible to hear. Kate jumped to her feet. Jacob was on his knees, moaning; his head and arms and hands were covered in blood. His companion was also bleeding, but not as badly. He was still holding his pistol.

  Kate ran toward the man, waving her cutlass. At the sight of her, the man threw down his gun and raised his hands. A shot rang out, coming from behind Kate. The bullet passed so close by her cheek she swore she could feel the rush of air. The man dropped down, dead.

  Kate gasped and turned to glare at Henry. “He was trying to surrender!”

  “Was he?” Henry asked. “Hard to see through the smoke. I thought he was going to shoot you.”

  Kate frowned. “And I thought you said you had only one pistol.”

  “I may have found another,” Henry replied.

  Shaking her head, Kate climbed the ladder to open the hatch and peer out, fearing someone might have heard the shots and the explosion. She didn’t want any interruptions. She was relieved to hear no sounds of a commotion, of someone running to find out what was going on. She looked back in time to see Henry pick up a pistol off the deck and hold it to Jacob’s head. Jacob couldn’t see for the blood in his eyes. He had no idea he was about to die.

  “Don’t!” Kate cried. “You can question him. He can tell you why Greenstreet wanted you dead—”

  Henry fired and Jacob slumped over. A pool of blood spread from the hole in his skull.

  “I have learned not to take chances,” said Henry.

  He drew a handkerchief from his sleeve and used it to wipe gunpowder and blood from his hands.

  “For a coward, you are very cool under fire,” Kate said, eyeing him.

  “Alan taught me well,” said Henry. “Would you still like to inspect my luggage, Captain?”

  “I’ll send my men to do that,” said Kate.

  She knew they wouldn’t find anything. She would have to face her crew, her friends, confess that yet another of her grand schemes had blown up in her face. Literally.

  “You are bleeding, Captain,” said Henry, pointing.

  Glass had cut her forehead and her hand. Blood was dripping onto the deck, mingling with the blood and bone and brains splattered about the hold and on Henry’s clothing.

  “Hand me your kerchief,” Henry suggested.

  She took it off and gave it to him. He mopped the blood from her forehead, then bound the kerchief over the wound on her hand, making a neat job of it. Taking out his own handkerchief, he coolly cleansed the blood from his face, then tossed the handkerchief to the deck.

  “I would like to give you a reward, Captain,” he said. “After all, you did save my life.”

  “What is your offer, my lord?” Kate asked dispiritedly, thinking he would toss her a few silver talons.

  “A job,” said Henry.

  TWELVE

  Sir Henry Wallace finally reached Wellinsport three days later than scheduled. Following the attempt on his life, he had sailed on the Pride of Haever, which Kate had returned to its captain.

  “My first act as a privateer for Freya,” Kate said, laughing. “I’m giving you back your ship.”

  Captain Bastian was not amused. He made no secret of the fact that he thought Henry had lost his mind, giving letters of marque and reprisal to a female and a dragon. Henry considered pointing out to Captain Bastian that without a shot fired he had surrendered his ship to this woman and
her dragon. The captain was useful to Henry, however, and so he had merely smiled and kept silent.

  Kate and Henry shook hands on their deal and Kate sailed back to Freeport, taking Miss Nettleship with her, for which Henry was grateful. He liked Amelia, but she never tired of asking questions, and he found that being continually under fire was exhausting. Amelia was going to stay with Kate to work on new stories about the Dragon Corsairs.

  “With your permission, my lord, I will tell the public that Captain Kate and her Dragon Corsairs are now Freyan privateers,” Amelia told him in parting.

  “I think that is an excellent idea, Miss Nettleship,” Henry said.

  “I would also like to write your account of the attempt on your life, my lord,” Amelia added.

  “I have told you, Miss Nettleship, that no such attempt was made,” Henry replied. “Captain Kate was forced to deal with some mutinous members of her crew. She fired a few shots over their heads and that was the end of the matter.”

  He could tell by her snort that Amelia did not believe him. She could not very well prove otherwise, however, for she had been locked in her cabin during the incident. Henry had sworn Kate to secrecy and told Captain Bastian to clean up the mess and remove the bodies.

  The Pride of Haever sailed without further incident, arriving in Wellinsport at the south docks, constructed to accommodate large merchant vessels and naval ships. Small fry such as wreckers, barges, houseboats, and ferries tied up at the north docks, nine miles away.

  Henry had visited Wellinsport on several occasions and he was familiar with the south docks. They were always crowded. Passengers bustled about. Stevedores operated the cranes and winches that unloaded the cargo from the holds. Dockworkers handled the complicated docking procedure, tethering the ships to their mooring stations. Families waited to meet loved ones or wave them farewell. Thieves and pickpockets circulated among the crowds, dodging the constables, while customs officials walked about looking important.

  Horse-drawn carriages for hire lined up at the stands, waiting for fares. Wagons loaded with goods clogged the streets. Henry enjoyed the sights and he smiled to see an elegant wyvern-drawn carriage alight on the boardwalk.