Spymaster

by Margaret Weis

  She couldn’t waste time wondering, however. Her strength was starting to flag. She stumbled and Akiel caught hold of her and supported her.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Lighthouse!” Kate answered.

  Akiel did not ask any more questions. If there were bounty notices, he had undoubtedly figured out what was happening; maybe he had even been expecting her and wondering how he could warn her.

  “Greenstreet said … Dalgren was here!” Kate said.

  She was trying to decide as she ran if she would hoist the flag to let Dalgren know there was trouble or if she would sail straight to the cove to warn her people and try to escape before the Rosian navy found Victorie.

  “He was here…” Akiel began.

  “I need to warn him!” said Kate.

  “Mum, wait!” Akiel said, and tried to stop her.

  Kate ignored him. She would warn Dalgren. She owed him that much. Entering the lighthouse, she picked up two flags: one was their private signal and the other a flag with two red squares and two white squares meaning “danger.” Her hand shook as she tried to attach the flags to the line, causing her to fumble at the snap hooks.

  Akiel clasped his big hand firmly over hers.

  “Mum, stop!”

  “I can’t!” Kate said. “I have to warn Dalgren!”

  “He isn’t here,” Akiel said.

  Kate shoved him away. “You just said he was! If you’re not going to help me, let go of me!”

  “Listen to me, mum,” said Akiel. “Dalgren gave himself up to the Dragon Brigade yesterday. He said he was tired of running. Two dragons escorted him back to Rosia. He is gone.”

  Kate stopped fumbling at the hooks and let the flags slip to the floor.

  “No,” she said. “Oh, God, no! This is my fault. All my fault!”

  “Mum, it is not—”

  Kate shoved past him. “I have to go warn the others. You take the helm. I’ll cast off the lines.”

  She scrambled down the rock-strewn hill to where she had left the pinnace. Akiel climbed into the boat and ran his hands over the helm, sending the magic flowing to the lift tank. Kate cast off the lines and then jumped in.

  “I’m going to change clothes,” she warned Akiel, starting to unbutton her jacket.

  “Here?” Akiel protested.

  “Here,” Kate said.

  She threw off her jacket, stripped off her skirt, and pulled on a shirt and her slops. She impatiently tugged at her bootlaces, breaking one of them, and thrust her feet into her leather slippers. She had dropped the hat at Greenstreet’s and she shook out her curls. Feeling better in her familiar clothes, she took a moment to rest and catch her breath.

  She faced forward into the wind, breathing deeply and letting the breeze blow through her hair, cooling her. She let herself think about Dalgren a moment; that was a mistake. Her heart ached and she was angry at him.

  “He left me,” she said. “He knew I would come, and he left me.”

  She concentrated on her anger. She was strong when she was angry, and she needed that strength to overcome her sickening, gut-twisting fear.

  “I assume you know what is happening,” she said, turning to face Akiel.

  “I heard about the big bounty,” he said. “How did the Rosians find you?”

  “Greenstreet betrayed me,” said Kate, striving to keep her voice level and calm. “I sailed into an ambush! Olaf and the others don’t know they’re in danger. I have to reach them in time!”

  She paused, looking at Akiel, then said, “You told me Greenstreet was a bad man. I should have listened to you and to Olaf. I will make this right. I swear! I will make it right.”

  The small pinnace with its single airscrew crawled through the Breath, seeming to barely cause a ripple in the mists.

  “Increase speed,” Kate ordered.

  “The boat is going as fast as it can, mum,” Akiel returned. “Probably faster than it should.”

  Kate could hear the frantic whirring of the airscrew blades and knew he was right. She couldn’t take a chance on breaking a blade or crashing. She sat down, then stood up. She checked the four pistols to make certain they were loaded, and thrust two into her belt. She offered the others to Akiel.

  He shook his head. “I will not kill.”

  “The Rosians might not be so considerate,” said Kate.

  Akiel shook his head again. Kate gave an exasperated sigh and hid the other two pistols beneath the helm. She sat back down and willed the pinnace to go faster.

  Whenever the mists parted and the boat sailed into a clear patch of air, she scanned the sky, searching for the dragons she had seen earlier. They were nowhere in sight, and she didn’t see any ships, either. She breathed easier.

  The Rosians might know where to find the cove, but they still had to navigate the narrow lanes between the islands to reach Victorie, and that would cost them time.

  “The hell with it! I’ll take over the helm,” she told Akiel.

  Placing her hands on the constructs, Kate sent anger and fear flowing with the magic along the braided-leather lines.

  “Faster,” she urged. “Faster…”

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Kate followed the shoreline until she reached the entrance of Freeport Bay, planning to return to the cove the way she had come, the fastest route. In her desperate haste, she had forgotten about the Rosian naval patrol boat she had seen earlier. It was still there, prowling about. Swearing beneath her breath, she touched the constructs on the helm, slowing the pinnace.

  “We could try to brazen our way past them,” Kate said to Akiel. “Talk our way out. They aren’t looking for this boat.”

  “They are looking for you, mum,” said Akiel. “They have a description of you. I heard the people in the Parrot talking about it. The description is very good, very precise as to detail.”

  “We’ll have to sail the north route, then,” said Kate.

  She put the pinnace about, doubling back the way she had come. Cursing the loss of time, she steered the boat into a narrow channel that would let her approach the cove from the north. The distance this way was shorter, but would take longer, since she would have to zigzag around several small islands. Even with this delay, she calculated she could still beat the Rosians, whose larger ships would have to navigate the narrow channels.

  The pinnace slipped among the islands, sometimes coming so close to the banks on either side that Kate had to duck to avoid being hit by overhanging tree limbs. The heat of the jungle was stifling, and there was no breeze. Mists from the Breath curled around the hull. Kate posted Akiel in the front with a boathook to fend off drifting boulders.

  Kate had sailed this route only a couple of times and that was when they had first hauled Victorie into the cove. She worried that she might be lost, for it seemed to her that they should have sighted her ship by now.

  “We are getting close,” Akiel said suddenly, pointing ahead. “There is the upside-down tree!”

  By some strange fluke, a cedar tree had sprouted from the bottom of this small island. Seeking the sun, the tree had curved up and over the island’s rim. Kate knew where she was now and Akiel was right. They were nearing the cove where Victorie was hidden.

  “You should slow down,” Akiel advised. “Approach with caution.”

  Kate reduced the magic to the airscrew and brought the pinnace to a crawl. Holding her breath, she listened for sounds that would indicate her ship was under attack: the boom of cannons, the crack of rifle fire. All she could hear was the occasional scraping of branches against the hull.

  “I don’t hear anything,” she said, relieved.

  “Neither do I,” Akiel said. His expression was grim, his tone ominous.

  “What’s wrong?” Kate asked.

  “We don’t hear anything,” said Akiel.

  Kate impatiently shook her head, not understanding, and then she realized what Akiel meant. They were not hearing the familiar sounds of the jungle: monkeys chattering and scr
eeching, birds singing. Kate had heard these sounds so much she had ceased to hear them—until now, when it was far too quiet.

  “Animals are smarter than we are, mum. When they sense danger, they flee from it. They do not sail toward it. We should— What are you doing?”

  Casting caution aside, Kate sent the magic cascading into the pinnace, speeding through the narrow channel as fast as the airscrew would turn. Vines struck her in the face, branches clawed the balloon and tore at the rigging.

  “You are going to wreck us!” Akiel warned.

  Kate ignored him. “Once we dock, I will jump out and release the anchor. While I’m doing that, you go on board and sound general quarters. Run out the guns and hoist the sails.”

  “Which do I do first?” Akiel demanded.

  Kate knew what he meant. She had a good crew, seasoned sailors, but their numbers were few. Olaf had repeatedly told her they needed more men, but she had been in such haste to flee Freya that she had left without a full complement. The sailors required to hoist the sails were also needed to man the guns. They couldn’t do both at the same time.

  “The sails,” said Kate; then she stopped talking to listen. “What is that noise? Is that gunfire?”

  Akiel cocked his head in the direction of the sound. “No, mum. That is the sound of hammers.”

  Of course, it was. Now she recalled that she and Olaf had discussed the need for the ship’s carpenters to repair loose deck planks and reinforce the railings. She had been so smugly confident that she had outwitted the Rosians that she had relaxed her vigilance. She should have ordered every one on board to keep watch day and night. No one would be paying attention. They would likely never see or hear the enemy approaching.

  The pinnace was now close enough that Kate could glimpse Victorie’s gray silk balloons through the trees. The balloons would be only partially inflated while the ship was docked, just enough to maintain neutral buoyancy. The crew would need time to shake out the sails, time to raise them, time to fully inflate the balloons.

  Time they didn’t have.

  The pinnace shot out from among the trees and whirred toward the dock. Akiel was standing at the prow, waving his arms and bellowing, trying to make someone see him or hear him over the clamor. One of the crew spotted him at last and shouted at Olaf. He turned and looked their direction.

  “Ambush!” Akiel thundered.

  Olaf frowned, not able to hear. He shouted something to the crew, and the hammering dwindled to a desultory halt.

  “What did you say?” he shouted back.

  “I’m docking!” Kate yelled at Akiel. “Hold on!”

  Akiel sat down and gripped the gunwales. Kate reversed the airscrew and cut the magic to the lift tanks, and she was still going too fast. The pinnace landed on the shore, bumped, rose up, fell down, bumped again, then slammed into the ground and began to slide. The minute the keel touched, before the pinnace had stopped moving, Akiel was climbing over the rail. He landed on all fours on the dock, jumped to his feet, and began running toward Victorie.

  “Ambush!” Akiel bellowed again as he dashed up the gangplank. “The Rosians found us. They are on their way!” The pinnace skidded sideways into the base of the crude docking arm that they had built using the trunk of a pine tree. A spar snapped and came crashing down, narrowly missing Kate, and tangling her in the rigging. She threw off the rope and climbed over the wreckage. Jumping from the rail to the dock, she ran toward the anchor.

  The front of Victorie’s stern rested in a groove carved into the ground. The ship continued to float, but it was secured to the docking arm by a rope leading from the mast of the aft balloon and to the ground by a heavy cast-iron anchor.

  Each arm of the anchor fit over a bollard sunk into the ground. Clamps activated by magic held it in place. Once the clamps were released, the anchor’s arms would still hug the bollards, as the tension on the anchor chain held them in place. Kate would then operate the “pump,” which took its name from the handle of a well pump. Since the anchor was far too heavy to lift, the pump would cause a metal bar to shoot out of the ground, strike the anchor and knock it loose. The crew would haul in the anchor and the ship would float free.

  A crewmember usually handled this task. Kate had not freed the anchor in a long time. The process was relatively simple, however. Magic did most of the work.

  Olaf gave the order for general quarters. Drums beat. He portioned out the crew, sending some dashing up the ratlines to release the sails while others raced to the gun deck. The gunports swung open and Kate could hear the rumble as the gun crews started to run out the cannons. Marco was standing at the helm, sending magic flowing to the lift tanks and beginning the process of inflating the balloons.

  One of the lookouts and several of the crew started shouting in alarm. Kate looked up from her task. Three dragons appeared in the sky and, at the same time, a Rosian frigate, forty-two guns, sailed out of the mist, rounding one of the small islands that lay to the south.

  Kate knew enough about dragon tactics to know the dragons would not attack her ship, not in such close quarters, for they might accidentally set fire to the frigate. The Dragon Brigade was here to keep watch. If Victorie fled, they would track the rat to its hole.

  Kate turned back to her work, remembering with a swelling in her throat the young Kate who had been so excited to watch dragons flying in formation, high above the cliffs of Westfirth. They had seemed beautiful then, flying so high …

  So high! Kate gulped with excitement. The Victorie might yet be able to escape. Dragons had excellent sight, but they were high in the sky and not even their eyes could pierce the mists of the Deep Breath far below. She would dive down below the mists, sail beneath the islands as she had done when she was wrecking. The voyage would be cold and uncomfortable. The Victorie wouldn’t be able to stay down long or everyone would perish. Just long enough to throw off pursuit.

  The Rosian ship might chase after her, but Kate doubted it. Few wreckers dared sail the Deep Breath. She couldn’t imagine that a Rosian naval captain would take the risk, endanger his ship and the lives of his crew. She wasn’t worth that much to them.

  Kate waved her hand at Akiel, who was on the quarterdeck, leaning over the rail, waiting to give the command to raise the anchor once she released it.

  “Tell Marco to take the ship down into the Deep Breath!” Kate shouted. “Sink her! And raise the gangplank! I’ll jump for it!”

  Akiel understood and ran to relay the order.

  Kate knelt down by the first clamp and swiftly deactivated the magical construct by sliding her hand across it, erasing the magic. The clamp popped open, releasing one side of the crossbar.

  She heard a bang that sounded like a cannon, but didn’t look up. The Rosian navy did things by the book. That was the warning shot across the bow, and that gave her an idea.

  Akiel was back at the rail, watching and waiting.

  Kate cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Strike our colors! Surrender!”

  “Surrender?” Akiel repeated in disbelief. “You just said—”

  “We’re not really surrendering! I need time to free the anchor!” Kate cried.

  Akiel frowned. “I do not like this, mum. This will make the Rosians very angry.”

  “You don’t have to like it, just do it!” Kate shouted.

  Akiel shook his head and left the rail, hopefully going to tell Olaf. If Kate had been on board, she could have explained. She could only trust that Olaf and Marco would understand her plan.

  She moved to the second clamp and repeated the process, closing the magical construct. The clamp opened. The other end of the anchor’s arm was free. The anchor still hugged the bollards, held in place by the tension on the anchor chain.

  Kate now activated the magic on the pump and began to work it, pumping it up and down, like water from a well. The metal bar shivered, but didn’t budge. The anchor remained attached to the bollards. Desperate to free her ship, Kate worked the pump handle
harder, using all her strength. She heard a clank and a grinding sound and the pump froze.

  “No! You son of a bitch!” Kate swore at the pump. “No!”

  She had to find a way to free the anchor. The crew had hauled the guns back inside and were shutting the gunports as the Victorie’s flag—the Freyan flag, the only flag they had—slid down the mast.

  Kate smiled grimly. Pretending to surrender: a ploy worthy of Morgan himself. The Rosian captain would be rejoicing, thinking he was going to take Victorie as a prize and capture the notorious Captain Kate.

  “Not while I’m breathing,” she muttered.

  Marco must have understood her plan, for he had started the process of deflating the balloons, slowly, chamber by chamber, and he reduced the flow of magic to the lift tanks. The Victorie was slowly sinking.

  Kate could hear cheers from the Rosian frigate. The captain would have to man a boat and send it over to board Victorie. Kate had time, but not much.

  She tried working the pump handle again, but it still wouldn’t budge. Akiel was back at the rail, staring down at her, waiting. Kate opened her mouth, to yell at him to fetch Olaf.

  Without warning, the Rosian frigate fired a salvo from her forward guns straight into Victorie.

  Kate stared in disbelief. “We surrendered.… What is he doing?”

  Canisters filled with chain and grapeshot tore into the sailors on deck, sliced through the rigging, and punctured one of the balloons. Such rounds were meant to kill. Men screamed in agony. Smoke from the Rosian cannons billowed around her ship.

  “You bastard!” Kate cried, outraged. “We surrendered!”

  Apparently the Rosian captain didn’t care. They were pirates, after all, not worthy of his time.

  Frustrated and outraged, Kate kicked at the anchor. To her amazement, the iron bar shot out of the ground, hit the anchor, and knocked it loose. Gasping in relief, she waved at the watching Akiel, who bellowed at the men manning the capstan to start hauling in the anchor.