by Stina Leicht
“To what?”
He looked away. “To get the child.”
“Why?”
“I had thought to take her with me,” Blackthorne said. “But now I’m not so certain that is wise.”
“I see.” She took a sip of her tea. “And why shouldn’t she be with her father?”
“I don’t know how to care for a baby.”
The frown didn’t budge from her mouth. “First-time parents often don’t.”
“How well do you know Mallory McDermott?”
“Well enough to know that you, he, and Lydia were involved in a certain illegal operation. One involving nonhumans,” Lady Melissa said.
Blackthorne blinked. Shit. “I—”
“It’s all right. You’re safe,” Lady Melissa said. “I’ve been helping for some time. They simply didn’t include you in that knowledge.”
“Oh.” Blackthorne sat back down and attempted to slow his heart. “Good.”
“That still leaves the child. Do you want her or not?”
This time, Blackthorne didn’t hesitate. “I do.” I must be mad.
Lady Melissa released a breath she apparently had been holding. “I’m relieved to hear you say that, Mr. Blackthorne. It tells me a great deal about you.”
“It does?”
She took another sip of her tea. “It says you are the person Lydia said you were. She … liked you a great deal.”
“She did? I thought—”
“You thought she had sex with you merely because that reprobate Reggie Meade expected it? My, my, Andrew—I hope you don’t mind if I use your first name—I would’ve taken you for many things, but gullible isn’t one of them.”
“Does she have a name—my daughter?”
“She does,” Lady Melissa said. “I named her Lydia, after her mother. Although ‘Lydia Blackthorne’ seems a rather odd combination.”
“My name isn’t Andrew Blackthorne. I’m sure we both know that.”
She smiled and emptied her cup. Then she returned to the sideboard for more. “Are you certain you wouldn’t want any tea?”
“I’m certain,” Blackthorne said. “I don’t have long.”
“Are you planning on vanishing?”
“You are in danger.”
“A woman in my profession often is.”
“That isn’t what I mean,” Blackthorne said. “Several of my contacts have gone missing, including Mr. McDermott. It’s possible that the Brotherhood may come calling.”
“I see.”
“We need to make sure that—”
“Mal left the city and took the wet nurse and your daughter with him,” she said. “He said he would attempt to make contact with you in Greenleaf.”
Blackthorne felt the tension in his shoulders and back release ever so slightly. “I’m very glad to hear that. However, just in case, I would like to go over his apartments and Lydia’s as well. That way, I can remove anything the Brotherhood might deem of interest.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” she said. “You seem to know a great deal about the Brotherhood.”
“I do.”
“I suspect I shouldn’t ask why, should I?”
He ignored her question. “In addition, I would like to go over any statements you might make to them. There are specific phrases they will be listening for, phrases which you should avoid,” Blackthorne said.
“When should we start?”
“Now,” Blackthorne said. “I wasn’t lying about having limited time. Let’s start with Mr. McDermott’s apartments. We can talk while I work.”
DRAKE
NOVUS SALERNUM
THE REGNUM OF ACRASIA
22 MAY 1785
THE TWENTY-SECOND YEAR IN THE SACRED REIGN OF EMPEROR HERMINIUS
Emily Drake didn’t know how much time had passed before the three of them left the bolt-hole. She didn’t own a watch. Such things were a luxury for the rich. The chimes of the sector clock in Seven Sisters Square had always been good enough for her. Not that she’d have been able to read a watch in the blackness of the bolt-hole. The whole situation was disorienting. She felt the mental ties mooring her to her former life loosen. It was frightening, but it was also freeing. So, she did something she never did.
She indulged in living for the moment without looking for the angle.
It wasn’t too long before Mal tied a handkerchief over her eyes and she was led out of their hiding place. The woman and her baby were with them. He insisted Drake keep the blindfold on until the three of them had been bundled inside two leper’s-coffin boxes. The woman and the baby were in one box. She and Mal were in the other. No one spoke during the process. She was given no clues as to where they were or where they were going—outside of the smell of horse manure and old hay. The journey through Novus Salernum’s gates had been the most stressful part of the venture. Terrified that the baby would scream at the worst possible moment, Em held her breath—not a bad idea in and of itself, she’d had to admit. The inside of the gritty, sticky box stank of rotting corpse. She understood by the stench, they truly were inside of a coffin used to transport dead lepers. Therefore, she spent most of her time trying not to imagine what they were lying in. The air inside the enclosed space grew increasingly stale in spite of the air slits in the sides—supposedly designed so that the guards could check the coffin’s contents without exposing themselves to the disease. Unfortunately, the same slits were angled and too narrow to see anything but the sides of the wagon. Much of the time, she thought she was going to vomit and then smother. If it hadn’t been for Mal, she wouldn’t have made it longer than a quarter of an hour.
I’m never getting this stink out of these clothes. They’ll have to be burned.
When they finally reached their destination—a vacant road outside the city walls—she’d had to replace the blindfold before climbing out. Her legs were so stiff, she didn’t think she could walk. She heard Mal pay their benefactor in silence.
She couldn’t help being impressed. Every person involved was disciplined, every aspect of the venture well practiced and designed for minimum risk. At the moment, she was aware of what was happening only due to the sounds of clinking silver.
They’ve done this quite a bit. And here I’d thought the stories of a safe way out of of the Regnum were myths. “I’ve never wanted a bath so much in my entire life,” she said, removing Mal’s handkerchief when he finally gave her the signal. She then proceeded to rub yet another cramp out of her leg. At least her ankle was no longer swollen and could accept a bit of her weight.
She saw the woman with the baby for the first time and recognized her as one of Mal’s friends. She was young, perhaps seventeen, and wearing a filthy dress that may have once been blue. Her hair was brown and her pale face bore all the marks of kainen ancestry. She gave Em a grateful smile and returned her attention to the baby.
“I’ve got something for you, Em,” Mal said, and handed her the crutch he was holding.
They think of everything, Em mused.
“When we reach Greenleaf. I promise,” Mal said, “I’ll join you in that bath.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?” she asked, and kissed him.
“Start walking. We’ve a long way to go.”
Glancing down at her crutch, she asked, “Don’t you mean ‘hobble’?” She attempted another kiss, but he turned away.
“Walk first,” Mal said. “Fornicate later. I’ve just spent a whole day and a half with you lying on top of my balls. I think I’ve had enough for a while.”
She caressed his rump. “We could find a nice hedge while Sondra feeds the baby, and I could take a turn on bottom.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” He removed her hand. “We have to make it to Greenleaf in three days.” He gently shoved her. “Move along.”
“Three days? On this? All the way to Greenleaf?” She hopped for a bit before he swept her up in his arms. The ease and grace with which he did it made her feel giddy. She’d forgotten how s
trong he was.
“We’ve a horse waiting for us,” Mal said. “Three farms down the road.”
Careful, Mal. You just gave away something. Or is he trusting me? “Why do I need a horse when I could just ride you?”
“Really, Em? Is there not a moment you don’t think about sex?”
The horse turned out to be a docile, tired old mare with a swayback. The poor creature’s spine made for uncomfortable riding, given that there was no saddle, only a blanket. Still, it was better than limping all the way to Greenleaf. Her armpits already ached from using the crutches.
The journey north involved a great deal of riding, walking when the horse tired, and hiding from coaches traveling along the roadway. The mail coaches were the worst, with their horns blaring and the rush of the galloping horses. It was difficult to get off the road before being run down, let alone hide. It wasn’t long before she was exhausted and grumpy—even the baby seemed to be doing better. Mal was in a hurry—so much so that he was reluctant to sleep. She wasn’t sure as to the reason why, but she had an idea. It wasn’t until they had to dodge a Warden Unit by ducking under a bridge and standing in the stream that she decided it was time to get more information.
Mal had his hand over the mare’s nose while the Wardens and their dogs crossed above. The young woman—her name was Tyra—held on to the sleeping child and shivered. Cold stream water soaked into Em’s boots. She was terrified, she was itchy, and she didn’t think she’d ever get the stench of rotting leper out of her hair. She was growing very tired of her situation. She couldn’t tolerate the lack of control any longer.
“We’ll go slow and follow the stream up into Greenleaf,” Mal whispered after the last of the Warden Unit had passed. “Hopefully, they’ll be long gone by then.”
“Won’t someone else see us?” she asked.
“That’s just a risk we’ll have to take.”
She put a hand on his arm. “It’s time. I can’t do this anymore.”
“Time for what?”
“It’s time for you to tell me what’s going on,” she said. “I’ve been very patient, but we’re nearly there, and you’ve not told me why you left Novus Salernum. I want to know. I have to know. How do you know these people? Why are they being so … helpful? You can’t be buying them. I know you don’t have that much money.”
He hesitated. “I think you know already.”
She finally voiced her suspicions. “You’re the one the Brotherhood have been looking for,” she said, feeling her heart sink. “The one that’s been smuggling nonhumans out of Acrasia.”
He shrugged. “Not the only one. But one of them. Yes.” Taking a few hesitant steps from under the stone bridge, he craned his neck in order to check that the road was clear. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“I told you, Greenleaf.”
“All right, who are we meeting?”
“Why do you want to know?”
She put a hand on her hip. “What if we’re separated? Where am I to go? It’s not like I can turn around and go back home at this point, is it?”
Mal’s dark brows formed a straight line. “I suppose you’re right. His name is Dacian Frost. We’re to meet him at the Ribbon and Saber.”
“Before the bath or after?”
Looking into the sky, Mal seemed to judge the time. “Before. I hope. I don’t want to stay there any longer than we have to. It’s dangerous.”
Em made to smell herself and scowled. “Then I hope your friend has a strong stomach and isn’t squeamish about nits.”
“You can always rinse off in the stream.”
“Tempting. Although I’m not sure the town downstream from Greenleaf will be happy when I kill off all the fish.”
“Come on. We’re almost there.”
They waded up the stream, sticking to the highest bank. Sour mud sucked at her boots. Mal took a turn carrying the baby. Drake pushed through duckweeds, spiderwebs, and willow branches and was glad it was early summer. The stream was obviously spring-fed. Her teeth were rattling inside her head by the time they reached a spot that Mal felt confident of climbing in secret. It helped that it was getting dark. She supposed most people would be home. Although she didn’t know if there was a curfew this far north. She hoped not.
Finally, he led the dull-eyed mare up the steep slope up onto the road a mile from Greenleaf’s gates. This she understood by reading the stone marker sunk into the earth nearby. The three of them trudged on in silence. The water sloughing off their clothes and bodies was the only sound to disturb the singing of the frogs and crickets.
The road led them in a broad arc. Greenleaf’s walls broke the horizon. Soon, Drake spied the torches bolted to the towers on either side of the big wooden gate. Unfortunately, she could see something else, too. Four men dressed in austere black uniforms. Two of them held the leads of no less than six large, sleek-looking hunting dogs. The animals were resting on their haunches, waiting for the command to give chase.
A Warden Unit, Em thought. Terror squeezed the air from her lungs. “I don’t suppose there’s any point to running, is there?”
“I’m so sorry, Em. I did my best.” Mal continued leading their horse to the gate.
They were fifty feet from the gate when the Wardens surrounded them. Their leader stepped in front of Em. He wasn’t wearing a hat. His long dark hair was pulled back in a tidy queue so tight that the roots of her own hair ached in sympathy. He was taller than she was but shorter than Mal. His nose was narrow and pinched, and his face was set in pale, disdainful dignity.
She resisted an urge to shove a knife into it.
The Warden gave each of them a long, hard stare and seemed to settle upon addressing her. “Do you have identification?”
Mal straightened. “I don’t.”
“I didn’t ask you, elph.”
She reached into her pocket for her papers and was relieved to find that they hadn’t suffered too much damage in the journey. “What is this about?”
Mal stooped to whisper in her ear. “What are you up to, Em?”
Numb, she handed the Warden her documents as if she’d done so a thousand times. In truth, she probably had.
He flipped through them, bored. “We’re searching for a prostitute named Mallory McDermott. We understand he’s traveling with two women matching your descriptions. One of them with a baby.”
Oh, god damn it all to hell. She turned to Mal and kissed his cheek without looking at him. Then she took a deep breath and did the thing she always did, no matter how hard it was to do so. She felt calm, but she couldn’t breathe. “I am Watch Captain Drake of Novus Salernum. This is the man you’re looking for.”
“Em?” The shock and betrayal in Mal’s voice were almost too much for her to bear.
Almost. “He’s been running a smuggling ring. I’ve proof. He’s been smuggling elphs out of Novus Salernum.”
Tyra burst into tears as the Wardens grabbed Mal and tied his wrists together.
“Em! Em, please! You can’t do this!” Mal shouted.
The Wardens gathered around Mal. She stepped back and watched as they punched and kicked her friend.
“I’m sorry,” Drake said. “If it’s you or me, I pick me.”
They didn’t stop beating him until he ceased moving.
BLACKTHORNE
NOVUS SALERNUM
THE REGNUM OF ACRASIA
TWENTY-THIRD OF MAITOKUU, 1783
After speaking with Lady Melissa, he’d decided to make some minor adjustments to the plan. That way, should the worst happen, the odds of at least one of the wagons arriving at the docks with its cargo were higher. Just in case, he drew a map and made certain everyone knew how to get back to the ship from the depot. He also told Reini and Annikki they would be in charge of the other wagon and they were to take a different return route.
“This will take longer,” Reini said with a frown. “The Evans Circle gate is farther from the ship.”
“I know
,” Blackthorne said. “It would be best if both wagons didn’t go through the same checkpoint.”
Annikki stole the map from Reini. “Makes sense to me.”
“Give that back,” Reini said.
Raising an eyebrow, Annikki tucked the paper underneath her shirt and walked out of the crew cabin.
“Good thing she’s on our side,” Reini said.
The sky was overcast, and it had begun to rain when Blackthorne set the brake and then climbed down from the wagon bench. The bad weather meant a tighter schedule. The curfew would be earlier today. He didn’t like it, but there was nothing he could do about it.
He adjusted his tricorne so that big, slow raindrops wouldn’t slap him in the face. A casual glance down the street told him the area had been deserted for the noonday meal. In his experience, military staff didn’t tend to lag when it came to mealtimes. He’d surmised that this would be even more the case for personnel given loosely supervised assignments—particularly if the assignment was guarding a warehouse in a less-populated part of the city. Unfortunately, he didn’t see Mr. Sparrow and the other wagon. Not yet. But he knew May to be reliable and trustworthy.
He signaled to Katrin, and she collected the reins, ready to drive the team away should something go wrong. As for Reini and Annikki, he’d let them off two streets back. Both would make their way to the military depot via back alleys and roofs. It was their task to neutralize security behind and around the warehouse. According to the information Armas had sold Blackthorne, today and at this time that would mean three guards in addition to the two at the entrance, but the total number of guards could be as many as eight.
In the distance, a clock tower chimed the hour. Stalling, he counted the rings.
Noon, Blackthorne thought. Time to begin. Misfortune was always a factor, and just before an assignment he often found himself wishing for some celestial patron. Not that I know of any that would have me. He took in a deep breath and strolled toward the two bored guards dressed in Imperial Army uniforms. They were sitting at a makeshift table made of emptied crates, eating their lunch. The stout one tapped out his pipe in preparation for filling it with tobacco. Both ignored Blackthorne until it was apparent he would disturb their meal. The leaner and younger of the pair got to his feet.