“Is that a threat?” Starling, instead of seeming offended, looked amused and a little in awe of Reg.
Reg resisted the compulsion to chew his thumbnail. He didn’t want Starling to see his uncertainty. “I’m not threatening you, sir. I am simply stating a fact and hoping you’ll behave like a gentleman and provide us the information we need to protect ourselves.”
“Very well,” Starling said. “You’ve convinced me. Let’s go up to my cabin and discuss it over a bottle of wine or two.”
“Wine?” Querry pushed past Reg and lifted his hands as if he’d choke the life out of the aristocrat, stopping himself only inches from Starling’s throat. “Unlike you, we’re bruised and covered in blood. And we’re the lucky ones. Do you really think this is the time for a friendly drink?”
Starling shrugged. “What’s done is done. It won’t be undone whether I drink wine, water, gin, or nothing at all. Therefore, I’ll drink wine. If you wish to have a conversation with me, you’ll come to my cabin and accept my hospitality with some semblance of civility ‘like a gentleman’.” Starling smirked as he threw Reg’s words back at them. “Oh, and do clean up a bit first. The smell is most disagreeable. Come along, Tom.”
Querry ground his teeth audibly and trembled with rage as the baron, barely a smudge on his scandalous excuse for attire, strolled past them and climbed the ladder.
“What a strange man,” Frolic said softly. “We need to be careful around him. His magic is very strong. I’m not sure even he can control it all the time. It spikes up when he’s angry, so be careful what you say, Querry.”
“I’m not afraid of that self-important bastard,” Querry said.
“Nevertheless, it’s sound advice, Querry.” Reg almost felt the anger pumping through Querry when he touched Querry’s shoulder. Reg knew Querry had no time to play by the rules of polite society. He knew his old friend didn’t like such regulations, and certainly didn’t like being bested. Querry liked having his hands tied least of all. Reg also knew Querry wanted to scream. He could practically hear his partner’s thoughts: they’d just defeated a sea monster, a creature of mythic proportions, but they had to defer to a mere mortal. Though Reg didn’t know where it came from or why he said it, he leaned in and whispered, “You can work off all your frustration soon, love. For the moment, let’s find out what we need to know.”
Frolic giggled and bounced on the balls of his feet. Querry turned to Reg, grinned, and ran the tip of his tongue over the edge of his teeth. “Be careful what you offer,” he said in a low, gravelly voice that sent a shiver straight down Reg’s spine to the root of his body. “I have a lot of frustration to work out after today.”
“Luckily there are two of us,” Frolic said. “But if both of you don’t stop licking your mouths and chewing on your lips that way, I’m afraid we won’t make it above deck.”
Reg laughed, even though he knew how ridiculous and inappropriate it was to feel happy in that moment, after everything he’d seen and the danger he and his companions still faced. Maybe that was all the more reason to snatch up any moment of joy he could. He grabbed Querry and Frolic’s hands, lifted them, and pressed a kiss to each of their palms. Frolic’s remained soft and smooth despite the mechanical work he did. Little bloody crescents decorated Querry’s rough skin where his nails bit down, probably while he’d listened to Starling imply his ignorance. The three of them stood smiling at each other like awkward children for a few minutes before climbing the ladder.
The sun still shined bright enough to make them squint as they emerged, but without the dazzling brilliance of before. The sky, while clear, didn’t seem the blinding sapphire it had. Reg felt a twinge as he realized the world seemed less alive, somehow muted. He’d never felt such overwhelming desire as he had when he’d heard the faerie song. He remembered what he’d said to Frolic, and that he hadn’t apologized. Later, he’d explain he hadn’t been himself and hope his lovers understood.
The sailors bustled around the deck, replacing damaged ropes, pulling the sails down for mending, and clearing away debris. Some of them stared out across the water in silence, while others sat crying softly for lost friends and companions. Fans of foul, sticky blood like pitch sizzled under the hot sun as sailors with pails and mops hurried to swab them off. The trio of mercenaries who’d aided them cleaned their guns. Some other clockwork gear sat around them. Their leader looked up from his work to curl his lip at the three of them as they passed. They found one of the few pails of water not needed to douse the flames leftover from the battle and splashed the warm liquid over their faces and arms, washing as best they could.
“I can’t stand this disgusting odor.” Frolic slid his bracers down his arms, untied the ribbon around his neck, and flung it, along with his ink-soaked shirt, into the sea. Then he wet his hands and scrubbed at the ichor clinging to his slight body. He managed to wash most of it away, but a lock of his hair, just one ringlet on the left side of his face, between his eyebrow and his ear, remained stained as black as coal, in stark contrast to the rest of the silvery white waves.
Reg reached out to touch the ink-soaked lock, but something stopped him, and he let his hand fall on Frolic’s bare shoulder. The three of them stood together, looking across the deck at Starling’s closed door.
“Let’s get this over with,” Reg said.
THE INSIDE of Starling’s luxurious cabin felt like another world. Reg swore he’d found himself back in Halcyon, in a gentleman’s study after a dinner party. He expected someone to hand him a glass of single malt and maybe a cigar. Instead, Tom Teezle indicated a chair and an ottoman in front of Starling’s cluttered desk. Reg sat in the chair while Querry and Frolic squeezed onto the bench. The baron took a dusty bottle from a drawer and served the golden wine in his fine, antique-looking, but mismatched glasses. Meanwhile, Tom offered them all a variety of cheeses, chocolates, and dried fruit from a tray.
“This is ridiculous,” Querry said after he downed his wine, wasting the fine, complex vintage as he always did. For once, Reg couldn’t blame him.
“No thank you,” Frolic said as he offered Tom a smile. “In fact, why don’t you have my share?”
“I am only serving the food,” Tom told him. “I didn’t prepare it, nor does it come from my people, so you need not be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” Frolic said. “Anyone can see there’s no glamour at work on it.”
His words caught Starling’s attention. The baron’s head snapped up. “Anyone could see that, you say. You are mistaken. Very few people can see such things. I myself cannot see them. Yet you can. How is that, Frolic?”
“Don’t answer him,” Querry said. “It’s none of his business.”
“I don’t see the harm,” Frolic said.
“No, I agree with Querry,” Reg said quickly. He didn’t trust Starling to know Frolic’s workings, his vulnerabilities. “That is not our purpose here. We should not stray from our focus.”
“What exactly would you like to know, Mr. Whitney?”
“Let’s begin with our most recent encounter. Help me to understand it.”
Starling swirled his wine in his glass, sniffed it, took a small sip, and closed his eyes with pleasure. For many minutes the liquid in his mouth occupied all his attention. Finally, he swallowed and said, “I don’t know what you fail to grasp, Mr. Whitney. We were attacked, and luckily we were victorious, though the ship suffered heavy damage, damage that will likely add days or even weeks to our journey. It is unfortunate, but we’re sailing through some very remote waters, and it is hard to know what to expect.”
“That’s not true,” Querry said. “You were expecting them. You knew we’d be attacked eventually, by the fey. They were fey, weren’t they? Different than fey like Tom and my—” Querry caught himself, apparently remembering how much Reg hated it when he called his former patron by the possessive. “—the gentleman I worked with back in Halcyon. But they felt Other.”
Surprisingly, not Starling or Tom,
but Frolic answered him. “You’re right. They were fey. I understood the words of their song, just like I understood the gentleman and Kristof when they whispered to each other at night. They used the same words as the wind and the sea.”
“My God,” Starling said. “You understand their language? That’s astonishing!”
“They’ve been begging us, warning us to turn around since we set out,” Frolic said. “Tom, you must hear it too.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Frolic,” Reg said, his heart breaking for the understanding imposed upon his friend, an understanding Frolic didn’t want and found very disturbing. “We should have listened to you.”
“How could we?” Querry asked. “We have no choice but to be here.”
“Unfortunately.” Reg sipped his smooth, beautifully balanced, oak-mellowed wine. Even now, he could appreciate the nuances of the Belvaisian blend. “But we must find out what’s going on so we can properly prepare ourselves. Am I wrong in thinking this is likely to happen again?”
“No,” Frolic said.
“I want to know why,” Querry said, his voice echoing in the posh chamber. “Why are the fey trying to stop you? Does it have something to do with Tom?”
“No. I acquired my fey servant through legitimate means, Mr. Knotte.”
“It defies logic,” Reg said. “From what I understand, you’re hoping to find a source of magical energy. You claim to seek it for the good of everyone, to give humankind a clean, endless source of power. Why would the fey oppose that? Do they want the magic for themselves?”
Both Tom and Frolic chuckled before the fey answered. “Magic is as abundant in the Other World as air is in this place,” Tom said. “It’s likely the magic Lord Starling seeks is spilling from the Other Side, through a tear in the barrier between the two.”
“Well, then they’re clearly just protecting their magic from being stolen,” Reg said. “I don’t care for—” He wanted to say he didn’t like fey, but understood their desire to protect their home, but he stopped himself when he remembered Tom’s presence. “I don’t care for the idea of stealing from them. We’ve no right.”
“I have every right!” Starling’s voice rose with passion. “I have to do this. Don’t you see? Mankind needs energy. If it isn’t provided by magic, it will be coal and steam, filthy machines and human misery. It will be one or the other. Industry will destroy this world unless I put a stop to it, show them another way. I don’t want anyone else suffering.” He slapped the desk, making his glasses and inkwell rattle and his haphazard maps and papers rustle. Reg ached for those ignored instruments. He longed to record their hardships, their impossible experiences. He didn’t suppose Starling would offer him a quill and a few sheets of paper, though, so he didn’t bother asking.
“You’re wrong,” Frolic said. “So wrong. Magic and industry can share a place in the world, exist together. How can you be so blind?”
“You know nothing of the world. Anyone can see, by the way you behave, you haven’t lived in it for very long. I’d call you a child, if you were even human, so don’t presume to advise me.”
Before the intent even fully formed, Reg got to his feet. Querry also stood, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Oh, sit down, you fools. I haven’t said anything that isn’t true. This boy is a clockwork, and he’s very naïve. The two of you are barely into manhood. I won’t apologize if you find honesty so offensive, and I won’t abandon my mission. This is my very life. I will find this place, and you will help me. Now, if that will be all, I have a great deal to do this afternoon. I must assess the damage to the ship, particularly to the engine, and delegate repair assignments. I must see what’s left of the crew and make sure we can operate with a less than full retinue.”
“My God, you speak of people’s lives.” Reg found he couldn’t hold back. “People died out there. Horribly. Eaten by a monster. Do you suppose those simple sailors expected to face something like that?”
“People die,” Starling said. “Nothing and no one can stand against death. Anyone who expects any kind of security from this life is deluded. For most, it’s only a question of which of fate’s whims proves fatal. Dumb luck allows some of us to survive while others are taken. I know this well, as will you when you’ve lived a few more years.”
“I know it well enough. I’ve known it since before I could cut my own meat. But it doesn’t mean any less when a life is lost. Every person matters. I hope I’ll never think of flesh and blood men like supplies, as a means to an end, as you do. I find it reprehensible.”
“Such sentiment will hardly bring them back.”
Reg couldn’t argue with that. He decided, as they stood to leave the fancy cabin, to help the sailors and laborers clean up if he could. He’d spent too many days wallowing in self-pity and feeling like a victim. It was time to do what he could to make sure the people he loved would be all right, to make sure they returned from this ill-fated adventure, though he wished he could record the lost men’s stories. Something occurred to him, and he turned toward Starling again.
“There’s just one more thing I require, if I may. I’d like to look over the contract Querry and Frolic signed.”
“That’s hardly necessary.” Starling absently reached back and rolled the top of his desk shut.
“What don’t you want me to see?” Reg persisted. “If everything is authentic, what do you have to hide? What’s the harm in me looking it over?” Reg and Querry exchanged a glance. Querry inched behind Starling toward his desk.
“It has nothing to do with harm. Their contract is none of your business, Mr. Whitney,” Starling said, clearly annoyed.
Frolic noticed Querry’s intent. “Reg is our representative, like our solicitor,” he said, drawing Starling’s attention further from the desk.
“That’s absurd.” Starling sniffed. “It’s been signed. Solicitors review contracts before they’re signed, not after.”
Querry reached tentatively toward the desk, but as soon as his hand came into contact with the roll top, biting energy sparked, clearly sending pain through Querry’s arm. He yelped, and they all turned to look at him. Tom Teezle smirked from his corner. “Sorry,” Querry offered. “Stubbed my toe.”
Starling looked at the thief suspiciously. “Yes well, I think it’s time for you all to go,” he stated, dismissing them. “You’re stinking up my chambers.” They filed from the room, and Reg noticed the smirking faerie.
“What was that?” Reg asked when they were safely on the deck and out of earshot of the baron.
“My guess would be neither Frolic nor I can get our hands on that contract,” Querry said as he shook his still tingling, reddened hand. “Because we agreed not to work against Starling. Hell, that hurt. I hate to think of what would happen if we tried to harm him for real.”
“I need to review the exact language of the agreement, see if I might find some hole in the wording, a way for you and Frolic to escape.” Reg smacked his left fist into his right palm.
“We’ll figure something out,” Frolic offered, squeezing Reg’s shoulder.
Reg calmed at Frolic’s touch, an idea occurring to him. “I’ll meet you down in our room,” he said to Querry and Frolic. “We should have some lunch and talk. I’ll give you a chance to wash up properly.” He knew from the stories they told of Querry’s and Frolic’s first intimate encounter, that Querry had wiped nearly a century’s worth of dust from Frolic’s fair skin after finding him in an abandoned basement. It brought back fond memories for Querry; he still loved helping Frolic bathe, sometimes lingering over the task for an hour or more. Reg hoped it might have a calming effect on both of them.
Frolic captured Reg’s gaze and smiled. “Hurry on, or I’ll have to help Querry work out his frustration without you. It’s much more pleasant when you’re there too, Reggie. It’s not the same without you.” Frolic moved toward him, his perfect lips pursed, and Reg caught his shoulder to stop Frolic from kissing him. He found it endearing
how Frolic didn’t understand why they couldn’t kiss whenever they wanted. He and Querry had tried to explain it to Frolic, but Frolic, by his nature, saw things as they should be instead of how they truly were.
“I’ll be along soon,” Reg said. “I’ll bring something for me and Querry to eat.”
They descended into the hold of the ship, and Reg took a deep breath, steeling himself as he approached the three mercenaries. The men still sat on the deck, fiddling with their equipment. Reg didn’t know how he found the courage—he usually relied on Querry to deal with men like these—but he withdrew an engraved flask from his pocket and held it out to the gray-haired leader, a very serious and imposing man.
“What have you got there, son?”
“Highland single malt. Eighteen years old.”
“Sounds fancy. Why would you share it with me, then?”
“As a trade.” Reg sat down and crossed his legs. It was hot and humid, but thankfully, a light breeze ruffled his hair and cooled his burning cheeks. Querry always taunted him for blushing when he became nervous or aroused. He cursed it now; surely this experienced soldier noticed.
“A trade, you say? For what?”
“Only some answers. I’m Reginald, by the way. Reginald Whitney.” He held out his hand, as was proper between gentlemen.
The other man looked at Reg’s outstretched hand for a few seconds before grasping it in his huge, rough fist. “I ain’t promising nothing. So, where from?”
“Halcyon.”
“Yeah, a city boy. Saw that coming.”
“And you?” Reg asked, optimistic about the conversation.
“Ravenshire. Been a long time since I been there, though.”
Reg couldn’t help grinning at the irony. He’d been engaged to the Earl of Ravenshire’s daughter, before he rescued Querry and ran away with him and Frolic. He didn’t regret it for a second, but he didn’t think sharing that particular tale would aid his cause.
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