Scimitar's Heir

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by Chris A. Jackson


  “Pardon me, sir, but that’s twice you’ve said ‘our profession’.” He shifted uncomfortably under the spymaster’s scrutiny, but he was still irritated enough with being woken in the middle of the night that he pressed forward with his point. “I never thought of you as a secretary, sir, and I know that I’m no specialist in the arts of…security.”

  “Do not attempt to be flippant or evasive with me, Mister Huffington,” Upton warned, lifting his cup again for a sip. The man’s narrow eyes stared over the rim at him, but Huffington just stared back. “As I told you earlier, I have looked into your past. I know your abilities, your strengths and your weaknesses. You are in the emperor’s service, now. I have read your orders. What I want to discuss is how you plan to carry them out.”

  “Your pardon again, sir, but my employer is Count Emil Norris, and the emperor himself told me that it was to remain so.” He firmed his resolve and pressed forward. In for a copper, in for a crown. “As a loyal subject, I could not refuse His Majesty’s service in this one…endeavor, but when it is done, I intend to resume my service as Count Norris’ secretary.”

  “None of which changes the fact that you are currently in the service of the emperor.” Upton’s tone was mild, but his eyes screamed danger. “Now, we will discuss your assignment, and you will tell me how you plan to carry it out.”

  “No, sir,” Huffington said, keeping his tone equally calm and his hands open and flat on his knees. “I’m sorry, sir, but I won’t be doing anything of the kind.”

  “It is not in your power to refuse me in this, Mister Huffington,” Upton said, a slight rise in the timbre of his voice the only obvious sign that he was upset. “I know what you are, what you have been told to do, and to whom you are going to do it. Now you will tell me—”

  Huffington stood, careful to make his motions as slow and deliberate as possible. He reached for his jacket and lifted it from the hook.

  “Sit down, Mister Huffington! This instant!”

  “No, sir, I won’t.” He put his jacket on and lifted his satchel. “I was told by the emperor that I was still Count Norris’ man. I’m in the service of His Majesty, and while I was told that you would know of my assignment, I was not told that I would answer to you in any way, except that I might ask your assistance if I needed it. This task is mine, and I’d prefer not to discuss it.”

  “Why ever not, Mister Huffington?” Upton said, his tone returned to normal, though with some obvious effort. “I am the Master of Security, after all. I might be able to offer some helpful advice.”

  “Because, in my profession, Master Upton, a man never tells anyone how he’s going to kill another man. Or woman, if it comes to that.” He put the satchel strap over his head and reached for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Master Upton, I will be going back to my bunk aboard the Marie Celeste. Good night.”

  “Good night, Mister Huffington,” the spymaster said as the door closed between them.

  Huffington squared his shoulders and rolled his neck to loosen his tense muscles. He doubted he would get back to sleep, but was determined to try. Getting out of that cabin without telling the spymaster what he wanted to know, and without getting a dagger in his ribs, was an exhausting and exhilarating accomplishment. And best of all, he was still his own man.

  Chapter 20

  Moth and Flame

  “Edan…Edan.”

  Sam whispered his name, enjoying the way it felt on her lips. It was like a prayer…or a curse, she wasn’t quite sure which. On the one hand, her memory of their intimate introduction exalted her, teased her with its intensity, and his power very much intrigued Sam-the-pirate. On the other hand, he had awakened a part of her—the weak, sentimental Samantha—that she had thought dead. That she had, in fact, tried to kill. She found herself longing for that part of herself, grieving for its loss. She was confused, and that confusion made her angry. Who wanted Edan? Sam, who was attracted by his power, or Samantha, who was attracted to the passionate young man who made her feel safe, wanted, loved? Whatever the reason, she was here. And now, finally, she had found him.

  She crouched behind an ornate stone crenation, her glass leveled through a guano-stained balustrade and focused on the harbor far below. Sam and Uag had found this harbor with little trouble, moving like wraiths through the moonlit streets, working their way around the outer avenue that ringed the floating city until they spied the schooners’ masts. Finding a high place to watch from, they had settled in to wait. Now the sun had breached the horizon, and her patience had paid off. She watched as the seamage and her Morrgrey husband, the half-elf shipwright Ghelfan, Edan, and two burly sailors left the ships and headed into the city.

  “Dat’s him?” Uag asked, his low whisper barely audible. “Dat skinny one wit de pointy ears?”

  “No, the one with red hair. The only one not wearing a sword,” she said. “He’s their prisoner.” She looked more closely. What in the Nine Hells is he doing with all those bottles and jars on his belt? She shrugged and handed the glass to Uag.

  “Dat boy?” he asked, focusing the scope, then wrinkling his brow at her. “He got powerful magic?”

  “Yes, he does,” she answered defiantly, grabbing the glass and tucking it in her belt. She rose to a crouch and moved to the stair down to the harbor level. She had to hurry if she was going to follow Edan’s group. “Go back and get Manta off the reef. Mind her rudders. If you break them, we can’t get home. I’ll be along soon, by nightfall at the latest.”

  “You gonna try to get dat boy away from dem alone?”

  Uag’s skepticism almost made her laugh. She gave him a grin, her sharpened teeth gleaming in the morning light. “Once the seamage is dead, the rest will be easy.”

  ≈

  “You’re sure this is the one?” Cynthia asked Ghelfan, squinting down at the odd-looking bronze hatch in the floor. It was one of the floating staircases and it was closed, which meant that the level below was flooded.

  “Yes.” The shipwright’s fingers traced the silvery elvish script etched into the wall. “This refers to the Chamber of Life.” He looked at her and raised one slim eyebrow. “The sea lies beneath this hatch, Cynthia. You must make it recede if it we are to open it.”

  “I can hold back the water,” Cynthia vowed. She knelt and placed a hand against the hatch, then closed her eyes. Yes, she could feel the sea against the hatch, and it was pressing hard. They were well below the city’s waterline now, perhaps eighty feet or so, and the pressures were substantial. “Though you might get your feet wet.”

  Edan groaned softly, and Flicker’s high-pitched chitters sounded like a stream of sprite curses. Mouse’s cackle of laughter in response confirmed it. Cynthia waved him away impatiently, then stood.

  “I can’t push back the entire ocean, but I can keep the immediate area around us relatively dry. But after we descend the stairs and move toward the chamber, the water will fill in behind us, raising the stair and closing the hatch.”

  “That’s where you two come in,” Feldrin said gravely to Rhaf and Janley, his two crewmen who had volunteered to come along. “If we need to open the hatch from below, this level will start to flood as we swim up through, so one of you is gonna have to block the next one open until we can get up to the next level.”

  “Swim?” Edan said, his eyes widening so much that it was almost comical. “You never said anything about swimming!”

  Cynthia sighed; they had left this part out of last night’s discussion with Edan, not wanting to frighten him with a litany of all the possible things that could go wrong. Perhaps they had erred in that decision. What’s done is done, she thought, and considered how to explain it to him now.

  “As Feldrin has pointed out, I’m not invulnerable. If something happens to me down there, I don’t want the rest of you do be trapped and drowned. And there are fail-safes to make s
ure that won’t happen.” The color had drained from the boy’s face, his freckles standing in stark relief. “Ghelfan, please show him.”

  “Of course, Mistress. These staircase hatches can be opened from the underside even when water fills the room below. See here, Edan.” He knelt beside the hatch and tapped a small disc that looked like it was engraved in the metal. “This is an air-release vent. It works in concert with a water-intake vent below. On the back side of the stairs is a handle. You simply turn the handle, and water fills the door, the displaced air coming out of the vent here. The stair then sinks under its own weight. A rather ingenious safety device, probably used during construction to adjust the trim of the city once it was floated. The point is, once opened, the hatch cannot be closed again without pumping all the water out of the flooded level and draining the hatch.”

  “So, if someone is trapped below, they turn the lever and the hatch opens?” Edan asked. “But then this level will flood, too, and fast!”

  “Exactly,” Cynthia said. Relieved that Edan seemed to accept Ghelfan’s explanation without too much fuss, she turned to the sailors and gestured at their tools. “That’s why Rhaf and Janley are staying here, and why they lugged those heavy crowbars down here with them. If this level starts flooding, they’ll run to the next hatch before it floats closed and jam a crowbar into the jaw of the rising stair, blocking it open. Once everyone’s clear, we pull out the crowbar and let the hatch close behind us.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d let me volunteer to stay up here,” Edan asked, glaring at her.

  “No, Edan. I need you with me. The mer fear fire more than anything, and you are fire.”

  “Just remember what we talked about last night, Edan,” Feldrin said, “and keep yer wits about you.”

  “If anything happens to me, I want everyone to get out, and get out fast.” Cynthia raised a hand to forestall them before anyone could speak. She was impatient to get on with this. They’d worked so hard to get here, now it was time to get this done. She knew Edan was scared, but they were all scared. “Save our son, Feldrin, whatever it takes. Promise me.”

  “Oh, aye, lass,” Feldrin said heavily. “We’ll all be gettin’ out of here. I promise you that!”

  “Considering the number of promises you’ve broken, you’ll forgive me if that doesn’t give me any comfort,” Edan said, glaring at Feldrin.

  Cynthia’s fury flooded her senses, fed by her sorrow, guilt and desperation, shattering her façade of control. She pinned Edan with a glare. “We’ve kept every promise we ever made to you, Edan! You wouldn’t even be a pyromage if not for us, so how about a little gods-damned gratitude! And I’d be a little more cautious about insulting the only people who can get you out of here alive. Because if we don’t get out, you don’t get out. How is that for incentive?”

  Edan’s stepped back from her wrath, his bluff gone, and Flicker cowered behind his neck, wide eyed. “I…I didn’t really mean it like that.”

  Cynthia closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, then felt Feldrin’s hand on her arm.

  “Let it be, lass. The lad’s just got pre-fight jitters, just like the rest of us.”

  She shrugged off his hand and steeled her resolve. “Fine, now stand back and let me work.”

  Cynthia knelt again and placed a hand on the cool bronze hatch. She could feel the sea below the hatch, pressing upward, eager to rise to sea level. Back, she thought, willing the water away. The heavy metal hatch shuddered and dropped a half inch at one end, and air rushed into the empty space she had created, which made it easier. She continued to urge the water away, and the stair dropped a half foot. As it tilted, the steps rotated out from its flat surface, remaining parallel to the floor. She stepped aboard the tilting hatch and rode it down, urging a tendril of water up to wet her feet and firm her connection with the sea.

  “Have a care, lass,” Feldrin said, one huge hand on her shoulder, the other gripping one of his boarding axes. “Let me go first. Don’t know if one of yer fishy friends might be waitin’ with a trident handy.”

  “I checked, Feldrin,” she said impatiently. “There’s nothing down here but water.” She shrugged off his hand and descended the stair, urging the last of the water away. The heavy hatch touched down with a substantial impact, enough to reverberate through the floor and walls.

  “Well, we just rung their doorbell.” Feldrin said, following her down the steps with his ungainly gait.

  “Great,” Edan muttered, relieving Rhaf of his torch and following Feldrin down the steps.

  “Do not worry, Edan,” Ghelfan said, bringing up the rear of their procession. He withdrew a glow crystal from a pouch at his hip and drew his slim rapier. “The mer have surely known that we are here all along.”

  Cynthia stepped off the stair with a little splash. She’d left a few inches of water on the floor to maintain a strong connection with the sea, and as they proceeded down the hall, she would allow the water to flow past and fill in behind them. To keep the entire corridor free of water would be too much of a strain. When the others all stood beside her, Cynthia called up to Rhaf and Janley.

  “Remember, as we move away the water will rise and the hatch will close. Don’t worry.”

  “Aye, Mistress,” Rhaf said, though both men looked nervous.

  “And if you see the release pop open, one of you run like hell and block open the next stair,” Feldrin added. “The other stays to help us.”

  “Aye Capt’n,” Janley said with a quick salute. “The runnin’ part I think you can count on.”

  “Great,” Edan muttered yet again. He flinched at every drip that fell on him from overhead. Flicker perched on his shoulder and nuzzled his ear, her flaming hair coursing harmlessly along his skin.

  Cynthia shuddered and turned away. Just the sight of the flames on his skin made her uncomfortable, and she knew that Edan felt similar discomfort down here, so out of his element and so close to the power she wielded. Just as long as he doesn’t panic, she thought, and does his job. She forced all thoughts of fire and Edan out of her mind and led them toward the Chamber of Life, ever mindful of the sea rushing past their feet to refill their only way out.

  ≈

  Eelback felt the heavy vibration down his sensitive lateral lines; water was a much-better transmitter of sound than air, and this sound in particular was one he had long awaited, for it set all his long-laid plans in motion.

  *Kelpie!* He flipped his tail and snapped to a stop before Odea’s priestess. *It is time. Give me the seamage’s finling and cast your invocation so that I may breathe air.*

  Kelpie’s eyes widened, her pupils dilating until her green irises were bare slivers. *And you will free Tailwalker?* she signed, her hands trembling upon the swaddled babe.

  *As I have promised, you and the trident holder’s son will be free to go.* He held out his hands. *Give me the child and cast the invocation.*

  *On your word, Eelback.* She handed over the silent bundle—the child was sleeping peacefully—lifted the silver crescent and hilt of the Scimitar Moon from her breast, and beseeched Odea’s blessing. The icon glowed as she moved her hands in a broad arc, calling on the sea goddess’ power.

  Eelback felt a slight flush and a discomfort in his chest. The babe squirmed in the swaddling clothes, but settled without waking. *Is it done?*

  *Yes. You will breathe as landwalkers do when air touches your face. Now, free Tailwalker.* Her eyes bore into him, and her holy icon continued to glow with its soft blue light.

  *Slickfin, cut Tailwalker’s bonds and escort them to the outer city.*

  Slickfin passed her dagger between Tailwalker’s bound wrists, slicing the ties, and motioned them toward the exit. *Come, both of you,* she signed.

  Kelpie cast one last suspicious glance at Eelback, then grasped Tailwalker’s arm to guide him. The triden
t holder’s son tried to shake off her grasp, but his arms were weak from long binding, and truly, he needed her aid. In the end, he submitted, and the two followed Slickfin out of the chamber. When they were out of sight, Eelback turned to Redtail and gave the order that would execute the next phase of his plan.

  *Tell the myxine that the time has come for them to feed.*

  *Yes, Eelback,* his friend signed, but before he could flip his tail to leave, Eelback gripped his arm.

  *And remind them, Redtail; no landwalker, and no mer, must be allowed to leave Akrotia alive.*

  *Yes, Eelback,* Redtail signed, his head bobbing in subservience, though his color shifted with discomfort.

  *Good! Now, go!*

  Redtail flipped his tail and was gone.

  To the rest of his warriors, Eelback signed, *When Redtail and Slickfin return, close all the doors to the outer city. We will stay safe inside while the myxine feed outside.*

  Their fists hammered their chests in salute and they darted off to their duties.

  Eelback looked down at the seamage’s child in his arms, so weak and helpless and pink, then thought of his own offspring waiting in Slickfin’s throat to be hatched. They would beget a great school of mer here and make Akrotia strong again. His plan needed only one more thing to be complete, and she was on her way. He clapped his gills in excitement, then flipped his tail and swam as quickly as he could toward the Chamber of Life.

  ≈

  “I don’t like this, mate,” Rhaf said, scratching the three-day stubble on his chin as he and Janley watched the stair slowly float up from the corridor below. “Don’t seem right.”

  “Aye,” Janley agreed, “with the Capt’n’s bum leg and only the four of ‘em. Ye’d think we mighta brought the whole crew ta—”

 

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