by Will Wight
Cheska pulled the hat off and turned it in her hands, staring at it as though it contained the secrets of the future. “I, ah...I’m sorry Jerri couldn’t be here. I’d have liked to see her face when she saw me all made up.”
Thinking of his wife caused too many emotions for him to deal with at one time, so he simply nodded and changed the subject. “So where are we meeting these friends of yours?”
The Navigator’s Guild Head walked over to the railing, leaning over the water. She pulled a compass out, looked at it, checked the sky, wet one finger in her mouth and stuck it up to measure the wind, then nodded.
“Here’s good,” she said.
Calder looked around. Other than the peaks of a few distant islands, nothing but blue in every direction. “The middle of nowhere?”
“Might as well be here, then, don’t you think?”
That made as much sense as anything else Cheska had ever told him. “Guild Head, please. I’ve been playing with half a hand this whole time. Tell me honestly: who are we meeting today?”
She considered that for a moment before shaking her head. “Nope.”
“I’m begging you, Captain Bennett.” Formality had never worked on Cheska before, but maybe this time it would give him some kind of an edge.
“Nah. It’s too much fun letting you stew.” She put her compass back into her jacket, and then pulled out a watch from the same pocket. “Besides, they should be here soon.”
Calder scanned the horizon again. This time, he saw three dark spots that might have just been sails. “It’ll take them all afternoon to get here,” he protested.
She walked away, waving a crew member over. “Then I suggest you get ready, Captain. They want you at the meeting. I let you know, so my job’s over.”
With that, she was back to work, ignoring him completely.
That was always his experience dealing with Cheska: she ran him over, moving like a whirlwind, and then moved on before he could get his bearings.
He sighed and looked for someone to row him back to his ship.
~~~
Back on The Testament, Calder dug through his chest of clothes, wincing as he knelt without thinking on his wounded leg. He shifted his weight to the knee that wasn’t bleeding through its bandages, pushing aside one outfit after another. He didn’t have anything that his mother would have called suitable, but he should be able to present the image of a proud, hard-working Navigator captain.
His hand rested on folded layers of black at the bottom.
Maybe...
He turned the coat over so that the Blackwatch crest was visible. Even through the fabric, he could feel the lines of the seven iron spikes, sensing the power of their Intent in his fingertips. His mother and the Blackwatch would be involved in this meeting, and Alsa had suggested that Bliss would be back soon. Maybe he didn’t want to represent the Navigators now. The Watchmen had responded with surprising respect when they learned who he was. They might let him back in.
He had only retired on an Imperial order in the first place. Now that the Emperor was dead, who cared what Guild he supported? Maybe he wanted to show the Blackwatch that he was still one of them, still on their side, still dedicated to protecting the Empire from Elder threats.
Or maybe he just wanted to feel connected to the life he used to have, so briefly, before he’d made so many mistakes. Living with his mother, back in the Capital, studying every day with Jerri.
He lifted the coat out of the chest, and a bundle of sapphire silk tumbled out.
Calder’s eyes stuck to the emerald fabric. It wasn’t any clothing, not yet—just a few yards of silk they’d picked up from a trader in Vandenyas. Jerri had always meant to turn it into a dress, just as soon as they found a worthy tailor.
This was her plan for the future, a treat that she had been saving for herself. It seemed obvious, now that he thought of it, but for some reason it hit him like a brick to the side of the head: she hadn’t meant to leave. He’d felt betrayed, abandoned by her, when he found out that she had been keeping secrets from him.
Not just any secrets, he thought. She’s one of the Sleepless! She’s a Soulbound, and she never told me!
But she’d planned to stay with him. To keep living with him.
For some reason, that fact alone seemed like a monstrous revelation. He had actually considered leaving her to her fate.
No, he already had left her.
It was over.
And it was his fault.
When Andel came in a moment later, he found Calder sitting motionless, leaning his back against the bed, staring at the blue silk lying untouched in the chest.
“I left her, Andel,” he said, his voice a monotone. “Why did I leave her?”
Andel lowered himself to sit on a bench. “You didn’t leave her, sir. You tried to trap the Consultant and find her. It was the best lead you had, and you followed it. Against my advice, I might add.”
That sounded good, when he put it like that, but it didn’t feel like enough to Calder. He should have run straight after her, not played a game of ‘wait and see.’ Sure, he hadn’t had any idea where to go or what to do, but at the moment that felt like the flimsy excuse of a child caught in a lie.
But none of that was Andel’s fault. Andel was always a clear voice of reason, and he didn’t deserve to deal with a captain who locked himself in the cabin and stared at a square of folded silk. “I’m sorry, Andel, it just...hits me sometimes.”
The Quartermaster looked down at his hands. “I had a...woman I was close to, once. Not a wife. She died. Imperial troops pacifying a rebellious city quarter. I was a Luminian Pilgrim at the time, so I could have stopped it. But I got home six minutes too late. Six minutes, Calder. Just in time to clean up the blood.”
Calder stared at Andel. The man was full of lessons, advice, and dry wit, but he’d never said two words about his life before. Calder knew more about the Lyathatan’s personal history than Andel’s.
“That’s how I ended up where I am. And this is my way of saying that I know right where you are. If time doesn’t heal wounds, it certainly makes them hurt a lot less.”
Calder looked back at the unborn dress. “And what about revenge? Does that help?”
“You mean the Emperor? I blamed him for years. I even planned out three assassination attempts, though I never tried any of them, thank the God. They wouldn’t have worked anyway. But when I heard he was dead, it didn’t help.” He looked at Calder for a few seconds. “Ah. Not my revenge. Yours.”
“If Shera hadn’t attacked us, Jerri would still be alive.” And it was more than that: it was Shera’s eyes when she fought. Dead. Cold. As though she didn’t care about anything or anyone, and that made it easy to kill.
If she had murdered Jerri in a fit of anger, or in self-defense, or in the heat of the moment, he would have understood. It wouldn’t have been any easier for him, but at least the picture would make sense. But assassinating a stranger because she got in the way, and staying stone-cold the whole time...that deserved retribution. No one like that deserved to live.
Calder realized he wasn’t making much sense, even to himself, but he shoved that thought aside.
“And if you hadn’t let Naberius onboard this ship, the Consultant would never have come here,” Andel pointed out. “If you and Jyrine had never met, she wouldn’t have been on the ship. And if a falling star had blown the whole ship to smithereens, none of us would have been alive to realize that there was an assassin onboard.”
“That’s not the same thing, and you know it.”
Andel looked up at the boards over his head. “I was exaggerating, but there is one point that needs to be made. We should never have let Naberius onboard this ship.”
“I didn’t know that at the time.”
“I was suspicious. I know you were suspicious. Looking back, that should have been enough.” Andel held up a hand. “I’m not blaming you, understand. It was just as much my fault as yours. I’m blaming him.”
Calder nodded slowly, remembering Naberius clutching at the Heart. Naberius shooting Tristania in the back of the head. Smiling afterward.
“It’s too late now, Andel. All that’s left is taking him ashore and getting paid.”
Andel leaned closer. “It’s not too late, sir. I’ve been talking to the crew of The Eternal, and they told me what’s happening. A meeting between you, Captain Bennett, Naberius, and his sponsors.”
“If you’re asking, I don’t know who the sponsors are either. Cheska said it was a surprise.”
“More surprises,” Andel said, voice dry. “I thought you’d be sick of those by now. But that’s not the point. My point is, let’s be done with him. Negotiate a partial fee, leave Naberius with Captain Bennett, and we’ll be on our way.”
Cheska was withholding information to manipulate him, and he knew that, but Calder still couldn’t deny a certain intrigue. Who were Naberius’ sponsors? How were they planning on crowning a new Emperor once they got their hands on the Heart of Nakothi? Especially considering...
He glanced at the box underneath the bed. It remained untouched, the secret card in his sleeve.
The sight reminded him of why he was really here. The reason Jerri had traveled with him all these years.
He rose to his feet, pulling a coat out of the chest. Anything would do; it wasn’t what he wore that would make an impression on these people, but the way he acted.
“It’s not about making money, Andel. It never was. I’m aiming higher than that. Naberius is involved in something as big as the Empire itself, and I would be a fool to let this chance go by.” He paused. “But I would be just as much a fool to trust him, so you’re coming with me.”
Andel’s face gave nothing away. “Did they give you permission for that?”
“You may have noticed that I don’t often ask for permission.” He shook himself, rolling his shoulders, shedding his weakness and leaving it on the deck. He needed to show strength at a meeting like this. Not the opposite.
He met his Quartermaster’s eyes and spoke firmly. “You know where I’m heading, Andel?”
“I do.”
“And are you still with me?”
Andel stood up from the bench, executing a perfect bow at the waist. His silver pendant swung freely. “To the end, sir.”
Calder gathered the rest of his clothes, laying them on the bed. “Naberius has one more chance. After that, we’re playing our own game.”
~~~
If there was one feeling that Calder knew with intimate familiarity, it was the sudden panic of finding himself in over his head. The result of his lifestyle, he supposed; he tended to leap off every ledge instead of carefully checking first. It was only natural that a few of those ledges would turn out to be cliffs.
So when he and Andel marched into the main cabin of The Eternal only to find four Guild Heads sitting there, watching him enter, he was almost comforted.
One of his choices had put him in boiling-hot water—everything was right with the universe.
The majority of the main cabin was taken up by a long oval table made of the same reddish wood as the rest of the ship. Cheska sat at the far end, the head of the table, still in the same gold-trimmed blue suit and wide hat. Calder had been here before, and it was still impressive to him that the ship was big enough for a main cabin. The room looked bigger than his hold, and it was lit entirely by soft yellow quicklamps.
To her right sat a woman Calder had earnestly prayed never to see again: General and Guild Head of the Imperial Guard, Jarelys Teach. It had been ten years since he’d seen her last, but she didn’t look a day older—her hair was still shaved close to the skull, but he didn’t see a hint of gray, and her icy blue eyes held no hint of weakness. As always, she wore her full red-and-black plate armor, with that...horrible sword over one shoulder. He didn’t let his eyes rest on the black hilt for too long, lest he spoil everyone’s formal dress with a spray of vomit.
A man sat on Cheska’s left, and though Calder had never met him personally, everyone knew him by reputation. Mekendi Maxeus, one of the most prominent instructors at the Capital’s Imperial Academy, wore a painted black mask that almost blended in to his Heartlander skin. The result was uncanny, as though his face was naturally inhuman and expressionless. His staff of charred wood rested against the table, close to hand.
The Guild Head of the Magisters leaned his mask forward to regard Calder. He didn’t say a word, so Calder extended his senses to see if he could check the mood of the man’s Intent.
Nothing.
That was alarming—though it was hard to Read anything without physical contact, Calder could usually get a whiff of Intent through the air, especially from other powerful Readers. But Maxeus gave off no more Intent than a stone.
It was a cold reminder for Calder, who was used to being the most skilled Reader in any room. Here was a Reader with more talent, training, and experience than anyone Calder had ever met, save the Emperor himself. Anything Calder did, this man could undo.
He wasn’t planning on causing a problem at this meeting, but Calder made a mental note not to allow a spark of hostility in himself. Maxeus would Read it immediately.
The fourth Guild Head was, of course, an old...friend.
Bliss cocked her head to one side, examining Calder curiously. Here was another person who didn’t seem to age; in fact, she might actually look younger than the last time he’d seen her. Pale eyes, pale skin, and white-blond hair made her look like a ghost, especially in contrast to her long black coat that covered her from neck to ankles. A line of silver buttons down the middle glinted in the lamplight, each etched with the Blackwatch Crest.
Something inside that coat squirmed, and she pushed it down absently. In spite of himself, Calder shivered.
Alsa stood behind Bliss, arms locked behind her back. She nodded to Calder when he entered, but said nothing. This was not his mother, but a Blackwatch Commander on duty.
The one other member of their assembly was Naberius Clayborn, again wearing his original eye-catching red suit. He had recovered every scrap of his poise, and once again looked like a dark-haired hero. His case of candles sat on the table to his right, unopened.
That was everyone in the room. Other than Bliss, none of the Guild Heads had bothered to bring an attendant.
It occurred to him now that Andel’s presence would look like a childish gesture, as if he were bringing along a chaperone.
Calder stood for a long, awkward moment, adjusting his jacket—it was tight across the shoulders, and it itched—while he tried to decide what to do. He had expected influential figures in the Empire, but not four Guild Heads. Cheska, maybe Bliss, and a couple of clerks from the Palace.
He’d known that Naberius was into something big. But he hadn’t realized exactly how big until this exact moment.
Out of sight of the table, Andel nudged Calder with his elbow. He turned his stumble forward into a walk, sliding into the round bench that circled the table. The seat looked as though it had grown in place.
Bliss slowly raised a hand and waved to Calder. “I am pleased to see you again, Calder Marten. I hear your wife has been kidnapped, or possibly killed.”
At the head of the table, Cheska sighed. Alsa stiffened, but said nothing.
You belong here, Calder reminded himself. They’re not above you.
Except, for the moment, they were. But the reminder helped him, and he managed to give Bliss a sad smile. “That’s true. I’m afraid she’s dead.”
The leader of the Blackwatch Guild tilted her head the other way. “You imply that you have some information suggesting that she is dead, beyond her kidnapping. What makes you think that?”
Maxeus cleared his throat and spoke, in the resonating voice of a trained orator. “Lady Bliss, I think it would be appropriate if—”
Bliss cut him off by raising a finger to her lips. “Sssssssshhhh. It’s not your turn yet.” She nodded to Calder. “Please continue.”
Keeping one wary eye on the Magister, Calder answered. “The Consultant assassin, Shera. She said that Jyrine was...that she had been killed.”
“And she had a reason to tell you the truth?”
She didn’t have a reason to lie, Calder thought, but he gave the matter a little more thought. If they were actually keeping Jerri alive, why would the Consultant tell him that? Wouldn’t it be safer if she lied about it? No matter what the truth was, she had no reason to tell him anything except that his wife was…gone.
It was thin, but it made him feel better than he had in three weeks.
“No, she did not,” he said at last.
Bliss settled back in her chair. Though she didn’t smile, her manner somehow conveyed satisfaction.
Cheska took the opportunity to control the meeting, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “You need any introductions, Calder?”
He shook his head.
“Guild Heads, Naberius, this is Calder Marten, one of my Navigators and formerly of the Blackwatch. Behind him is his quartermaster, Andel Petronus, who is on my ship for reasons known only to him and his Luminian God.”
Calder glanced over his shoulder to see Andel’s reaction. Unsurprisingly, he gave none: he simply nodded at his introduction and then stood with his arms behind his back in imitation of Alsa.
“Formerly of the Blackwatch?” Maxeus asked. He turned his mask to Bliss. “I was under the impression that your Guild did not give up its members easily. What did he do?”
Calder opened his mouth to answer for himself, but the Head of the Imperial Guard responded first.
“Destruction of Imperial property,” she recited. “Conspiracy to free prisoners. Theft of the Emperor’s personal belongings. Abuse of Guild privileges to commit crimes.”
He couldn’t see how Maxeus reacted to the news through the man’s mask, but Cheska gave a low whistle.
“You know, when you hear it all spelled out like that, it’s actually pretty impressive.”
She tipped her hat to Calder, and he responded in kind. Jarelys Teach’s expression got, if possible, even colder.