“So?”
“Trooper Basel was also present at his funeral.”
There was silence as Havram digested that. “I see.” The vice admiral became aware of the large carry pouch I held. “Just put the dispatches on the table, lad, and”—he looked around—”everyone have a seat.” He pulled out a chair at the head of the table.
“Sir, you have one from the Lord Admiral, the Lord Commander, and from King Jusson,” Suiden said as I put the pouch down on the table and sat next to him.
“Pass it here, please.” Havram placed the pouch down in front of him, then looked at Suiden. “Now, Your Highness, you will tell me how a Turalian prince became captain of one of His Majesty’s windriders, and why this same prince is bringing me orders to leave a patrol of Iversterre waters that the Turalians have decided to claim for their own.” More than the news of Trooper Basel was signaled. I then caught Suiden’s eye, and concentrated on the sounds of a ship at anchored rest in the sea.
Chapter Forty-nine
Uncle Havram took the news of Teram’s failed attempt to seize the throne and subsequent death sentence with equanimity, only muttering “Nodcock” a couple of times during the narrative. He was much less sanguine about Lord Gherat. “You mean to tell me that Dru was smuggling Border goods to fund this rebellion?”
“Yes, sir,” Suiden said. “The network involved the heads of Great Houses, tradespeople, dock workers, the Royal Army, and river customs. But Lord Gherat was the master planner.”
“Where was the stuff going?” a captain of one of the fleet ships asked.
“Some to the markets of the Royal City,” Suiden replied. “But much was smuggled to the Turalians.”
“I see,” the vice admiral said over the mutters of the rest of the captains. “But the ring has been smashed, the rebellion put down.”
“Yes, sir,” Suiden said.
“Commander Loel is dead, Teram is awaiting execution, and Slevoic is an outlaw on the run.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The House of Dru is dissolved by order of the king.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But nobody knows where Gherat is.”
“No, sir.” Suiden frowned. “We saw ships leaving from the sea escape of the palace compound the day of the rebellion.” His frown deepened. “We thought it was the rebels from the Royal Garrison, but when we did a reckoning of the traitors and those loyal, just about everyone was accounted for. The ships could’ve been Lord Gherat fleeing.” The captain sighed. “Or not.”
“Gherat a-sea!” Havram frowned back at Suiden. “How’s His Majesty taking this?”
“He is still king, sir.”
Havram’s smile broke out. “Aye, and so he is.” He glanced over at Laurel. “How will the Border respond, Ambassador Laurel, when the fleet sails into one of its harbors with a ship brimming with the cadavers of its citizens?”
“It will extend a gracious welcome, honored admiral.”
“Hmmph.” Havram touched the pouch, staring down at it. Then he looked up again. “Well, I suppose I should read the dispatches.” There was a knock at the door and it opened, showing the cook standing there with several loaded carts. “But in the meantime, we will sup together.”
The meals I’d had so far on the Dauntless were lessons in hellish eating. Salt pork and a sea biscuit didn’t go very far, especially since I wasn’t about to eat the pork. Having to knock weevils out of the biscuits didn’t help either. There were provisions set aside for me: wheels of cheese, pickled fish, dried peas, corn and rice, oats for porridge, nuts and dried fruit. But it was all locked in the galley pantry and at each meal Das the cook would wonder in a very loud voice why I couldn’t eat normal food like a God-fearing man. (I told him back that if he fixed normal food like a God-fearing cook, I’d happily eat whatever he’d serve me.) I was looking forward to a meal without contention and bugs.
While the table was being set up, Havram retreated to a corner and split open the dispatches. The rest made laborious conversation, the seamen not too sure about Trooper Basel, Laurel Faena, Captain Suiden, and me, in that order. I figured my best bet was to lie low, so I remained quiet as plates, napkins, silverware, glasses, bottles of wine, and finally covered platters, serving bowls and tureens were tenderly placed on the table. Aromas started to waft through the cabin and there were appreciative sniffs, some going even so far as to smile. But I thought, oh, hell. Dinner was going to be like being thirsty in the middle of the ocean and not having a drop to drink.
The cook lifted the cover off the biggest platter, revealing a large roast, and Uncle Havram came back to the table rubbing his hands together. “Splendid!” He beamed at his guests. “It’s fresh. We slaughtered a cow today.”
He sat down and the cook, with ceremony, handed him the carving knife and fork, then stood back, his hands folded before him. Havram jabbed the fork into the roast and juices ran down the side. “Ah, our cook has done me proud, gracious sirs.” He took the knife and began cutting, the slice peeling away from the rest of the roast easily, revealing a slightly pink interior running with more juices, and the smell of roast beef filled the cabin. “Perfect,” Havram said. “Excellent job, man!” The cook bowed, but, as the guests broke out in applause, I thrust my chair back, bolting from the cabin. I made the railing just in time to discover that sea biscuits didn’t taste any better coming up than they did going down.
I had finished heaving when I heard someone coming up behind me. At first I wasn’t going to look; then I figured I had damn well better, with everything that had happened. But it was Uncle Havram. I dragged myself to attention and waited.
“Are you all right, lad?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s just that”—I gave a faint smile— “I don’t eat meat.”
His eyes twinkled at me. “The carving was a little much for you, eh?”
I swallowed hard, tasting bile. “Uh, yes, sir.”
“Well, your captain is having the cook put together a plate for you,” Havram said as he went to lean on the rail. He glanced down and moved over some, avoiding where I’d been sick. He was silent as a sailor came up and sluiced the area with water, saluted and left. As he stared out over the sea with clasped hands, all of a sudden he looked like my da, and a lump caught in my throat. “I’ve scanned the dispatches,” he said, abrupt. “They say that Maceal was involved in this smuggling.”
It wasn’t a question but I answered it anyway. “Yes, sir. Among others of the king’s Court.”
The vice admiral grunted and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Nodcock.”
“Though it appears that he wasn’t a part of the attempted overthrow of King Jusson,” I said, offering him a sop.
Havram nodded, accepting it. “You were there—tell me what happened, lad.”
“It’s just as Captain Suiden said, sir. Lord Gherat was the head of the smuggling ring. Lord Chause—” Havram shot me a hard stare at my use of his brother’s formal title.
My mouth quirked. “He wasn’t too impressed with me, sir.” I shrugged off Lord Chause’s disdain. “Anyway, he supplied boats to bring the contraband down the Banson, and then stored it in his warehouses until they sold it.”
“’His’? You mean he used the family warehouses?” Havram asked, stunned.
“Yes, sir. He received a cut of the profits.”
“Nodcock is a disease and my brother’s caught it! What did the king do?” He frowned, worried. “Is Maceal imprisoned? Are our properties seized?”
“As far as I know, sir, no. King Jusson offered Lord Chause clemency for cooperation. Though I’m sure he will be heavily fined and all profits from the smuggling will be forfeit.”
Tension ran out of the vice admiral’s shoulders. “I see.” He sighed. “Though I’d be surprised if the king finds anything.” This time his mouth quirked. “My brother is very handy with a set of books.”
“The king threatened him with royal auditors.”
Havram snapped around
to look at me, surprised laughter on his face. “That must have scared the hell out of Maceal. He loves his silver.”
I remembered Lord Chause’s look of horror. “He wasn’t too happy, sir.”
“I bet.” Havram, smiling, looked back over the water, the wind ruffling his hair. After a moment he shook his head. “Dru is dissolved,” he said in a wondering tone. He shot me a glance. “Is His Majesty going to dissolve Flavan also?”
“I don’t know, sir. Though it may not matter whether or not he does, as Lord Gherat apparently has Lord Teram’s wife and children as hostages.”
“He does?” Havram stood upright, his blue eyes staring at me in astonishment. “By the Briny’s beard, why—”
The door to the cabin opened and the cook stepped out carrying a covered plate and a wine glass, but stopped as he met the vice admiral’s frown. “Uh, I brought the lieutenant his food, sir.”
Havram sighed and nodded. He then turned back to me. “We will talk later about this, Rabbit. In the meantime, stay out here and enjoy your dinner. I will be sure to have someone fetch you for the dessert.”
“Yes, sir.” I barely waited for the vice admiral to turn his back before I had the napkin off the plate, checking over the mashed potatoes, carrots, baked apple, and soft roll.
“There’s no meat in any of these, Lieutenant,” the cook said as he produced another napkin and shook it out before he laid it across my lap. He waited as I ate a forkful of potatoes.
“Very good,” I said, my voice thick. I tried a forkful of carrots, and the honey burst in my mouth. “Very, very good.” I took a sip of wine and sighed. “Excellent.” The cook smiled and bowed, his honor restored, and returned to the great cabin. I was left on deck watching the sunset and didn’t mind the solitude—I was glad to be out from the strained atmosphere of the dining guests. I munched on the soft roll, staring out over the water, and didn’t think much about anything.
I was retrieved for the dessert, a rich cake made of what Vice Admiral Havram said was chocolate, served with a pungent drink he called coffee. The cook once again stood over me as I took my first bite, and smiled at the look of bliss that must have crossed my face.
“I used to have a cup of hot chocolate every morning,” Captain Suiden said, his face also sublime as he ate his cake. “It is one of the very few things I miss about Tural.”
He took a sip of coffee. “This is the second.” He settled back in his chair, as mellow as I’d ever seen him.
I was pondering daily chocolate drinks and it took a minute to realize that the conversation had stopped and everyone was looking at Suiden with varying degrees of wariness and hostility. Everyone except the vice admiral.
“The two best things that have ever come out of Tural,” Havram agreed as he forked up a bite. “Though that’s putting the cat among the pigeons with a vengeance, Your Highness.”
Laurel chuffed briefly, his eyes slitting.
“Yes, sir.” Suiden took another sip of coffee. “But as I haven’t been in Tural for twenty years and have been in the Royal Army for almost as long, I think it’s obvious that my ties with the land of my birth have been severed. Nor have I hidden that I once had them.”
Port wine and a platter of cheese had also been provided and Laurel Faena had opted for both. He speared a couple of pieces of cheese and transferred them to his plate. “I believe that would be rather hard to do, honored captain.” He rumbled, a cross between a purr and a laugh. “I thought the ship’s crew was going to have kittens this afternoon when you reminded them that you were once a Turalian sea captain. Clan marks, earrings, tattoos, and all.”
I became very interested in my cake.
“How do you mean, Ambassador?” one of the senior captains of the fleet asked.
“Come, now,” the vice admiral said, sipping his own coffee. “Didn’t you see His Highness’ ship yaw?” He glanced over at Suiden. “What happened?”
“A course correction, sir,” Suiden replied.
“Oh, aye.” The vice admiral set his cup down. “A very drastic one, if I’m any judge.”
“Yes. I’ve relieved the helmsman of his duties until he learns how to steer properly.” Suiden shifted in his chair. “May I ask, sir, what’s the situation out here?”
“I must admit, Vice Admiral, that I too would like to know,” Chancellor Berle said as she sipped her wine.
“It’s tense. Very tense.” Havram finished the last of his cake and put his fork down. “It hasn’t come to an actual fight, but there has been a lot of posturing and sword rattling. Our merchants have been chased and threatened with boarding. Twice in the past month we’ve come upon Turalian warships where they shouldn’t have been, and have had to shoo them back. Fortunately, they allowed themselves to be shooed.”
A thought emerged and Suiden looked over at me. “You wish to say something, Lieutenant?”
Chancellor Berle frowned, but I ignored her. “Yes, Captain. Remember Dornel?”
“Isn’t that a checkpoint on the Banson, Rabbit?” Havram asked.
“Yes, sir,” I replied. “They were having problems too, with rumors of pirate attacks. Come to find out it was all a diversion so that the smugglers could get their goods through easier. It could be that the Turalians are doing the same.”
“A pretty elaborate diversion for what? Some lumber?” one of the captains remarked.
“Choice hardwood, pelts, skins, ivory, and slaves,” Havram replied before I could. “Even a dragon hoard.” He looked back at me. “So you think that the Turalians may be doing a ‘look over here,’ as they slip smuggled goods through somewhere else?”
“Maybe, sir. It worked in Dornel.”
“Damn them for bilge scum,” Havram said, “and I bet that Gherat gave them every plan for deployment that we ever had, him and Admiral Noal being such great drinking buddies.”
The silence was politically fraught.
The vice admiral laughed. “Oh, many of the officers drank with Gherat. He was a very convivial companion and knew where all the good taverns were.”
Startled at the thought of the Lord Admiral and Gherat in a dockside tavern, I spoke before I thought. “Really, sir? Admiral Noal too?”
A captain choked, spraying coffee across the table.
The vice admiral’s face stayed affable. “You know, lad, your papa had the same problem with his foot and his mouth.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well,” Uncle Havram said, taking pity on me and changing the subject, “talking won’t get us to the Border any sooner.” Pushing away from the table, he stood, and everyone scrambled to do the same. “Everyone prepare to sail tomorrow at first light.”
Once again Havram played the good host, escorting us to the gangway and standing there as the captains descended to their boats. And once again, I was last. I stood alone with him as I waited for the bosun’s chair’s return.
“You know, Rabbit, I would’ve had you reassigned to my ship for a number of reasons,” Havram remarked, “including the very selfish one that you’re my brother’s son. But the king’s directive was clear: You are to stay with the cat and the Turalian sea dragon—” He grinned as he saw my start. “Oh, aye, the man is something else, no mistake about it. He would have my captains for breakfast, ships and all.” He paused. “Have you ever seen him truly angry?”
“A couple of times, sir, and I was glad it wasn’t directed at me.”
“I bet, lad.”
“But he’s a good captain,” I hastened to add. “I’ve been under his command since I joined—”
“Freston Mountain Patrol, the insult of it!”
“I don’t mind, sir.” The bosun’s chair arrived and I went to sit on it, but the vice admiral stopped me.
“I have a berth for you if you ever wish to join me here, Rabbit. The king’s instructions can go begging.”
“Thank you, sir, but I’m fine.” I kept to myself that if I were to join my uncle, Suiden and Laurel would come and retrieve me bodily.
Chapter Fifty
To Foreign Chancellor Berle’s extreme annoyance, instead of escorting us directly to the Border, the Pearl Fisher led us to another group of ships.
“We are trying to prevent a war, Captain Suiden,” she told him as they stood together on the bridge. “We do not have time to ferry messages about bully boys playing posturing games.”
“More than ‘posturing games,’ Sra Berle,” Suiden replied. He paused a moment to read the signal flags from the vice admiral’s ship. “Goods and slaves have already been slipped past our navy—”
“But the smuggling ring has been smashed,” Berle objected.
“—and we have no idea what else has been passed through,” Suiden finished.
“What do you mean, Your Highness?” Lord Esclaur asked.
“Lord Gherat and his hostages are still missing,” Suiden replied.
“You don’t know that they are,” Berle said. “You don’t even know if they went a-sea. As you said yourself, it’s just a guess.”
“Someone went out the sea escape,” Javes said. “Who do you think it was, Chancellor?”
“I’m not here to think—” Chancellor Berle cut off at Javes’ silly ass smile. “You know what I mean.” She turned back to Suiden. “Prince Suiden, you must impress upon Vice Admiral Havram the seriousness of this mission and how we can’t afford to take little side trips as the whim takes him. Besides, Admiral Noal has ships out looking for whoever is left.” She indicated the windriders coming up fast. “I wouldn’t be surprised if one has been here and left already.”
“But if one hasn’t?” Suiden asked, handing his spyglass to First Lieutenant Falkin. “People and run goods aren’t the only things that can be smuggled, Sra Berle. Information also can sieve through, such as there’s an important delegation being sent to the Border that includes a chancellor, a Border ambassador, and the king’s nearest heir—”
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