Hobgoblin Night: Mask and Dagger 2

by Teresa Edgerton

  "I am glad to hear you say so, my lord," said Sera, "for I have quite made up my mind to marry you."

  ***

  While all these stirring events took place, it had clearly been impossible for Jed and Mr. Jonas to launch their expedition as planned. Once the crisis was over, the most propitious time to sail had passed. So the Otter must needs remain in port, and Captain Hornbeam and his crew—impatient at yet another delay, unwilling to remain so long unemployed—had to be paid a full four weeks wages by the Guild, for doing nothing at all. During all this time, the Duchess apparently held her hand, and Mr. Tynsdale had disappeared, taking his rustic confederates with him.

  Elsie, as might be expected with Jarl Skogsrå's death, slept peacefully each night. Rather more surprisingly, she rapidly recovered her health and spirits.

  "It would seem that the Duchess has removed the golem from her unhealthy proximity," said Mr. Jonas, upon being consulted. "Or else—but that would be too much to hope for—or else the monster, which the Duchess had apparently assigned to Jarl Skogsrå's care, has expired of neglect."

  At last the moon began to grow again, and Jed, Mr. Herring, and Mr. Jonas wheeled their fantastic machine down to the dock one morning, and with the help of a crane and a great deal of rope, lifted the mighty engine on board.

  The ship was provisioned and ready to depart. Jed, Mr. Jonas, Elsie, and Miss Barebones (acting, she said, as Uncle Izrael's representative, for it was just such an adventure as he longed for all his life) boarded the same afternoon. Francis Skelbrooke and Sera arrived in a carriage that evening. He was on his feet now, though he leaned heavily on his walking stick as he climbed the gangplank.

  They found Jedidiah and the gnome with Captain Hornbeam in his cabin, deep in consultation, around a table scattered with maps and charts and navigational instruments. It was necessary, said Mr. Jonas, with the ruby spectacles on his nose, to chart their course very precisely. Or at least . . . as precisely as they possibly could, given the somewhat doubtful precision of their ancient map of the islands.

  With the morning tide, the Otter set sail. In the late afternoon, Sera and Skelbrooke took a stroll on the deck, up in the wind under the booming white sails. Already, he looked stronger, as though a good dose of salt air was all that he needed to complete the cure.

  "You may think me impatient if you like, my Sera," said his lordship, leaning up against the rail. "But I would like to marry you before we return to Hobb's Church. If we succeed in raising the island, we might marry in the temple. Since modern charts record no such place, that location is officially designated as the High Seas, and the Captain could perform the ceremony quite legally and properly without even a license."

  "My dear Francis," said Sera, with the wind blowing her dark curls into her eyes. "I have no wish to be married in a pagan temple, I thank you very much! If you are in a hurry to marry me—and I confess that I have no objections—you might just as well do so here on the ship. Elsie and Jed are all the real family that I have left in this world, and they are on board to witness the ceremony. You have only to choose the day."

  "Tomorrow, then, on the bridge. We will make our vows between sea and sky," said Skelbrooke. "What place more holy could there be?"

  ***

  The next morning Sera dressed for her wedding in a gown of figured muslin and a straw hat adorned with red roses and cherry-colored ribbons. This hastily arranged shipboard ceremony spared her those painful associations that a white gown and veil, a wedding performed by a clergyman, must inevitably conjure up. Skelbrooke, of course, would realize this, and that was no doubt why he had not pressed her to wed before they sailed. She was grateful for his consideration—and strangely, rather close to tears. She had fancied herself in love with him before, but this shattering emotion was something new.

  They assembled on the bridge at noon. Elsie was the bridesmaid, Mr. Jonas the groomsman, and Jed was to give Sera away. It was exactly the wedding party that Sera would have chosen had she months to plan the wedding. Of course there were no fresh flowers to be had, but Miss Barebones had stripped two of her own bonnets and one of Elsie's of their ribbons and created a charming bouquet out of ribbon flowers. The groom arrived in a coat of pale blue watered satin and a froth of white lace, but he had dispensed with his powder and patches, in deference to the simplicity of the ceremony.

  "You'll take the very best care of her, my lord," Jed whispered fiercely, before he stepped back. "Or you'll have to answer to me."

  Skelbrooke smiled up at him. "My dear Jedidiah, I shall cherish this lady with all my heart and soul, with every breath in my body. But I rather fancy that Sera will insist on taking care of herself."

  The Captain performed the service, if not gracefully, at least with a rough and hearty good-will. Between sea and sky, with a brisk salt breeze fluttering her cherry-colored ribbons and whipping a more brilliant color than usual into her cheeks, Sera married Francis Skelbrooke.

  Captain Hornbeam placed her hand in that of her new husband, and Lord Skelbrooke raised her fingers to his lips. "If you continue to weep, sweet Sera," murmured his lordship, "I shall shortly be obliged to do so as well."

  Then hugs and kisses were exchanged all around (this took some time, as all the sailors who had been allowed to witness the ceremony insisted on paying due homage to the bride—and Sera, too blissfully happy to stand on her dignity, was for this one occasion willing to oblige), after which, Captain Hornbeam invited the wedding party down to his cabin for cakes and wine.

  But Elsie and Jedidiah lingered on the deck after all the others had departed. Jed was thinking deeply, and Elsie, too, appeared to have something on her mind. At last, she could remain silent no longer.

  "Jedidiah Braun, if you do not immediately ask me to be your bride, then I shall be obliged to propose to you."

  "No need of that," said Jed, with a blush. "I've been thinking along those lines, and I fancy I can handle the matter myself. Do you want me to go down on one knee and propose to you in form?"

  Elsie bit her lip to keep from laughing. "You may do it standing or kneeling or sitting on the deck, just so long as you do not delay a moment longer."

  "Well then, if you think me gentleman enough to be your husband, I expect I had better do the thing properly, as a gentleman would," said Jedidiah, assuming the customary posture, and looking up at her with a roguish twinkle in his eye. "Miss Vorder—Elsie—you can scarcely be unaware that those feelings of friendship which formerly animated my bosom have deepened into something more profound and lasting. It is love, Miss Vorder, that makes me bold! Dare I hope, dearest Elsie, that you will consent to be my wife?"

  "My gracious, how impertinent you are become, to mock me this way when I am so very much in earnest," said Elsie, playfully tipping his three-cornered hat over his eyes. "Of course I will marry you, you wretched boy, if only to keep you in line!"

  ***

  Several hours later, alone in the cabin they were now to share, as he attempted to unravel the intricacies of Sera's corset, Skelbrooke said, "I wonder, my love, if you have any idea what a wicked rascal you have married?"

  Standing barefoot in her petticoats, with her dark curls tumbling down around her shoulders, Sera smiled into his eyes. "Indeed, my lord, I have every hope that I am about to find out."

  Skelbrooke burst out laughing. "My dear Sera, what an extra-ordinary girl you are. Won't you even pretend to be apprehensive, for the sake of propriety?"

  Sera put her hands on his bare shoulders. Stripped down to his linen breeches, he looked broader and more substantial than in his satins and velvets, yet she was also aware, as she had never been before, of his terrible vulnerability. "Do you doubt my virtue, my lord?" she said, her smile growing quizzical.

  "Not for a moment," he murmured, drawing her into his arms. "But while I confess that it was your goodness that won me, I admit that I married you in the hopeful expectation that you would prove to be quite incorrigible in my bed."

  ***

&nb
sp; The Otter arrived in due course and good time at the desired longitude and latitude. Soundings were taken and found to be favorable. "There can be doubt that the seabed begins to slope sharply upward here," said Captain Hornbeam. "I believe there is an undersea mountain just ahead—or a sunken island."

  "I feel certain it will be the latter," said Mr. Jonas. "In another six and thirty hours, the moon will be so full, she will aid us in our efforts. The day after tomorrow, just at sunrise, we shall begin to raise the island! In the meantime, there is nothing else to do but drop anchor and wait."

  But the very next morning, Captain Hornbeam assembled the gentlemen in his cabin, "for a private word—and not to disturb the ladies' peace of mind."

  Jed, Mr. Jonas, and Lord Skelbrooke (elegant in black and silver) took seats around the table under a hanging oil lamp. Captain Hornbeam sat down in his captain's chair which had been bolted to the cabin floor. He took out a short-stemmed pipe and a pouch of tobacco.

  "Any of you gentlemen care to smoke? No? Well, you'll not take offense if I do. They do say that tobacco clears the mind." The Captain loaded his pipe as he spoke. "Well now, where to begin? I guess you know there was questions asked before we sailed. Then things got real quiet. But as soon as we left the port, and all the time we was moving, another ship followed behind—just within sight of our look-outs, as we must have been within theirs. It didn't worry me none, so long as we had the wind in our sails. Why shouldn't another ship chart the same course, perfectly innocent and all? But then we dropped anchor, and that other ship moved around to the north a bit, and dropped her anchor, too."

  Mr. Jonas—standing, not sitting, on the seat of his chair, the better to see the faces of the others—leaned forward over the table. "Pirates, do you think? We carry nothing of value, not anything to attract freebooters."

  "No, sir," said the Captain. "There ain’t never been pirates reported in these waters. And some of my men say they know the ship. So I got to thinking about those competitors you mentioned."

  By now, it had been necessary to acquaint the Captain and crew with some part of their intentions. The men might have protested the scheme had they not regarded the whole enterprise as something of a joke, so hare-brained and impossible that nothing either good or bad was likely to come of it. Yet Captain Hornbeam still considered that there had to be some further motive behind all the secrecy.

  "Yes, those competitors of yours—would they be likely, now, to hire a ship and come sailing after you?"

  Skelbrooke frowned, suddenly remembering something that Skogsrå had said about the Duchess: something to the effect that she was hiring ships and men.

  "They might at that," said Mr. Jonas. "And this ship—if your men have indeed recognized it—it is one that our competitors might easily hire?"

  Hornbeam was silent for two or three minutes while he lit his pipe and took a few puffs, as though he was thinking the matter over. "The Black Bear, under Captain Kassien," he answered finally. "Kassien, he’s generally for hire, and he don't always keep his hands clean."

  Skelbrooke stiffened in his chair. "The Black Bear, you said? I know that ship, and her captain, too. I wonder if it would make any difference (should it come to a fight) if Mr. Kassien and his crew knew I was aboard the Otter?"

  "If it comes to a fight, we'll be mightily inconvenienced, but I think we’ll come through all right," said Hornbeam. "Kassien knows how to appear quite the fine gentleman on land. Very spruce and sober he is, when calling on the merchants, and them as don't know his reputation, they’ll hire him to ship their goods. But the men, they all know him for a drunkard and a Sleep Dust addict, and a man who takes unnecessary risks. He generally sets sail undermanned, with a crew of drunkards and other such trash, as can't get a berth on a decent vessel."

  Lord Skelbrooke was occupied a moment removing a bit of lint from his sleeve. "I am sorry to hear that. I knew Mr. Kassien when he was First Mate to Troilus Diamond. He was even then addicted to the Dust, but I never saw him other than sober."

  "Yes, my lord," said Captain Hornbeam. "Troilus Diamond was a hard man, cruel hard, and none too honest, but he ran a tight ship. I reckon he kept Mr. Kassien off the bottle. It wasn’t no kindly act when the Fates gave Captain Kassien his own ship."

  "No," said Skelbrooke, with a thoughtful look. "Until now, I had always supposed that the Fates, in doing so, had my own welfare in mind."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  In which Earth and Sea divulge their Secrets.

  At sunrise, two sailors removed the yards of canvas that had swathed the island-raising engine since it came on board. Then crew and passengers alike gathered around—curious and skeptical, but withal rather impressed and intrigued by the grandeur of the mechanism—to await the arrival of Jedidiah and Mr. Jonas.

  They did not remain long in suspense. Mr. Jonas soon arrived on deck, red side-whiskers bristling, looking every inch the magician in a robe of crimson satin which had been fantastically embroidered with all manner of curious symbols worked in gold thread. On his breast glittered many orders: Supreme Knight of the Burning Water, Grand Commander of the Order of the Shadow of the Sun, Initiated Master of the Arcanum of the Humid Path, and many more. In one hand he carried an ornate ebonwood staff, much taller than himself. Behind him walked Jed, a mere Entered Apprentice, looking a bit embarrassed in his finery, similarly but less gaudily attired in a trailing garment of silver and sky blue, and a large powdered wig.

  Sera, who stood watching on the deck, hand in hand with her new husband, could not repress a smile. "I wonder, my lord, that you are not tempted to put on your own robes of power and join them at their conjuring tricks."

  "I carelessly left my robes of power—as you so elegantly describe them—back at the lodge in Thornburg," said Skelbrooke. "Even without them, I should be tempted to do my part. Alas, I fear my powers of concentration are no longer to be relied upon."

  Sera gave his hand an encouraging squeeze, wishing she had remained silent. Dr. Bell had warned her that it would be many weeks—perhaps many seasons—before Skelbrooke would be quite himself again, and further, that his craving for the Sleep Dust would remain strong for years. In some sense, his addiction would never be cured. Nevertheless, she had resolved to stand by him, whatever the future might bring. The more so, because she remembered something that Hermes Budge once said to her: that Lord Skelbrooke might yet be healed and redeemed by the love of a good woman. It was, perhaps, a romantic viewpoint rather than a practical one, but what a dismal existence it would be if one demanded perfection of those one loved.

  While Jed used a pump to start the flow of animating embryonated sulphur through the tubes, Mr. Jonas bathed the magnets in attractive water, in order to increase their power. Then they both made a series of very careful adjustments to the smaller mirrors and lenses, directing their invisible beams of force toward the place (about half a league distant) where the sunken island was supposed to lie.

  There followed many ritual words and mystic passes, a long, solemn, complex ceremony which kept Sera and the sailors diverted for perhaps an hour, before interest waned and most everyone became bored and drifted away. But Elsie, Skelbrooke, and Miss Barebones, all taking an intense interest in the procedure, stayed on to observe.

  In fact, there was little to be seen after that, for the process must be a slow one for safety's sake, and slower still for caution's sake, and the island therefore to be raised by careful degrees. The rest of the morning passed without any indication whether the machine was actually working.

  A little after noon, however, the action of the waves increased, became quite rough, for all that the wind was utterly calm. The anchor chain began to hum, as though some tremor or movement down on the ocean floor agitated the water and vibrated the anchor, causing the chain to sing. At last the violent slapping of waves against the hull brought Sera back on deck to see what was happening.

  "If you are actually accomplishing what you mean to accomplish," said Sera, "I do hope you a
re not about to bring disaster down on us all."

  "If the waves rise so high they endanger the ship, we can regulate the attraction by removing some of the magnets from the machine," said Mr. Jonas. He had abandoned his magician's robes, and was now more conventionally dressed, gnome fashion, in a sober black suit and a tall stove-pipe. He had spent most of the morning running about, from the place where his engine reposed on the main deck, to a vantage point up on the bridge, and his stiff satin vestments would only have hampered his movements. "Until then, we shall proceed as planned."

  At nightfall, Mr. Jonas and Jed uncovered the big bronze mirrors, aligned the bars to which the coils of silver glass were attached. Up until that time the moon had aided them in their efforts by causing the tide to drop; but now that Iune was rising and the tide as well, it became necessary to enlist her magnetic forces, not only because they were more powerful, but to counteract her effect on the waters. As a final adjustment, Mr. Jonas twisted two copper wires together and sprinkled the mated disks of silver and zinc with saltwater. All the metallic parts of the engine began to shoot eerie blue sparks of electrical energy.

  Everyone, passengers and crew alike, gathered by the rail or climbed up in the rigging to see what would happen now. An immense yellow moon rose in the east. The waves also rose higher and higher, but the Captain advised that the ship was not in any immediate danger.

  "Look there," cried a sailor, one of the sharp-eyed lookouts. He pointed to the exact place where a shimmering image of the round Goblin moon danced on the purple waters. "I think I seen sommat . . . sommat like the hump of a whale."

  Everyone watched breathlessly. Soon, they could all make it out: a great, dark, irregular mass rising slowly, slowly out of the water.

  "You've done it," said the Captain, in reverent tones. "Burn me if ain't done the thing we all swore was impossible!"