D’argent looked astonished and troubled at this news. He glanced at Dubois, who only shook his head sadly and twirled his hat.
Sir Conal was giving the countess’s request careful consideration. “Flying in the dark is much too dangerous. I would suggest we, too, travel by post chaise, milady. We can follow them, perhaps catch up to them.”
“Please make the arrangements, Sir Conal. We will leave the palace using the common docks, not the front entrance.”
Sir Conal wasted no time asking questions, nor did he try to talk Cecile out of going, as she had half expected. He simply bowed and left. As Cecile went to her dressing room, she heard Dubois hurriedly telling D’argent what details they knew about Eiddwen’s escape and the abduction of the princess.
Cecile returned dressed for travel in a plain woolen gown, dun colored with long sleeves and linen petticoats. The days were warm in Evreux, but she and Sir Conal were traveling north into the mountains, where the weather would be cooler. She wore lace-up boots and thick stockings. An unhappy looking Marie hovered behind Cecile, carrying a hooded cloak and gloves and a purse heavy with silver.
Cecile handed to D’argent the second letter she had written.
“This is for Stephano.”
D’argent was extremely grave. “My lady, I beg you to reconsider. Send me with Sir Conal.”
“Thank you, D’argent. I need you to remain here. Accompany Dubois to His Majesty.”
“My lady—”
She held out her hand to him. “Take care of Stephano, my friend. He won’t admit it, but he will need your help and guidance.”
D’argent could not speak for his emotion. He kissed her hand, then slipped the letter into an inner pocket.
“Godspeed you on your mission, Monsieur Dubois,” said Cecile, drawing on her gloves. “I am glad to have been working with you, for once.”
Dubois placed his hand over his heart and made a deep bow. “God go with you, Countess.”
“Marie, I will take the back way out,” said Cecile.
* * *
Sir Conal was waiting for her at the common docks. Knight Protectors were often seen at the palace, especially today, with the grand bishop and his staff present. The common docks were busy. Supply wagons were making evening deliveries, servants were coming and going on errands for their masters, and military conveyances carried officers from the ships. No one paid much heed to the pair.
Cecile kept her hood drawn low over her face. She said nothing as she climbed into the griffin-drawn chariot in which Sir Conal had arrived. He had changed his clothes, no longer wearing the uniform that would connect him to the Knight Protectors. He was dressed as a military officer, which would account for the sword he wore at his side.
“Who is the young woman, milady?” he asked, assisting her into the chariot.
Cecile explained their mission. Sir Conal listened without comment, though his expression darkened and he shook his head when he heard the identity of the person who had been abducted.
“I do not like to say this, milady, but you know it is possible these two are not taking the princess to the dragon duchies. They could be taking her anywhere.”
“I thought of this, Sir Conal,” Cecile replied. “They are hiring a post chaise. Only a select few inns in Evreux offer post chaises for hire. We will stop first at the inn that is located on the King’s Highway leading north. Hopefully we will hear news of them.”
The clock struck ten times as they arrived at the inn. Lights shone from the windows. Other carriages stood in the yard. The inn was busy this time of night. Sir Conal alighted from the coach and gave Cecile his hand to assist her. As she stepped down, Sir Conal said quietly, “While I secure the post chaise, you find out if the three have been here, milady. You can ask without arousing suspicion.”
Sir Conal demanded a post chaise and the fastest horses, saying he was on an errand of the utmost urgency. Sir Conal’s air of authority sent men scurrying to carry out his orders and brought the innkeeper himself to supervise. He cast a wondering glance at Cecile, who stood in the yard, her hood still drawn low over her head. The innkeeper noticed the fine quality of her clothing. He ventured to suggest she might find the waiting more comfortable inside.
“Thank you, sir,” said Cecile. “We will not trouble you long, I hope. This road leads to Ellif and from there to the dragon duchies.”
“Yes, that is true, madam.”
“I am seeking news of three people who may have passed this way earlier in the day. A young man with a limp and a young woman with a small dog. They would be accompanied by an older woman, a duenna.”
“They were here this afternoon, madam,” said the innkeeper. “I remember them because of the little dog, who got loose and ran off. The young woman was going to chase after it. The older woman stopped her, saying they were in a hurry and to leave the dog behind. The young woman was most distraught. The young man caught the dog, and they proceeded.”
“Did they say where they were bound?”
The innkeeper chuckled. “They had no need, my lady. We see many such young couples. A young man and a young woman traveling in haste on the main road that leads to the dragon duchies. A wedding is in the offing, I would say.”
Cecile thanked the innkeeper for the information. Within moments, a small, fast chaise drawn by two horses rolled into the yard.
“What did you find out?” Sir Conal asked in a low voice.
“They were here this afternoon,” Cecile reported. “They hired a post chaise, making no secret of the fact they were going to the dragon duchies. I fear they have several hours’ start.”
“We can follow their progress on the road, milady,” said Sir Conal. “They will have to change horses at the rest stops, as will we, and we will hear news of them. And if they leave the road, we will find that out, as well.”
“We have lost a great deal of time,” said Cecile.
“We are on their trail, milady,” Sir Conal said with a reassuring smile. “We will catch them. You should try to sleep. Rest easy. We are all in God’s care.”
He lit the carriage lamps, mounted the driver’s box, and snapped the whip. The horses plunged ahead and soon hit their stride, galloping over the road. The chaise shook and rattled and swayed perilously from side to side. Cecile held on tightly to the strap to avoid being tossed around.
She made herself as comfortable as was uncomfortably possible. Wrapping up in a blanket, she wedged herself in a corner and closed her eyes, trying to take Sir Conal’s advice. She remained awake, however, aware of every jounce and jolt in the road. Eventually she gave up and, as the night deepened, she leaned out of the chaise window to look back at Evreux, now behind them. In the distance, the Sunset Palace, illuminated by night, glittered among the clouds like a star come down from heaven.
We are all in God’s care.
Cecile had once placed Julian in God’s care. She had prayed to God on her knees, begging Him to save her husband from a cruel death. God had not cared then. She did not see why He should start caring now.
Drawing off her glove, she clasped the plain golden ring and turned it around and around.
* * *
Dubois and D’argent waited together in the countess’s office for Master Henri. D’argent had ordered a light supper. Neither man was particularly hungry and they only picked at the food. When the door opened without ceremony and Master Henri entered, both Dubois and D’argent jumped to their feet.
“What have you found out?” Dubois demanded.
Master Henri looked about. “Where is the countess?”
“She is indisposed,” said D’argent. “Make your report to us. We are commissioned to carry it to the king.”
“All sixteen tanks are affected,” said Master Henri. He was pale and haggard and filthy from crawling around under the tanks. “Some worse than others. We can keep the magic functioning for a time. I don’t know how long.”
He paused and wiped a hand over his face.
&nbs
p; “Yes, go on,” said Dubois.
Master Henri was clearly reluctant. “I need to say something first, gentlemen. My engineers and I have noticed in the past few months that the magic has been failing. Nothing serious. We’ve had to replace constructs more often, that is all. We didn’t report it. We don’t want to be blamed—”
“Master Henri, we found the bomb fragments. We know the person responsible. This is not your fault,” said D’argent, exasperated.
“You will tell that to His Majesty, monsieur,” Master Henri pressed anxiously. “We don’t want to be arrested.”
“Yes, of course, we will!” Dubois, shouted. “Stop wasting time! What should we tell the king?”
“Tell His Majesty,” said Master Henri slowly, “the palace is already starting to sink.”
38
A plump little doe wanders into the forest and is threatened by a wolf. A bear sees the doe and attacks the wolf. A griffin sees the doe and attacks the other two. The intelligent doe would take this opportunity to run. The ignorant Braffan doe stays to glory in the fight, ignoring the fact that the victor will surely devour her.
—Lutr Ulfskjald, former Braffan council member
The Sommerwind’s journey to Braffa had thus far been uneventful. Fair winds carried the Sommerwind along at a rapid clip. The wild dragons with their riders flew escort, two dragons on duty while one slept in the open area on the stern castle that had been cleared for them. The crew had been nervous around the dragons at first; no one wanting to venture near the slumbering dragon. But when several days and nights had passed peacefully with the dragons showing no signs of intending to devour anyone, the crew relaxed.
This day, Petard was sleeping, his large body impossibly curled up into a tight ball, his nose tucked beneath his wing, his tail wrapped around him. His eyes were slits of gleaming red. Miri wondered if dragons kept watch even as they slept, or if the partially open eyes were meant to deter predators. She wished now as she had wished in the past, that there was some way to talk with these dragons.
She and Rodrigo were together on the deck of the Sommerwind, both of them taking a break from work. Gythe was sleeping in the small cabin. Miri had never seen her sister so relaxed, so filled with joy, and she was glad she had relented and permitted her sister to ride. Gythe had even stopped talking about Brother Barnaby, although sometimes, when a shadow passed over her face, Miri knew Gythe was thinking of the young monk.
Dag was flying Verdi in the lead. Stephano and Viola flew near the ship; a more difficult task, for they had to make certain they kept a safe distance from the rigging and the balloon, not wanting to tangle a wing in the ropes or rip the balloon with the dragon’s tail.
Catching sight of his two friends standing on the deck, Stephano waved to them from the back of the dragon. He was laughing for no apparent reason with his head thrown back, his arms spread as though he would embrace the sky.
“Look at him,” said Miri with a touch of sadness in her voice. “He’s with the one female who can ever make him truly happy.”
“A dragon,” Rodrigo agreed glumly. “I wash my hands of him.”
* * *
Stephano was happy, unconditionally happy. He had no self-doubt, no worries, no concerns—other than trying to train Gythe to behave more like a dragon rider; and he feared he was going to have to give up on that.
He looked down on the mists of the Breath beneath him in the shipping lanes, tasted the sharp, pure air in his mouth, and reveled in the stillness. People spoke of the Voice of God. Stephano felt closer to God in His silence.
He gave Miri and Rodrigo a salute, then he and Viola flew ahead of the ship to join Dag, who was practicing loading his pistols while on dragon back, a feat that could be tricky due to the motion of the dragon. Dag had learned how to aim and fire from the back of the dragon, shooting at small balloons Miri launched from the deck. Dag had always been an excellent shot and he soon surpassed Stephano in skill in hitting the target.
Dag took his escort duties seriously. Gythe and her dragon, Petard, by contrast, were completely undisciplined. The two flew all over the sky, sailing far above the merchant ship, diving down beneath the keel, hiding in the clouds, and then bursting out to startle the others. Stephano had tried several times to explain to Gythe the duties of an escort. Gythe had listened, her eyes dancing with merriment, and after the lecture she and Petard flew off to do exactly as they pleased.
“You should talk to her, Miri,” Stephano had said, frustrated. “Explain to her that she needs to take her dragon riding seriously.”
“As you told me in Bourlet, Stephano, Gythe is a grown woman,” Miri had replied tersely. “If she doesn’t have to listen to me, I guess she doesn’t have to listen to you either.”
Miri worked in the small surgery belowdecks, nursing the crew’s various ailments from broken bones to chilblains. Rodrigo had proven his worth by using his skills as a crafter to make the same magical repairs to the Sommerwind as he had made for the Cloud Hopper. When Rodrigo wasn’t working on that, he was down in his cabin doing something mysterious that he wouldn’t discuss.
“My dear friend,” he said to Stephano when he had questioned him about his belowdecks activity, “I suppose I am permitted to have secrets.”
“If the beautiful wife of some count was on board, I wouldn’t have to ask what you were doing,” said Stephano drily. “That not being the case, I was just wondering. You spend so much time alone in there…”
“I could be composing an opera,” said Rodrigo.
“Are you?” Stephano asked, surprised.
“No,” said Rodrigo. “But I could be.”
He walked off and that was the end of that.
As for the last member of the Cadre, Doctor Ellington earned his keep by killing rats, which he presented as gifts to various people, leaving the prizes in unoccupied shoes.
That afternoon the Sommerwind sailed into the contested Straits de Domcáido. They sighted the ships of the Freyan fleet skirting the Estaran coast, coming as close as they could without actually venturing into Estaran territory. Estaran ships dogged them, letting the Freyans know they were under surveillance.
Nervous about calling attention to his vessel, Captain Leydecker ordered Stephano and his dragon riders to keep clear of the stand-off. The Sommerwind was nearing Braffa and what was potentially a volatile situation. Every time they had encountered another merchant ship, Captain Leydecker had slowed to ask for news about the situation in Braffa, while Miri questioned any Trundlers they happened to run across.
They heard rumors, received conflicting information. The Travians were blockading the refinery ports; the Travians weren’t blockading them; the Rosian fleet was on its way; the Rosians had said they would not get involved; and so on and so forth.
“I have no idea what to believe,” said Captain Leydecker.
“What do you hear from the cartel?” Stephano asked.
“The last I heard, the Travians were hiring Guundaran mercenaries to man ships that are older than I am and in worse condition,” Captain Leydecker replied.
“One thing I know for certain, Captain,” Miri said. “The Trundlers are fleeing this part of the world. Every Trundler boat we’ve met is leaving and not planning to come back. My people have a nose for trouble.”
“The question is, Sir, what do you plan to do if we find the refineries are blockaded?” Stephano asked.
“People are counting on me to make my delivery,” said Captain Leydecker grimly. “I don’t see that we have a choice.”
“True, sir, but we don’t want to sail blindly into a blockade,” said Leutnant Baumann. “The Travians would like nothing better than to get their hands on our cargo.”
“Pardon me,” said Rodrigo, “I am a bit confused. If a Travian cartel is your sponsor, why would Travian ships confiscate your cargo? Wouldn’t you all just have a hearty laugh, shake hands, and be on your way?”
Captain Leydecker snorted. “The blockade ships’ officers and
crew receive a percentage of the prize money. Once a Travian captain got his hands on our cargo, he would give a hearty laugh, all right. He’d say, ‘Bad luck, gentlemen, this is now mine.’”
Stephano was longing to ask about this mysterious cargo. The words were on the tip of his tongue. He saw Miri fix her eyes on him, warning him to keep silent. The cargo was none of their business. He was being paid to protect it and that was all he needed to know.
For the time being …
“From what we hear, the city of Braffa is still open to shipping,” said Leutnant Baumann. “It might be wise, sir, to put in overnight at Port Vrijheid instead of sailing to the refinery; ask around, see if we can obtain reliable information.”
Captain Leydecker frowned at this suggestion. He was a hardheaded businessman. He owned his ship and would share in the profits once he paid off the Travian cartel who sponsored him. Stephano knew what the captain was thinking. Leydecker was nervous about the talk of war. He wanted to make his delivery and return to Rosia as quickly as possible.
“I agree with the lieutenant, sir,” said Stephano. “A day’s delay would be better than losing your cargo. We’ll have some idea what we might be facing.”
Captain Leydecker eventually, though reluctantly, agreed.
The next day, the Sommerwind arrived at Port Vrijheid. Stephano and the Cadre had visited the city before, but only briefly.
Very briefly. They had arrived in the Cloud Hopper to do a job, putting up as usual in the Trundler enclave not far from the port. Unfortunately, they had found themselves in the middle of a Trundler blood feud between the McPike clan and the Stewart clan. Miri had upheld the honor of the McPikes, with the result that the Cadre was forced to leave Port Vrijheid in something of a hurry.
Stephano’s first consideration was the dragons and what to do with them. He did not want to create an uproar by taking the dragons anywhere near the city. Dragons had never lived on Braffa and there was no telling how a populace unfamiliar with dragons would react to the sight of them. He and Dag and Gythe flew inland, heading for the cedar forests that blanketed the western hills. Here the dragons could hunt and find a comfortable, secure place to sleep.
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