Storm Riders

by Margaret Weis

  “I think this is our man,” he said to Dag.

  The carriage was owned by a person of means, for it featured brass lamps and glass windows with fringed window shades that could be lowered to give the passengers privacy. The horses were expensive—a matched pair of dappled grays. The door bore no markings, no family coat of arms or insignia.

  The driver dismounted and went to open the door. The passenger did not bother to wait, but impatiently opened the door himself. He descended, paused to look at the name of the ship, as though to ascertain he had the right vessel. Seeing that this was, indeed, the Sommerwind, the man strode up the gangplank.

  Stephano couldn’t see the man’s face, for he wore a tricornered hat and a long cloak with a shoulder cape suitable to the inclement weather. He walked rapidly, giving every impression that he was in a hurry.

  Captain Leydecker saw the man approach and cast a sharp glance at Stephano. Evidently the captain, too, thought that this was the buyer. Stephano motioned to Dag, who had been standing guard over the barrels of crystals. Dag casually strolled over to take his place beside Stephano.

  As Dag did so, he twitched aside his coat, revealing a pistol in his belt. Stephano felt reassuringly for his own dragon pistol, concealed in the inner pocket of his coat. Hopefully there would be no need for firearms.

  The man in the cloak walked up to Captain Leydecker, who greeted him pleasantly and asked his business. The man took off his hat and tucked it under his arm.

  “I am to pick up four barrels—”

  Dag gasped and elbowed Stephano in the ribs. “Sir! Isn’t that—”

  “It is!” Stephano stared in amazement. “D’argent!”

  D’argent turned at the sound of his name. “Stephano?” he said, shocked. “What are you doing here?”

  By way of answering, Stephano flung his arms around D’argent in a bear hug, much to D’argent’s extreme astonishment.

  “My dear D’argent!” Stephano exclaimed. “I was never so glad to see anyone in all my life. I said the person who bought the crystals would be rich, powerful, and dangerous—that exactly describes my mother!”

  He laughed out loud and clapped D’argent on the shoulder. D’argent was not laughing.

  “I am sorry, Stephano,” he said, his brows coming together, “I do not understand—”

  “No, of course you don’t. I will explain. Allow Dag and me to load the crystals in your carriage. We’ll take them to my house. I assume my mother will agree with that arrangement. She can hardly store them in the palace. I will keep close guard on them, you may be sure. Once we have dropped off the crystals, you will take a message to my mother that I need to speak with her on the matter of the utmost importance. Wait,” Stephano said suddenly, “are the arrest warrants for us still out?”

  “No, sir,” said D’argent. “They were canceled. I am in great haste, Stephano, but I need to talk to you.” He glanced at Dag. “In private. Perhaps you could leave your friend on board ship to guard the cargo. You and I could go to my carriage.”

  Stephano detected an odd tone in D’argent’s voice. The thought occurred to him that his mother’s confidential man of affairs was unusually grave, his expression somber.

  “What have I done to anger my mother now?” Stephano demanded.

  D’argent regarded him intently. “We need to talk.”

  Stephano shrugged. He asked Dag to stay with the barrels. D’argent settled with Captain Leydecker, who had been watching the reunion with the greatest astonishment. Stephano accompanied D’argent to the carriage. Rodrigo left his cab and hurried to join them.

  “D’argent, why are you here?” Rodrigo asked, alarmed. “Am I being hauled off to smelt something?”

  “Come with me,” Stephano said, adding to D’argent, “You know I’ll tell Rigo everything anyway.”

  D’argent gave a faint smile. “Perhaps that would be best, sir.”

  Stephano hurried over to hold a brief conversation with Miri and Gythe.

  “Why is D’argent here?” Miri asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m about to find out. Unload the luggage and send away the cab. Go back on board and wait with Dag. I’ll tell you everything.”

  “Damn right you will,” said Miri.

  Stephano walked back to the carriage. D’argent and Rodrigo were both inside waiting for him. The driver opened the door for Stephano. He climbed inside and sat down opposite D’argent.

  “Drive around the block,” D’argent ordered.

  Shutting the carriage door, the driver climbed back onto the box. He clucked to the horses and the carriage rolled slowly out into the street.

  “What is it?” Stephano demanded. “What’s wrong?”

  In answer, D’argent reached into his coat and drew out an envelope.

  “I have been carrying this with me, hoping I would find you.”

  D’argent handed the envelope to Stephano, who recognized his mother’s bold handwriting. Turning it over, he saw her bee insignia stamped on the back.

  “You should read it at once, sir,” D’argent said.

  Stephano broke the seal and opened the letter. He scanned through it hurriedly, then stopped to look up at D’argent in shock.

  “Is what she says here true?” he asked in a low voice.

  “I fear it is, Captain,” said D’argent.

  Stephano handed the letter wordlessly to Rodrigo. He read it swiftly, gave a soft gasp. “Dear God! The princess! An elopement! The scandal…”

  “This isn’t an elopement,” said D’argent grimly. “This is an abduction. The woman who took the princess hostage is not a duchess. She is—”

  “In league with the Bottom Dwellers!” said Stephano. “She’s a sorceress, skilled in blood magic. Sir Henry told me.”

  “Sir Henry Wallace?” D’argent was amazed.

  “A long story,” said Stephano. “You say my mother knew this and she went after them? That was madness! Why didn’t you stop her?”

  “We are speaking of your lady mother, Stephano,” said D’argent with a faint smile. “I could no more stop her than I can stop the sun from rising. If it is any comfort, she did not go alone. She is accompanied by Sir Conal O’Hairt, a Knight Protector, a friend of Sir Ander Martel, your godfather.”

  “D’argent, I’m going after my mother. I will meet you at the palace—”

  “No!” said D’argent in a tone as sharp and chilling as a gunshot. “Do not go to the palace.”

  Stephano stared at the man. “I know the king hates me, but I have to do something—”

  “Do not go to the palace, Stephano. Nor you, Monsieur de Villeneuve.” D’argent was pale. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

  “Why shouldn’t we go to the palace?” Rodrigo asked.

  “I cannot tell you why, monsieur,” said D’argent in a low voice. “I have made a promise to His Majesty. I am sworn to secrecy. I should not have even told you that much. Stephano, I have something else to give you.”

  He drew out a packet, a formal legal document, and handed it to Stephano.

  “The countess’s will. You are your mother’s sole heir.”

  Stephano didn’t touch it. “I am a bastard,” he said with a curl of his lip. “I can’t inherit.”

  “The Countess de Marjolaine is your mother,” said D’argent. “Sir Julian de Guichen is your father. You are their legitimate son.”

  “I don’t understand,” Stephano said, frowning. “The law requires my parents to be married at the time of my birth—”

  “The law states only that the parents should be married, no matter when the marriage takes place. Your parents were married, Stephano. The explanation is here, in your mother’s will. You are heir to the de Marjolaine fortune. You are now one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom.”

  Rodrigo sucked in a breath and stared at his friend. Stephano took the will and gazed at it in dazed bewilderment.

  “They were married? But if that’s true, why didn’t she tell me?”

  “Y
our mother has enemies, Stephano,” said D’argent gently. “Her enemies would have become your enemies. She sought to protect you.”

  Stephano was startled to feel tears burn his eyes. He blinked them angrily away. He could see Rodrigo looking at him with concern. Stephano abruptly handed the will back to D’argent.

  “You keep it. My mother’s not dead. She’s not going to die.”

  He sat listening to the rain, which had started up again. He could hear it drumming on the roof of the carriage. D’argent took the will and put it back into his pocket.

  “You came to purchase those barrels, D’argent,” said Stephano, changing the subject. “Do you know what they contain? Did my mother?”

  “The Tears of God,” D’argent replied. “The Countess received information from one of her agents that the crystals were being offered for sale to a select clientele. Although she doubted the claims being made about the crystals, she dared not take a chance of them falling into the wrong hands. She arranged to purchase them.”

  Falling into the wrong hands. Stephano smiled grimly to hear Sir Henry Wallace’s words echoed by his mother.

  “The Tears of God perform as claimed,” he said. “As usual, my mother made an excellent bargain.”

  “A better bargain than she imagined,” said D’argent, almost to himself. “You say they work, Stephano, they provide lift. Did you observe this for yourself?”

  “I did, sir,” said Stephano. He described briefly how they had used one of the crystals to sail the pinnace.

  “Excellent news,” said D’argent. “Truly excellent.”

  By this time, they had circled the block. The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the Sommerwind. Stephano opened the door and stepped out. Rodrigo followed, keeping close to his friend. D’argent remained inside.

  Shutting the door, Stephano leaned in the window to ask, “How is Benoit? Have you heard from him?”

  D’argent shook his head. “He has not been around.”

  Stephano wondered if Benoit knew about the marriage. He remembered how Benoit had always held the greatest respect for the countess. Stephano had assumed the old man had done that just to irritate him.

  “What should we do with the crystals?” Stephano asked.

  “I’ll take charge of them,” D’argent answered. “Have them placed in my carriage. What will you do?”

  “I told you. I’m going to find my mother.”

  “You will need money,” said D’argent. “I will bring the funds to you tonight. You must tell no one, Stephano. You must keep up the pretense that your mother has taken the princess to her estate.”

  “I will tell my friends, that is all. I’ll need their help. Where is the Cloud Hopper? My mother had it impounded.”

  “Mistress Miri will find her houseboat restored to her, docked in its usual place. And now I must be going. I have been away too long already. I will see you tonight.”

  Stephano wondered why D’argent was in such haste. Why the constrained manner, the shadowed countenance? Why the warning to stay away from the palace? D’argent would have been left with the responsibility of keeping his mother’s affairs in order, maintaining the falsehood that she was visiting her estate with the princess. He could manage that easily enough.

  As D’argent was about to give the signal to the driver to leave, Stephano halted him. He reached through the window to shake hands. “We have had our differences in the past, D’argent. But I have always appreciated your loyalty to my mother.”

  “My loyalty extends to her son,” said D’argent.

  He reached out to clasp Stephano’s hand in both of his own, then shouted orders to the driver. The carriage rolled away. Stephano stood staring after the carriage, though not really seeing it.

  “Your mother is a very courageous woman,” said Rodrigo.

  “And she has a fool for a son,” said Stephano in bitter tones. “I am not proud of myself, Rigo. The way I have treated her, the horrible things I have said to her—”

  “You had no way of knowing,” Rodrigo said. “Your mother wanted you to think as you did.”

  Stephano gave a deep sigh. “Don’t tell our friends yet. I need time to think.”

  What he truly needed was to talk to his mother. The one time in his life he had ever longed to see her, she was gone, perhaps beyond his ability to find her.

  “I won’t say a word,” Rodrigo promised.

  * * *

  Stephano held a meeting with his friends on the deck of the Sommerwind. He explained briefly that his mother was the one who had purchased the crystals, that D’argent had taken them to the palace. He told Miri that the Cloud Hopper was back in its usual place and that he had another job for them already lined up and he would explain the details when they were home. Before they could ask questions, he walked off, saying that he was going to bid farewell to Captain Leydecker.

  Miri and Gythe and Dag looked at Rodrigo.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” Miri asked.

  “It’s about his mother,” said Rodrigo.

  “Oh, Lord!” Miri said, groaning. “Here we go again.”

  Dag scouted out a small horse-drawn wagon and paid the owner for the use of it for an hour. They loaded the crate of Rodrigo’s books in the wagon, along with their possessions. Gythe and Miri and Rodrigo rode in the back of the wagon. Stephano sat up front with Dag and the Doctor, who had been released from the basket and was once more riding proudly on Dag’s shoulder.

  “I’ll drive,” said Stephano, picking up the reins.

  The traffic around the dockyard was heavy, with lorries and wagons, cabs and pedestrians crowding the streets, and he had to concentrate on where he was going. He was aware that the others were concerned, wondering what was going on, worried for him. He resolved to tell them everything when they got home.

  Home … He pictured his friends gathered once more around the kitchen table. Benoit would have purchased a barrel of ale and perhaps even wine with the money his mother gave him. They would have a hot meal and Stephano would sleep in a bed that wasn’t suspended from the ceiling, didn’t swing back and forth. They would make plans tonight. Tomorrow they would leave again, set out in pursuit of his mother and the princess.

  When they arrived at the Boulevard of Saints, the street on which Stephano and Rodrigo lived, Stephano was starting to turn the wagon into the alley behind the house, planning to unload the crate of books at the tradesman’s entrance, which was in the rear. He gave the reins a jerk, brought the horse to a sudden stop.

  “What’s the matter?” Dag asked.

  “Look at the house,” said Stephano. “It’s the middle of the afternoon and the curtains are still drawn.”

  He jumped off the wagon. Dag hobbled the horse and he and the others came to join him.

  “Benoit opens the curtains first thing in the morning,” Stephano explained.

  “He does it purposefully to irritate me,” said Rodrigo. “I have told him time and again that civilized men do not rise before noon. Instead he flings open the curtains at some ungodly hour, filling the room with eye-piercing sunlight…”

  “He doesn’t like a dark house,” said Stephano. “He wouldn’t leave the curtains closed.”

  “Maybe something’s happened to him,” said Miri anxiously. “Maybe he’s fallen ill.”

  “That old man is never sick. I don’t like this. Dag, drive the wagon down the alley. The rest of you wait with him.”

  Stephano started off. Hearing footsteps, he turned to see Rodrigo hurrying after him.

  “I’m coming, too. If there are thieves, they may have absconded with my valuables. My handkerchief collection alone is worth a small fortune.”

  Stephano smiled. “You’re a true friend, Rigo.”

  “I may not be good for much else,” said Rodrigo. “But I do try to be good at that.”

  Stephano circled around the house to the backyard. The windows in the back were closed, the shades drawn.

  An iron fence surrounded t
he yard. Stephano gave the gate a gentle push. The hinges screeched alarmingly. Stephano froze. Rodrigo ducked behind a hedge.

  “I told Benoit time and again the damn gate needed to be oiled,” Stephano whispered irritably.

  He waited tensely, but there was no sign that anyone had heard. He and Rodrigo squeezed through the partially opened gate. Motioning Rodrigo to wait where he was, Stephano ran stealthily across the yard to the back wall. He searched the bricks a moment, found the one he wanted, and pried it loose. Inside the hollowed-out brick was a spare key to the back door. Stephano replaced the brick.

  He drew his pistol and crept up to the back door. Rodrigo joined him.

  “First assassins and now intruders,” Rodrigo whispered. “I think we should move.”

  Stephano slid the key in the lock and turned it softly. He heard the lock click, felt the door give. He looked back at Rodrigo, who had picked up a rake as a weapon and was trying to look as though he was prepared to use it.

  Stephano shoved open the door with a bang and jumped inside. He stopped to stare in astonishment. Rodrigo, rushing in behind, almost fell over him.

  Benoit was sitting at the kitchen table with three monks in crimson robes, drinking tea. The teapot was in the center of the table along with a loaf of bread and Dag’s favorite jam. The monks and Benoit turned to stare at Stephano, who flushed in embarrassment and lowered his pistol.

  “Reverend Brothers, I beg your pardon—”

  Benoit gave a howl and leaped to his feet.

  “Run, Stephano!” Benoit cried. “Run, sir! It’s a trap!”

  Before Stephano could react, one of the monks extended his hand. Blue streaks of magical energy flared from the monk’s fingers, striking Stephano in the chest. Every nerve in his body burst into flame. His muscles spasmed and his heart seized. He dropped the pistol and fell to the floor and lay there twitching and jerking, helpless. The other monk casually walked over and picked up the pistol.

  Rodrigo flung away the rake to kneel beside Stephano.

  “Stop the spell!” Rodrigo cried angrily. “You’re killing him.”

  The monk ended the magical construct with a flick of his wrist. Stephano rolled over limply, groaning. He could still feel the magic sizzling in his body.