by P. T. Hylton
A moment later, the King’s Sword came out, followed by a boy who couldn’t have been more than ten.
“Come,” he said to Lily. “The boy will take care of our horses.”
She trailed Caleb inside and tried to follow him through the pub as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior lighting. From the way it looked on the outside, she’d expected it to be rowdy, the kind of place where men would be gambling over dice and the wrong word to the wrong person could get you stabbed or, worse, beaten and dragged aboard a ship to start a new life as a rather undistinguished member of a pirate crew. Plenty of people had disappeared from seaside towns in such a manner, and in nicer towns than Morven, too.
But this establishment was quiet. There were a number of suspicious-looking patrons, but they all seemed to be drinking alone. No one looked up as she and Caleb passed. They stared into the bottoms of their mugs as if observing a captivating theater production.
Caleb led her through a door on the far side of the tavern, which led into a much smaller room. Eight men were already seated around the large, circular table, and Lily recognized most of them. Six were King’s Guards. They were dressed as civilians now. The plan had been for them to arrive in town in groups of two over the last few days so as not to arouse any interest.
The other man Lily did not recognize. He was tall and thin, with a hard face and a long scar across his left cheek.
The Guards welcomed Lily with enthusiasm. She’d been enjoying something of a hero-status among them since she’d saved the three Guards during the bandits’ ambush. None of those men were here today, but, the way these Guards acted, it might as well have been their lives she’d saved.
“You bring that magic knife of yours, Lily?” a young man with a pockmarked face asked.
“Come on, Gary,” she answered. “You should know by now that in my hands any knife is magic.”
They hooted their approval.
Lily and Caleb sat down at the two empty seats—they weren’t next to each other, thankfully; they were trying to keep their relationship under wraps—and all eyes turned to Caleb. Two of the Guards knew the exact nature of their mission. They’d been sent ahead to communicate the details of the job with a captain Caleb had hired. The man with the scar, Lily guessed. But the other four were clueless, and, from the way they leaned forward on their chairs, seemed eager to learn the details.
Caleb didn’t keep them waiting. “You all remember the bandits we captured.”
One of the Guards, a man named Bramon, brushed his long, stringy, red hair out of his face and smiled. “Lily captured, you mean.”
Lily waved her hand at the comment. “Please. I was one of four. Everyone did their part.”
Caleb ignored the exchange. “The bandits have been spending time in the care of Lucas, and they’ve had some interesting things to say.”
Lily thought she’d probably do some talking, too, if she were in the jailer’s hands. Lucas was known more for his collection of arcane torture devices than for his gentle conversation. Hell, she’d probably make things up, say anything to get him to stop. Which was why she was always a bit skeptical of the information he passed on. This was no exception. Caleb had shared everything with her before they’d left Langton, and it all seemed a bit grand. Definitely out of character for the players involved.
Now that she thought about it, that was probably why Jacob had allowed her to come on this trip. He knew as well as she did that nothing was likely to come of the information gained through Lucas’s interrogations.
“One of the bandits said he’d recently been hired for a job here in Morven. He said someone here was desperate to hire any man or woman with even a minimal amount of seafaring experience.”
“Who’s the employer?” a Guard named York asked. “King’s Navy recruiting again?”
Everyone but Caleb laughed. Soldiers loved to joke about the ramshackle nature of the Navy, but in truth, the Navy was a formidable fleet, and probably the reason things with Tavel hadn’t degraded into all out war.
Lily glanced at Caleb and saw he was scowling. He’d served in the Navy for a few months, time he’d spent with chronic seasickness, vomiting over the rail as often as doing his actual duty. An officer had taken pity on him and seen to it that the young man was transferred to the Army, where Caleb had flourished, quickly moving up the ranks.
“I would have flourished in the Navy, too, if it hadn’t been for my damn weak stomach,” Caleb had told Lily. And Lily believed him. He seemed to be able to do anything, and do it well. It was a bit surprising he hadn’t been scooped up by one of the professional guilds after taking his Tens exam. He was certainly smart enough. He would have made a hell of a ferox, in Lily’s opinion.
Caleb glared at York. “Actually, it’s the Longstrain widows.”
The laughter quickly stopped.
Bramon frowned. “Seems unlikely.”
The man with the scar let out a guttural noise of disapproval.
Caleb turned to him. “Something you want to say, Captain Pass?”
Pass met Caleb’s gaze with a cold stare of his own. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told those two scabs you sent to brief me. It ain’t unlikely. It’s impossible.”
The Guards began to mutter at this insubordinate attitude toward the King’s Sword, but Caleb held up a hand. “He’s the only one of us to have any direct experience with the Longstrains. Let’s hear what he has to say.”
Lily felt a stab of guilt at that. Caleb had shared so much of himself with her. How many times had he told her about his childhood in the country, the way he used to run through the fields of winter wheat, holding out his hands and feeling it tickle his palms? He’d told her of his mother’s illness and how she’d died by degrees over the course of two years, like a pile of dust being blown away by the wind. Caleb had been only seven. He’d spoken of how the experience had broken his father, of how the man had tried to take care of his three children, but how each of them had left at the earliest opportunity, Caleb, the youngest of the bunch, included. Caleb had felt guilty leaving, but there was a whole world out there and all that was left at home was the husk of the man he’d once worshiped as a hero.
Caleb had told Lily of his early days in the Army, how he’d had to work twice as hard as the other men to gain respect because of his small stature. He’d fought twice as viciously, too, taking down both friends and rivals in the sparring ring with equal ferocity. He’d spoken of the pride he’d felt at being named the youngest member of the King’s Guard. He’d even told her of the crippling shock and fear that came over him when he learned he’d been named Faraday’s replacement as the King’s Sword.
He shared so easily. It was like he just opened his mouth and let his innermost feelings pour out when he was with her. It was one of the things she most loved about him.
Lily wasn’t built like that. Part of it was her ferox training. Zane had told her that every piece of information you gave away should be intentionally and carefully selected. For ferox, there was no such thing as small talk, even when the others in the room thought that’s what they were engaging in. Every word must have a purpose.
But another part of it, in Lily’s opinion a very large part, was simply who she was. She’d always been this way. She’d watched in dumbfounded confusion at the way some children, including her twin brother, seemed to forge instant and deep connections, sharing what was inside them as easily as Lily might share a dish rag. It simply wasn’t her way.
So, no, she hadn’t told Caleb about her encounter with Amber Longstrain. Or much of anything about her time as a ferox apprentice. He’d asked a little when they first became involved, but, to his credit, he’d taken her gentle rebuffs and soft conversational re-directions in stride and hadn’t pushed the matter. He hadn’t even brought up Zane when he revealed they’d potentially be facing Henry Longstrain’s widows. And he certainly knew Zane had killed the famed pirate. Everyone knew that.
Captain Pass scratched at his chin. �
�Aye, I do have a mite bit of experience with those damn Longstrains. I’ve spent the last twelve years somehow squeezing a meager living out of the sea while those sister-captains raged through every shipping route worth pirating. Most of my esteemed colleagues either bent the knee and joined onto a Longstrain crew or resorted to honest living. Neither option appealed much to me.”
A few of the soldiers were looking at Captain Pass differently now. Lily suspected they’d just realized they were sitting at the table with a pirate.
“Captain Pass is independent,” Caleb said. “One of the few left who doesn’t pay any allegiance to the Longstrains. I thought that since he’s spent the past twelve years avoiding them, he might be able to help us spot them if they come this way.”
“It won’t happen,” Pass growled. “For one, they don’t work together. For two, they don’t divert from their pattern. Their dear departed husband taught them an effective style of careful and ruthless piracy, and they follow it. What you’re suggesting they’re trying to do is too far a divergence from their pattern. I’ll take you out to where you say they’ll be, if that’s what you want. But we won’t find nothing there but blue skies and choppy seas.”
“Then why take the job?” Lily asked. Something about the man irked her.
Pass shrugged. “Why not? The King’s Sword is paying me very handsomely to take you into yonder sea. He even offered to erase a few charges of the criminal nature which were somehow attached to my name. What’s it matter to me if we don’t find anything? The coin spends just as well either way.”
York gave Pass a long, careful stare before turning to Caleb. “So you think the Longstrain pirates will be here en masse. Did our source say what they are collaborating on?”
“He did not,” Caleb said. “But he didn’t have to. I have access to the Royal Navy’s route manifests.” He paused, meeting each person’s eyes in turn, a sly smile on his face. “Robert’s Revenge is passing through this very channel in two days’ time.”
The faces of the four Guards who were previously unaware of the details went pale. Captain Pass just muttered a creative combination of curses.
“You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying,” Bramon said.
Caleb nodded at him, still smiling his impish smile. “Indeed I am. A fleet of pirates is coming to steal the flagship of the Royal Navy. And we’re going to stop them.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Zane started his search with Longstrain’s old house in the mountains of western Opel. It was here he’d killed Henry Longstrain, and, as far as he was concerned, it was here the man remained.
He still wasn’t sure why he’d taken the job. If there was anyone on the planet certain Henry Longstrain was dead, it was Zane. He’d driven a dagger through the man’s eye and deep into his brain. He’d felt the lifeblood drain out of the pirate and onto his own shirt. He was absolutely certain Longstrain was dead.
Amber was simply succumbing to the paranoia common among those who spent their lives on the wrong side of the law.
And yet, weren’t there balms said to close nearly any wound in minutes? In his time at the Abditus Society, he’d heard rumors of such things, though he’d never studied balms himself. And if they did exist, wouldn’t a pirate who was constantly being hunted by some of the most skilled killers in the world be among the most likely to possess such balms? It all seemed highly unlikely, but not impossible.
If Henry Longstrain was somehow still alive, what did it mean for Zane? He’d built his career on the reputation he’d made from succeeding where so many others had failed in taking down the pirate. He’d been named one of the Ferox Society’s four assassins based on that reputation. If it wasn’t true, if he hadn’t actually killed Longstrain, that meant his career was based on a lie. He had to know.
When Zane arrived at Longstrain’s former home, he was shocked by the transformation it had undergone since his last visit. Granted, that had been in the middle of a rainy night, but he’d seen enough of the grounds to understand the general layout. The house had been surrounded by a sparse forest of towering, old oak trees, one of which Zane had gotten to know quite well when he’d been chained to it. Now, twelve years later, most of the forest had been cleared away and replaced with a vineyard.
He knew his chances of finding the Longstrain pirates—and possibly the resurrected Henry Longstrain himself—here were slim, but it was a place to start. He’d often found in his years as a ferox that starting at the most obvious place was a perfectly sensible practice. Besides, not many knew about this hideaway.
He made his way through the vineyard and toward the house. An old man was sitting in a chair in front of the house, his eyes closed. Zane recognized him. He’d spoken to Zane that night and asked about Longstrain. Zane thought the old man was sleeping until he opened his eyes a sliver and said, “Come to kill the rest of us, have you?”
Zane paused. He hadn’t expected such a direct statement. “No. Not in the least. Are you in charge of the house now?”
“No,” the old man said dryly. “Not in the least.” He sighed and stood up, making a show of it, like it took a heroic effort. “Wait here.” He turned and walked into the house.
A minute later, he returned. “The mistress will see you,” he said. He sat back down and closed his eyes.
Zane waited a moment to see if there’d be further instructions, but there weren’t. He walked inside and found the mistress sitting in a rocking chair next to a window in the great room. She was no longer the love-struck girl from Gippen he’d been sent to find, but the sunlight coming through the window behind made her glow with a youthful brilliance.
“Melody,” he said.
She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “Ferox Halloway. It’s been too long.”
“Has it?” he asked.
She began rocking the chair slowly back and forth. “No. I was being polite. What do you want?”
Direct. Just like the servant by the door.
“I wanted to talk to you about your former husband.”
She thought for a moment before replying. “I don’t believe that would benefit either of us. If you have questions about his piracy, I don’t know anything. You killed him before he taught me the family business. If you came to tell me something you’ve uncovered about his past or his other wives, I’m equally disinterested. All that matters to me are the few precious months we had together. And if you’ve come to apologize for killing him, I won’t hear it. So, no, I don’t want to talk about my former husband.”
“Mrs. Longstrain, I’ve come a long way and—”
“Would you like to buy some wine?” she interrupted. “The merchants in Langton are calling us the best young winery in Opel. A couple years ago, we couldn’t keep up with the demand. But this year, with trade restrictions with Tavel being what they are, I’ve found myself with a surplus. It won’t be cheap, but I’m certain you can afford it.”
Zane decided it was best to avoid dead-ending the conversation. “I might be interested. But I’m not going to spend good coin on swill either, just because the merchants say you’re the best young winery in Opel.”
Melody grabbed a small bell off the table next to her and gave it a shake. A moment later, the old man came into the room.
“Two glasses of red, please?”
They sat in silence until he returned carrying a tray with two wine glasses. He lowered the tray, offering a glass to Zane.
Zane hesitated. “Can I trust you not to poison me, Mrs. Longstrain?”
Melody shrugged, got up, and took both glasses. She took a healthy sip from each and set them back on the tray. “In truth, Ferox Halloway, there’s nothing I care about more than my vineyard and the wine it produces. I wouldn’t sully it with poison, not even to kill you.”
He nodded, took the glass closest to him, and drank. He was no expert, but it tasted pleasant enough to his untrained palate. After complimenting her on the wine, he said, “I’m a little surprised to find you here.�
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“Did you think I’d run back to my parents?” she asked, a bemused smile on her face. “They made their feelings about me perfectly clear in the little message they had you pass along.”
Zane felt an unusual twinge of guilt. That had been a harsh message, especially when delivered to a newly-minted widow by her husband’s killer, still splattered with her husband’s blood, no less. “Actually, I was thinking about the other widows. I’m surprised they let you have this place. They are not known as the most generous bunch.”
Melody’s face darkened. “That they aren’t.” She went quiet for a moment, as if lost in thought. Then she said, “Do you know what they call me?”
Zane shook his head.
“The betrothed.” She chuckled sadly. “They don’t acknowledge our marriage. The only time we went to sea was for our wedding. He never taught me the ways of The Sweet Trade, as they call it. He never gifted me my own ship and crew. So it doesn’t count. As far as they’re concerned, I’m not one of them.”
“Yet they allow you to keep this estate.”
She nodded. “They feel sorry for me. This land-locked home is a poor replacement for the freedom and earning potential of a ship, in their minds.” She smiled. “Let’s just hope none of them come to realize how much I’m making with this winery. Amber might do a bit better than me in a good year. Petra, maybe. But I doubt any of the others do.”
He nodded and took another sip of the deep red wine. “Then I assume you don’t share their murderous intentions toward me?”
She looked at the floor for a long moment before answering. “If I could snap my fingers and have you drop dead, I would do it. I loathe you. You killed the man I love. But I’m not on a quest for vengeance. I genuinely like my life here. If I’m being honest, I probably like running this vineyard better than I would have liked captaining a pirate ship, seeing my husband for a few precious days a few times a year before he went off to be with one of his other wives. I certainly like it better than the life my parents had planned for me. Did you know they wanted me to marry the asthmatic son of a preacher? Some life that would have been. So I did well for myself, and I’m happy enough with how things turned out. If you ever see my parents again, tell them they can keep their damn family heirlooms; I prefer my freedom.” She leaned forward and looked him in the eyes. “Ferox Halloway, I just want to be left alone. Tell me why you’re really here, and be quick about it.”