“The talk is all of Addington having little choice after two failed harvests. I think he signed the peace just in time, before everything fell apart. The bread riots last year were only the start of it. The government isn’t going to risk a revolution after what happened in France.”
“That’s as may be, but what happens to us now?”
“If the peace doesn’t last, we need to be ready, but in the meantime, you need to make sure the lads don’t starve. I don’t want to lay anyone off, but we’ve too big a crew for a merchantman. It doesn’t take sixty men to load grain and cloth, even if we could find the cargoes.”
“Ah, lass, I might have inadvertently solved that problem while giving us a new one.”
I raised one eyebrow and waited for Hookey to confess to whatever it was that was making him uncomfortable.
He cleared his throat. “We might have taken a French merchantman after the peace was declared. We could hardly be expected to know o’course, but when we made discreet enquiries, the governor in Malta had already stopped paying the bounty on French ships and goods.” He looked at me and shrugged. “We could hardly give her back, could we? And ’twould have been such a shame to scupper her.”
“What about the crew?”
“Gave in without a fight. We put ’em ashore in Portugal.”
“And the ship?”
“A little beauty, A barque. Le Papillon. One hundred and twelve feet in length, three masts. She handles well.”
“And where is she now?”
“Ah, I thought she might be a bit of an embarrassment, so she’s standing off the Isles of Scilly with Mr. Sharpner, Simeon Fairlow, and a skeleton crew. I thought we could send her to Bacalao and reregister her. By rights, she’s yours, o’course.”
“I was going to ask where Mr. Sharpner was.”
“That’d be Cap’n Sharpner, now.”
“He deserves his own ship. He’s the best sailing master I’ve ever seen.”
“He is, that.”
“But I shouldn’t be the owner, Hookey. I had nothing to do with the endeavor.”
“You own the Heart. We couldn’t have taken the barque without your ship.”
“All right.” I nodded. “I’ll take a quarter share. You, Mr. Rafiq, and Mr. Sharpner can take a quarter each. Does that seem fair? And sell whatever goods she’s carrying, give a bonus to the men, and use the rest to invest in new cargo. Legitimate cargo. It might be a good idea to trade in the Americas for a while until we see whether this peace lasts. Young Sim Fairlow will make a good quartermaster. Mr. Rafiq has trained him well.”
“Aye, Mr. Rafiq has trained us all.” Hookey waved his hand toward the stack of books on the map table. “Who’d have thought it? I could barely read and write when I first came aboard.”
“I’d say Mr. Rafiq had missed his calling, but it seems he’s doing more good here than running a sultan’s household or schooling the sons of rich gentlefolk. Tell Mr. Sharpner to speak to my man of business at Hillman and Plunkett’s Bank. He’ll arrange for the paperwork to register the vessel in Bacalao. Call her the Butterfly. It’s less Frenchified.”
“And what of us in the meantime?”
“You’re going to London?”
“Aye, to finalize leftover business with the Admiralty, but I fear their clerks have got deep pockets and short arms. We’re owed for a ship we brought in before the peace was declared, but I’m guessing they’ll try and wriggle out of the obligation.”
“See if you can find a legitimate cargo for the Heart while you’re there. Mr. Rafiq can handle negotiations.”
“Legitimate cargo.” Hookey didn’t quite spit, but his tone of voice said it all.
“Don’t give anyone the opportunity to remember this ship was associated with Redbeard Tremayne.”
“I won’t. Never fear.”
“Right, then, I’ll be on my way. Nice to see you, Hookey.”
“You’re riding back in the dark?”
“Yes, indeed, our horses have very good night vision. Don’t worry about us. I’ll rescue Hartington from Mr. Rafiq before too many unfortunate secrets are spilled.”
“Mr. Rafiq is as close-mouthed as they come.”
“Aye, but he knows Hartington is a friend. He might be a little more honest with him than I would like. There are some things that even Corwen isn’t privy to.”
Hookey laughed. “I don’t see Corwen Deverell would take offense at whatever you used to get up to.”
I sighed. “I’m sure he wouldn’t, but a lady has to keep some mysteries.”
* * *
Hartington didn’t say much on the return journey to the Okewood. We stayed alert. Things could happen on lonely roads under cover of darkness, but my hearing was acute, and the horses would let us know if there was anything ahead that we should worry about. Hartington himself had the senses of a prey animal which told him when it was time for flight. In any event we had a quiet ride back.
“You didn’t really need me, did you?” he said.
“I enjoy your company, and it made Corwen feel better. He’s acting a little overprotective, and I didn’t want to worry him. He has enough to worry about with Freddie.”
“Yes, that’s a difficult situation.”
“I told him to ask the Lady for help, but he doesn’t want to draw her attention to Freddie again.”
Hartington said nothing, which made me wonder.
“You don’t think she’d put Freddie down, do you?”
“If she did, it would be a last resort. I don’t think you’ve reached that stage yet.”
“I hope not.”
It was after midnight when we arrived at the bower Corwen and I called home. I was exhausted. Parts of my anatomy ached like they’d been in contact with a saddle for twelve hours, which, in fact, they had. The horses, however, seemed as fresh as when we started out.
Corwen came out to meet us.
“Everything all right?”
“Yes, no trouble on the road and the Heart’s in fine shape. I’ve acquired a quarter of a ship. I’ll tell you all about it as soon as my backside has stopped aching.” I looked around. “Freddie?”
“We reached a compromise, thanks to the Lady.”
“Oh, good. I said you should talk to her.”
“Well, it’s rather a strange compromise. Freddie is still in wolf form, in a cage of his own choosing.”
“A cage?”
“Not one of iron bars, a magical one like David created for him back in the Old Maizy. This one is more permanent, an area of woodland where he can run and be himself, but not hurt others. The Lady said she’d give him some time in the wild to think things through. She wants us, all three of us, to go and deal with your troll, Hartington. David has agreed to come, too.”
“That’s good.” I looked forward to seeing David again. “Well, I hope it’s good, anyway, and it’s not because the troll is such a monster that it will take four of us to subdue it.”
“I think the request was David’s. It seems as though he’d like a break from the Fae.”
I could understand that. The Fae were beautiful and powerful, living in a world which was as magical as they were, but they were also hidebound by their rules, their oaths, their traditions, and their high ideals. I wasn’t surprised David wanted to get away for a while. He’d inherited all of the power but none of the stuffiness.
Corwen took Timpani’s reins from Hartington and began to unsaddle and rub the horse down. I did the same for Dancer. No matter how tired I was, my horse always came first.
“I can do that,” Hartington said to Corwen.
“No, it’s all right,” Corwen said. “He’s mine. His welfare is my responsibility. I hope he behaved well for you.”
“He never put a foot wrong. You’re lucky to have him. Would I be pushing our friendship too fa
r if I were to let my mare stray close to him next time she comes into season?”
Corwen laughed. “You’d better ask him. He’s like the Fae, he gets a little standoffish at times, but if he’s not averse, then your mare has my blessing.”
Hartington disappeared back to his own sleeping quarters with a wave and a casual, “I’ll see you in the morning, early.”
After we saw to the horses, we turned them loose, knowing they would likely cross over into the green pastures of Iaru until we needed them again.
Corwen drew me into the bower which felt almost too big without Freddie, though it had been too small for the three of us. The Lady’s idea of a bed was springy bracken, covered over with a linen sheet, and her coverlet was a quilt stuffed with duck and goose down. I had never seen the like before, but it was twice as light and twice as warm as the thickest woolen blankets.
“Oh, that bed looks so wonderful, my bones are aching for it.”
“It’s also the first time we’ve had it entirely to ourselves since we brought Freddie back.”
Corwen helped me to shrug out of my riding habit and the linen shirt beneath it. He dropped his face to nuzzle my breasts above the confines of my shift and my short stays, then tugged at my laces.
I caught my breath, desire warring with tiredness.
“I’ve been in the saddle for twelve hours today.”
“Then let me take care of you.”
My stays and shift fell to the floor and I relaxed into his arms. He lowered me gently to the bed and began to massage my back, my buttocks, and my thighs until I turned to jelly under the warmth of his hands.
“Better?”
“Hmmm.”
I was almost asleep, but he turned me over and ran his hands over my belly. His lips touched mine, enquiring gently.
“Oh!”
He touched me there. In the twilight between sleeping and waking, I opened to him readily and let my instincts take over.
15
Trollhunters
LEAVING FREDDIE IN the care of the Lady and the cage of his own choosing, Corwen and I called Timpani and Dancer and saddled up.
I thought wearing my male persona might be the most practical; however, not knowing what we might need, I packed a sensible day dress and my redingote into the magical Fae valise. I strapped it behind Dancer’s saddle before we set off for the portal to Iaru, to meet up with David.
The magicals, released unintentionally from Iaru and the Okewood when the Fae opened their gates to let the rowankind return home, had been plaguing the countryside for the last year. Some, like hobs, were quietly tucked away and not causing much trouble; others, like the Cornish pixies, were annoying but not life-threatening. Trolls were not always dangerous, but if they settled themselves beneath a bridge, they could be troublesome. They were big and clumsy, though generally slow to anger. Confrontations could lead to fights, however. I’d never yet seen a human who could best a seven-foot troll, but if the neighborhood was roused to action, a troll couldn’t outfight a mob with pitchforks and torches. Both humans and trolls would be injured or even killed.
That was the situation we’d been asked to alleviate. David had volunteered to help round up magicals, but to my knowledge, this was the first time he’d been given dispensation to leave Iaru. Reining in the magicals before the Mysterium took decisive and fatal action against them was one of the tasks the Fae and the forest folk had committed to between them.
David was waiting for us in Iaru.
Timpani and Dancer squealed a welcome to David’s mount and then stood nose to nose with her as if they were old friends. They probably were. I hadn’t a clue what our horses got up to whenever they crossed back over into Iaru; it was the equivalent of horse heaven. I dismounted and greeted his horse politely before I turned to my brother.
“It’s good to know where I stand in the hierarchy,” David grinned at me.
“Last but never least.” I hugged him.
While most of the Fae couldn’t enter our towns and cities because of the industry, which was like poison to them, David, having lived in Plymouth, was relatively immune to the press of people, the smell of the gutters, and the coal smog from the manufactories. He’d volunteered to go where the rest of the Fae couldn’t and was obviously pleased to be coming with us.
“Is Annie coming?” I asked. Even if she was staying behind, I was surprised she hadn’t come to see us off. She and David were as close as lovebirds.
“What do we know about this troll?” David asked, ignoring my question though I knew he’d heard me.
“Not much about the troll,” Corwen said, “but Hartington says the townsfolk of Wakefield are deeply unhappy to have it in residence beneath their Chantry Bridge, charging travelers to cross the Calder. The chapel on the bridge hasn’t been used as a place of worship since King Henry destroyed the monasteries. Hartington says it’s used as a reading room and a subscription library now. The vicar of Wakefield has sent a request to the Mysterium to have the hindrance removed. I gather no one has named it a troll, but Hartington has seen it, and it most certainly is. It’s only a matter of time before a troop of redcoats show up with muskets and swords. The troll hasn’t killed anyone yet, but in the event of being faced with either a mob or a troop of soldiers, it isn’t likely to give in quietly.”
David tightened his horse’s girth and swung into the saddle.
“Has something happened between you and Annie?” I asked as I mounted Dancer.
“Oh, no. Annie and I are fine.” Something in the way he said it made me even more sure that something was amiss. “She’s a sweet girl, don’t you think, Ross?”
“I think she’s lovely.”
I wasn’t being polite. I really did think that.
Annie was a rowankind serving girl from an inn in Plymouth. David had become very fond of her when we’d stayed there, and when the rowankind gained their freedom, he’d immediately sought her out. They’d been inseparable ever since. Despite having such long lives the Fae matured early, as did the rowankind. My little brother was only sixteen, but he was easily a young man, not a child.
“My father says Annie’s not a suitable marriage prospect, so I should keep her as a concubine and have many fine children with her.”
That’s how it normally worked between the Fae and their rowankind or human lovers. I can’t say I approved, but as far as I knew neither the rowankind not the humans seemed to object to this. There must be hidden advantages.
“Will you love her when she’s ninety and you still look seventeen?”
“Of course, Ross. How could I not? Being with Annie is not without precedent. Lord Dax once had a rowankind lover who lived until she was seventy-six years old.”
“Did they marry?”
“No, but they stayed together as man and wife all her life.”
“Couldn’t you do that with Annie?”
“My father has chosen a bride for me, a Fae princess, one of the Merovingian Fae from France. Her name is Calantha, but I don’t know anything more about her or the Merovingians. He says it’s my duty to bring our two great houses together. Apparently, we’ve always been wary of them, and they’ve never much liked us.”
“Then Larien should marry her himself.” Corwen had been following the conversation.
“He can’t. He has a wife already.”
“Has he?” I think that shocked me more than anything. “And did Larien have this wife when he was busy seducing our mother in Plymouth?”
“I suppose so. They’ve been married for three hundred years, but they have no children.”
The Fae didn’t procreate easily, that was why Fae men often sought human or rowankind partners for the purpose of producing children. Fae women were happy to have an extra person in the household if she brought the benefits of children. Many a human woman had gone “away with the fairies” for
the duration of her childbearing years, only to find herself released back into the world twenty years later, puzzled by the time she’d lost, but wealthy with Fae gold. It had happened to my own Aunt Rosie whose daughter, Margann, by Larien’s brother, Dantin, still visited whenever she could.
“I don’t know how to advise you, David,” I said.
“I do,” Corwin looked sideways at me. “Don’t give up the one you love for anyone or anything.”
I felt a little shiver of pleasure run down my spine.
* * *
We met Hartington by the Iaru gate as planned. The journey to Wakefield took the four of us through areas of Iaru I’d seen before. We skirted around the spot which most closely connected with Sheffield, blighted by the grime and the smoke from the forges and the steam engines. The bad air from our newly industrialized cities seeped into their equivalent parts of Iaru, causing yet another problem for the Fae.
“Aren’t we close to Denby House?” I asked. “Could we visit?”
“I think we should,” Corwen said. “As soon as we’ve dealt with the troll. Wakefield to Denby is only about twelve miles.”
“There’s a gate in the woodland about three miles south of Wakefield itself,” David said. “It’s at Chevet, close to a flour mill. If we take the road north from there, it should bring us to the Chantry Bridge.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked him. “You were brought up in Plymouth, three hundred miles from Yorkshire.”
He raised one eyebrow and shrugged. “It’s a Fae thing. There’s not one inch of these islands that has not been explored by the Fae, and what one knows, all know. They may have kept their distance over the last two thousand years, but they’ve always had spies in the human world.”
“Well, that’s damned useful,” Corwen said. “As well as unsettling.”
I shivered at the thought.
“It certainly is,” David said.
We came out of Iaru on a steep, wooded hillside above a snake-shaped ribbon lake which ended abruptly in a straight dam wall with a road across it and a water-powered mill on the other side. We slithered down the steep hill to the lake and picked up the road to Wakefield by the Dam Inn, a square-fronted hostelry owing much to the local building stone.
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