Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Science Fiction and Fantasy Novels

by White, Gwynn

  “I know you’re just trying to save our way of life on the canals,” Eli continued. “But I think it’s time we cut our losses. Burn those plans and get rid of the ferromancer’s servant. He’s nothing but trouble.”

  “He saved my life, Eli.” She wanted to go on, to tell him about Grayson’s scar and her suspicions about his true relationship with his boss, but she didn’t think Grayson would appreciate her divulging so much. He had told her that he wasn’t soulless, but something had clearly been done to him.

  She didn’t want to argue about Grayson’s actions, past or present, with Eli—or herself. Fortunately, the hatch opened and Jimmy climbed out. Once he reached the deck, he turned back and accepted a covered Dutch oven. He turned away from the hatch and saw her.

  “Captain!” Jimmy gave her a wide grin. “You’re up.” He set down the oven and turned back for a cloth-covered basket. Meals were a bit inconvenient when the cargo holds were full, but the money they made was dependent on how much they could haul. All available space went to cargo, and the crew made do.

  “Have I got a surprise for you.” Jimmy carried the cloth-covered basket over to her.

  “I have a suspicion of what it might be.” She lifted the cloth and glanced inside. “Biscuits?” She couldn’t believe it.

  “Well, he likes to call them scones.” Jimmy waved a hand at the hatch as Grayson climbed out, carrying a larger basket laden with the dishes and flatware.

  Grayson had doffed his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves. His dark hair was damp around his face, and his cheeks a little flushed from working over the hot stove.

  She got to her feet and walked over to greet him. “Do I have you to thank for all this?”

  “You were injured. You need to eat.” He spoke the words without inflection. “No one else was capable of preparing an edible meal.”

  She puzzled at the coolness of his tone. Was he annoyed that he’d had to do it? “It appears you outdid yourself.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached a hand toward her face, and she instinctively stilled. Carefully, he brushed the sore spot on the side of her head. “The swelling seems to have gone down.”

  His gaze dropped to hers with that pronouncement. The sunlight off the canal caught in his eyes, making them almost glow. She looked more closely, afraid to see those intricate plates she had seen in the eyes of the soulless man, but Grayson’s irises were the typical human ones, the light making them more blue than gray this evening.

  He lifted his brows, and she realized she had been staring into his eyes a little too long.

  She stepped back. “Now that you boys are out of my space, I’ll clean up for dinner.”

  “Don’t take too long, Captain,” Jimmy said. He and Eli were already setting up the folding table. “This will go fast.”

  “Tie up and call Benji in,” she said. “He should get some, too.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Jimmy agreed.

  Eli took a more decisive action and moved to the rail to shout at Benji.

  She left them to bring in the boat and climbed down into her cabin. The room was very warm, even with the open windows, but it smelled wonderful.

  Crossing the room in a couple of quick strides, she squatted beside the table and found the trunk tucked underneath where she’d left it. She started to lift the lid, then noticed the silver lock hanging from the hasp.

  “Lock?”

  A swirl of metal, and the little dragon now hung from the trunk. With a squeal, he leapt to her shoulder.

  “It’s good to see you, too.” She rubbed him beneath his chin, then turned back to the trunk. Lifting the lid, she saw that everything was still in place. Why had Grayson relocked his master’s trunk? Was there something in here of value? She had seen nothing.

  “I don’t understand that man.”

  Lock purred and rubbed his nose against her cheek. He rose up on his rear legs and sniffed her hair where the injury was, then offered a sympathetic moan.

  “I’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “Now, I’d best get ready for dinner.”

  Lock chattered in agreement, then leapt down to the table. Leaving him there, she hurried to her partitioned part of the cabin. Her appetite was returning with a vengeance, and she didn’t want her crew to scarf down everything before she got there.

  * * *

  Grayson had made plenty, so going hungry wasn’t a concern—overeating was. He had made something like pot roast, though he called it by some French name. Whatever it was, she had three helpings, but the meal seemed to be just what she needed.

  By the time the dishes were washed and put away, she was feeling like her old self. Even the headache had faded.

  “Are we to continue on, Captain?” Eli asked. It was twilight, the western horizon a brilliant red and gold while the first stars were just visible in the east.

  “No,” Briar answered. “Let’s bring in the team and tie up for the night. It’s been a crazy couple of days, and I don’t know about you, but I could do with a night off.”

  “We’re not that far from Yellowbud,” Jimmy pointed out. The canal town of Yellowbud boasted several taverns.

  “I know,” she answered. “But you’ll all be unfit tomorrow, and I want to make it at least as far as Circleville.”

  “We’ll drink in moderation,” Jimmy promised.

  “Since when?” she glanced at Eli and he chuckled. Jimmy never seemed to keep that promise. “Let’s just have a quiet night here on the boat,” she offered.

  “Will you play for us?” Jimmy asked.

  Briar smiled. “I could probably be persuaded.”

  Jimmy grinned. “We’ve still got that bottle of bourbon. Maybe we’ll play some cards, after.”

  “Fine,” she relented. “Let’s tie up for the night, then I’ll go get my fiddle.”

  “You play violin?” Grayson asked. He had been quiet throughout the meal and cleanup. Though he had surprised her with his willingness to work.

  “Yes.” She frowned. “That seems to surprise you.”

  “It does.”

  She wasn’t certain what to make of that. “Do you play, sir?”

  “No. I don’t seem to have an aptitude for music.”

  “And here I was beginning to think there wasn’t anything you couldn’t do.”

  “There are a few things.” His cool tone was matter of fact. She had expected a smile. Was he angry with her?

  “No one can play like the captain,” Jimmy spoke up.

  “Jimmy,” she complained, embarrassed by the praise. “I’m sure someone as worldly as Mr. Grayson has heard better.”

  Grayson seemed to consider this, then turned to Jimmy. “What task would you have me do?”

  “We need to bring the mules in. Give me a hand with the bridge plank,” Jimmy said, then led him across the catwalk toward the stable.

  “Looks like he’s charmed Jimmy,” Eli said.

  “Would you give it a rest?” she demanded.

  Eli held her gaze, then turned and walked away.

  Briar watched him go. Maybe they should push straight through to Columbus and be done with this miserable task.

  “I really thought bringing down the railroad would be more enjoyable,” she muttered.

  8

  Tying off for the night went quickly as they all performed their work with the expediency born of repetition. Like her, every crew member had grown up on the canal. The surprising aspect was how well Grayson performed. Perhaps he’d had a similar upbringing. She wondered what kind of life he’d led to give him such a varied skill set. At their first meeting, she had thought him a pampered dandy with his fine clothes and disdain for her way of life. Perhaps that was just the appearance he gave. Maybe now that he was out from under his master’s thumb, she was seeing the real man.

  Night was fully upon them when they returned to the deck over the rear cabin. Eli retrieved the cards while Jimmy got the bourbon. The cards were for later, but the bourbon was poured before she finished tuni
ng her fiddle.

  It had been a while since they had gathered like this. Usually, it was at the end of a profitable run, or in celebration of a birthday or some other event. Tonight, there was no reason. Well, maybe she was celebrating the fact that she had lived through her first encounter with the soulless.

  She glanced at Mr. Grayson who sat apart from the others. Zach had given him a glass of bourbon, but he wasn’t drinking it down like the others. Perhaps it wasn’t to his liking.

  His eyes met hers, and she realized that once again, she had been studying him for too long, trying to puzzle the man out.

  Feeling awkward, she drew her bow across the strings, letting the familiar motion pull her away from the moment. The fingers of her left hand worked their way along the fingerboard. An eerie little tune sang out from beneath the bow.

  The crew fell silent, and she stopped.

  “What song was that?” Jimmy asked.

  “It wasn’t one,” she answered. “Just a warm up.” She did that sometimes. It seemed the emotions she was feeling—like her uncertainty about Grayson—came through in an original tune.

  “What do you want to hear?” she asked, trying to get back to the familiar and out of this odd funk.

  “Cluck Old Hen,” Jimmy suggested.

  She nodded, then bent over her fiddle. The upbeat ditty burst from the strings, and the boys were tapping their feet and singing along in no time.

  The evening continued in that manner as the bourbon flowed and Briar lost herself to the music. She asked for fewer requests and played the tunes that spoke to her. Though the festive atmosphere had cheered her and the songs remained upbeat and lively.

  Sweat wet her brow by the time she finished the last refrain of Blackberry Blossom.

  The boys clapped and whooped, bringing a blush to her cheeks. Hopefully, they’d just think it from the warm temperature and exertion. Captains didn’t blush at every little compliment.

  “That’s it for me,” she told them, trying for a stern tone. “We’ve got to get back to work tomorrow. Can’t be staying up all night.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Jimmy agreed. “A quick game of cards it is.”

  She bit her lip to keep from smiling. After she’d agreed to the game, she knew nothing would deter him from it.

  As the crew sat down to their game, she glanced over to see what Mr. Grayson made of all this. The barrel he’d been sitting on was empty.

  Heart rate surging, she looked around. She was just about to point out his absence when she spied him sitting on the rail at the bow. Had he gone to the other end of the boat for some quiet?

  Taking a moment to pack away her fiddle, she picked up her glass—now only half full—and went to see what he was up to.

  Following the catwalk, she crossed to the roof of the bow cabin, but Grayson didn’t look up. He straddled the rail, his attention on the canal and the dark banks to either side. The moon wasn’t full and left a lot in shadow.

  “Are you standing guard?” she asked.

  He didn’t startle at the sound of her voice, so he must have heard her approach. “I don’t believe Solon knows where we are.”

  “We?” She threw a leg over the rail and sat down across from him.

  Grayson’s eyes met hers. “Yes.”

  The directness of his answer caused goosebumps to pebble her arms—even in the balmy air.

  “Why is he interested in me?” She hoped her tone didn’t reveal her unease.

  “You assaulted his person.”

  Even with Grayson’s phrasing, her cheeks heated—which was annoying. Why did she keep blushing tonight?

  “But the true reason is the construct,” Grayson added in the same matter-of-fact tone.

  She laid a hand over her pocket. “Lock?”

  He held her gaze.

  “You still refuse to call him by name,” she said, annoyed by the fact. “He answers to it, you know.”

  “I know.”

  There was movement within her pocket, and an instant later, Lock climbed out. A little whirr of what she took to be happiness, and he scampered across the few feet of rail that separated her from Grayson, and sprang up onto his shoulder.

  “He recognized the sound of your voice,” she concluded. “Or does he speak English?”

  “He neither speaks nor understands any language. He reacts to the whispers of your soul.”

  “What? How is that even possible?”

  “I don’t know how you made the initial connection, but you went on to name him and care for him. There is great power in both.”

  She watched Lock rub his cheek against Grayson’s. “There’s a connection between the two of you as well.”

  “Yes.” Grayson seemed indifferent to Lock’s attention. Actually, he seemed indifferent to this whole conversation. It reminded her of what he was like the first night on her boat. Well, maybe not that cold.

  “How do you know so much about all of this?”

  “I’ve had an extensive education in many things. It is my adaptability that has kept me alive.”

  She frowned. Was that what he was doing? Adapting? At times, he seemed so friendly, but now he was distant.

  “You look as if you don’t believe me,” he said.

  “Oh no, I believe you. I’m just wondering who the real Mr. Grayson is. You had seemed to be warming to us, but tonight, you are so distant.”

  “Stopping the soulless is…” he hesitated, as if he searched for a way to describe it. “Unpleasant.”

  “Yes, it was. You pulled a metal heart from his chest.”

  Grayson didn’t comment.

  “I saw other scars on him, and his eyes…they weren’t human.”

  “No, he had lost his humanity.”

  “Is that what ferromancers do? Replace a man’s organs with metal ones? Is that how they make the soulless?”

  “Yes.” Grayson’s matter-of-fact tone gave her chills. He seemed so different.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I told you. Stopping the soulless is not pleasant.”

  Lock cooed and pressed closer to him, trying to comfort him—or warm him. It suddenly occurred to her that Grayson had dispatched that soulless man in Portsmouth just before he was taken onto her boat.

  “It’s an affliction,” she concluded. “A side effect.”

  “I guess that’s a way to look at it.”

  “How can I help you?”

  His brows lifted. “You would help me?”

  She scooted closer. “You saved me tonight—at no small risk to yourself. Should I not return the favor?”

  His forehead furrowed.

  “Am I to take your silence to mean there’s nothing to be done? Or are you not sure how to respond to someone offering to help you?”

  His gaze once again locked with hers, and she had a strong suspicion it was the second answer.

  “Last time,” she continued when he didn’t answer, “you seemed to cheer up after I told you about kneeing Solon. I would be happy to do it again, but if he doesn’t know where we are, that seems a bit foolish.”

  The faintest of smiles touched his lips before fading.

  “Come on, give me something. There must be—”

  “Play for me.” His request was not what she expected.

  “The fiddle? I don’t mind, but I just spent most of the last hour playing.”

  “Not the folk songs you played earlier. I want to listen to your soul.”

  “My—”

  “Like your warm-up piece.”

  “Oh.” In other words, something she made up. Something from the heart.

  She glanced back at the crew. They were laughing, intent on their game, though Eli frowned in her direction from time to time.

  “You don’t want to?” Grayson asked. There was no animosity in his tone, just resignation, as if he accepted that he would have to ride out this malady.

  “I’ve never played like that for anyone,” she admitted, and damn if her cheeks didn’t he
at once more. Hopefully, the low light hid it.

  “Sharing something created from the soul is a terrifying experience,” Grayson agreed. “But when the labors of your soul are appreciated, that brings the purest of joys.”

  “Spoken like a true artist.” She smiled. “What is your talent?”

  “You’ve seen it.”

  She waited, but he added nothing else. “You get very cryptic when you’re like this. If I want a straight answer, I guess I’ll have to play for you.”

  “So it would seem.”

  Shaking her head, she pulled her leg back across the rail and rose to her feet. Was she really going to do this? Maybe she could play some obscure ballad for him. After all, he wasn’t from this country, so he was unlikely to recognize every song.

  Feeling a bit better about the idea, she returned to the stern to fetch her fiddle.

  “Captain?” Eli called to her when she started for the bow. “What are you doing?”

  “Mr. Grayson killed a man in my defense today. It’s left him feeling a little out of sorts. I’m going to try to cheer him.” She gestured with her fiddle.

  Eli didn’t look happy, but he didn’t immediately reply.

  “That’s good of you, Captain,” Jimmy said. “I know he’s supposed to be our prisoner, but we’re all human, after all.”

  Not all, she wanted to say. Instead, she gave Jimmy a smile. “You’re right.”

  Patting Eli’s thick shoulder, she left them to their game and returned to the bow of the boat.

  Grayson had returned to studying the dark banks of the canal and didn’t glance over when she returned. A small lump just inside his open shirt collar and a glimpse of a silver tail marked Lock’s presence.

  She smiled at the little dragon’s antics to warm him. Setting her case atop the rail, she took a moment to rosin the bow, then pulled out her fiddle. She brought the instrument to her chin and drew the bow across the strings. Yes, still in tune.

  Now what? She had come this far with the conviction that she could play him some obscure tune and he’d be none the wiser, but that felt wrong. He had given of himself today. Could she not do the same?