Chapter 26. Thank You
The wyverns did something clever when they came to Wefrivain. They chose the largest, most aggressive shelt species in the islands and helped them subjugate all the other creatures. They made sure that the grishnards would control everyone else. Then all the wyverns had to do was control the grishnards.
—Gwain, The Truth About Wyverns
Servants had been sent to bring them up to the castle. Again, Gerard knew them all. They stared at him curiously, but when they saw Silveo, they almost forgot about Gerard. By the time they reached the end of the little harbor town and started up the castle hill, Gerard thought that half the population of Holovarus must have turned out to have a look.
“Embarrassed to be seen with me, Gerard?” asked Silveo, chiming with every step.
“No,” said Gerard, and found that it was true. He didn’t belong on this island anymore. The knowledge came as a shock and a relief.
Formally dressed servants met them at the castle entrance. They were too polite to stare, but they kept shooting little glances at Silveo out of the corners of their eyes. Lord Holovar was waiting in the antechamber outside the dining hall. “Oh, look,” said Silveo softly, “it’s you in thirty years—if you live that long.”
Lord Holovar was slightly taller than Gerard. He had the hard profile of an active shelt, a face prematurely lined with sun and wind, and iron gray hair that had once been black. He was not the kind of person who smiled often. Gerard could feel his stomach knotting again. He felt as though he were twelve years old and being called in to account for mishandling of the island’s resources or neglect of some duty. Jaleel was standing slightly behind his father, looking sullen. He whispered something as they entered.
“Stop that,” snapped Silveo, and Gerard realized he’d been slapping Silveo on the back of the head with his own lashing tail. “Don’t fidget,” hissed Silveo. “Hold your head up, stay with me, and keep your mouth shut. If you must talk, remember that you are the captain of the Temple Police.”
He strode to the front of the group. “Mishael,” he said just as the king was opening his mouth to speak. “You have the honor of hosting the Temple Sea Watch and the Police this evening, and I’m sure you’re charmed. No doubt your little dining hall is delightful, but I have been on my ship for days and would like to stretch my legs first. May we have a tour of this…uh…fort…castle…whatever…first?” Silveo flipped his hand languidly as he spoke, jingling and glittering with every move.
Gerard watched his father, who was staring in open horror at Silveo. His mouth twitched. His teeth were fairly on edge as he said, “I take it you are Admiral Lamire.”
Silveo yawned. “Yes, yes, my fame precedes me throughout the Lesser Kingdoms.”
Gerard forced himself not to smile. Silveo had hit a nerve. The lords of these little islands preferred “Small Kingdoms,” not “Lesser,” and his father was prickly on the point.
Jaleel made a hiss, and the king’s tail lashed once. “The food,” said Mishael Holovar with studied calm, “will be cold if we do not proceed to dinner. I will be happy to take you on a tour after we have eaten. However, there is one point we must discuss first.”
Silveo raised an eyebrow. “If the food congeals, I’m sure the servants can reheat it. They can probably re-poison it, too; I hope you didn’t use anything expensive.”
Jaleel made another little noise. “I can assure you that nothing you eat in my castle will be poisoned,” said Lord Holovar.
“Good, good,” said Silveo. “My Mistress takes a dim view of those who poison her servants. Now what was this point of yours?”
“My son,” said Mishael Holovar, “is not welcome here unless he has come to apologize on his knees and make appropriate restitution. Otherwise, he is not to set foot on this island.”
Gerard glanced sideways at Silveo. He remembered the advice Silveo had given him on the way to Sern. Is this what you brought me here for, Silveo?
Silveo twirled a bracelet. “It may be the practice of the lesser kingdoms to air family squabbles over dinner, but I find it very dull entertainment.” He gestured at Jaleel. “If he has offended you, surely you can find another place to beat him into submission.”
Lord Holovar’s mouth hardened to a granite line. Gerard could tell he’d had just about enough. “I don’t have to put up with his,” he snarled. “Gerard, either get over here or get out. You were banished, and if you don’t understand what that means, my guards will educate you.” The castle guards dutifully stepped into view on either side of the room.
“Excuse me.” Silveo’s voice was still insipid, but Gerard saw that he was playing with a gold-hilted throwing knife that had magically appeared in his hands. He was flipping it over and under his fingers. “I don’t know what you’re nattering on about, but let me assure you: if you have another son besides that specimen behind you, he is not here. The Watch and the Police are here.” He jerked a finger at Gerard. “If you haven’t met our new Captain of Police, then perhaps you should. I realize that news reaches these little forts rather slowly. Now I have a sudden, intense desire to see your library. Do take us there at once.”
Lord Holovar made a slight and very stiff bow. “I will humor your request against my better judgment. This way.”
Gerard heard Jaleel mutter nastily behind his father, “We’d hate to leave any of his sudden and intense desires unsatisfied.”
“Oh, I know you would,” cooed Silveo loudly. “Come see me when you’re old enough.”
Gerard rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Silveo, he really might kill you if you keep this up.
As they proceeded along the hall, Silveo dropped back a little and murmured, “We’re looking for Thess’s books. You did say she left them here, didn’t you?”
So that’s what this is about. “Yes,” said Gerard.
Silveo nodded. “Just go around and start pulling them out. I’ll handle your delightful family.”
“You’re making them very angry,” whispered Gerard. “My father really might try to throw us in the dungeon, and Jaleel really might try to stab you.”
Silveo nodded. “Gods, I hope so!” He was practically skipping. “Oh, just give me an excuse…!”
“I take it you don’t want me to apologize and foreswear Thess anymore.”
Silveo shook a knife at him. “You apologize, and I’ll hamstring you. Just keep your mouth shut.”
They reached the library, and Gerard began scanning the shelves. He knew his father might have sold or burned Thessalyn’s books, but he doubted it. Mishael was not the sort of king to waste resources, and books were rare and valuable. At first he thought he might not remember the titles, but soon he spotted one and then another. I ought to know them, thought Gerard. I read most of them to her.
Behind him, Silveo was keeping up a banal chatter to his father, his brother, and an assortment of castle guards who’d trooped in behind. Gerard stopped suddenly. He was looking at a book called The Non-grishnards of Wefrivain. The author’s name was Flag.
Gerard plucked the book off the shelf and leafed through it. He was sure he’d never seen it before, and he’d read every book in this library. He rounded on Jaleel. “Where did this come from?”
Jaleel stepped back, his jaw working at something Silveo had said. “What?” he snarled.
Gerard shook the book in his face. “This book was not here before I left. Where did it come from?”
Jaleel snatched the book, glanced at the title, and tossed it down on the table. He’d never had much use for books. “I have no idea. Perhaps that storm crow left it. He spent a few hours in the library.”
“Storm crow?” repeated Gerard. It was what they called the shelts who washed up from wrecks.
“Shavier faun. He was here two days ago. Probably stranded by the same storm that ripped apart your precious ship.”
Silveo spoke before Gerard could. “Did he have lenses?”
“Lenses and an ugly pet,” said Jaleel. “A w
inged wolf.”
Gerard and Silveo looked at each other. “He was here!” exclaimed Gerard.
“I told you there was an animal in that teahouse,” said Silveo. “Winged wolf. That sounds about right.”
Lord Holovar did not seem interested in discussions about their previous guest. He had walked over to the table and examined the pile of books Gerard was pulling down. When he turned back, his eyes were murderous. “You ungrateful, dishonorable whelp,” he snarled at Gerard. “So you’ve come to rob me? You think that just because you’ve made friends with some two-cowry dock rat from the Sea Watch, you can come home and plunder my library for your peasant wife?”
Silveo was strolling along looking at the shelves behind Gerard. “Do I hear a yapping?” he asked. “Or perhaps it’s a squeaking—some small vermin amongst the books.”
Lord Holovar’s face had turned purple. “You and this mountebank have tried my patience long enough!” he roared. “Do you think I can’t take that half-broken hulk in the harbor? Do you think I can’t execute this rabble? You’re not my son, and you’re not under my protection.”
“Excuse me,” came Silveo’s voice, still sweet, but Gerard detected something boiling underneath. Lord Holovar turned. Silveo had hopped onto one of the reading tables, so that Lord Holovar had to look up at him.
“Get off that, you wretched squirrel. I should give you to my guards and let them treat you as what you look like.”
Silveo’s smile solidified, and his eyes turned as cold as glass marbles. When he spoke again, his voice had razor blades in it. “Let me explain something to you, Mishael: you are nothing. If you think you own this island, you’re a fool. If your god thinks he owns it, then he’s a fool, too. I know who owns every island in Wefrivain, and she’s my Mistress.
“If she finds you’ve injured—or even threatened—her servants, let me explain what she can do to you. Your neighbors consult their local deities for omens, signs, advice. If those deities tell them to go to war with you, they will. If the wyverns tell them not to trade with you, they’ll do that, too. My Mistress can strangle your little island, and that’s only the beginning.”
Silveo paced the length of the table. His tail had bristled until it was nearly as big as the rest of him. The bells had disappeared. “You may have heard what I did on Sern when I took over the Watch. She gave me that island like a newborn pegasus colt for the pots, and I took it to pieces. Eight years later, they’re still putting themselves back together. I happen to know she’s very pleased with her new Captain of Police. If Gerard said, ‘Mistress, I’d like to burn Holovarus and sow it with salt,’ I’m sure she’d say, ‘Do you need any extra firewood, dear?’”
There was an echo of footfalls in the hall at that moment, and three frightened guards raced into the room. “Sire,” panted one, “four wyverns are circling the castle. What shall we do?”
Silveo’s eyes glittered. “I hear you’re fond of sacrificing royals around here. Perhaps the gods would like another. Shall we ask them, Mishael?”
Lord Holovar had gone gray. Gerard had never seen his father look like that before. Silveo slapped him hard across the face. Every guard in the room reached for his sword, but Lord Holovar reeled back and held up his hand. He did not raise his head or look at Silveo. He gave no order. The guards hesitated.
Silveo hissed. “Don’t you dare threaten me, you pathetic little king. I’ll take what I want when I want it. Now get out! I’ll ask for you if I want you. Get—out!”
Moments later, they were alone in the library. Silveo had sent Farell and his captains to eat. “No point wasting good food,” he told them. “Bring some back to the ship for us; I think we’ll be busy.”
Gerard cleared his throat. “Well, that was nasty.”
“Felt good, didn’t it?” Silveo was leafing through the book Gwain had left. He shook a finger at Gerard. “Don’t think I’m doing this for you.”
Gerard smiled and looked at the floor. “Of course you’re not.”
“I’m doing this because it amuses me.”
“And for Thessalyn.”
“Yes,” said Silveo, entirely willing to admit favors for Thessalyn. He gestured around the library. “Shall we take all of them? I suppose we could burn what we don’t want, but I’m not sure I can bear it. Burning books is just vile.”
Gerard shook his head. “Silveo, it’s so hard to get books out here. They’re at least two or three times more expensive than in the Great Islands. This collection is the work of at least six generations of Holovars. I don’t want to plunder his library. I really don’t. Let’s just take Thess’s books and go.”
Silveo shook his bells in annoyance. “Didn’t you hear what he said to you? What does it take to make you angry, Gerard?”
“Well, you’ve managed to do it a few times.”
“He killed your daughter.”
Gerard shut his eyes. He took a deep breath. “Hoepali—the local god—killed my daughter. My father did nothing to stop it, but it wasn’t his idea. I’m sure that no matter what he says, he will feel guilty about it until the day he dies. This is enough, Silveo. I don’t want to wreck Holovarus.”
Silveo stared at him curiously. “What did you do to make the god so angry?”
Gerard shrugged. “He gave omens that I shouldn’t marry Thess, and I defied him. I should never have asked for the omens, but she wanted me to.” Gerard rubbed his eyes. I don’t want to talk about this, Silveo.
For once, Silveo didn’t press. “He was, mostly, a good father,” said Gerard, trying to change the subject. “At least when I was young.”
Silveo shrugged. “Well, he would have to be an improvement on my mother. Very well, then. We won’t take all his books.”
“Did you not have a father?” asked Gerard.
Silveo hopped down from the table. “I’m sure I did. Nearly everyone does.”
Gerard smiled. “And your mother wasn’t much of a mother?”
“Well, you said it before we left Lecklock.”
Gerard took a second to process this. You are a coward and a fool, still as much a dock rat as the day your mother sold you. He groaned. “If I had believed for a moment— I am so sorry I said that, Silveo. I know words don’t mean much to you, but—”
Silveo was grinning up at him. “It is so pathetically easy to make you squirm, Gerard. I keep thinking I’ll get tired of it, but it’s too much fun. Stop being sorry. Did Thess leave anything else she valued here?”
“Lots of pretty things that my father has probably sold.” And she loved shells and smooth stones and flower petals. I’m sure he dumped those out on the back step. “Nearly all her clothes,” said Gerard. “She had some glorious clothes.”
“He made her leave her clothes?” exclaimed Silveo in horror. “Why didn’t you just take them?”
Gerard spread his hands. “We left in the middle of the night! I thought the god might ask for her next. We just scooped up what we could carry and ran.”
“And you ran to the Temple Watch.” Silveo shook his head.
Gerard shrugged. “It was the only honorable way out I could think of—the only thing that might put us beyond the reach of the gods.”
Silveo had started to sneer at the word honorable, but he stopped when Gerard finished. “Well, you’re not wrong there. If Morchella values you, no wyvern will touch you. You just might not like the price.”
Gerard felt suddenly cold. “How did you get those wyverns here?”
“A messenger came to the ship this morning. He wanted to know if we needed anything. I asked for a demonstration this evening.”
Gerard could feel himself bristling uncomfortably. He didn’t want to owe Morchella anything.
The Guild of the Cowry Catchers, Book 1: Embers Page 32