Privateer

by Margaret Weis

  “Especially when he knew you were going to be hanged!” Thomas added, frowning. “You held letters of marque. You were in Freeport on Wallace’s orders. This Mr. Sloan should have gone to Maribeau to try to save you.”

  “Sir Henry has his faults,” Phillip added, “but he is loyal to those who serve him.”

  He was eyeing her askance. He didn’t want to say anything, but he guessed she wasn’t being honest about why she had come to Freeport.

  “So tell me what happened with Mr. Sloan,” Kate said. “Did he recognize you? Sir Henry was livid with rage when I gave him the message that you quit his service. He would have killed you on the spot if you had been there.”

  “Yes, he recognized me,” said Phillip. “Here is what happened. After we arranged with Old Benito to borrow the hopper, Thomas went with him to the dock to fetch it, and I waited in the Parrot to pick up the supplies. I was leaning on the bar when the door opened and in walked Mr. Sloan.

  “I was never so shocked in my life!” Phillip added, shaking his head. “Neither was he. He knew me at once. I was cornered, nowhere to run. He walked up to the bar and stood right beside me.

  “He ordered ale. When Gert went to fetch the ale, Mr. Sloan spoke quietly, not looking at me, ‘I regret that I am not at leisure to apprehend you for treason today, Your Grace. Another time, perhaps.’ Gert brought Mr. Sloan his ale. He took it, turned from me without a glance, and walked away to sit down at a table. As you might imagine, the moment she handed me the supplies, I left in haste.”

  “Poor Pip looked as though he had seen a ghost,” Thomas said.

  “I wonder why Mr. Sloan pretended he didn’t know you?” Kate said, puzzled.

  “The answer is obvious,” Phillip said. “Mr. Sloan is here on some sort of undercover mission and he was afraid I would expose him.”

  “But how would he know you would keep his secret?”

  “Because, I am sure, he assumes that I am here on a secret mission of my own,” said Phillip. “If I exposed him, I would end up exposing myself. Thus we each had to pretend that neither of us knew the other. What he didn’t know, of course, is that I am here as myself.”

  “Spies lead very confusing lives,” said Thomas.

  “Which is why I have since given up the trade,” said Phillip.

  “So why would Mr. Sloan be in Freeport?” Thomas pondered the question. “Let’s face it, this town is not the world’s capital of international intrigue! It has one street and it’s mostly mud. This man must be here because of you, Kate. Which means you could still be in danger.”

  Phillip shook his head. “Mr. Sloan had to know Kate was in prison in Maribeau. Everyone on the island knew.”

  Kate could guess the reason. She could explain everything to them and she probably should, for now Phillip was involved and, although he made light of it, he was in danger. Mr. Sloan might be here on other business, but he would not forget he had seen Phillip, and when he was free to act on that knowledge, he would find a way to track him down and take him into custody.

  If Kate told them the truth, she would have to reveal unpleasant facts about herself. She had always avoided that, if possible, for she did not want to disappoint those who cared for her. Lies were so much easier, kept everyone happy. Sweep the dust into a corner and hope Olaf never saw it.

  But she owed Thomas and Phillip her life. At the very least, they deserved to know what was really going on.

  “I think I know why Mr. Sloan is here,” she said.

  Thomas and Phillip had been talking of something else. They turned to her, startled.

  “It does have something to do with me,” Kate admitted. “I did something bad, although I had good reason for doing it. But what I did wasn’t nearly as bad as what Sir Henry thinks I did. You must believe me!”

  She gave them a pleading look.

  Thomas smiled. “Of course we believe you, Kate. How bad could it possibly be?”

  “Sir Henry thinks I murdered the dragon Lady Odila.”

  “Good God!” Phillip exclaimed, stunned.

  Thomas said nothing, but she saw a shadow darken his eyes. “Why would he think you were involved?”

  “Because I was,” said Kate simply. “Greenstreet was only a mouthpiece for a dragon called Coreg. The dragon was the true head of the criminal organization that operated out of Freeport. I know because I used to work for him.”

  She told them the whole story, leaving out only Trubgek—Coreg’s servant. She didn’t like to think about him, much less talk about him.

  “Someone told Coreg that there existed a magical spell that could kill a dragon while it was asleep in its lair. Coreg hired me to steal the spell. I refused at first,” said Kate, seeing Thomas and Phillip both looking troubled. “But his servant threatened to burn my ship and hurt Olaf if I didn’t. I told Dalgren, who said he had heard rumors that such a spell existed. I told him I would never harm a dragon, but I was in a tight spot, because I owed a lot of money to Greenstreet, and thus to Coreg. Feeling I needed the advice of someone who could be objective about the situation, I turned to my friend Miss Amelia, who writes for the Haever Gazette.”

  “She’s the one who writes the stories about you,” Thomas said, interrupting.

  Kate nodded. “She had heard that the spell existed, but that it didn’t work. We decided that I should steal it, but instead of giving it to Coreg, she and I would take it to Sir Henry. I went to the house and found the spell.”

  She shivered. “It was horrible. I knew the moment I saw it that Miss Amelia was wrong. The spell would work. But before I could take it to Miss Amelia, a man came out of the shadows, attacked me, and drugged me into insensibility. When I next awoke, I was in Barwich Manor, covered in blood. And Lady Odila was dead, killed by that spell.”

  “So you were a cat’s-paw,” said Phillip. He frowned. “Does Sir Henry really think you were responsible? Such a powerful spell must be difficult to cast. You’re a fair crafter, Kate, but something so powerful would require the skill of a savant.”

  “Miss Amelia said the same thing. She was going to tell Sir Henry the truth about Coreg. She said I would be safe, but I didn’t dare take a chance. Sir Henry was in political trouble over this because of Freya’s troubled relations with dragons. He needed to make an arrest, and I feared he wouldn’t care very much who he arrested. So I fled.

  “My plan was to sail to the Aligoes to talk to Coreg, convince him to tell me who had hired him. But then Dalgren…”

  Kate couldn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t bear to think about the last words he had said to her. As Olaf is always saying, you are your father’s daughter. He hadn’t meant it as a compliment.

  “Dalgren thought you committed the murder,” said Thomas.

  “He did,” said Kate, swallowing. “I had to talk to Coreg! I had to convince Dalgren of the truth. So I came to the Aligoes and … all my plans went horribly wrong. And now I’ve lost Dalgren and my ship and my crew.”

  “You have us, Kate,” said Thomas.

  She gave him a grateful look.

  “I seem to be a bit lost,” said Phillip. “How does the murder of Lady Odila and you being framed for it explain Mr. Sloan’s presence in Freeport?”

  “I think he came to do the same thing I was going to do,” said Kate. “Sir Henry sent Mr. Sloan to learn the truth from Coreg.”

  “Ah, of course!” Phillip exclaimed. “He would not advertise to the world that he worked for Sir Henry.”

  Kate grew despondent. “But if Greenstreet is gone, then I fear Coreg may have left, as well. And if he is gone, too, then I have no proof to give Dalgren.”

  “Perhaps Mr. Sloan found out the truth,” said Phillip. “If anyone could twist the arm of a dragon and convince him to spill what he knows, it would be Mr. Sloan.”

  Kate smiled. “I hope so. Thank you both. You make me feel better.”

  “Where did Dalgren go?” Thomas asked.

  “He went back to the Dragon Duchies,” Kate said.


  She said nothing more, and she was glad Thomas didn’t ask. Dalgren’s dark secret wasn’t hers to tell.

  Kate steered the island hopper through the maze of narrow channels that wound among the islands. She had made the trip often and picked out landmarks to guide her: west at a particular large banyan tree, east after passing under an overhanging rock ledge, south at the waterfall.

  The only problem with using landmarks was that the floating islands often shifted location, especially the smaller ones. Thus for guidance she also had to rely on her sense of direction, the position of the sun, and the wind on her cheek.

  Even though Old Benito’s boat was small, sailing through the narrow channels was not easy. The islands were uninhabited, overgrown with jungle trees and plants. Dangling vines and low-hanging tree limbs fouled the rigging. Floating chunks of rock could crash into the hull and sink a small boat. She gave Phillip and Thomas boat hooks to fend off the rocks.

  The air was hot and humid, and filled with raucous noises. Monkeys gibbered at them; birds with bright-colored plumage flitted past; Dalgren’s favorite meal—wild hogs—snorted at them from the underbrush. Rain showers drenched them one moment, the sun shone brightly the next.

  Kate found her gaze straying to Thomas, who was at the prow, standing ready with a boat hook. His face, shaded by the broad brim of the hat, was now reddened by the sun, and his shoulder-length, curly black hair straggled about his face. He had opened his shirt collar and unbuttoned his shirt, which was soaked with rainwater. At Kate’s suggestion, he and Phillip had shed their shoes and stockings. Bare feet found easier purchase on the wet deck.

  He must have been a good officer, Kate thought, recalling his courage in Braffa. His was an indomitable spirit, buoyed by confidence and cheerfulness, anchored by honor. Kate’s spirit was similar, except that hers was stubborn and energetic, “full of piss and vinegar,” her father had often said with a laugh.

  “You two can rest now,” Kate told her crew. “We’re through the worst of the rocks.”

  Thomas and Phillip were thankful for the respite; they dropped the boat hooks and wiped away the sweat with their shirtsleeves. Phillip had purchased a jug of cold cider from the Parrot, and while it was no longer cold, it tasted good and slaked their thirst.

  “What I don’t understand is how the Rosians ever found your ship,” Thomas said, sitting next to her and passing her the jug.

  “Greenstreet betrayed me for the bounty money,” said Kate. “He told the Rosians where to look for the Victorie.”

  Kate drank and passed the jug to Phillip.

  He, like Thomas, was red-faced from the sun, his shock of yellow hair damp and rumpled. He had removed the hat and now was using it as a fan.

  “Tell us your plan to save your friends,” he said. “Do you know where they went down?”

  “I was onshore, trying to board the ship,” Kate said. “Victorie was on fire. The powder magazine had blown up and she was sinking fast. I heard a crash not far from where I was standing. There are scores of islands in the Deep Breath. She must have landed on one of those.”

  “On fire,” Phillip repeated, looking grave. “And no way to put it out.”

  “I’ve seen wrecks where the crew managed to escape a burning ship,” said Kate.

  “Then there’s the cold—” Phillip began.

  “They can use wood from the ship to build a fire,” said Kate. “My friend Akiel knows magic that can warm the blood.”

  “But Kate…” Phillip began.

  “Just tell us what we can do to help, Kate,” Thomas said, giving his friend a frowning glance.

  “My plan is to sail down below the Deep Breath in the Barwich Rose,” said Kate. “Pip remembers her.”

  “The dear old Rose was a grand lady,” said Phillip. “I am glad she is still among the living. Tom is right. He and I will help any way we can.”

  “You are right,” Kate admitted. “The trip will be cold and perilous and it might all be for nothing. The Rose could be hit by rocks or get caught in magical tides. And if we crash, there will be no one to come to save us. I have to go, but I won’t blame you if you back out.”

  Thomas took off his hat and ran his hand through his sweat-damp hair. “I cannot speak for Pip, but I am looking forward to being out of this blazing sun. I imagine the Deep Breath will feel quite cool and refreshing.”

  “I’ll remind you of that when your teeth are chattering and you can no longer feel your feet,” Phillip said to him, grinning.

  Kate looked from one to the other with heartfelt gratitude.

  “I do not know how I can ever thank you enough,” she said. “First you save my life and now you are helping me save the lives of my crew. I am serious about repaying my debt to you. If I can ever do anything—”

  Thomas leaned back against the gunwale and smiled at her. “Promise to dance with me.”

  “What?” said Kate, taken aback. “I am trying to be serious.”

  “So am I,” said Thomas. “One dance, Kate. That is all I ask.”

  “Very well, sir,” said Kate, teasing. “The next royal ball I attend, I will add Your Highness to my dance card.”

  “I look forward to it,” said Thomas.

  Kate eyed him. “You know I am making sport of you.”

  “All I know is that you have just promised to dance with me,” said Thomas.

  “What will your princess say?” Kate asked archly, hoping to ruffle his maddening calm.

  Thomas merely smiled and cast a sidelong glance at Phillip, who flushed to the roots of his hair and shot his friend a warning look in return.

  Kate wondered what this bit of byplay was about, but she couldn’t take time to ask. The hopper had entered the winding, narrow straits near the cove and she had to concentrate on her sailing.

  The hopper rounded a bend in the channel, and the cove came into view. Kate had braced herself to face what she knew would be a scene of destruction, but she had not braced herself to face the memories.

  Flames blazed in her eyes, smoke filled her nostrils. Cannonballs crashed into the hull of her ship, tore through the rigging. The screams of the wounded and the dying dinned in her ears.

  Kate lowered her head. Her vision blurred, and her hand trembled on the helm. A horrible warm sensation flooded her body, and a bad taste filled her mouth. Her ship was sinking and she was sinking with it …

  The next thing she knew a strong arm was supporting her and someone was dabbing her lips with water.

  Kate blinked and her head cleared. She was sitting on the deck with Thomas’s arm around her. Pip had taken over at the helm, and they were both regarding her with sympathy and concern.

  Kate gently pushed Thomas away. “What happened?”

  “You fainted,” said Thomas.

  “I never faint!” Kate protested. She tried to sit up and failed. “I … passed out from the heat. That’s all.”

  Thomas handed her a waterskin. She drank, and felt better. She forced herself to look at the cove, daring the memories to come for her again. When the magazine had exploded, the trees had caught fire. They were blackened and burned, their limbs dangling. The anchor lay on the ground. She remembered the desperate fight she had waged to free it from the bollards.

  She steeled herself to look for the remains of the sailor who had died at her feet. The body wasn’t there and the frequent rains had washed away the blood. Either the Rosians had tossed the body Below or some wild beast had carried it off.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Kate, but where am I going?” Phillip asked from his place at the helm.

  Kate shook herself, came back to business. “Head east toward that point. On the other side is an inlet. We hid the Rose in there.”

  Phillip sailed the boat in the direction indicated. Kate turned away from the burned trees and looked toward the point where the trees were still green and lush. Her spirits rose. If the Rosians had found her ship, they would have set fire to it and burned down the jungle.

&nb
sp; They sailed into the small inlet. She and Olaf had tied the Barwich Rose to the trees, then lowered the sails, deflated the colorful balloons, and covered the deck with canvas to protect it from the wind and the rain.

  “Are you certain the Rose is in there?” Pip asked.

  “I’m certain,” said Kate, and she was quite sure now.

  As Phillip edged the boat closer to the shore, Kate caught glimpses of canvas and rigging and finally the bowsprit sticking out from among the brush.

  “She’s safe!” Kate breathed.

  Her despondency lifted, blown away by a strong breath of hope, and her strength and energy returned. Ignoring Thomas’s remonstrations, she climbed out of the hopper the moment Phillip landed on a sandy strip of beach.

  Kate ran to the Rose and began tugging at one of the tarps that covered the hull.

  “The dear old Rose,” she said, climbing onto the deck. “I grew up on this boat.”

  The Barwich Rose was ninety feet long with a wide beam, two full decks, two masts, two large balloons, four lift tanks, and four airscrews. She had no cannon, only a couple of swivel guns for defense. Morgan had chosen to forgo the weight of cannon in order to increase the Rose’s speed. He would always choose to outrun trouble if he could.

  Phillip was looking around, frowning. “The Rose had a crew of fifteen. Can three of us sail her?”

  “If we were heading out into the open Breath, no,” Kate said. “But we’re not going far. We’re mostly going straight down.”

  “In other words,” said Phillip, “it’s difficult to float, easy to sink.”

  “You’re such a comfort,” said Thomas.

  EIGHT

  Months had passed since Kate and Olaf had hidden the Rose, and had left for Freya in the Victorie. Kate went first to check the level of gas in the main lift tanks and the reserve. If the tanks had rusted and the gas leaked out, her hopes of setting sail would quickly be dashed. She would have to send Thomas and Pip back to Freeport to obtain more gas.

  She was relieved to find that the tanks were still in relatively good condition, each about half full.