Henry sighed. “One last question. Have you found out anything about this mysterious mention of this Day of Talionis?”
“The answer is obvious. Lex talionis. Law of Retribution. Day of Talionis. Day of Retribution,” Simon replied. “On that day, these people will act to take retribution for whatever crime they believe has been committed against them.”
“But who are these people?” Henry demanded. “What day? What time?”
“Shouting at me won’t help, Henry,” said Simon. “The date could be a specific time in the future or any day they choose to act. As for the crime, the Faithful blame the queen and her family for every outrage committed in the past one hundred and fifty years. We have no way of knowing.”
“Teetering on the precipice,” Henry muttered. “I am sorry I shouted.”
Simon gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I am spoiling your evening.”
“No, no,” said Henry. “As you said, I need to know.”
They heard the sound of another crash coming from the vicinity of the parlor.
Simon smiled and waved his hand. “Go to your guests, Henry. You need to save your furniture from Randolph.”
Henry had played many roles in his life. He was not only a spymaster, he was himself a very good spy. He was fluent in many languages and he had a variety of aliases and disguises secreted in locations about the world. He could transform himself into a dull-witted Guundaran thug, a cunning Travian cartel owner, a dissolute Braffan oligarch. This night, he had to set aside his troubles and transform himself into a gracious host.
The transformation did him good, made the night in which he wandered seem less dark. Lady Ann was a superb hostess. She and Cook had done an excellent job planning the menu. The meal consisted of many courses and was excellent. Lord Percy and Randolph were at opposite ends of the table. Alan apparently found the charming niece charming, for he devoted all his time to her. Amelia told stories of Captain Kate to an enthralled audience. Simon did not once mention intestinal diseases in cattle, although he did enlighten the assembly on the subject of truffle pigs.
Henry was pleased to see his guests enjoying themselves. When his wife and the other ladies rose at the end of the meal to leave the gentlemen to their port, he caught his wife’s eye and smiled to let her know he was proud of her.
As the gentlemen handed the port around, the subject started to turn to Freyan politics, complaints about the queen, the economy, and so on. Henry could say nothing to defend the queen without starting an argument. He was grateful to Alan, who began to discuss the prospects of this autumn’s grouse shooting. Lord Percy said that grouse shooting reminded him of the battle between HMS Falcon and the Rosian Belle Fleur, which upon hearing the remark made Randolph flush purple. And with that, Henry rose to say they should join the ladies for tea.
Randolph sat down at the card table, and Alan settled himself on the love seat with the charming Lady Annabelle. Simon and Amelia began discussing King Ullr, and Henry was about to join the card players when Jacobs intercepted him.
“I apologize for disturbing you, my lord, but there is a person to see you.”
“A messenger from the palace?” Henry asked immediately.
“Far from it, my lord,” Jacobs replied. “To judge by the fact that he attempted to persuade me to bet on a horse, I believe him to be a racecourse tout. He first asked for Mr. Sloan. I said he wasn’t available and asked to know his business. The man refused to tell me. I would have sent him upon his way, but you gave orders that if anyone came asking for Mr. Sloan, no matter what time of day or night, I should apprise you at once—”
“Quite right, Jacobs,” said Henry. “Where is he?”
“Given his unsavory appearance, I deemed it best if we kept him out of sight in the butler’s pantry. George, the footman, is with him now.”
“I will come at once,” said Henry.
When Lady Ann saw Jacobs speaking to her husband, she raised an inquisitive eyebrow in his direction. Henry smiled to let her know all was well, and accompanied Jacobs down the stairs.
Henry judged that this man must be one of Mr. Sloan’s many informants and he again lamented the absence of his secretary, who would have dealt with the situation effectively and discreetly, and left Henry to his party.
The butler’s pantry was a small service and storage room located off the kitchen. Henry found George, the footman, listening to the blandishments of a short, slight man, probably a former jockey, who was attempting to lure George into parting with his money.
“I tell you straight up, George, my lad, that Candy Apple is a sure bet for a win in the derby tomorrow. The only reason I’m giving you this tip is because I like you, George—”
“That will be all, George,” said Henry, entering the pantry.
George departed in haste, looking relieved. The man turned to Henry with a beaming smile and rakish air.
“How ’bout you, my lord? Candy Apple is guaranteed to run away—”
“Thank you, no,” said Henry, shutting the door. “You asked for Mr. Sloan. I am sorry he is unavailable. What is your name?”
“Jenkins, my lord,” said the tout, doffing a jaunty hat.
“Do you have a tip for me on something other than a horse, Jenkins?” Henry asked.
“Might be nothin’, my lord, but Mr. Sloan is always very happy to hear from me.”
“Very well, Jenkins, what information do you have?”
“I’ve been hangin’ about the grog shops by the docks, my lord. The dockworkers aren’t happy. They’ve not been paid in a month—”
“Get to the point,” said Henry sharply.
“There’s talk of a strike, my lord. The workers plan to march on the Naval Yard—”
“When?”
“Tonight, my lord.”
“Tonight!” Henry repeated, startled. He had heard no rumors of trouble among the dockworkers. “How many men are involved?”
“A handful are doing the talkin’ right now, my lord. They’re buyin’ the grog and workin’ the crowd into a lather.”
“Thank you for the information, Jenkins. Wait here,” said Henry.
“One other thing I should mention, sir—”
“Well, Jenkins?” Henry said, thinking this better not be about Candy Apple.
“The men who are buyin’ the grog and talkin’ trouble are not from around here, my lord. Leastwise, I don’t recognize them and I know most everyone who works the docks,” he added with pride.
“I’ll bet you do,” Henry muttered.
He left, shutting the door behind him, and sought out Jacobs.
“Give Mr. Jenkins a silver talon and show him the door. See to it that he does not talk to any of the other servants,” Henry instructed.
He mulled over what Jenkins had said and pondered what to do. The ships of the fleet were currently docked in the Naval Yard where they were being refitted.
Henry knew the dockworkers were unhappy. The government was teetering on the brink of financial ruin. The navy had to allocate what funds they had and the Admiralty had decided that refitting the ships to use the crystallized form of the Breath as opposed to the liquid was a high priority. The crystals provided more lift; ships could fly longer and at higher altitudes. They had taken pains to explain this to the dockworkers and appeal to their patriotism to keep working.
Still, the workers could not eat patriotism nor feed it to their children. Yet Henry considered it likely that Jenkins was exaggerating the seriousness of the situation, just as he was undoubtedly exaggerating the merits of Candy Apple.
But even a few men marching on the Naval Yard was bound to draw a crowd and could end in another riot. Henry was also troubled by Jenkins’s information that the men who were stirring up the trouble were apparently strangers. Henry sighed and rubbed his forehead, and gave orders to send for his coach.
When he returned to the parlor, his wife was pouring tea. He bent down to say softly, “I am summoned to the palac
e, my love. I am sorry, but I must go.”
“Oh, dear,” said Ann, dismayed. “Must you leave now?”
“I am afraid so,” said Henry. He kissed her and added, “With luck, I will be gone only a short while.”
Henry cast a glance around the room. The charming Lady Annabelle was playing the spinet with Alan sitting beside her, turning the pages for her; Randolph was glaring at his cards as though they had personally offended him; and Simon and Amelia were deep in discussion regarding the current refusal of shortsighted parents to allow their children to study contramagic.
Seeing that no one was paying attention to him, Henry slipped out a side door and went to the front hall. He sent the footman to fetch his hat and greatcoat and stood looking out the window for the coach.
“There he stands, Randolph,” said Alan. “The wretch. Thinking he could give us the slip.”
“As if we wouldn’t notice him sneaking off like a goddamn thief,” Randolph grumbled.
“Were you really intending to leave us behind while you have all the fun, Henry?” Simon asked in a hurt tone.
Henry turned to see his friends assembled in the hall, eyeing him with mock severity.
“I am going to the palace—” he began.
“No, you are not,” said Simon. “I saw you go below stairs with Jacobs. You came up looking worried, whispered to your wife, and then tried to sneak away before we noticed.”
“The truth, Henry,” Alan added. “We will have it out of you sooner or later.”
Henry regarded them with exasperation. “If you must know, I received a report that some of the dockworkers are threatening to shut down the Naval Yard—”
“Goddamn dockworkers!” Randolph burst out angrily. “Treason! That’s what it is! I say we hang the lot of them!”
“They haven’t been paid in a month, Randolph,” Simon remonstrated. “They have families to feed.”
“Still…” Randolph growled. “Unpatriotic.”
“And is it patriotic to starve children?” Simon demanded.
“Stop it, both of you,” said Alan with a meaningful glance at Henry, who was looking grim.
“Sorry, Henry,” said Randolph. “I know this goddamn mess isn’t your fault.”
“We are definitely coming with you,” Alan stated. “Don’t worry. We won’t delay you. Simon already asked Jacobs to fetch our coats.”
“My chair won’t fit in your coach,” Simon added. “I’ve sent Albright to bring my conveyance around. We’ll follow you.”
“Now see here!” said Henry, losing patience. “I can slip out of the party unnoticed, but if all of four of us leave, people will talk. Lady Ann will be extremely upset—”
“Lady Ann was the one who sent us, Henry,” said Alan. “Your wife said on no account were we to allow you to go alone.”
Henry stared, amazed.
“Oh, come now, Henry,” said Simon. “Your wife is an intelligent and perceptive woman who was raised in a palace fraught with intrigue. Did you really think she believes your tales of urgent late-night summonings to attend Her Majesty?”
“I did, rather…” said Henry, dazed. “But … our guests…”
“Lady Ann has made our excuses,” Alan said.
“She is even keeping that goddamn female journalist occupied so she doesn’t rush after us,” Randolph said.
“You have a wonderful wife, Henry,” Alan said. “I hope you know you do not deserve her.”
“Trust me, I know,” said Henry.
The coach rolled up, and shortly after, Mr. Albright arrived with Simon’s wyvern-drawn carriage that had been specially designed to hold his chair.
“Albright, we will fly my carriage over the Naval Yard,” Simon ordered. “Take a look around.”
“You will not!” Alan protested, alarmed.
“Have you forgotten what happened when that goddamn house of yours accidentally floated over the Naval Yard?” Randolph demanded.
“You were lucky the patrol boats didn’t open fire on you!” Henry said.
“All that ruckus over a simple miscalculation in wind speed,” stated Simon, nettled.
“You are making far too much out of a few disgruntled dockworkers,” Henry said, putting on his hat. “Once the men sober up, they will think better of it and go home to their beds. Still, if you insist—”
“We do,” said Alan.
He and the others walked outside, heading for the coach, while Mr. Albright came to assist Simon.
Henry paused before leaving to look back into the parlor. His wife was standing beside the spinet, singing a duet with Lady Annabelle. Ann felt his gaze and half turned her head to smile at him.
“I do not walk alone in the darkness. Your heavenly light will guide me into eternity,” Henry reflected. “Alan is right, my love. I do not deserve you.”
“Henry, stop goddamn lollygagging!” Randolph roared.
THIRTY-FOUR
The Royal Naval Dockyards, known more simply as the Naval Yard, was located on Zak Street near the harbor, where the ships of the Freyan navy floated at anchor in the Breath. The dockyards were massive, for all the materials needed to refit, repair, and build ships were manufactured here under the watchful eye of the Admiralty.
The Naval Yard could be likened to a small, self-contained city within a city. The vast complex included warehouses, forges, metalworking and woodworking shops, roperies, crafting facilities, victualing yard, ballooning equipment, and repair shops, and the armory with its vital stores of gunpowder, ammunition, swivel guns, cannons, and cannonballs. The Admiralty had administrative offices here, as well as barracks for resident officers, ships’ crafters, and guards.
A number of ships were in the dockyard, currently being refitted to use the crystalline form of the Breath. Among these was Randolph’s flagship, the Valor; frigates and warships belonging to the Expeditionary fleet; and Alan’s ship, the Terrapin, so called because the hull was protected by a “shell” of Pietro Alcazar’s famous magical steel plates.
Alcazar had relocated his own shop to the Naval Yard, because Henry planned to build another ship similar to the Terrapin, using the same steel—now much improved—and with an advanced design. Unfortunately, a lack of funds had put a stop to the project, at least for now.
As Randolph had informed Alan, the work on his flagship, the Valor, had been completed. The ship was now ready for a test sail. The workers were just finishing the Terrapin, which had needed extensive work. The weight added by the steel plates meant the ship required more lift and thus would have to use more of the precious crystals unless the crafters could devise some means to reduce the amount. They had done so and were close to completing the task.
The grog shops located near the dockyards catered to both sailors and dockworkers. The shops were doing a brisk business tonight. Looking out the coach window, Henry could see people milling about in the streets outside the shops, singing and laughing. He saw no signs of trouble.
“I think Jenkins just needed betting money,” Henry said.
Alan laughed. “If that’s the case, we should return to the party. I promised Lady Annabelle that we should go out riding in the park tomorrow. She is a most charming young woman.”
The Naval Yard was surrounded by a brick wall eight feet in height with only two entry points. One was the harbor itself and the other a gate consisting of magically reinforced, solid iron bars with spikes on top set between two large stone watch towers. Street lamps illuminated the highway that ran in front of the Naval Yard. Lamps shone on the gate and inside the watchtower, where soldiers stood guard.
Patrol boats guarded the harbor, where each ship had its own cubbyholelike berth. Those needing extensive repair could be hauled ashore and laid on their sides if necessary. The harbor was guarded day and night by the boats that sailed along the shoreline.
Another patrol boat guarded the air above the Naval Yard, as Simon had lamentably discovered. Ships, wyvern-drawn carriages, yachts, and griffin-riders were forbidde
n to fly over the dockyards. The marines aboard the boat would order the offender to land or face being blown out of the sky. They would then escort the interlopers off the property and hand them over to the police.
The coach drove up to the front gate, which was closed and locked for the night. Henry and Alan and Randolph climbed out and approached the gate. Mr. Albright assisted Simon with his chair and he joined them.
A wicket gate opened in the side of the wall and a guard came out to meet them. The corporal was young and clearly disconcerted by the arrival of four gentlemen in evening attire, one of them in a floating chair.
Alan stepped into the light of the lantern that hung over the gate.
“I believe you know me, Corporal. Captain Northrop,” Alan said.
The corporal saluted. “Captain Northrop, sir.”
He was relieved, but also puzzled. Then he caught sight of Randolph and his eyes widened. He stiffened and saluted. “Admiral Baker!”
Alan continued the introductions. “Sir Henry Wallace and Mr. Simon Yates. We would like to speak to the officer of the watch on a matter of some urgency.”
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir,” said the corporal.
He ushered them through the wicket gate, looking startled as Simon’s chair whisked past him. The corporal sent a fellow marine to fetch the officer of the watch.
“How has the watch gone tonight, Corporal?” Alan asked. “Anything out of the ordinary?”
“Quiet as a churchyard, Captain,” the marine reported.
The watch commander arrived to confirm the marine’s report. “Why do you ask, Captain Northrop? Are you expecting trouble?”
“We had a report that some disgruntled dockworkers might march on the yard,” said Alan. “Apparently our informant was wrong.”
“I hope you didn’t pay that goddamn tout too much, Henry,” said Randolph.
“The grog shops close in a hour or so,” said Henry. “We will wait around just to be certain.”
“Then let’s go someplace warm,” said Randolph, rubbing his hands.
Privateer Page 34