by B A Simmons
Edwin made his way back along the docks where he found the crews of the Alphina and Old Man were working on repairs or gambling with assorted folk, including Punishers and sailors from other vessels. Edwin pretended to watch a game of dice while keeping an eye out for Pete. However, he was recognized first.
“Edwin? Is that you?” Harland FitzHugh said.
Edwin hardly recognized him; he had changed so much. Instead of the sallow, unwashed face he’d often seen following Max Claythorne, he stood looking at a healthy, tanned young man.
“Hoy, Harland,” he replied.
“Hoy! It’s good to see you again. How’d you fair during the rainy season?”
“Not to be rude, Harland, but I need to speak with Pete. Is he aboard the Alphina?”
“No, he’s off with the Toad somewhere . . . oh, up at the new barracks. I’m headed up there once my watch is over. Would you like to come along?”
“I can’t wait that long. I’ll walk up there now and see you later.”
Harland brushed his long, stringy hair back from his face. “Sure. The Anna Louisa’s looking fine. We took quite the beating getting back from Southport at the start of the rains. Wasn’t so bad at first, but when we sailed out from Forgotten Isle, having just been in battle and with a storm heading for us, not a man among us thought to ever see home again. But Cap’n Pete got us through. He could sail from here to Evan and back without a worry. He led us west for three weeks to miss that storm, then when the next one came up, we let it blast us southeast. Normally, we’d be smashed on the rocks north of Isle de Joc, but instead we saw the peak of Copper Isle come up out of the waves. Anyway—”
“Pardon me, Harland. I’ll talk to you later,” Edwin said, and he walked away, leaving a perplexed, but no less cheerful Harland staring after him.
Nearing completion, the barracks had the look of a square fort with thick stone walls rising up twenty feet to a crenelated top. The only windows faced to the south, toward the island’s interior. The northern face overlooked the sea from the bluff upon which the barracks sat. Here, the large double doors were placed, allowing only a short distance between them and the steep slope down to the shore. The western wall gave a view over the town of Port Jim and the docks below. The eastern side’s view, by comparison, was dull; as the land extended over steep hills and valleys broken only by the occasional farm.
Edwin found Pete in the large parade yard of the complex. At least twenty Punishers loitered there. Some ate while others sparred with each other. A few had wounds bound in linen bandages, and they rested on simple wooden couches and chairs watching the others. Two women, nurses by the looks of them, were busy in a veranda leading to the infirmary near the south wall.
“Edwin!” Pete called out. “Edward, you’ve met Edwin, right? He was at Southport when you first met Mark.”
“No, I don’t think we were able to meet given the circumstances. You’re Anna’s brother, right? And you captain the Anna Louisa.” Edward extended his hand to Edwin.
“You’re well informed. It would appear you know more about me than I do about you,” Edwin replied.
“Information is quite valuable in my profession. You don’t stay alive long without it.”
Pete placed a hand on Edwin’s shoulder. “How is Anna? Malcolm told us about Mark.”
“She’s as well as can be, I think. I spent the rainy season on Fishhook; I haven’t seen anyone from Engle Isle in months.”
“Fishhook? From what I hear about that island, this must have been a long rainy season for you,” Pete said.
“Not so difficult as yours, from what I just heard. Sailing through storms and fighting on Forgotten Isle.”
“That was just the first part,” Edward interjected. “We’ve been here for near two months; bored and antsy. There’s not much to do in a town like this, and your friends Malcolm and Henry won’t let us go to any other part of the island.”
“They’re worried about Falcon spies. Port Jim has been cleared, from what they tell us. They don’t tell us much,” Pete explained.
“Where is Malcolm? I want to see if I can stay long enough for his wedding.”
Pete’s eyebrows went up. “Malcolm’s on his honeymoon. He married last week.”
Throwing up his hands, Edwin growled in frustration. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I should just leave for Isle de Rei before anyone else decides to get married.”
“Isle de Rei?” Edward said. “In the Falcon Archipelago?”
“I’m a merchant, or didn’t you already know that about me?”
“What are you selling to the Falcons?”
“My elixir. It’s something you might find beneficial for your wounded men. It’s great as a sleep aid or calming agent during a surgery. I’ll leave a few doses for the infirmary.”
“Selling medicine to the enemy, Edwin?”
“I’ll sell them anything they’ll buy if it provides us the funds to fight them.” Edwin turned to Pete. “How long before you can leave for Engle Isle? I saw the Alphina and Old Man are under repair.”
“My orders were to meet Mark at Copper Isle. Not only was he, or anyone else, not there, but the Falcons have boosted their presence at Port Edward. Seems the sinking of a war galley has set them on edge. So we came here.”
“Barely made it, too,” Edward said.
“The ships should be ready by the end of this week,” Pete continued. “The Punishers are ready to be put to use. I certainly hope we can see some action soon. I’m tired of breaking up fights.”
“I’ll be stopping at Copper Isle on my way. When you see Rob, tell him I’ll leave a report there with our usual go-between.”
Pete and Edwin embraced in farewell. The latter took his leave and returned to the docks at Port Jim where he assisted in loading the last of the supplies onto the Anna Louisa.
“Youss big king o’dis isle-lant tew?” Ches asked.
“No, this island has its own king.”
“Dat who youss go see?”
Edwin smiled. “No, I went to see a drowned rat hound that’s managed to crawl its way back up from the depths.”
The euphemism was lost on the Fishhook natives, but the rest of the crew chuckled. The talk in Port Jim was all about Cap’n Pete and the Punishers escaping death at sea during the rainy season. Warriors and seamen told stories, and most often the stories were about other warriors and seamen. Legends like those of Odessis’s Odyssey, Cap’n Hornblower, and Gordon Pasha were common among that sort. It gave them something to idolize and emulate. It occurred to Edwin, as the Anna Louisa left the harbor for the open sea, that one day, Pete Engleman’s name would be among those legends.
Pete’s name, for certain, but not Edwin’s. With a wry, satisfactory grin, Edwin realized he was fine without fame.
Five days sailing with strong westerly winds brought them to Copper Isle. Here, Edwin knew they had to be especially cautious of Falcon spies. Not needing more supplies, save fresh water, he ordered his crew to remain aboard. He alone, with the endorsements given him by Ambassador Marcel, walked into Port Edward. He spoke with various merchants, gleaning information as he perused their shops. He made his way back to Paul and Pamela for the first time since their first visit.
“Hello again. I know it’s been some time since we last saw one another.”
Paul looked him over with a scrutinizing eye. “Who are you again?”
“I’m Edwin Johnson, of Engle Isle . . .”
“Yes, of course, Edwin! You’re the miller’s son!” Pamela exclaimed.
“Um, no . . .” he replied with obvious doubt. “I’m Anna Engleman’s brother.”
They both stared at him blankly.
He said, almost in a whisper, “Rob is my brother-in-law.”
“Rob? The historian and antiques dealer?” Pamela asked.
“Well, um . . . I suppose he could be called that. He’s definitely a historian. Cares more about that than almost anything else.”
Paul shot out, “Oh yes
, Rob! You remember, darling. The one that didn’t want to sell us those priceless artifacts from Isle de Joc. The pacifist forced to fight for his home island with his brother. What’s the name of his ship again?”
Pamela appeared to be searching her brain for the answer. An awkward silence followed.
“The Entdecker,” Edwin said.
“That’s right, the Entdecker. I wonder what happened to her; she was a fine-looking vessel,” Paul said.
His wife added, “I heard she sank at Alimia.”
“Actually, she didn’t. She’s still afloat, still out fighting the Falcons.”
“Edwin Johnson,” Paul said.
“Yes . . . you do remember me, don’t you?”
“Of course. Recognized you the moment you walked in. We just had to be sure you were still you,” Pamela said.
“I am. Most certainly . . . still me. Rob said you were trustworthy, but you had me going there.”
Paul looked stern. “Then the Entdecker is still afloat? She wasn’t sunk in the battle with the Falcon galley?”
“No, however, we did lose Mark.”
“Oh no!” Pamela gasped. “Poor Anna! Is she alright? And the baby?”
“She should give birth in a couple of months, though this has been difficult for her. She’s taken to keeping to herself these days.”
“We’re sorry to hear that,” Paul said. “How is Rob? Is he going to come this way again?”
“He’ll be along soon. However, since he’s taken over for Mark, I doubt he’ll be able to stay long.”
“Rob? He’s leading the rebellion now?”
“Why is everyone always so surprised by that? He’s doing well as leader of the consortium. He even rescued my father from the Falcons . . . in the Sea of Grass no less.”
“It’s just that he was so opposed to the war,” Pamela said.
Paul added, “He’s not the warrior type, to be honest. It just doesn’t seem a good fit. Not that he can’t handle it. It’s just . . .”
“Other than telling everyone the Entdecker was destroyed, what else have the Falcons been up to these last months?”
“There are more of them on the island. They use Port Edward as their transfer station. Those soldiers headed to Alimia come in for a day or two while those leaving Alimia do the same. Marcel hired more bodyguards. There are always a few of those around causing trouble.”
“The town is more divided than ever. Most of the wealthy merchants and businessmen support the Falcons, as they see the profits of working with them. The middle- and lower-class are more opposed to their being here,” Pamela said.
“Not only have we seen our profits drop, but we’re harassed nearly every time we leave our house. Soldiers, sailors, or bodyguards—they’re all so arrogantly smug and superior. Just yesterday, a fisherman named Matthew was beaten when he dared protect his daughter. They were trying to force her onto one of their ships.”
Edwin nodded in grim understanding. “Is there anything new about Marcel himself? I’m—”
He stopped himself from telling them he was in business with Marcel. “I’m somewhat familiar with him already, but if he’s changed in the past few months . . .”
“Yes,” Pamela said. “He’s been agitated of late. It’s been worse in the last month or so. Hasn’t it, dear?”
Paul agreed. “It’s as if he’s received bad news or lost something valuable. He rarely leaves the house anymore. There are a few of us who watch him and the other Falcon invaders, sharing what we learn with each other. We were told that one of Marcel’s servants was sent to the apothecary several weeks ago, looking for sedatives.”
“Did they not have any?” Edwin asked.
“Not the kind he wanted. The servant told the apothecary that his master was in a rage and hadn’t slept for days. It sounds to me like paranoia has taken his mind.”
Edwin found it difficult to suppress his smile. He knew what was causing Marcel’s behavior. The ambassador had taken too much of the elixir and became dependent on it. He couldn’t sleep without it now.
“Thank you for your efforts. I can promise you, Rob and our allies will see the Falcons expelled from this island. It may take time, but with your help, it will happen.”
“We hope to see Rob soon. Our sincere condolences to his family and your sister. Now, you’d best purchase something or risk drawing suspicion with your visit here.”
Edwin smirked, they were clever, these antiques dealers. He spotted a set of silverware with gold filigree over the polished white wood handles. He nearly coughed in panic when they told him the price, but he paid and went on his way.
His next stop—the Falcon ambassador’s house.
Edwin took Ian with him to help cart the boxes of elixir up the short but steep hill to Marcel’s house. The tall half-timber and stucco structure was surrounded by a stone wall topped with bronze spikes. While formidable in appearance, the barrier was more for looks than function. A bronze gate guarded the only break in the wall and this was, in turn, guarded by three men.
These personal bodyguards stopped Edwin as he approached and demanded (in broken Engle) to see his credentials. He showed them the very letters of introduction Marcel had given him, guessing that even if they could read, they likely would only look at the signature. He guessed correctly and was ushered into a small courtyard where a butler asked his name and business.
“Edwin Johnson. I’ve brought His Excellency more of my famous elixir.”
The butler’s eyes went wide with excitement, and he snapped his fingers. Two more servants responded, and the butler rattled off instructions in Iyty. The men moved to take the boxes of elixir, but Ian backed away from them, hugging the box he carried as if to protect it.
While proud that Ian was so eager to look after his king’s property, Edwin soothed the young man and showed that it was alright by handing over the box he had brought in. Confused but consoled, Ian allowed the Iyty servant to take the box, glaring at him the entire time.
“Please follow me, sir,” the butler said and led them into the house.
Edwin’s nostrils were assaulted by perfume the moment he entered. He remembered the same scent on Marcel himself when the ambassador came to dine on the Anna Louisa. However, here it nearly gagged him. It was a sickly sweet odor unlike anything he’d experienced. Looking at Ian, he saw the boy plug his nose with two fingers. While stifling a laugh, he pulled the boy’s hand away, shaking his head in disapproval. Ian shot him a look of incredulity as if to question Edwin’s sanity.
They followed the butler into a sitting room filled with ornate furnishings. The chairs and couches were even finer than those he’d seen at the palace on Isle de James.
“Please wait here,” the butler said with a bow and left through a door at the far end of the room. Still disgusted by the smell, Ian lifted the collar of his tunic over his nose. It was then that Edwin located the source. In each corner of the room burned a small lantern half filled with wax. The wax was mixed with the petals of some flower foreign to Edwin. Yet Edwin only had to stick his face near one of them to ensure that they were causing the odor. No doubt Marcel had these lanterns set throughout his house.
Edwin and Ian only waited a few minutes for the butler to return, holding the door open for the imposing figure of Marcel Aquila. The ambassador’s appearance looked nothing like their previous meeting. His enormous belly was covered only by a thin, sleeveless linen tunic. His bloodshot eyes glowered at Edwin even as the soft voice sang out his name.
“Edwin Johnson! My curse and cure. I have been in need of you for weeks! What took you so long?”
“My apologies, Excellency. The rainy season delayed me as it does most ships. I dared not risk disappearing beneath the waves of the sea, never to return.”
Edwin’s broad smile did nothing to help Marcel’s mood. It was impossible to tell if he was faking his outrage or his congeniality. “Still, better to have tried and failed than to leave a customer dissatisfied.”
&nbs
p; One of the other servants entered with a tray holding three glass cups and a bottle of wine. Marcel did not wait for the servant to offer Edwin any of it, but snatched the bottle and a cup and poured himself a drink. As he was being served, Edwin noticed Marcel’s butler drop a dose of the elixir into his master’s cup.
“Now, Edwin,” Marcel said. “How much elixir have you brought me this time?”
“You have ninety doses now. I urge you to ration them. I’m sailing for your home islands tomorrow, and as I’ve never made the journey before, I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
Marcel’s breathing eased, and he seemed calmer, almost sleepy. He said, “I’ll need more right away once you return. Don’t delay for any reason. Even if the emperor himself demands you stay. You tell that old man that his nephew needs you back on Copper Isle. This buco infernale, this place he put me. You must come back to me, Edwin. No, not even for him can you be delayed.”
Edwin’s smile remained bright. “I’ll come back. You must exercise some self-control, Excellency. This is powerful medicine you’re taking. Use it sparingly, I urge you.”
Marcel scowled. Edwin guessed that he had been drinking long before his own arrival.
“Don’t you give me orders, Edwin Johnson of Engle Isle. I know who you are. I know you associated with pirates. Those pirates we killed at Alimia. I can make you a wealthy man, Edwin. I can also ruin you. Take your ship and all your cargo. Avverto!”
Edwin stood and bowed. Ian copied the gesture, not knowing what was going on.
“We’ll take our leave. Rest well, Excellency,” Edwin said.
The butler showed him to the gate outside, and before Edwin passed through it, shook his arm and thanked him. Into Edwin’s hand, the butler pressed a note. Out of discretion, Edwin did not look at it then.
While walking back to the ship, Ian asked, “Dat bloke a bicking like youss?”
“No, he only thinks he’s the king of this island.”
“Whoos da king o’dis isle-lant den?”
“I am, of course,” Edwin said, and he noticed the confusion on Ian’s face. He wasn’t sure if Edwin was serious or not. If he was, why would the fat man they just visited think he was the king? “Don’t worry, Ian. There are many people like him in the world, but they can’t command you to do anything.”
