by B A Simmons
Yusef fetched Pete, who along with Joshua, confirmed what only the latter had seen before. The volcano became a fixation for the crew, even though a dull gray cloud obscured most of it. It was that cloud that Joshua warned them about.
“Several years ago, a high-ranking captain with the Brotherhood of the Red Serpent convinced his men and two other crews to make an attack on the Falcons from the southwest. He believed that since our islands lay to the east, that’s where the Falcons patrol against us, they would therefore have fewer, if any ships on the other side.”
“Exactly why we’re coming this way,” Pete said.
Joshua continued, “Yes, well we didn’t know about the volcano and its cloud of death. Two ships sailed too near, and their crews choked on the fumes. The handful of survivors we found on board after they drifted out said that even before the cloud engulfed them, they were dying from the gas. We can’t go anywhere near it.”
The warning took away much of the amazement of the spectacle. Pete plotted a course to take them to the north of the volcano, trusting that the prevailing winds would keep most of the fumes to the west. He stayed at the tiller for the evening watch before retiring to bed.
He had barely laid down when Harland came bursting in.
“Cap’n, we need you on deck!”
They ascended together to the forecastle where Joshua stood looking through a far-see. Handing it to Pete, he pointed off the port bow. Two Y-shaped sails appeared in the fading light of day to the north, coming toward them. Pete’s heart began beating faster.
Looking at the sails filled with wind, he knew they were going as fast as possible at their current course. The only way to outrun the Quillian would be to tack the Alphina to starboard, taking her closer to the volcano and the threat of its deadly gas cloud.
“Staying on this course would mean risking a fight with the Quillian,” Joshua said, sensing Pete’s thoughts.
“Do you think the Quillian know how dangerous the cloud is?” Pete replied.
“I’d bet on it.”
Pete hollered aft to his helmsman. “Take us starboard, thirty degrees!”
“May Ayday protect us from death by cloud,” Harland muttered.
“Ayday ci protegga,” Joshua corrected, grinning at Harland.
18: Porto Profundo
After nearly three weeks of sailing, the Anna Louisa sailed into the harbor at Porto Profundo on King’s Isle. This was the capital city of the Falcon Empire, and it held as much splendor for the eyes as Safe Harbor and the white cliffs of Fallen Dome. The splendor wasn’t in the geography but in the sheer size of the harbor and the city that stretched out beyond it.
Two fortresses, each the size of that at Isle de Joc stood, one on the west and one on the east end of the large harbor. Dozens of ships of all different makes and designs sailed in and out, and what seemed like hundreds of smaller skiffs, launches, and dinghies darted between them. Large buoys bobbed among the waves, each with semaphore flags signaling ships into and out of the harbor in channels. The traffic control impressed Edwin as much as the city.
Or as Ches put it, “Da king o dis aye-land muss be gran-king indeed. He got more canews dan anyone.”
“That’s why they call him an emperor. He’s greater than a king,” Edwin said.
As they followed the signals for foreign ships, Edwin realized that an inner harbor, separated by a fortified wall, existed farther in. Only small fishing vessels came through the grand archways in this wall, which connected the two fortresses and partitioned the docks from the rest of the city.
The harbor designated for foreign vessels held a surprising number of them. The Anna Louisa was forced to drop anchor in the harbor itself while waiting for an available berth. Edwin did not wait but launched the dinghy with James to help row.
He found a ship called the Emerald Susan and asked her captain if he knew where the harbormaster could be found.
“Ent no harbormaster ’ere. Ya ’ave to go to the Office o’ Alien Affairs. It’s o’er that way in Alien Town,” he said, pointing toward a gate in the wall.
“Aliens?” Edwin said. “Are there Duarves here? I just need to register as a foreigner.”
“For’ners are aliens to the Falcons,” the captain said with disdain.
Edwin offered his thanks and checked to be sure James was still with him. They passed through the gate without having to show any papers or talk to any officials. In fact, there weren’t even guards at the gate, which came as a pleasant surprise after Fallen Dome where baronial guards and militia were everywhere. The main streets were wide enough to allow asino-drawn carts to pass each other. A maze of smaller alleyways crammed with people went in every direction between buildings. Merchant shops of every kind, alehouses, law firms, brothels, and inns were packed together in the district of Deep Port known as Alien Town. A fortified wall also separated this part of the city from the rest, causing it to grow upward instead of out. Many of the stores and offices were built on top of each other.
Edwin wandered a bit, taking in the strange and exciting environment. Yet after turning the second corner of the main thoroughfare, he saw a sign written in both Engle and Iyty reading: Office of Alien Affairs. It adorned a simple three-story building near the gate leading into the rest of Deep Port. Edwin noted with amused annoyance a squad of light infantry guarding this gate and checking the credentials of those attempting to pass through.
The entrance to the alien office brought Edwin and James into a foyer where three other people waited in cushioned chairs. Unsure what to do next, they hesitated just inside the door.
“May I help you? Posso aiutarti?”
The question came from a tall, lanky man sitting at a desk near the far wall. Only with his attention on the man did Edwin also notice a door on each side of him.
“I’m here to register as a foreign merchant,” Edwin said approaching the man.
“Do you have an endorsement?”
Edwin handed him the letter from Ambassador Marcel.
“Do you plan to sell exclusively to the empire or have you other customers?”
Edwin smiled, “For the time being, the empire is my only customer.”
“Ambassador Marcel here says your home island is Eng-el Isle. Am I pronouncing that correctly?”
“Yes, but I now claim Isle de James as my home. I haven’t been to Engle Isle in many months.”
“Ah, that’s good. At least I’ve heard of Isle de James. I’ve no idea where Engle Isle would be.” The man drew a small stack of papers from his desk. Handing them to Edwin, he said: “You will need to enter the required information on these forms. Be sure to answer all questions accurately. Should anything you write be proven false, your license to sell in the empire will be revoked, and you may be labeled a smuggler. Return everything to me once you’ve finished.”
Edwin nodded and took a place in the foyer with the inkwell and pen also given him. The forms, written in both Engle and Iyty, contained so much legal jargon that Edwin wished his father was with him to make sense of it all. He muddled through it, obtaining James’s opinion on occasion, and nearly three hours later, returned the stack to the tall clerk at the table. He stamped them with a wax seal and placed his own signature in a couple of places. He then stood and opened the door on his right, standing to one side to allow Edwin and James to enter.
They entered, and no one was in the room. Despite the look of confusion on his face, the clerk offered no explanation. He asked them to wait and closed the door. Edwin began to feel annoyed at the bureaucracy, yet knew there was little choice if he wanted to sell his elixir.
Sometime later, a man entered. His clothes and mannerisms made Edwin think he was but another clerk, but then he saw a gold chain hanging around his neck. This man held some higher office, though Edwin could not have guessed what, nor why he required an interview with him.
“I am Nicholas Pavana, Chancellor of Alien Affairs for the empire. You are Edwin Johnson of Engle Isle, are you not?”
“I now make my home on Isle de James,” Edwin corrected.
Pavana looked at Edwin with a scrutinizing eye, he said: “Yet, your birth island is Engle and, therefore, I have some questions for you.”
Edwin realized now what the interview was about. It was obvious that this Chancellor of Alien Affairs knew about the resistance of the Hellhound Consortium. He knew it was based on Engle Isle, and now it was up to Edwin to sell himself as a neutral party to that conflict.
“You are captain and master of the Anna Louisa?” Pavana asked.
“Yes, that’s my ship.”
“Where did you acquire her?”
“She was built at Fallen Dome for another merchant. I was told that merchant disappeared at sea, making the Anna Louisa a bargain for me.”
“How did you come to be at Fallen Dome Isle? It’s a far destination from either Engle Isle or Isle de James.”
Edwin had to answer quickly. If he paused, Pavana would think he was lying no matter what answer was given. He decided to default to honesty in the face of such scrutiny.
“I took passage aboard a ship called the Entdecker.”
“The same Entdecker that has attacked ships of his Imperial Majesty and conducted raids against his forces at Alimia?”
Edwin sighed. “Yes, I believe it’s the same.”
“The same ship reported sunk at Alimia late last year?”
Edwin cocked his head with genuine surprise. How would Pavana know about that? Was it a common belief among the Falcon citizens?
“I hadn’t heard it was sunk,” he told Pavana. “When I took passage aboard her, she wasn’t a pirate ship, and I was not involved in any plans against the empire.”
The chancellor jotted notes on a sheet of parchment for a moment before continuing the interview. “You are personally acquainted with the crew of the Entdecker? You grew up with them on Engle Isle, didn’t you?”
“Acquainted is the appropriate word, sir. I only came to know them while traveling with them.”
“You do not have any further contact with any of them?”
“If they were sunk, as you said, certainly I could not.”
A quick smile flashed across Pavana’s mouth. “Of course. Does this include your sister?”
Edwin tried to hide his incredulity by clearing his throat. He looked away, attempting to seem more emotional than nervous.
“She left the Entdecker when I did, but I still haven’t seen her in months. How do you know about my family?”
Pavana ignored the question. “Your account seems to verify that which you gave to Marcel Aquila on Copper Isle. He sent word last year to expect you, which we did, though much sooner. I just have one more question for you, Captain Johnson. What can you tell me about the man you know as Geoffrey Morris?”
***
Doctor Morris stood on the quarterdeck of the Entdecker, smiling as the wind blew against the side of his face. It had taken much convincing from both himself and Rob to get Tom to allow the old man to take a turn on steering watch. Despite his assurances that he had sailed quite often in his youth, Tom watched Morris throughout the first watch and insisted he only steer during the daytime. Rob and Piers were both glad to allow Morris a turn. It meant less time for each of them.
Passing Fishhook Isle, they looked for signs of the Anna Louisa but saw nothing in the lagoon. While Rob felt the temptation to stop there to check on the goats they’d left, he knew it would be an unnecessary distraction. Especially as it appeared Edwin was no longer there, the odds were against the natives accepting their inquiry of support.
They saw nothing of the Old Man, however, this wasn’t unexpected. Without lanterns at night, they could easily pass each other and not be seen.
Six days later, they arrived at Port Jim where Rob got his first look at the barracks. Only the worst of the wounded Punishers had stayed with Tim and Jacob in the infirmary. Aside from the nurses charged with their care, the place looked deserted and empty. Rob met Stephen Pitts, the sergeant who had taken charge of the facility. With one arm in a sling and a crutch under the other, Rob was impressed at the man’s ability to move about. He guided Rob through an inspection of the facility. Rob gave special attention to the row of officers’ quarters on the upper level.
Inside the infirmary he found his friends, Tim and Jacob, sitting up in their beds. The latter looked as agitated as a caged hellhound.
“We were told some marvelous stories about you,” Tim said, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Fighting Quillian and sea serpents to save a bunch of Falcon sailors. You haven’t switched sides on us, have you?”
Rob smiled. “How are you doing, Tim?”
“Oh, I’m fine! This fancy resort they’ve built for us is grand. Round the clock medical assistance and hot food other than rayfish; I’m in Evan.”
“That blow to your head must have scattered your brains, Tim,” Jacob retorted.
“Don’t listen to him, Rob. He’s just sore that Pete and Trina both left him behind.”
“How long ago did Trina leave?”
Tim answered. “Oh, nearly a week now, isn’t it Jacob?”
Jacob gave no response but continued glaring at the wall.
“What do the nurses and medics tell you about your recoveries?”
“Richard seems to think we’d both be back in action in a month, maybe two.”
“Well, that’s good. I’m headed up to Fallen Dome and Aruth. When I get back, we’ll begin our push on Alimia. We’ll need you both at that time.”
“Why wait!” Jacob shouted. “I’m ready to go now.”
The angry mercenary threw the sheet off his lower half and his legs over the side. Wincing, he put his weight on his good leg before pushing himself off the bed. For a moment, he stood erect, his former masculine magnificence returned. Then he wobbled, lost his balance, and had to place a hand on the wall for support.
Two of the wounded Punishers let out shouts of encouragement. Tim chuckled but tried to stifle it when Jacob looked his way. Rob moved to help his proud friend but was waved away. Jacob gritted his teeth and tried again. This time he stepped forward with a horrible limp but managed to stay upright. However, on the second step, he faltered, taking Rob’s arm to keep from falling.
“How about we take it one step at a time?” Rob said. He eased Jacob back to a sitting position at the end of his bed.
“I can’t stay here any longer, Rob. I’m losing my mind. Let me go with you, please. I’ve never begged for anything, but I’m—”
“Alright. Jacob, I understand your need to get away. I do. However, even though we don’t anticipate combat, it’s still a dangerous journey. You can’t even sail, really.”
“I’ll feel useful again.”
Jacob was on the verge of tears. He fought them back harder than he’d ever fought anything before. Yet his voice betrayed his true emotion.
“Please, Rob. I beg you let me go with you. I’m sure there’s a way I can be useful on your voyage,” he said.
Rob thought for a while, then said. “Sergeant Pitts?”
“Sir?”
“Do you have any spare crutches?”
“We do, sir.”
Rob smiled at Jacob. “Get yourself on those crutches and be at the docks before daybreak tomorrow. If you’re not there, we leave without you.”
Jacob swallowed the lump in his throat and let out an audible sigh. “Yes, sir. I’ll be there.”
Tim shook his head while the Punishers yelled, “Hoo-ah!”
As Rob walked back into the parade ground at the center of the barracks, a familiar face arrived through the gate. Both men looked at each other for a moment before smiling and embracing each other.
“I just returned from the royal estate at Port Sumerville. Someone said the Entdecker was in the harbor. Nice to see you didn’t sink her,” Malcolm said.
Looking him over, Rob noticed that Malcolm was not only well dressed for a hunter, but wore a chain of office around his neck.
/> “What’s this?” he asked
Malcolm seemed to blush a bit under his chestnut-colored beard. “I’ve been appointed the Royal Hunt Master for His Excellency Baron Humphry. It’s a ridiculous title, but it makes me an official member of the ruling council. Henry wants me to help him sway other council members to be more aggressive toward the Falcons.”
Rob laughed. “Well, congratulations all the same. You’ve become a strong asset to us here. Thank you for all your work.”
“I just wish Mark could be here to see it. I really owe it all to him.”
“He did see it. I mean, perhaps not Royal Hunt Master or son-in-law to the next baron, but Mark saw your potential here.”
There was a moment of silence between them, then Rob continued.
“Do you realize that your firstborn son could be Baron of Isle de James one day?”
Malcolm laughed; the idea had indeed occurred to him. “Not likely, Laura’s got a younger brother. He’s only sixteen, but he’s next in line after Henry.”
“You never know. Sometimes younger brothers decide to leave and never go home again.”
Malcolm looked at Rob with a questioning eye. “Did something happen on Engle Isle? I was told you’re in command of the consortium now.”
Rob found himself looking at the ground. “I am, but just before we left, Anna had the baby. A boy.”
“Engle Isle isn’t ruled by royal lines, Rob. That boy doesn’t usurp your claim to anything.”
“Just Anna’s heart.”
“Oh, I see,” Malcolm said. “I’m sorry Rob.”
“So, after I visit our allies up north, I plan to come live here. It’s a wonderful barracks you’ve built here. I think it’ll work well as my home away from home.”
“Well, you’ll be a welcome guest in my home. If you think this place is nice . . .”
Rob laughed when he realized Malcolm now lived in the royal palace at Port James.
The ease which settled into Rob’s heart after telling someone his decision lifted his spirits. He’d tried to tell Anna. The rest of the day passed in a relaxed manner. Even Tom seemed rested and unfazed by stress.
