An idea had been in the back of his mind for some time. He had liked it, but he could not figure out how it would all come together. At last, he knew the answer.
He consulted his calendar and noted that Hallen Day was fast approaching. On that holiday, Thomas and his retinue would board his royal yacht in order to perform the annual tradition of His Majesty reviewing the fleet. Thousands of people attended every year to view the magnificent spectacle of the ships of the Royal Navy lined up in the Breath.
Smythe went over his idea in his mind, searching for flaws, and could not find one. Arriving at a decision, he summoned his aide.
The man entered and came to a dead stop, staring at Smythe’s forehead in shock.
Wondering what was wrong, Smythe put his hand to his head and felt blood. He had completely forgotten.
“Sir, you’re hurt!” his aide gasped.
“I tripped on that loose rug,” Smythe replied.
“I will fetch a healer—”
“Never mind that now,” said Smythe irritably. “That man, Trubgek, who just left. Send someone to fetch him and bring him back. Then arrange a meeting for me with King Ullr. Inform His Majesty that the matter is urgent and I prefer that we meet in private.”
* * *
King Ullr received Smythe’s message and sent word that he was at liberty to meet with him at noon in his guest rooms.
“Do you have any idea what he wants?” Ullr asked his agent, Baron Grimm.
The baron shook his head. “I have been gone for a week on that other matter and have only just arrived in the palace. I have no idea.”
“Smythe wants to meet in private,” said Ullr. “You know what to do.”
Grimm left to conceal himself behind the door to the sitting room. Once Ullr was certain his agent was in place, he told his secretary he was at liberty. Smythe entered the room and Ullr rose to his feet to greet him, noting that he was flushed and he had suffered an ugly gash on his forehead. Ullr wondered idly what had happened, but was not interested enough to ask.
“Forgive me for making you wait, Chancellor,” Ullr said. “Affairs of state. You of all people will understand.”
“Spare me the flattery, sir,” said Smythe. “I know the truth. I have been made aware of your plans.”
“You must tell me to what plans you refer, sir,” Ullr said affably. “Will you be seated?”
“I prefer to stand, sir,” said Smythe, stiff and rigid as though on parade.
“As you will, Chancellor.”
Ullr remained standing. He cast a swift glance toward the sitting room. The door was closed, but the baron would have his ear pressed to it.
“I trust you will explain yourself.”
“I know Your Majesty has secret plans to invade Freya. Do not waste my time with denials. I have proof.”
Ullr regarded him with a faintly derisive smile. “That blow to your head has addled your brains, sir.”
Smythe flushed. He had to stop to swallow his outrage. A muscle in his jaw twitched. A vein in his neck throbbed.
“I am a military man, Your Majesty. A pragmatist. I know the strength of your forces. I know Freya must go down to defeat. We cannot withstand Guundar’s might.” Smythe drew himself up. “But we Freyans are not afraid of war. We will fight. You will win, but your victory will cost Guundar dearly.”
“You have an active imagination, sir. Have you spoken of these wild notions to anyone else? His Majesty, perhaps?”
“I have not and I will not,” said Smythe. “This concerns the two of us. We understand each other, as you are fond of telling me.”
Ullr made a deprecating gesture. “I fear you do not understand me, sir. I am a man of peace.”
“I came to talk peace, sir,” said Smythe, advancing a step. “I am now Chancellor of War. But if I ruled Freya, if I were Lord Protector, I could negotiate a peace treaty between our two great nations. Naturally, I would be willing to provide certain concessions, such as allowing Guundar to establish a base in the Aligoes near Wellinsport. Guundar would at last be able to share in the riches of the Aligoes.”
“Magnanimous terms, Chancellor,” said Ullr. “Unfortunately, you have a problem. You are not Lord Protector and so long as King Thomas lives you never will be. Your king being a young and healthy man, I find this discussion entertaining, but pointless. I am quite busy. If there is nothing more—”
“Hallen Day is approaching, sir,” said Smythe abruptly.
King Ullr had found Smythe amusing up to this point. His amusement died with this mention of Hallen Day. Ullr was suddenly wary. He planned to launch his assault on Haever on Hallen Day and he wondered if Smythe knew something, after all.
“Hallen Day. I believe I have heard something of this date,” said Ullr, treading carefully. “A national holiday celebrating a great Freyan naval victory. Although, as I recall, Freya won the battle, but she ended up losing the war.”
Smythe scarcely seemed to hear him. He was intent on his speech, as though he had memorized and practiced it before delivery.
“On Hallen Day, tradition holds that the king reviews the fleet. His Majesty boards the royal yacht. The ships are decorated, sailors line the yardarms, cannons fire salutes as the king sails past. The event draws large numbers of spectators.”
King Ullr was aware of this. He had chosen Hallen Day for precisely this reason. While the Freyan navy was celebrating, his ships would be preparing to bring the Hallen Day party to a swift and bloody conclusion.
“The Crown Prince Jonathan died of injuries he suffered during an accident on board a naval warship,” Smythe continued. “As a man of faith, I should not be superstitious, but I have a premonition King Thomas might suffer the same fate. If a tragic accident were to occur to His Majesty on Hallen Day, for example, I would be in a position to swiftly declare myself Lord Protector and take over control of the government so that Freya would avoid the civil unrest and chaos that followed the untimely death of Queen Mary.”
“You act with considerable foresight, sir,” said Ullr. “I am certain we all pray to God that His Majesty, King Thomas, remains in good health on Hallen Day and every day.”
“God be praised for His mercies great and small,” said Smythe unctuously. “As the Scriptures remind us, ‘Watch, for ye know neither the day nor the hour.’”
With that enigmatic phrase, he appeared to come to the end of his speech, for he bowed his way out of the room. The door had barely closed behind him when Baron Grimm left his hiding place and returned to speak to the king.
“You heard?” Ullr asked grimly.
“Everything,” said the baron. “I could scarcely contain my laughter when he mentioned a peace treaty. As if we would negotiate peace with Freya when we can demand her unconditional surrender! But then he spoke of Hallen Day and I found that less funny. Perhaps he has in truth discovered our plans.”
“The fool knows nothing,” said Ullr dismissively. “He made his lack of knowledge abundantly apparent when he brought up Hallen Day and then went blathering on about the king suffering an ‘accident.’”
“What will you do, sir? The chancellor obviously plots to kill the king. He as much as admitted it. Should we warn His Majesty?”
“We will proceed with our plans for the invasion,” Ullr said. “The sudden and tragic death of the young king would throw Freya into chaos and that would suit me well.”
“It was kind of Smythe to offer us Wellinsport,” said Grimm, smiling hugely.
“Kind but unnecessary,” said King Ullr.
He began to laugh. Since he rarely smiled, much less indulged in laughter, his astonished secretary opened the door a crack to see what was amiss.
THIRTY-ONE
Amelia Nettleship was wakened in the night by a rattling sound. She sat up in bed, frowning, wondering why her house should be rattling, when she heard the sound again and realized someone was throwing gravel at the bedroom window that faced the back of the house. Bandit had been sleeping on the floor by her b
ed, waiting for Sophia to return, and he jumped to his feet with a warning growl.
Amelia went to the window, raised the sash, and peered curiously down into the backyard. Three figures, wrapped in cloaks, were preparing to throw more gravel.
“Here, now, what is your business?” Amelia said sternly.
“Miss Amelia! It’s us!” Kate called in a loud whisper. “Let us in!”
“Merciful goodness,” Amelia exclaimed.
She put on her flannel dressing gown, slid her feet into slippers, and hurried down the stairs, nearly tripping over Bandit, who was underfoot. Lighting a lamp, she glanced at the clock on the mantel. The time was thirty minutes past three of the clock in the dead of night.
Amelia went through the kitchen and the pantry to the back door.
“Come in! Come in! You must be half frozen!”
Kate and Sophia and Phillip hurried inside. Bandit recognized Sophia and began barking wildly and jumping at her.
“Keep him quiet!” Kate whispered.
Sophia caught hold of Bandit and he quit barking and began to lick her face.
“We have brought a friend, Miss Amelia,” said Kate softly. “You remember Pip?”
“Indeed, I do,” said Amelia. “You are welcome, Your Grace.”
Before shutting the door, she looked up and down the back alley to see if they had been followed. The alley was empty. Amelia shut the door and locked it, then turned to fuss over her guests.
“Come into the kitchen where it is warm,” she said. Sophia guided Phillip to the kitchen and Bandit followed, now jumping on Phillip.
Amelia drew Kate into the pantry. “What went wrong? I thought you were going to Barwich Manor.”
“Plans changed,” said Kate. “Thomas refused to leave the palace. He said he has a duty to his people.”
“Good for him,” said Amelia.
“I suppose,” Kate said, sighing, clearly not happy. “But he is in so much danger.”
“Thomas Stanford is an intelligent and resourceful young man,” said Amelia. “He knows what he’s about. Now come have something to eat. You are in low spirits because your brain requires nourishment. We can discuss all this after you’re warm and fed.”
She ushered her guests into the kitchen, built up the fire, and served them her specialty, toasted cheese. As an added treat, to warm their blood, she mixed hot rum punch.
The three drank the steaming punch and ate toasted cheese. When they were finished, they described their adventures, how they had managed to free Phillip and escape the prison with no one the wiser.
“One of my plans actually worked,” said Kate. “Dalgren was astonished.”
Phillip passed on the information Thomas had gathered from spying on King Ullr.
“Secretly plotting to invade Freya! This is wonderful,” Amelia stated, taking out her notebook and writing furiously.
“Miss Amelia!” Sophia said, shocked.
“Oh, I don’t mean the invasion,” Amelia said. “That is quite appalling. I mean the fact that this will be the story of the century. The Gazette will put out a special edition—”
Kate seized hold of the notebook. “You cannot write about this, Miss Amelia. We cannot make what we have learned public knowledge. Thomas warned us that if Ullr thinks his plans have been discovered, he could launch his invasion before we are ready.”
Amelia laid down her pen with a sigh. “You are right, of course. I take it you three have formed a plan. What is it? How can I help?”
“I know a man who will provide me with a griffin,” said Phillip. “I will fly to the Aligoes to warn Alan that the Terrapin is sailing into an ambush. If Henry is on board, as I think possible, I can warn him about King Ullr.”
“Sir Henry thinks you betrayed him, Your Grace,” said Amelia sharply. “He might well shoot you on sight!”
Phillip gave a cheerful smile. “Henry is actually quite reasonable. He will allow me to explain first and then shoot me.”
Sophia sighed and shook her head and fed Bandit most of her toasted cheese to keep him quiet.
“I would still feel better if we could find a way to smuggle Sophia out of the country,” Phillip added.
“Far too dangerous,” said Amelia. “Smythe will lock down the city in an effort to find Your Grace and that includes the ports.”
“I wouldn’t leave anyway,” said Sophia. “I will stay in Haever with Miss Amelia.”
“The question is: what are we going to do about warning the Dragon Brigade about the black ship?” Phillip wondered. “I could fly to Maribeau after I talk to Alan, but I might arrive too late.”
“Dalgren plans to warn the Brigade,” said Kate.
“Did he say so?” Amelia asked.
“He didn’t have to,” Kate said. “I know him.”
“He will have to fly through the storms of the Winter Witch,” said Amelia doubtfully. “If he reaches the Brigade alive, he is a deserter who fled before he finished serving his sentence. The Brigade will take him into custody again.”
“I know the risks and so does Dalgren,” said Kate calmly. “What he doesn’t know is that I am going with him.”
“To Maribeau?” Phillip said, startled. “That’s the last place in the world you should go!”
Kate shot him a glance, pleading with him to keep quiet.
Phillip didn’t heed it. “They were going to hang you in Maribeau, Kate. They would have hanged you if Thomas and I hadn’t rescued you! You’re an escaped prisoner. A fugitive from justice. If they catch you—”
“They won’t,” said Kate. “I’m certain the authorities have forgotten all about me by now. And besides, we’re not going to Maribeau. We’re going to Brigade headquarters.”
Phillip shook his head, unconvinced. Sophia looked at her worriedly.
“We’re only going to stay long enough to warn the dragons about the black ship and then we’ll leave,” Kate assured her. “I won’t have time to get into trouble. And I won’t let Dalgren go alone.” She folded her arms across her chest. “So that is settled.”
Amelia regarded the three of them with affection and pride.
“I think you young people are daft, reckless, and foolhardy, but I love you for it.” She paused to dab at her eyes with a handkerchief from the reticule. That done, she briskly resumed. “We can do nothing at this time of night. We must try to get some rest. I will go to the Gazette first thing in the morning to see what I can find out.”
“I will likely be gone by the time you return, Miss Amelia,” said Phillip. “Thank you for your help.”
Kate and Sophia and Bandit went up to their rooms. Amelia made up a bed for Phillip on the sofa in the parlor, then went to her bed. She prided herself on being able to fall asleep instantly, but this morning she lay awake, fretting and thinking of everything that could go wrong.
Hearing Phillip slip out of the house near dawn, Amelia went to her window and watched him set out, and silently wished him Godspeed. She heard Bandit bark in the next room and saw Phillip look up at Sophia’s window and put his hand to his lips. He hurried off down the street and disappeared around the corner.
Amelia dressed and went to her office and wrote down notes on the story of the century. As the clock struck eight, she prepared to set off for the Gazette. She checked on Kate and Sophia before she left. Kate and Sophia were asleep. Bandit lay protectively across Sophia’s feet.
Amelia walked to the offices of the Gazette every day, no matter the weather. Mrs. Ridgeway of Mrs. Ridgeway’s Academy for Young Ladies taught that “daily exercise prevents dyspepsia, assists the actions of the liver, and causes the blood to flow more freely through the vessels to the brain, thus improving the thought process.”
Amelia could attest to the truth of this statement for she never suffered from liver complaints and she considered her brain to be more than usually active.
She enjoyed the brisk walk in the cold. She deeply inhaled the crisp air that sparkled with a few drifting snowflakes and felt the
blood surge to her brain, clearing away any fuzziness caused by lack of sleep. She was laying out her story in her mind when she turned onto the block where the Gazette’s offices were located and came to a sudden halt.
Soldiers, armed with rifles, were standing guard in front of the office, where a crowd had gathered, waiting eagerly to see if there might be bloodshed. Amelia knew at once that Smythe had cracked the code. He had discovered the messages she had been sending to Thomas in the Captain Kate stories and he was going to have her arrested.
He did not know where she lived, however, and had sent his soldiers to the office to either arrest her there or force the editor to provide her address. Her editor would be reluctant to dispense such information, but if the soldiers threatened to smash up the office, he would have little choice. And if the soldiers went to her house, they would find Kate and Sophia.
Amelia looked around and saw a gentleman entering a wyvern-drawn carriage only steps away. The driver was holding the door open. Before he could shut it, Amelia nimbly hopped into the cab. She gave the driver the address and said, “Drive with all haste.”
“I don’t know,” the driver began reluctantly.
Amelia reached into her reticule, drew out a banknote, and thrust it into his hands.
“Here, now, Madame, this cab is taken!” said the gentleman already inside the cab. He was highly irate. “You must find your own.”
“For king and country, sir,” said Amelia, settling herself on the seat beside him.
The driver stuffed the banknote into his hat and scrambled up onto the box. He sent the magic flowing to the lift tank and gave the wyvern a magical shock with the whip. The beast leaped into the air with a startled snarl and flew off.
Amelia straightened her hat.
“You are performing a great service for Freya, sir,” Amelia told the gentleman, who was glaring at her. She gave him an approving tap on the leg with her umbrella. “Your country salutes you.”
The gentleman did not appear to appreciate the sentiment. He crammed himself in a corner as far from her as he could manage and made rude comments regarding “hysterical females.”
Kingmaker (The Dragon Corsairs) Page 30
