Flintlock (Cutlass Series)

by Ashley Nixon

  “And how does the compass do that?”

  “It’s payment,” Cove said at last. “Ben has struck a deal. He’s getting something in exchange for the compass.”

  “What is he getting in return, and who did he strike the deal with?”

  “That’s exactly what I want to know,” said Cove. “Tell Ben you know he is the leader of the Commonwealth, and if he’s not ready to hang, he’ll let you deliver the compass on your own terms.”

  “And that will work? He knows I don’t have connections in Maris anymore.”

  “Tetherion wants to find the leader of the Commonwealth. He’ll take any report seriously. I’ll have my men shadow you,” he said.

  “And what about Barren?” she asked.

  “What about Barren?”

  “If you tell him, he won’t let me go.”

  Cove sensed she wasn’t so much desperate to help him as she was desperate to hide something. She hadn’t told him the full truth, and he supposed he shouldn’t expect it. If she was keeping things from Barren, she was going to keep things from him.

  “I’ll keep your secret as long as it benefits me,” he said. “That’s all I can promise.”

  Her features hardened, but she nodded.

  ***

  The air still felt heavy from the storm that had passed in the night. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance and lightning flashed in the sky above, illuminating the night. Barren took deep breaths now and then, reveling in the smell of salt. It almost burned his nose, which meant he’d been gone from the sea for far too long. An ache settled in his stomach.

  The streets of Arcarum were cobble and the buildings clustered together. Lanterns illuminated the streets. Some were hung high on moveable wire so that they could be lit and extinguished easily. Others were placed in windows or outside on the streets. Barren would have preferred total darkness, but it did add to the island’s charm. Because of all the light, Barren and Cove kept close to the shadows, taking a maze-like path to wherever the Network was located. While Barren turned his head in all directions attempting to see if anyone followed, Cove remained perfectly focused on his target, eyes straight ahead. There were few who passed them at this late hour, but those who did kept to the shadows too, slinking about as if they belonged to the darkness.

  Cove’s easy stroll along the causeways made Barren impatient. He didn’t like being out in the open even if he wore a hood and cloak to hide his identity. The ambassador had said he suspected people were watching his house, whether they be from the Commonwealth or just commoners curious about his condition. So they’d used the tunnel and come out on the side of the sea cliffs. Barren had questioned whether it was even necessary for him to tag along on this visit, but Cove insisted.

  Sometimes Barren wasn’t sure Cove knew what was good for him.

  It was the smell of the sea and the cool breeze that made Barren feel refreshed again. He hadn’t realized they were so close to shore, but Cove had lead him farther to the north where there were fewer trees. The road here was only dirt and it ran downhill. There were a few houses, but most of the block was taken up by a large stone church.

  Barren halted when Cove moved in that direction. “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “To the Network,” said Cove.

  “But this is a church,” said Barren.

  “Yes,” Cove agreed and then nodded his head toward the door, moving forward. Barren followed dumbly. He supposed if the Network was going to be anywhere, it should be in the last place anyone expected.

  It was then that Barren came to a realization. The Network, Cove’s network, involved more than just the Pirates of Silver Crest. So the threat he had made to Eva was very real. It was possible, in fact, Barren was sure, that the majority of Cove’s network didn’t even include the pirates. If disciples of the church were members, then men of the government weren’t excluded—men who were close to Tetherion. Cove had ensured that he would not suffer by someone else’s hand.

  Barren now understood that although the ambassador was prepared, the situation he constantly lived in was a balancing act—a precarious one. He supposed he’d always known that, but seeing this made it more real.

  The doors of the church were large and wooden, held on with black hinges. The façade of the church was mostly flat, only interrupted by narrow stained glass windows. The largest part of the church was a bell tower which rose from the center of the building, and the rest of the church was hidden by a stone wall and willow trees.

  It had been a long time since Barren had been in a church. Churches didn’t give him a comfortable feeling, but Barren followed Cove as he stepped over the threshold. He found himself taking a breath once he was inside. Cove looked at him curiously.

  “What?”

  “I guess I was just waiting for you to burst into flame,” Cove said and laughed. Barren rolled his eyes, but he’d been waiting for the same thing.

  They looked ahead. The doors to the sanctuary were open, candles were lit at the head of the altar, and a heavy wooden cross was also erected there. Two sets of pews divided the room. There was a simplicity to the décor that Barren admired. The walls were white, trimmed with gold, and the pews were of dark wood. There were no large paintings or tapestries, no distractions. Barren imagined that with daylight streaming in through the windows, this place was probably uplifting, but with the darkness outside and few candles, the air felt heavy.

  Cove moved forward and Barren followed in his shadow.

  “Ambassador Rowell,” a man in brown robes exited a door adjacent to the sanctuary. He sounded a bit surprised to see Cove in his church, though that might have been because the Ambassador had been shot the previous night. The man was older and small in stature. He was pale with a long face and he acted intimidated, though Barren couldn’t tell if he really was or if that was just a part of his personality. “What can I do for you this fine evening?”

  “Brother Gregory,” Cove said, and Barren noticed he placed his hands behind his back, straightening. “I’ve come to visit Alaster. Is he available?”

  “Yes, I’ll see you to him,” he said, but before he turned, the monk paused, his eyes settling on Barren, who he’d just noticed.

  “You’ve no need to worry, Brother, he is in my company.”

  “Oh,” the man gave a breathless laugh. “I see.” But Barren could tell he was startled. Wasn’t everyone in Cove’s network aware of his connections to Barren? The way this man reacted told Barren that wasn’t so true. “F-follow me,” The monk said again and left the sanctuary through a side door.

  They followed him, entering a narrow, dim hallway. The walls were stone, and it was cooler here. Barren wondered who this Alaster was. Cove hadn’t referred to him as ‘brother,’ so it didn’t seem that he was a man of the church, yet here he stayed.

  “I have heard of the trouble in town,” said Gregory. “Is Dr. Newell recovered?”

  “Yes, I believe he is doing well,” Cove replied.

  “And…are you doing well, Ambassador?” the monk ventured. “You don’t quite seem…like yourself.”

  “Yes, I am fine.” Cove was less tolerant of questions in regard to his health. Barren wasn’t sure if the ambassador was always like this or if he’d suddenly become defensive in light of the news that he might die.

  The monk nodded and didn’t ask how anyone else was feeling. At some point he turned and stopped them, putting out his hands as if moving forward one more step might cause the whole place to explode. “If you’ll wait here a moment.”

  The monk entered a door to his right. Barren and Cove exchanged a glance. This man was tedious.

  After a moment, Gregory reappeared. “Alaster will see you now,” he said and stood aside while Cove and Barren entered the room. Barren tried not to make eye contact with the man, because even being in the monk’s presence was uncomfortable.

  They entered a small room and the door closed behind them. There was a table at the center, a bed to the far wall, a
nd a washing cabinet.

  A man sat at a round table. He was older and had a short white beard that covered the bottom half of his face. Glasses perched upon the end of his large nose. When he heard the door shut, he looked over at them.

  The man’s gaze met Barren’s, and while he showed little surprise at his presence, Barren couldn’t help feeling unnerved.

  Shaking his newspaper closed, he cleared his throat.

  “Albatross,” he said, and when the old man spoke Cove’s nickname, it was filled with the weight of its meaning, but also respect.

  “Have the bodies been buried?” asked Cove. He was referring to the five men he’d found at sea, their brethren.

  “Yes,” he said. “Unmarked plots, but honorably laid to rest, all the same.”

  It was then Barren understood that Alaster was a gravedigger.

  “What information have you gathered on Aethea Moore?”

  “Little, but some. She has lived as Aethea Moore for the last five years. Most of that time was spent in Lystra, though her activities there are unknown. Her ship was purchased there."

  “How did she come to work for Tetherion?”

  “Datherious hired her, though where the recommendation came from, I do not know.”

  “Datherious hired a privateer for his father?” Barren questioned. The practice wasn’t uncommon, but if Barren had to guess, Aethea was chosen deliberately.

  “Or maybe Datherious hired an assassin for himself. Perhaps we are naïve. Maybe Datherious wants his father’s crown,” said Cove. “I’m sure he believes he can do a better job.”

  “Rumor has it the Commonwealth is pleased with Datherious,” said Alaster. Barren shuddered. He couldn’t imagine anyone being pleased with the twin. Something in Datherious’s energy was malevolent. Barren had to admit, however, he was surprised Datherious would make a move for the crown so soon.

  “I can’t imagine why,” said Barren. “He’s done nothing to prove he will make a good king.”

  “No one is looking for a good king,” said Alaster. No, Barren knew that. A change in reign would mean a change in the court, new positions, more power. “Besides, Datherious feeds into what the people want. War on piracy.”

  That was true. Ever since Datherious had returned, he’d condemned Barren and all who sailed under the code. It wasn’t all that surprising. Datherious had to reestablish himself as a prince of his people, instead of a young and rebellious boy who’d run off with his cousin to sail the seas.

  “For the time being, however, Tetherion is still king, and though an attempt was made on his life, it seems he’s using it to his advantage,” Alaster continued.

  “What do you mean?” asked Cove.

  Alaster pushed the paper he had been reading toward them. The title read in black, bold letters, “ASSASSIN FROM OCTENT ATTEMPS MURDER OF KING.” The article touched on several aspects of the night: the success of the Autumn Ball up until the attack, Cove’s injury and heroism, and Aethea Moore, the Octent assassin. But what disturbed Barren the most was the suggestion that this incident might reignite a war over the Ore Mines.

  “Has this been printed yet?” asked Barren. Anything involving the Ore Mines wasn’t going to be good. The Ore Wars had been waged over that territory and had ended in a stalemate. It was the war in which Jess Reed had become the most infamous enemy of his father, King Cathmor, by undermining the king’s attempts to conquer the territory, and, as Barren had recently learned, to keep weapons from moving across Mariana.

  “No,” said Alaster. “But it will tomorrow.”

  “There are only two ways for the Octent to respond. They will either relinquish any claim to the land or they will go to war.”

  He said it so simply.

  “I don’t understand,” said Barren. “Why is that place of such value?”

  “An ore mine can be a valuable resource to a nation,” said Cove. “It is a source of power and wealth. Two things we know Tetherion covets more than anything in this world.”

  “All this and the weapons, too,” Barren muttered, thinking. “The attempted assassination could be a ploy. Just a power play so that Tetherion can come into possession of the Ore Mines.”

  “Yes,” Cove agreed. “And the weapons work in two ways. They arm the privateers, Tetherion’s army, and they deter war altogether because of their power.”

  “I suppose you’ll have to ask the assassin herself if you really want to know,” said Alaster. “But you don’t have much time.”

  Barren looked at Cove expectantly, but the ambassador seemed to ignore Alaster’s input on the subject and bowed his head. “Thank you, Alaster.”

  “Shall I see you out?” he asked.

  “No, no. I know the way.”

  The ambassador turned then, and Barren followed.

  Gregory didn’t see them out, for which Barren was thankful. They stood outside in the night, cool air from the sea washing over them. It had been hot in Alaster’s tiny room. Neither man spoke.

  Barren ran through the information they’d learned. It was likely that Datherious had ties to the Commonwealth and had hired Aethea to assassinate Tetherion, though like Tetherion, he’d used the situation to his advantage. Now the Orient faced war with the Octent. With the tension over the Ore Mines and the weapons resurfacing, it seemed his father’s past was coming back to haunt him.

  Cove and Barren did not speak. They moved on, heading back to Cove’s mansion in silence.

  They didn’t take the same way back. Cove wanted to keep an eye on Dr. Newell’s office. He didn’t believe that Ben was finished with the doctor.

  “We’ll stop by John’s and see how he’s doing,” said Cove.

  Barren nodded.

  Cove walked ahead, keeping his head down, not wanting to be stopped by anyone who desired his attention or help, especially with Barren Reed trailing a few feet behind him. They rounded a corner and Cove saw the back entrance of Dr. Newell’s office. There were three rotten steps that lead to the door. He never used them, fearing they would collapse with his weight.

  He approached the office just as the door swung open. A woman stepped down onto the first rickety step, and it caved beneath her weight. She yelped as she fell forward. Cove reacted, catching her before she hit the ground. He set her on her feet and stepped back.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “I am so sorry,” a woman’s voice, a familiar one, said. She turned, fixing her hat in place. Even in this light, Cove could make out her sapphire eyes. “Sara, what are you doing out here so late at night?”

  “I was…um,” she looked back at the door.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes,” she was clearly uncomfortable.

  Cove narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t press her to explain herself. “I will escort you home.” He glanced up at Barren, who seemed to understand and immediately melded with the darkness. He offered her his arm before she could decline. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, but took it, tightening her grip around him as if he’d be taken away. They began their walk toward her home.

  “How are you feeling? I tried to check on you, but Hollow said you didn’t want visitors.”

  “I’m fine, like nothing ever happened,” he said, though he was most definitely lying because since he’d been hit, he hadn’t felt the same. It was hard to put his finger on it. There was pain but something more. The look Sara gave him told him she didn’t believe a word he said.

  “When did you become a liar, Cove?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How did you manage to get that bullet out?” she asked, pulling away from him. She crossed her arms. “You never visited Dr. Newell, did you?”

  Cove rubbed his mouth, trying to stop the words that wanted to spill out. They weren’t truthful words, they were accusations. Why was she spying on him? Was it for Ben?

  “Does Ben know you’re out here checking up on me?” His voice was biting. Sara looked away, angry. “He doesn’t have to know ever
ything I do.”

  “You mean he doesn’t have to know when it involves me, right?”

  He watched her. She wasn’t looking at him, and she kept her head tilted to the left. He saw her raise her hand up to brush her face and he knew she was crying.

  “Hey,” he stepped closer. Placing his fingers on her chin, he turned her head toward his. “Please don’t cry. You know I hate seeing you sad.”

  Sara tried to wipe more tears away, but they fell quickly. She cried harder, placing her hand over her mouth to muffle the sounds.

  “Shh,” Cove pulled her to him. It had been so long since he’d felt her body against his. She was soft and warm. Perfection. He rested his cheek on her head and swayed slowly back and forth while she cried. “Sara,” he whispered. “I’m not worth your tears.”

  She pulled away and stared up at him, her nose and eyes red.

  “You’re worth all my tears, Cove Rowell. I have cried for you day after day. What am I supposed to do? You’re my best friend and you’re always gone or…or getting shot in your own home! Then when I need to see you most, you refuse me!”

  For some reason, Cove smiled. “First, Hollow refused you. Second, next time I’m shot, I will make sure you can see me.”

  Sara smiled, but pushed him for his sarcasm. “Cove, I’m serious!”

  “So am I,” the smile still lingered on his lips. “You know, I never gave you that dance.”

  He bowed suddenly and then held out his hand.

  “Cove…it’s late…”

  “Better late than never,” he said.

  She laughed and took his hand. Their fingers threaded together, and Cove drew their bodies closer, placing his hand on her waist. Beneath the stars, they began to dance to their own rhythm, moving gracefully over the cobble road and never looking away from each other.

  “You’re such a good man, Cove,” Sara said quietly.

  Cove laughed. “Many would disagree with you. I disagree with you.”

  She frowned. “Why would you say that?”