“But what proof?” asked Jack.
“We have to capture someone,” said Rachel. “A witness who knows the chain of command.”
“That’s a tall order,” said Jack. “Seven people on seven dragons against dozens who are well-armed and traveling by ship. How do we capture the right person without getting ourselves killed?”
“I keep telling you, we don’t have to do everything,” said William. “All we need to do is find them, slow them down, keep them from escaping to open sea, and let Bentsen catch up and do the rest.”
Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes. “You make it sound so easy, but there’s no possible way it will be that simple.”
“You are all tired,” said Vincent, leaning back and signaling an end to the discussion. “And I don’t blame you. You’ve had several busy days with erratic sleep. Let Ungless handle the choke points. If these rebels can walk across the sea, they deserve to keep the gold. But tomorrow you seven can begin a fresh search on your dragons, and perhaps find these ships—if that’s how these rebels are traveling. Once we know where they are, we can decide what to do next. The footmen will show you to your rooms.”
William allowed fatigue to engulf him, as though Vincent’s words had given him permission. His gaze dropped, and he staggered to his feet. He only hoped he could reach the bed before falling asleep.
Vincent stopped him, placing a hand on William’s elbow. “William, stay a few moments longer, if you please. I’d like to speak with you alone.”
Chapter 24
William turned to Melissa. They still hadn’t reconciled since their squabble, and he didn’t want to wait any longer. But he was a guest, and Vincent his benefactor, so he couldn’t refuse. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he told her. “Don’t wait up.”
She kissed his cheek before yawning and following the footman, too exhausted to respond.
“Join me in the library, William,” said Vincent. “I won’t keep you long.” Vincent led the way through another hallway into a large but cozy room. Like William’s, it had a fireplace, but the floor was carpeted, and the shelves contained easily ten times the number of volumes. A large painting adorned the far wall, picturing a nobleman with an intense gaze that somehow seemed both stern and kind.
“My late father,” said Vincent, noting William’s gaze. “I keep him there to remind me of the lessons he taught me. Without his wisdom, I would not be half the man I am today, and Azuria would be a much poorer place. Being far from the capital meant he rarely had the king’s help, a challenge that continues today. But you’ve made it easier—you and your friends. With the dragon trade, Azuria may be the most prosperous dukedom on Esper.”
William nodded his gratitude. “I’m glad we could help.”
Vincent tilted his head at William. “I mentioned it because I’ve noted that you’re having difficulty with prosperity yourself.”
It was all William could do not to hang his head in shame. Still, his cheeks burned. Hearing it from Earl Bradford, or Jack, or even Tom Reid was one thing, but William knew he owed his position to Vincent, and now he was being accused of squandering the opportunity. “We’ve had a bit of bad luck,” he admitted.
Vincent shot him a knowing smile and sat in a large, cushioned chair, indicating another for William to sit in. “Is that all it really is? Bad luck?”
“Well,” he said, not certain where to begin. “We’ve taken calculated risks, but most haven’t paid off—not yet, anyway. And Kirby Elric hurt us too. He took perverse pleasure in sabotaging our efforts, but that problem is gone now that he’s dead.”
“And the villagers who live on your barony—what are they like?”
William weighed his words carefully, formulating a response that wouldn’t admit his disappointment, even his disdain for the people who lived on his land. He let out a heavy sigh. “They’re good people…good in the sense that they mean no harm. And when the rebels attacked, not one refused to defend the barony, even the children. But…”
Vincent waited. “But what?” he prompted.
“I wish they would have some pride,” said William finally. “In their appearance, in their work, in their homes.”
“That’s a perfectly reasonable thing for a baron to wish for.”
“It is?” asked William, surprised by the duke’s response. “I thought for sure you would chastise me and tell me I expect too much of them.”
“Not at all. Pride is a good thing. Not the pride of a boastful man, but the kind that doesn’t permit you to be anything but the best you can.”
William nodded, taking comfort in Vincent’s agreement. “Exactly. They must want more from life than just growing food and paying taxes. Otherwise what’s the point?”
Reggie came in carrying a tray with three glasses of amber liquid, one of which he handed to Vincent before offering one to William. William sniffed it, and nearly jumped in surprise.
“It’s brandy,” said Reggie with a grin. “Distilled wine. It’s rather potent—sip it slowly.”
William did as instructed but was still startled by the burning sensation. The pleasant flavor lingered on his tongue long after the burn subsided. “This is outstanding,” he said.
“You have excellent taste, young man,” said Reggie. “I’ll leave the two of you alone,” he added before departing, the third glass remaining on the tray.
“So, you enjoy fine things after all,” said Vincent with a sly grin.
William laughed. “Let’s say I enjoy experiencing them.”
“But not owning them?”
How could he answer truthfully without it sounding like an accusation? He glanced up at the picture of Vincent’s father, recognizing the pride he remembered in his own father’s face. He suspected the two fathers could have been friends—not equals, perhaps, but kindred spirits.
He turned back to Vincent. “We didn’t have much money when I was growing up. Even less when my father died. I know it must sound silly, but having money now is almost…embarrassing. Buying expensive things is even more so.”
“Few things are as emotional as money, William,” said Vincent, nodding his understanding. “Your feelings aren’t silly at all, but they aren’t productive either, and you need to outgrow them.”
William stared into the fire and sipped his brandy, childhood memories flooding through his mind. Money was never discussed. His mother always avoided the subject, but he always knew when it was on her mind, especially when she worked late into the night to earn enough for the next day’s meals. He’d learned not to talk about it, lest it hurt her feelings. “How do I outgrow it?” he asked.
“By understanding money for what it is,” answered Vincent. “You’ve seen a few rooms in my house, and some of the things I collect—tapestries, paintings, statues, fine dishes. Which do you think is my most cherished collection?”
William shrugged. “I couldn’t begin to guess.”
“The answer is none of them,” said Vincent. “My most important collection is people.”
Was he tired, or was Vincent being cryptic? He didn’t want to push him, especially not while a guest in his home, but he was growing impatient and wanted to sleep. “I don’t understand,” he said finally.
Vincent nodded toward the painting of his father. “He taught me what I’m about to teach you. My father had a knack for finding skilled people and nurturing them. I learned to do the same, and when he died I inherited his projects and added several of my own. A brilliant doctor who I helped open a clinic; a glass-maker who opened a factory; a trader who founded a town and became an earl; a barony agent with radical new ideas; a teacher in Marshland with an eye for talented students; and a young librarian who changed the world with one discovery, and possibly saved it with another. Each of these people needed something before they could blossom, and I was fortunate enough to both discover them, and to be in a position to help them. This is the true power of money, William. It’s like water: sprinkled in the right place, it helps a seed grow. Channeled,
it powers the wheel that runs the mill. Turn that channel into a canal, and it floats cargo to new markets. Water is nothing to be feared; it is a tool. The same applies to money.”
“I think I understand,” said William. “But how do I learn to do what you did—to find these people and help them become…more than they are?”
“You’ve already begun,” said Vincent with a smile. “You took in Miss Plevins and empowered her to start a school and a chicken roost. Yes, I know about that—she writes to me regularly. And your butler…he was homeless before you hired him, and a school bully before that. But you saw something in him and gave him a chance to prove himself. People will question your judgment, even well-meaning friends for whom success came easily, but I hope you’ll continue, because it’s the best way to make the world a better place. But there’s one more thing you need to know. Come upstairs to my private study.”
William followed him through the hall and up the grand staircase, the thick carpeting softening the sound of Clyde’s talons. Vincent opened a door and William entered to find Reggie occupying one of the armchairs, book in one hand, brandy in the other. William was puzzled at first by the decoration covering the far wall: a grid of wooden frames surrounding shiny blackness. Then it dawned on him what it really was: a giant window, nearly the width of the entire wall, its reflections of the room blocking the view outside.
“Shall I cover the lantern?” asked Reggie.
“For just a moment, please,” said Vincent.
Blackness filled the room, and the sky outside filled with stars. William shook his head in wonder. “This must look amazing in the daylight.”
“Yes, but the night view inspires me more,” said Vincent. “Look there, across the water. See that light? It comes from a little house that belongs to a fisherman. His wife lights a candle at night to guide him home through the darkness.”
William recalled a lesson, one that Miss Plevins took special joy in, a joy she transferred to him. “‘How far that little candle doth throw his beams…’”
Vincent turned and smiled with a look of surprise. “You know Shakespeare!”
“A little,” said William. “Not as much as I’d like.”
“You and I are like that candle, William. People look to the nobility for example. If we take less pride in our appearance than we are able, so will they. If our homes are not the most presentable we can make them, why should they expend any effort on theirs?”
William stayed silent for a minute, staring out the window at the distant spark of light. The truth hit him like a gust of wind on a calm day. He chuckled to himself and turned to Vincent. “If I don’t hire a stable boy, why should they fix their fences?”
“Yes,” said Vincent, his face glowing with enthusiasm. “Our good deeds must shine out in this weary, naughty world to inspire others to light their own candles.”
“I’ve been blind,” said William as he stared out the window again.
“No, you’ve simply been forced to learn faster than those born to this life. Even so, you’re young and have time to surpass them. I expect great things of you, you know.”
“Don’t put so much pressure on him, Vincent,” said Reggie.
William raised his eyebrows. He himself allowed Oz a certain amount of leeway, but only because neither of them knew how a butler should behave. But Vincent only smiled at Reggie’s comment. Was this normal? Should he expect the same sort of back talk from Oz?
“Very well,” said Vincent. He turned and kissed Reggie’s cheek. “Perhaps it’s time for bed anyway.”
William froze, uncertain how to react.
Vincent grinned at him. “I believe I’ve shocked you, William.”
“You took me by surprise,” admitted William.
The duke peered at him closely. “But you aren’t offended?”
William shook his head in denial. “Not in the least! I knew about Miss Plevins and Agatha, and I still invited them into my home, ordered a cottage and hen house built for them. You may have shocked me, but my mother raised me better than to judge people for whom they love.”
Vincent nodded his approval. “I thought as much, but I wanted to be sure.” He glanced at a painting, a smaller version of the one in his library. “My father disapproved at first, but he came around in time.”
“Can I ask what changed his mind?” asked William.
“I told him what love meant to me: at night, cocooned in your blanket, the world feels no smaller because everything you need is right beside you.”
William smiled as he imagined the blanket that awaited him, and who would share it with him. “That’s as good a definition as I’ve ever heard.”
“Your bedroom is down the hall, third door on the right. Feel free to stay here and finish your brandy.”
“Thank you. Good night.”
William sat in the armchair again after they departed, fighting sleep. He took another sip, relishing the rich taste and warm sensation, and enjoying the silence. No more wind in his ears from a long day of flying. No talking, no dishes clattering, and no unwelcome thoughts invading his mind.
Peace. He hadn’t felt it since—well, he didn’t remember when.
He set the glass down and rose to leave. “Come on, Clyde. Let’s go to bed.” The dragon followed him down the hall and into the bedroom where he found Melissa curled up, gently snoring. She woke when he crawled into bed.
“Is everything okay?” she mumbled.
“Everything’s fine,” he said as he stroked her hair. “Sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
The bed was empty when he woke. Clyde, too, was missing. A quick peek through the window told him the sun had been up for a while, so he dressed quickly and raced downstairs, finding the others already enjoying a large breakfast. Even Maya and Charlie had arrived from the mainland.
“Have a seat, William,” said Vincent, indicating the chair beside him. His tea was poured the moment he sat, and footmen followed immediately with eggs, bacon, toasted bread, smoked fish, and more delectables than he could have wished for.
“Good morning, slacker,” teased Rachel. “Even Clyde couldn’t wait for you.” She nodded at the dragon digging into a bowl of greens in the corner.
“That’s my fault, I’m afraid,” said Vincent. “I kept William up late talking and drinking brandy.”
“Hey, I’d like some brandy too,” said Jack with a pretend hurt look.
“Not for breakfast,” said Rachel. “And not before flying.”
Jack shivered. “Ugh, you had to remind me.”
“I don’t understand why you don’t enjoy it,” said Melissa. “In fact, I’ll only travel by dragon now. William, will you buy me a drone?”
William shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way, sweetheart.”
“Shucks.”
“How about you, Charlie?” asked William. “You haven’t said much about flying one way or the other.”
“The fear isn’t gone yet, but it was easier this morning,” he said.
“He’s becoming an expert already,” said Maya with a smile of pride. “Hopped right on when the drones landed to fetch us. Thanks for sending them, by the way.”
“That was my idea,” said Rachel. “Stop giving Will all the credit.”
“Oops, sorry,” said Maya with a sheepish grin. “Melissa? You aren’t eating anything. Are you okay?”
Melissa rubbed her stomach. “I’m a bit queasy this morning,” she said. “I’m sure it will pass.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” answered Maya. “I can give you what I gave Oz if you like. But try to eat something if you can—we may be spending a lot of time in the air.”
William sat back and enjoyed the good-natured conversation. The emotional lift he’d gotten from the previous night’s epiphanies had carried over into the morning, and the tea bolstered his sense of warmth and well-being. Even the bread seemed to hold magical qualities as he nibbled on a slice smeared with preserved fruit. The only sour note was knowing Melissa felt
ill. He cast a glance at her, but she seemed perfectly happy. In fact, she was more concerned about him.
“You’re barely talking,” she said to him quietly. “Are you okay?”
He smiled back at her. “I’m just enjoying the moment while it lasts.”
“Why wouldn’t it last?” she asked.
“Has everyone eaten enough?” asked Vincent. “It’s time we discussed today’s plan.”
“That’s why,” whispered William.
The footmen cleared the table with efficiency, removing the tea to a side table and clearing away everything else. Vincent unfolded a large map and spread it over the table, covering several square feet. “This is Faywater Bay,” he said. “As you can see, it’s expansive.”
“And complicated,” said Jack. “Look at all those islands.”
“And the rugged coast,” said Maya.
“What are all these pin marks?” asked Rachel.
“I use this map for combating smugglers,” said Vincent. “The pin holes are the hiding spots we know about. Which, unfortunately, means they no longer use them. However, the rebels may not know that, which makes them prime locations for searching.”
“I don’t see how seven people can cover this whole area,” said Jack. “Eighty miles long, about twenty miles wide, that’s over two hundred square miles each.”
“We’re not on foot,” said Maya. “Which makes all the difference. And a lot of that area is open water, which we can see clearly from high up.”
“Exactly,” said Vincent. “They won’t likely risk sailing by day, which means you only need to search islands and coastline. Any ship large enough to sail the open sea should be visible from far above.”
“Not if it’s covered,” said Rachel. “I’ve been on a few of those islands, and the trees can be pretty thick. They could easily hide a ship where the trees overhang.”
“Which means we’ll need to fly low along the coastline,” said William. “That’s still a lot of ground to cover. But at least it’s a clear day.”
Skyrider of Renegade Point Page 26
