The House of the Four Winds: Book One of One Dozen Daughters

by Mercedes Lackey

  She was falling in love with—might already be in love with—a man who didn’t even know she existed. Literally.

  You must tell him, she told herself sternly. Oh, not that you are in love with him—Mama has said that men do not like to be surprised by declarations of that nature. What you must tell him is that you are not Clarence, but Clarice, and then hope that his friendship remains true.

  But not right now, she added in a hasty mental footnote. Not when we sail toward Spirits and Powers know what! When we have seen what’s there … then I shall find a moment when we may be private, and I will tell him, if not all, then at least that I am Clarice, not Clarence.

  I know he will understand the reason for my disguise. That I am certain of. What I do not know is … will he like “Clarice” at all?

  No answer was to be found within the pages of her diary, or the four walls of her cabin, and brooding on the unknown was a useless occupation at the best of times. With a sigh, Clarice returned her diary to her chest and got to her feet.

  Time for bed.

  Perhaps tomorrow would be as glorious as today had been.

  * * *

  But of course the idyll could not last.

  That evening, they had barely taken their seats for dinner when the door opened again and Reverend Dobbs entered. It was the first time he had come to the common room since the mutiny. He gazed around the table with a tight, triumphant smile, and Clarice tried to stop herself from thinking of him as a feral cur that no amount of loving-kindness could tame.

  “I hope I am not unwelcome?” he asked silkily.

  Immediately, Clarice’s suspicions rose to a fever pitch. What did he want? Was he here to gloat? What did he know that they did not?

  Dominick had risen to his feet when Dobbs entered. “Why, of course not. Jerrold, fetch a chair. I shall have another place laid for you.”

  Jerrold had made himself Dominick’s cabin boy simply by virtue of being constantly underfoot, until Mr. Emerson had given up trying to keep him in the galley.

  “For your guest?” Dobbs asked, still in that same mild, treacherous tone, as Jerrold brought a chair and set out plates and glassware from the store now displayed in the sideboard. “Or do I put words in your mouth you were not about to speak?”

  Dominick didn’t answer.

  “You know you do, you canting gallows-bird,” Dr. Chapman said roughly. “I can’t say I welcome your presence here, speaking only for myself, but you have every right to be here. I wish you were here under the guise of a guest. A guest can be disinvited. If you were a guest, I’d throw you out myself,” he added in a lower tone.

  “Ah, honesty, at least,” Dobbs said, seating himself and reaching for the bottle to fill his glass.

  “That’s ironic, coming from you,” the doctor growled.

  “Gentlemen,” Dominick said, “I will have no quarrels over our food. Reverend Dobbs, I am sorry if you thought you must avoid this place, but perhaps I might ask, why come back now?”

  “Why, to experience the company of gentlemen, of course,” Dobbs answered, turning the remark to a slur on Kayin and Geordie by the direction of his glance.

  Geordie flushed dark. Kayin affected not to hear. Jerrold finished laying out Dobbs’s place. “I’ll go and get the dinner now, Cap’n, I mean, if—”

  “Yes, of course, Jerrold, thank you,” Dominick said. “Whatever your reason, please consider yourself welcome,” Dominick added to Dobbs.

  * * *

  The presence of Reverend Dobbs cast a chill over the meal. No one was in the mood for jokes or stories, and everyone seemed preternaturally cautious of his or her words. At last the plates were cleared away, the port was set on the table, and the smoking lamp was lit.

  When Clarice took out her cigar case, Dominick leaned toward her and asked, “May I beg the favor?”

  She opened the case and held it out to him; he took one of the small, black cigarillos.

  He has never done that before, she thought. But Reverend Dobbs would be enough to make anyone turn to drink—or worse.

  When Dominick had puffed the cigarillo alight, he paused to sip from his wineglass. Clarice realized he was stalling. Or … gathering his courage?

  “As some of you know—and more of you guess,” he said with a bland look in Dobbs’s direction, “tomorrow we shall reach our destination. As you are aware, it is no more than a mark on a chart to me. I know nothing more of it than that Mr. Sprunt, our late captain—”

  “Foully slain by you all,” Dobbs said with quiet force.

  “No,” Clarice said strongly. “I alone ended his life. Do not place that blame on anyone else here.”

  “I still do not know what reason you had to interfere in a matter that had nothing to do with you,” Dobbs sneered.

  “As much as anyone on this ship, with our provisions—and our water—meant to run out midocean. We have enough to reach our destination now, but with a full crew, we would have been perishing of thirst days ago. But”—she reined in her temper with an effort—“I am afraid I have interrupted our captain, and for that I beg pardon.”

  Though Dominick managed to keep a smile from his face at her utterly mendacious segue, his eyes danced with merriment. “As I was saying, before Clarence’s unconscionable rudeness, tomorrow we shall reach our destination. I hope, as we all do, to find it uninhabited, but I know not what may lie in this place Mr. Sprunt wished to sail to. So I will issue weapons to the crew, and our guns will be run out and ready.”

  There was a pause.

  “Let us consider that one man at this table may know more of our destination than he has yet seen fit to confide in us,” Dr. Chapman said with heavy irony.

  Amazingly, Dominick laughed. “Why, my dear doctor! I am certain he does! And I am equally certain he will not tell us anything of any earthly use. So let us go on as if we had put him over the side with his cronies—do you not think this a wise plan, Clarence?”

  “Certainly it is the easiest one,” Clarice answered, a bit startled at being asked. “Though I dare to say he has filled the crew’s ears with all manner of nonsense tales about the horrors that await us.”

  “Do you think so?” Dominick said, as if he were much struck by the idea.

  The Reverend Dobbs now looked decidedly uncomfortable. “You malign me,” he muttered halfheartedly.

  “Not I,” Dominick said virtuously, and Kayin snorted rudely. This time, it was Clarice who was forced to conceal a smile. “At any rate,” Dominick said, rising, “I shall bid you gentlemen good evening. Tomorrow will be a day of great interest to us all.”

  “Interest,” Clarice thought sourly, is far too mild a word for it!

  * * *

  The morning dawned bright and clear, and Dominick called a captain’s mast to tell the crew he expected to reach their destination by midafternoon at the latest. He detailed his plans for preparing the guns and issuing weapons, reminding them that he knew as little of what they could expect to find as they did.

  Things went well enough until a voice shouted out of the crowd, “And what of the treasure, Captain? What of that?”

  I see the Reverend Dobbs has not given up hope, Clarice thought sourly.

  “Why, Gil Morley—is that you? Stand forward so I can answer you fairly,” Dominick said.

  After some pushing and shoving, at last Morley came—or, rather, was thrust—forward. He didn’t look happy to be the center of attention and stuck his chin out belligerently.

  “Whoever has put this rumor of treasure into your head clearly knows more of our destination than I, and I invite him to present himself and give us all the benefit of his wisdom,” Dominick said.

  Most of those listening took this for a joke and laughed appreciatively.

  “I know nothing of our destination, and I know nothing of any treasure,” Dominick went on, “but I do know this: whatever we find at our destination, we will all share in it equally, as comrades and shipmates. This I vow, before you all, and before Asesino
herself.” He placed a hand on the wood of the railing before him with a gesture very like a caress.

  To nobody’s particular surprise, most of the inventory of arms they should have been carrying was missing, but Kayin assured Dominick that the remaining weapons would be ready by two bells of the afternoon. Clarice had been aboard long enough to translate that into an hour past noon.

  With Dr. Chapman still unable to use his injured arm, Clarice was pressed once again into service as surgeon’s mate. She and Dr. Chapman inventoried the contents of the surgery and arranged everything so it would be easily and quickly available. She sharpened all of Dr. Chapman’s tools and hoped desperately they would not be needed, for if any surgery must be done today, she would have to be his hands.

  As she worked, she traced the progress of the ship’s getting ready by the thumps, crashes, and muffled swearing she heard faintly through the deck and the bulkheads.

  “You’re lucky you’re a passenger,” Dr. Chapman said. “Else they’d be putting you to work.”

  “And you aren’t?” She chuckled.

  “You’re the only one left on this tub who doesn’t faint at the sight of blood,” he answered cheerfully. “Other than Dobbs, and I’m certainly not trusting him within a day’s sail of my equipment.” He glanced toward the porthole, frowning. “God help us if we are forced to fight,” he said as if to himself.

  At her look of inquiry, he sighed. “We have eight twelve-pounders with untrained gun crews. I doubt that means much to you. The gun’s rating is for the weight of the cannonball it fires. A first-rate ship of the line—a military vessel—might carry a hundred guns. Forty-eight pounders with gun crews trained until they can get off five shots a minute, and a captain who understands that the whole of his ship is another weapon.”

  Clarice had never seen their cannon, but she knew that polishing them had been Freeman Lee’s favorite form of extra work, though he’d liked all of them. Asesino had been as sparkling and scrubbed as a prince’s toy, though the men whipped to the work had been half starved and exhausted.

  It does not matter how pretty we are, or how pretty the cannon are, if we must fight, Clarice thought uneasily. But Sprunt would never set sail for a harbor he would have to fight his way into, she told herself encouragingly.

  “But surely we are not likely to encounter an enemy in these waters?” Clarice asked, swallowing hard, her mouth suddenly dry. Dr. Chapman had been a naval surgeon once. Perhaps he had even been involved in such battles as he described so offhandedly.

  “If we do, I hope Dominick has the good sense to surrender at once,” Dr. Chapman said dryly. “Hanging is a cleaner death than gangrene—and quicker than drowning. But never mind. All you need to know is that any ship we meet is likely to carry at least sixteen guns to our eight and know how to use them.”

  “Then why are we armed at all?” Clarice asked in exasperation.

  “Because a salvo or two will actually discourage some people.” He glanced toward the porthole. “It looks as if we are losing the sun,” he added mildly. “Let us go up on deck and see.”

  When they emerged into the air, Clarice saw that the sky had taken on a pewter sheen.

  “High mist,” Dr. Chapman said, squinting at the sky. “Odd time of day for it.”

  “I suppose any sort of weather is possible.”

  That comment earned Clarice a rude snort. “Not at sea, my fine young landlubber. Not at sea.”

  * * *

  An hour later the high mist had grown thicker, blurring the horizon and softening the shadows until they could barely be seen. Three times Dickon had gone to Dominick to confirm their heading, and a few minutes ago Dominick had given the order to take in their sails. They were continuing along their previous course, for it was that or stop where they were—something Clarice was not even sure was possible—until the mist lifted. She was no longer certain it ever would.

  Clarice stood beside Dominick on the foredeck as he paced and peered into the mist before them, checking both ship’s compass and ship’s clock every few seconds. The horizon grew closer minute by minute as the mist closed in—she hadn’t had the nerve to ask how far away it was now. Dominick’s mouth was set in a grim line, and all of the crew lined the rails to gaze out to sea. Even Kayin’s best efforts to order them to sword drills and musket drills had little effect. The tension in the air was palpable. It seemed to thicken with every breath Clarice drew into her lungs.

  “Kayin, please find Reverend Dobbs and bring him here,” Dominick said abruptly.

  Clarice looked at him questioningly as Kayin hurried to obey.

  “It seems we must question our upright man of God after all,” Dominick said grimly.

  Another quarter hour passed before Kayin returned. From the look of him, Reverend Dobbs hadn’t wanted to come. His coat was distinctly rumpled, and from the look of it, the collar had been used as a handle.

  As soon as he’d mounted the steps, Dobbs began, “I demand to know—”

  “You make no demands on the deck of this ship,” Dominick said quietly, and something in his voice made Dobbs stop in midsentence.

  “Now,” Dominick said briskly. “You were in Sprunt’s confidence. You helped him drive this ship to mutiny. You know we sail toward the same destination he intended to make for. Tell me what is there.”

  “I will tell you nothing,” Dobbs said with a smirk. “Save that your one chance for life is to deliver this vessel into my hands at once.”

  Glancing toward Kayin, Dominick raised one eyebrow. “And what do you suppose would happen then?” he asked mildly.

  “Nothing I want to see,” Kayin said bluntly.

  Dominick heaved a theatrical sigh. “Very well then! Take him below. And Kayin? Lay him in irons on the orlop. It is below the waterline, you know,” Dominick said to Dobbs, as if this might be something Dobbs was unaware of. “It will be the first to flood if we sink.”

  Dominick turned his back as if the matter were settled. Clarice caught her breath. To leave a man to drown in cold blood was a very different thing from killing one in the heat of a battle.

  But sure enough, Dodds had not gone three steps before he turned back. “Wait! I only meant that there are reefs ahead. Yes. And you will go aground upon them without my aid. I can guide you through them. For that I shall need Captain Sprunt’s talisman, of course.”

  Clarice was carefully looking anywhere but at Dominick, but she did not miss the flash of surprise that crossed Kayin’s face, as if what he had just heard was unbelievable.

  “Dickon!” Dominick raised his voice a little. “Could you tell me, have you gone deaf in the past quarter hour?”

  The surprise in Dickon’s voice was a mirror to the look on Kayin’s. “Why … no. How could I have? I heard you perfectly plainly.”

  “Then it is possible you would also hear the sound of surf upon a coastline—or breaking upon a reef large enough to run us aground?” Dominick asked mildly.

  “Why, I do believe that is not beyond my powers.” The mockery in Dickon’s voice was plain—and not directed at Dominick.

  “So,” Dominick said, turning back to face Dobbs, “you are perfectly safe. It is just as well, since I do not have Sprunt’s talisman.”

  “Where is it?” For the first time, Dobbs’s composure seemed truly rattled.

  “I could not tell you where it is at the moment,” Dominick said, and Clarice knew this was the truth, for he had not once asked her where she kept it. “Have you anything more to say?… No? Then you may go below. Kayin, please place the reverend in his own cabin. Securely.”

  “No irons?” Clarice thought Kayin sounded rather disappointed.

  “Not right now,” Dominick said.

  * * *

  “We know more than we did,” Dominick said as soon as Dobbs had been escorted away. He stood shoulder to shoulder with her, his voice so low that no one standing three feet away could have heard.

  “What?” she whispered back. “He told us nothing.”<
br />
  “He told us that the talisman is vital to making a safe landfall. You had best go and get it.”

  “I am wearing it right now.”

  His teeth flashed briefly in a grateful smile.

  * * *

  Another hour and the mist pressed against the flanks of the ship itself. Dominick had taken in even more sail.

  “Can we stop?” Clarice asked him in a low voice.

  He shook his head. “We could drift, but I do not like that either. Our safest choice is to send out the jolly boat on a long line. It is a technique for getting through a fog bank. I have seen it done once.” He turned to give the order.

  “Wait.” The medallion around Clarice’s neck had suddenly grown icy cold. But before Dominick could ask a question, or Clarice could tell him how little she knew, the fog began to billow and melt away as if it were steam.

  In another instant, they saw the ships waiting for them.

  6

  DOWN THE THROAT OF THE DRAGON

  THE TWO ships stood perhaps a mile off Asesino’s bow. The motley and colorful garb of the figures crowding their rails left even Clarice little doubt that she was looking at … pirates.

  Both ships were clearly waiting for Asesino—they had their guns run out, and she could see they bristled with cannon. Dozens of them. Large ones. Ones that the crews of the ships were clearly expert in the use of. So transfixed was she by the horrible sight that Clarice barely registered that the fog was gone. The snap of Asesino’s mainsail filling with wind made her jump. The ship picked up speed, sliding smoothly forward.

  Directly toward the other two ships.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice high and sharp.

  “Sailing into harbor,” Dominick said, his voice flat.

  He pointed, and at last Clarice was able to raise her gaze past the dazzle of weapons directly ahead to look beyond them.

  There was land.

  Quite a lot of it, in fact.

  Magic, she thought in a daze. Magic to conceal this island from passing ships, magic to summon the fog … What more? What worse? Sprunt must have known.…

  Beyond the arms of a rocky breakwater, a bay as round and perfect as a coin lay mirror still. The breeze eddying toward them brought the scent of flowers and oranges. Across the bay was a white crescent of beach, and beyond that the buildings of a town straggled up the side of a green-forested peak. A lazy curl of smoke eddied from its top. Volcano, she thought automatically. I have read of them.