Spymaster
Page 11
Kate’s flush deepened. “I needed parts for my ship. I knew she wouldn’t pay to hear the squalid tale of my real life, so I made up a story. I said I was one of the Rose Hawks, captain of my own pirate ship, and Dalgren was my partner. I told her a lot of crap about sinking Rosian galleons and stealing Travian gold. I just wanted the money! I never thought the fool woman would go ahead and publish it!”
Greenstreet chuckled. “Damn, Captain! Of all my clients, I do believe you are the most amusing.”
“You know I’m telling the truth,” said Kate, relieved.
“Of course I do,” he said. “As you say, I know everything that goes on in these islands. I would have heard about a sunken Rosian ‘galleon,’ especially considering the fact that not even the backward Guundaran navy owns such a museum piece.”
“I’m glad you understand, Greenstreet,” Kate said. “I won’t take up any more of your time. I’ll soon have that money for you—”
She started to rise, hoping to escape. Greenstreet raised a hand, palm out.
“We are not finished, Captain. Sit down.”
Kate sighed and sank back into the chair. She was fairly certain she knew what was coming.
Greenstreet sat forward and tapped the newspaper. “I find this story quite intriguing, especially the part about the dragon. You terrorized the Travians, Captain, set their deck on fire, threatened to roast them! I was most impressed.”
“Dalgren helps me with the wrecking,” Kate said. “We’re not pirates.”
“So what did you plan to do with this brig you salvaged?” Greenstreet asked. “Deliver the mail?”
He was smiling, but the smile did not reach his hooded eyes.
Kate couldn’t very well tell Greenstreet that she had planned to slip out of Freeport before he knew she was gone. He would be furious that she had fled without paying him what she owed, but Kate figured that once she was working as a privateer for the Freyan government, she wouldn’t have to worry about Greenstreet. He wouldn’t dare touch her.
“It’s just a story,” she said insistently. “I made it all up. If you want to know the truth, I’m refitting the Victorie as a merchantman. I’m going to haul cargo. More money than in wrecking.”
She started again to rise from the chair.
“Speaking of cargo,” said Greenstreet, unperturbed, “I have it on good authority that the Pride of Haever is en route from Freya to Wellinsport. The ship is carrying valuable cargo and passengers.”
“That’s interesting,” said Kate, sidling toward the door. “I hope they have a safe passage—”
“I trust they won’t,” said Greenstreet drily. “The infamous Captain Kate and her Dragon Corsairs are going to capture this ship, the cargo and passengers.”
Kate gave an uneasy laugh. “You’re not serious!”
“I assure you I am, Captain. Quite serious.” Greenstreet pointed to the chair. Kate sighed and sat back down.
Greenstreet reached into an inner pocket of his jacket. “I have here the ship’s manifest.”
He slid the paper across the desk toward Kate. “You will note the date the ship is expected to arrive, as well as a listing of the cargo and passengers. The Pride will be sailing the Trame Channel—an ideal place for your attack.”
“I told you I’m not a pirate. And I haven’t completed the repairs to my ship, so it’s not possible anyway—”
“You are being too modest, Captain,” Greenstreet said. “You’ve done a remarkable job refitting the ship, or so my men say. They have been checking on your progress and they tell me that since you installed the brass helm, the Victorie is ready to sail.”
Kate swore silently. She herself had said Greenstreet knew everything that went on the Aligoes. She should have been more careful.
“If you know that, you know I have yet to take my ship into the Breath,” said Kate. “You also know that I have no guns, no gun crew, no powder or shot. So how do you expect me attack an armed merchant ship?”
“You threatened to attack the Travians,” said Greenstreet. “You have a dragon. Who needs cannons? I will provide whatever you require including a crew—the best sailors in the Aligoes. Make a list of the supplies.”
Kate did some fast thinking. She had two reasons she couldn’t attack this Freyan merchant: Alan and Dalgren. Alan Northrop was a Freyan patriot, fighting for the glory and honor of his beloved country. If he found out that Kate had turned pirate and attacked a Freyan ship and stolen Freyan money, he would never forgive her.
As for Dalgren, ever since the battle that had left him severely wounded and killed one of his dearest friends, he had sworn to Kate that he would never fight again.
The answer came to her. She would let Greenstreet think that she was going to go along with his plan, and then slip out of Freeport before he knew she and Victorie were gone. Olaf would oppose such a dishonest scheme, but she’d deal with him when the time came. Greenstreet had offered to pay for supplying her ship. She might as well let him.
“Very well, I’ll do it,” she said, sounding reluctant. “Provided we can come to terms. What’s my share of the loot?”
“The usual for those in the profession,” said Greenstreet. “One-tenth of the value of the cargo and ransom money to be divided up between you and your crew as you see fit.”
“One-fifth,” Kate countered. “I deserve more. I have a dragon and Dalgren will want a cut.”
Greenstreet smiled. “Very well. One-fifth. But you must capture the Pride intact, not sink her. I don’t mind if the passengers and cargo are slightly singed, but they must not come to any harm.”
“Agreed,” said Kate, eyeing the man closely. Greenstreet was rarely so amenable. He smiled at her, but then he was always smiling. “I will come back with the list of supplies tomorrow.”
She rose from the chair again, taking the manifest and the newspaper with her. This time she managed to reach the door and was about to open it when Greenstreet called after her.
“How is my old friend, Olaf, these days?” he asked pleasantly. “Business at the tavern brisk?”
Kate stopped with her hand on the door.
“Business is fine,” she said.
“Excellent,” said Greenstreet. “And that cook—Akiel. I hear his food is quite good. I must stop in for supper sometime. Did you know there is an arrest warrant out for him in Freya? He is wanted for murder.”
Kate was silent.
“Then there’s your dragon friend, Dalgren,” Greenstreet continued. “Are you aware he is a deserter? The Dragon Brigade would give a great deal to have him returned to stand trial.”
Kate gripped the door handle so hard her knuckles turned white. No one, not even Olaf, knew that Dalgren was a deserter. The dragon had sworn her to secrecy. She might not be a very good person, but she was loyal to her friends.
“And finally we come to you, Kate,” Greenstreet continued, smiling. “I hear the Hollow Soul gang in Westfirth is still unhappy that you left without making good on Morgan’s gambling debts.”
Kate turned to face Greenstreet.
“I said I would do the job,” she told him. “You don’t need to use threats.”
“You forget, my dear,” said Greenstreet, leaning back and lacing his fingers together across his belly. “I did business with your father.”
* * *
The setting sun gilded the Breath. Looking out across the mists, Kate could see other islands in the distance. As dark rain clouds rolled in, the islands vanished. A light drizzle began to fall. Kate hunched her shoulders against the rain and kept walking.
She had no idea what to do. She devised various plans and discarded all of them. Greenstreet was having her watched, having her ship watched. Apparently he was even having Dalgren watched, although how he was managing this—given that the dragon’s cave was halfway up the side of a mountain—Kate couldn’t fathom.
She slowed her footsteps as she drew near the tavern. The rain had changed from a drizzle to a downpour, but despite th
e fact that she was soaked, she did not want to go inside. She was planning to fix this mess, but at the moment she didn’t exactly know how.
Like most buildings in the Aligoes, the Parrot was constructed of wooden slats covered with stucco and magic. During the years the building had been unoccupied before Olaf bought it, the magic had been allowed to deteriorate. Olaf had repaired the magical constructs and given the building a new coat of whitewash. Unable to afford a sign with the tavern’s name, he had hired a local artist to paint a garish green and orange parrot on the outer front wall.
The parrot seemed to view Kate with a critical eye. Once again, she’d landed herself in trouble. Herself and her friends, in another scheme to make money.
She could rationalize her reasons, just as Morgan had always done. She needed the money. The Parrot had done well during the war, but now in peacetime the tavern was barely surviving. Rum and ale were plentiful, but whiskey had to be imported all the way from Freya. The cost was dear and Olaf was reluctant to pass it onto the customers, while Akiel gave away food to anyone with a hard-luck story. Without Kate and her wrecking business, they might all be in the workhouse or worse.
That much was true, Kate offered in her defense. But it was also true that she had borrowed money knowing she couldn’t pay it back to fix up a derelict warship intended to buy a dream.
“I’ll fix it,” Kate told the parrot.
A flash of lightning drove her inside. Wooden booths lined the walls, and a few tables and chairs were scattered about the middle of the room. The bar was on the left near the back. She and Olaf each had their own small room in the rear of the building. Marco and the rest of the crew lived in town. Akiel lived on board the Rose, which was docked in the harbor, and did the cooking out back in a lean-to shack with a brick oven and a fire pit.
The tavern’s regulars called out greetings to Kate as she walked in the door. The smell of Akiel’s spicy chicken stew filled the air. Olaf was behind the bar, keeping ale mugs full, and Akiel was filling stew bowls. She noticed that two of Greenstreet’s henchmen sat in a corner booth. They grinned at her when she entered.
Olaf flashed her a questioning look that she answered with a reassuring smile before going to her room. After shutting and locking the door, she picked up a bottle of Calvados, poured some into a mug, and took a gulp. Fortified, she sat down to read the story about Captain Kate in the newspaper.
Miss Amelia Nettleship certainly had a way with words.
Kate threw down the paper, poured herself another drink, and shifted her attention to the manifest Greenstreet had handed her.
Captain Northrop had always had access to ships’ manifests, which was how he came to know what ships he and the Rose Hawks would attack. She had often wondered how he had obtained them and she guessed she now knew the answer. Greenstreet had provided them. Reading the manifest, Kate poured herself another drink.
She remained in her room until she heard Olaf shouting last call and the sounds of Akiel herding stragglers out the door. Kate picked up the newspaper and the bottle of Calvados and went into the common room.
The lanterns hanging from the ceiling were still lighted. Akiel was doing the washing up, dunking pewter mugs in a big tub of soapy water, while Olaf wiped down the bar with a rag.
“What happened, Katydid?” the old man asked. “What did Greenstreet want?”
Kate sat down at a table. “Do you have any of that stew left? I’m starved.”
Akiel brought her a bowl of stew and a mug of ale. Kate ate rapidly, then shoved the bowl away.
“Come join me, both of you,” said Kate.
“As bad as that, is it?” Olaf grunted.
Kate ignored him.
Olaf rested his crutch against the table and lowered himself onto a chair. Akiel took a seat alongside him. Kate opened the newspaper and spread it out on the table.
Olaf saw the headline, blinked, then looked at Kate in astonishment. “‘Captain Kate and Her Dragon Corsairs’?”
“Read on,” said Kate. “It gets better.”
Olaf brought out a pair of old glasses, hooked them over his ears, and began to read. Occasionally he would pause, glance at Kate, shake his head, and sigh. Akiel looked over Olaf’s shoulder.
“A lot of words,” said Akiel, who had never learned to read. “What do they say?”
“The story says that I’m a pirate,” said Kate. “I sail a pirate ship with a ruthless pirate crew and a dragon. We roam the Breath in search of treasure.”
Akiel blinked at her. “But you are not a pirate. Why would someone tell such lies about you?”
“The lies are mine,” said Kate.
She explained how she had met Miss Amelia Nettleship.
“She paid me five golden eagles and said there would be more money to come if her readers liked the stories. I never thought—”
“‘I never thought,’” Olaf said grimly. “Now, where have I heard those words before?”
Kate began toying with her mug, pushing it back and forth.
“I do not understand,” said Akiel, watching them both.
“‘I never thought’ was Morgan’s mantra,” Kate said. “‘I never thought the constable would refuse a bribe.’ ‘I never thought the customs agent would inspect the hold.’ ‘I never thought that gang in Westfirth would bash in my skull!’”
Kate sighed, poured Calvados in the ale, and drank it. Olaf gave her a troubled look.
“So Greenstreet read this malarkey, Kate. What of it? He couldn’t possibly believe it.” Olaf slapped the newspaper in disgust. “This woman claims we sank a Rosian galleon off of San Artejo! I haven’t seen a galleon afloat in twenty-five years. No one sails those tubs anymore. Even a lubber like Greenstreet knows that.”
“He does know it,” Kate said. “He doesn’t believe the stories.”
“Then why did he send for you?” Olaf asked.
“Because he wants to believe them,” Kate said. “Captain Kate and her Dragon Corsairs are going to sail the Breath. He’s even picked out the first ship we are going to attack.”
“And you told him we would,” Olaf said, glowering.
“Of course, I did. The idea is sound,” Kate said, manufacturing a smile. “What do you think I’ve been planning to do all these months? Deliver the mail? Those stories I told that woman are my dreams. ‘Fight for your dreams,’ Captain de Guichen told me. Well, I’m fighting.”
Kate ran her hand through her rain-damp hair, rumpling her curls. “What I didn’t plan on was involving Greenstreet. Still, he’s agreed to pay me a one-fifth share and provide the crew, supplies; anything I want.”
Olaf whistled. “One-fifth! And he pays for everything?”
“He agreed to the deal without a murmur,” said Kate. “Stinks, doesn’t it?”
“To high heaven,” said Olaf.
“Greenstreet gave me the manifest. Read the description of the cargo.”
Olaf read aloud, “‘Iron hoops, indigo, farm implements, whiskey, wool, turpentine, and hides.’”
“Would you call that cargo valuable?” Kate asked.
“All this would fetch a tidy sum on the black market,” Olaf said. “Particularly the whiskey and the indigo. But I wouldn’t term it valuable. Not near as valuable as the gold you stole from that Rosian galleon.”
“I do not understand,” said Akiel. “What stinks?”
“Greenstreet runs all the black markets in the Aligoes,” Kate explained. “He knows what this lot is likely to fetch. He’s going to a lot of trouble and expense to have me attack a ship carrying hides and turpentine. Something’s not right.”
Kate drank from the mug, then slammed it on the table. “And what really galls me is that Greenstreet thinks I’m so stupid I can’t tell he’s using me! What’s the real reason Greenstreet wants me to attack the Pride of Haever? If I could figure that out, I would have a secret of our own we could use against him.”
Olaf shook his head. “You’re already in a hole, Katydid. Don’t dig your
self any deeper. Here’s an idea. Sell the Victorie. You’ve done a wonderful job on her. You’d make a tidy sum. You could pay back Greenstreet with money left over.”
“The Victorie is mine! I won’t sell her! Besides, Greenstreet now wants more than what I owe him,” said Kate.
Olaf regarded her with concern, but he must have realized she was right.
“Bring me the registry, Kate,” he said.
Kate lit a candle and went to Olaf’s bedroom, which doubled as his office. Her father’s old desk was covered with diagrams of Olaf’s latest magical inventions. He kept his books here as well, including his well-worn copy of A Seaman’s Guide to Nautical Magic, and several books that had belonged to Morgan, among them Fairbanks Registry of Freyan and Foreign Shipping.
Kate brought the book back to the table and gave it to Olaf.
Ships were listed in alphabetical order. He flipped through the pages until he came to the “P”s. He read through the descriptions; Kate read over his shoulder.
Pride of Haever:
498/501DT (Owners only)
Master:
Captain William P. Bastian
Rigging:
Full Rigged
Tonnage:
1050 tons
Measurements:
Length, 157'6" (Keel, 130'1")
Beam, 41'3"
Depth of hold, 15'4"
Wings, Fore: 18'w × 30'l
Aft: 22'w × 42'l
Airscrews, Fore, 8' diameter
Aft, 10' diameter
Flotation:
2 6-chamber balloons
6 lift tanks
3 ballast tanks
Construction:
Tipton Yard, Whithaven