Armament:
28 × 12 lb cannon, 28 × 9 lb cannon,
36 swivel mounts
Owners:
Erlyon Shipping
Port of Registry:
Haever, Freya
“Bloody hell!” Kate swore.
She flung herself back in her chair.
“Always bad news,” said Akiel. “Now you know why I do not learn to read.”
“The Pride of Haever carries fifty-six guns!” said Kate. “She’s as well armed as a ship of the line!”
“And all those guns means she has valuable cargo to protect,” Olaf pointed out.
“That’s for damn sure,” said Kate. “But what? Freyan whiskey is good, but not that good.”
“Whatever it is, they kept it off the manifest,” Akiel pointed out. “They don’t want the customs officials to know.”
“What about the passengers?” Kate asked suddenly. “Greenstreet made a point of mentioning the passengers. Maybe there’s a duke or a prince on board. Someone who would fetch a king’s ransom.”
Olaf picked up the manifest. “There is only one passenger: ‘Henry Wallace, forty-seven, a gentleman of good character.’”
“I doubt if ‘gentlemen of good character’ are worth much these days,” said Kate dispiritedly. “So what does Greenstreet want?”
“Whatever it is, he expects you to do the dirty work and he’ll take the reward,” said Olaf.
“And what will you do about Dalgren, mum?” Akiel added. “I do not think the dragon will want to be a corsair.”
“Dalgren may not have a choice,” Kate muttered.
“What was that?” Olaf asked, cupping his hand around his ear.
“I said—let me worry about Dalgren.” Kate picked up the manifest to go over it again. “Greenstreet thinks I’m so stupid. He’s the one who’ll look stupid if we find the treasure first—”
“Kate, you’re not thinking straight!” Olaf protested. “Even the Rosian navy would think twice about attacking the Pride…”
Kate looked up from her reading. “That’s it!”
Olaf eyed her warily. “What is?”
“The Rosian navy!” Kate said.
“I know that grin,” Olaf said, frowning. “That’s the same smug, cat-that-ate-the-canary grin your father wore when he was plotting one of his crazy schemes.”
Kate laughed and stood up. “No canary feathers in my teeth. I promise. Now I’m off to bed. I have lots of work to do tomorrow.”
She kissed Olaf on the cheek. “You always say I’m my father’s daughter.”
Patting Akiel on the shoulder, Kate took the newspaper and the manifest and went to the back of the tavern.
Olaf shook his head and reached for his crutch.
“I don’t mean it as a compliment,” he told Akiel.
EIGHT
Kate returned to Greenstreet’s house early the next morning. Jacob was on duty and looked surprised to see her.
“What do you want?” he grunted.
“I came to talk to Greenstreet,” Kate said.
“He has someone with him,” Jacob said.
“I’ll wait,” said Kate.
She did not have to wait long. The visitor departed, apparently by a different door, for Kate never saw him. The bell rang and Jacob grunted her inside.
Greenstreet, dressed all in white as usual, sat at his empty desk.
“Back so soon, Captain? I trust nothing is amiss.”
“I have the list of supplies,” said Kate. “Now tell me the truth about the cargo.”
Greenstreet gazed at her in silence. He was still smiling, but light flickered in the hooded eyes. Kate smiled back.
“You presume too much upon my good nature, Captain,” Greenstreet said at last. “I think you should leave. Go back to your wrecking.”
Kate sat down in the chair opposite the desk.
“I am the one risking my life and the lives of my crew, Greenstreet. The Pride of Haever could smash my brig to kindling. I need to know what cargo she is carrying that is so damn valuable you agreed to pay me a one-fifth share without so much as blinking.”
Greenstreet regarded Kate from beneath his hooded eyelids. His pudgy finger traced a circle on the desk.
“She is carrying gold eagles from the treasury of Her Majesty, the Queen of Freya,” he said. “The passenger, Wallace, is bringing the money to the governor of Wellinsport to pay for the repairs and reinforcement of the gun batteries in order to thwart an attack by the Rosians.”
Kate concealed her surprise. She had not actually expected he would tell her.
“How much gold?” she asked.
Greenstreet shrugged. “I do not know. Thousands, certainly. Maybe hundreds of thousands.”
Kate eyed Greenstreet. Once again, he had given in far too quickly. He still wasn’t telling her the truth. Not all of it, at least.
“Obviously the fewer who know, the better,” Greenstreet was saying. “Otherwise every pirate in the Aligoes will be after that ship. You would have to fight your way through a crowd.”
“Believe me, for a share of hundreds of thousands, I will keep the secret,” said Kate.
“And do not concern yourself over the Pride of Haever, Captain,” said Greenstreet. “No captain—even one with fifty-six guns—would be so foolish as to fight a dragon.”
Kate let that pass, and tossed over a piece of paper. “In addition to the supplies you mentioned, I need these items. And I need them fast.”
Greenstreet picked up the paper, glanced over it, and raised an eyebrow. “Uniforms, assorted colors of balloon silk, bolts of cloth, paint…” He read on, then looked at her, amazed. “Three seamstresses and a tailor? I fail to understand—”
“This is secret, right,” said Kate. “The less you know about my plans, the better. I assume you can lay your hands on all this.”
“The uniforms will take some time,” said Greenstreet. “I can have the rest to you by tomorrow, along with three women who are skilled in sewing. I am not certain I can find a tailor.”
“I’ll make do,” said Kate. “Oh, and let your bullyboys know I’m going to be traveling to Wellinsport for supplies. I’ll be there overnight. I don’t want your men to think I’m trying to run.”
“I will inform them,” said Greenstreet. “No doubt they will continue to make themselves comfortable in Olaf’s tavern while you are away. Just to ensure your return.”
“I’ll return. And I’ll capture that ship,” said Kate. “After all, you’re paying me one-fifth. Tell your men to deliver those supplies to the Parrot.”
She was pleased with herself and even wished Jacob a good morning as she left. He answered with a grunt.
Kate wondered whether or not to tell Olaf and Akiel about the gold. She decided she would keep the information to herself until she found out if Greenstreet was telling the truth.
It was midmorning and already the heat was unbearable. Shading her eyes against the blinding sunlight, she left the main street and turned onto a rockbound path that wound its way along the shoreline to what had once been a lighthouse. The path was overgrown with weeds, for few walked it these days. The citizens of Freeport had built a new lighthouse, closer to the entrance of the harbor. The old stone tower, its light extinguished, stood abandoned.
When Dalgren had arrived, he and Kate had needed a way to communicate with each other. She had come up with the idea of using the lighthouse, which had a flagpole from which different flags would be flown to alert passing ships to changing weather conditions.
The lighthouse had been left in a tumbledown condition, but Olaf had managed to repair the magical constructs on the stone exterior and the stairs that spiraled up to the top. Kate ran up the stairs and climbed through the trapdoor onto the roof. As always, she took time to admire the breathtaking view as she attached a flag to the halyard.
From this vantage point, on a clear day, she could see twenty or more lush green islands floating on the orange mists of the Breath. Som
e of the islands were lighter than others, particularly those formed of lava, and they ranged in altitude. Most of them were level with Freeport, but a few drifted above her and, looking down, she could see others below, partially obscured by the thicker mists.
She raised the flag—her private signal for Dalgren, telling him she needed to talk. Exactly what she was going to say to him to convince him to go along with her plan was still open to question. She had a three-mile-long walk to consider it.
Their meeting place was a large, empty patch of rock-strewn ground in the middle of the jungle. Kate had built a shed to house the dragon saddle, harness, and other gear Dalgren had taken with him when he had left the Brigade, telling Kate the Brigade owed him something for having ruined his life. He had presented them to Kate and taught her to ride—the fulfillment of one of her dreams.
Ever since the time when she was twelve years old and had sneaked into the Bastion to watch the dragons of the Brigade, Kate had longed to be a dragon rider. She and Dalgren had been practicing several times a week for over a year. They flew at sunrise, practicing their maneuvers over uninhabited islands where no one would see them.
Those moments spent soaring over the treetops, skimming the mists of the Breath, were the happiest in Kate’s life. She was flying with her friend, and during those times she left her schemes and plans and dreams on the ground below.
She would revel in the exhilarating plunge out of a cloud bank as she and Dalgren swooped down on some imaginary ship or streaked upward to escape imaginary gunfire. She would gasp in stomach-lurching delight when the world tipped over as Dalgren rolled away from a phantom attack, or rest easy in the saddle, admiring the beauty of the islands drifting in a sea of mists, watching the sun spread red and gold light across the sky. At these times, she would think of telling Dalgren to fly eastward into the sunrise and never stop.
But the world was always right below her, and eventually she would have to come down. While she unfastened the complicated harness and removed the large, ungainly dragon saddle, she and Dalgren would talk over their flight, sometimes seriously discussing problems, but more often laughing. With his help, she would drag the saddle into the shed and shut the door, and the world and its problems were there to greet her.
Thinking about their flights together gave her an idea for how to persuade Dalgren to go along with her scheme.
The dragon must have been close by when he saw the flag, for she found him lying on the sun-warmed rocks, snoozing, the bloody remnants of a meal scattered on the ground. Dalgren had no difficulty finding food. Most of the nearby islands were teeming with deer and goats and wild hogs. He ate so well, Kate often accused him of getting fat.
Hearing her approach, Dalgren sleepily opened his eyes. He greeted her with a prodigious yawn. “I saw the flag. What’s happened now?”
“We’re famous,” said Kate, waving the newspaper.
Dalgren raised his head, eyes narrowing. “I don’t want to be famous.”
“I am afraid you have no choice,” said Kate.
She told Dalgren how she had met Miss Amelia and regaled her with tales of their imaginary adventures, how Miss Amelia had written the stories and published them in a Freyan newspaper and now everyone was reading about Captain Kate and her Dragon Corsairs.
Dalgren listened in growing shock and disbelief. He raised his head, jaws parted, eyes wide, smoke curling from his nostrils. Shock exploded into outrage when Kate added that Greenstreet had read the stories and now he wanted the Dragon Corsairs to capture a merchant ship.
“I am not a corsair!” Dalgren roared. “If I wanted to fight, I’d still be with the Brigade. You refused, of course.”
Kate didn’t immediately answer, and Dalgren regarded her with suspicion. “You did refuse.”
“I couldn’t, Dalgren,” she said. “Greenstreet knows you are a deserter.”
Dalgren stared at her, aghast. “That’s not possible. The Brigade dragons handle matters among their own kind. They don’t even tell their riders. Only another dragon could have discovered such information.”
He eyed her. “Unless you said something…”
“I didn’t, Dalgren,” said Kate. “I would never betray you. You know that.”
She was in earnest. She might and often did lie to her friends, generally telling herself that the lies were for their own good. But though she might lie to them, she was fiercely loyal to them and would never betray them. Her friends were family to her, all the family she had left.
Kate started to excuse herself by saying, “I never thought…” Hearing Morgan’s voice in her head, she quickly changed the words to “Don’t worry. I’m going to fix this.”
“Where have I heard that before?” Dalgren muttered.
“I know,” said Kate. “But this time I have a plan. I’m going to capture the merchant ship. This job is going to make our fortune, Dalgren! And just think of it,” she said hurriedly, seeing by the glint in his eye that he was going to refuse, “we’ll get to fly together! We don’t need to hide anymore!”
Dalgren grunted and fire flickered from between his teeth, but at least he was listening. “I won’t fight.”
“You won’t have to,” Kate said eagerly. “You scared the wadding out of the Travians! One puff of smoke and you had the sailors bleating like sheep.”
Dalgren had been trying to look stern and forbidding, but the memory of the terror he had caused on board the Travian ship was too funny. He gave a chortle that rumbled deep in his chest.
“They did bleat, didn’t they?” he said, fangs showing in a grin. “You’re saying that’s all I have to do? Scare people?”
“That’s all you have to do,” Kate promised.
“And you and I will fly together?”
“Our first real mission as dragon and rider,” said Kate. She rested both her hands on Dalgren’s forefoot. “That will be the best part.”
“Flying together, dragon and rider,” said Dalgren. His eyes warmed. “I wonder what Captain de Guichen would say if he could see us.”
“That we fought for our dreams,” said Kate in softened tones.
“Dreams of being pirates!” Dalgren said, snorting out a gout of flame. “Speaking of pirates, what will your friend, Captain Northrop, say when he hears you and I seized a Freyan ship?”
“He won’t say anything because he won’t know you and I did it,” said Kate.
Dalgren was dubious. “You might get away disguising yourself as a man, but I’m hard to miss. People have a tendency to remember me.”
He indicated the newspaper. “I’m even in that disgusting illustration, although no one would ever recognize me! Whoever drew that monstrosity has never seen a real live dragon.”
“That’s because there are no dragons in Freya, so the artist didn’t have a model,” said Kate. “I have everything worked out, Dalgren. Trust me.”
“Two words that with you are a precursor to trouble,” Dalgren growled.
Kate laughed. “Not this time, my friend. Fate owes me. Now, make yourself comfortable and I’ll read our story to you.”
Dalgren rested his chin on his front feet, stretched out his hind legs, and folded his wings close to his body.
“You made me the hero, of course,” he said.
NINE
Now that Kate had Dalgren’s consent, she needed only to confirm the story of the gold on board the Pride of Haever. She had a contact in Wellinsport who might be able to help. That was why she had told Greenstreet she would have to pick up supplies there, so that he wouldn’t be suspicious. To further allay his suspicions, she openly sailed in the Barwich Rose, when otherwise she might have taken one of the island jumper ferries.
Freyans had colonized the island of Whitefalls eight hundred years ago. Wellinsport, located on the Trame Channel, was the island’s capital. One of the few Deep Breath ports in the Aligoes, Wellinsport had become a hub for international trade, some of it legal, much of it not.
Wellinsport had a thriving bla
ck market and was renowned for its gambling clubs, houses of pleasure, and opium dens. Captain Northrop and his famous privateers, the Rose Hawks, had been based out of the city before and during the war and were local heroes. Smugglers had never had a need to hide, and often shared berths with legitimate shipowners.
Money flowed from Wellinsport into Her Majesty’s coffers, and if some of the coins ended up in the pockets of the governor, the Right Honorable Aldous Finchley, Viscount Claremore, Her Majesty turned a blind eye.
Known for its wealth and coveted for its Deep Breath harbor, Wellinsport had often come under attack, most recently fending off the Bottom Dwellers and their pirate allies. Menacing gun batteries guarded the harbor. As the Rose sailed beneath them, Kate tried to imagine what it would be like to come under fire from the massive forty-two-pound cannon.
Unfortunately, the batteries were not as formidable as they once had been. The green-beam weapons of the Bottom Dwellers had badly damaged the cannons, particularly the magical constructs that were used for everything from firing the weapons to protecting them from enemy fire. For two years, the Right Honorable had done nothing to repair them, despite angry letters from the Foreign Office in Haever.
With the Bottom Dwellers no longer a threat, Governor Finchley had found other uses for the money. He had completely remodeled the governor’s mansion, thrown lavish parties, and entertained wealthy plantation owners. The residents did not begrudge him his fun and no one gave a thought to the crumbling, rusting guns.
Life in Wellinsport was good again. Trade had resumed. Markets and auction houses flourished. The taverns, whorehouses, opium dens, and gambling clubs were filled. And then one day, two enemy ships belonging to the Rosian “Rum” Fleet, as it was popularly known in the Rosian navy, had sailed into the Trame Channel.
Everybody in Wellinsport, including the governor, was convinced that the Rosians were here to prepare for a campaign to capture the city. Governor Finchley had dispatched an angry letter to King Renaud, demanding to know what the Rosians were doing in the Aligoes.
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