“I’ll wager he would!” Coreg roared with laughter. Fire shot out his nostrils, echoes thundered around the chamber. His fangs parted in a gaping grin.
Mr. Sloan stood unflinching, waiting for the answer, which he guessed he was not going to receive. His guess proved correct.
“Thank Sir Henry for his concern over my welfare,” said Coreg, when he had recovered from his mirth. “I have already made my plans in regard to leaving the Aligoes. A good day to you, Mr. Slope. Perhaps we yet may be—what did you call it—compatriots.”
The dragon chortled with laughter again at this last remark—which was some sort of inside jest, apparently, for Greenstreet also chuckled.
“Wait over by the door for Greenstreet to escort you back,” Coreg added with a dismissive flip of his tail. “Greenstreet, I need a word with you.”
Mr. Sloan departed, walking slowly in a vain attempt to overhear what was being said. The dragon had lowered his head to the floor, however, and was speaking in a gravelly undertone, so that Mr. Sloan could not understand more than a mumbled word here and there. As for Greenstreet, he replied in monosyllables.
Mr. Sloan did not have to wait long before Greenstreet joined him, puffing from the exertion of having to walk across the vast chamber.
“Damn that Trubgek!” Greenstreet muttered, mopping his head with a handkerchief. “This way, Mr. Sloan.”
The two left the chamber, and the doors swung shut behind them and returned to being a wall.
“Are you staying long in Freeport, Mr. Sloan?” Greenstreet asked.
“I had not planned on it, sir,” said Mr. Sloan in cool tones indicative of his disappointment. “Now that my business is concluded, I must return to Sir Henry.”
“You might want to reconsider,” said Greenstreet. “Stay a day or two. Enjoy the sights. Freeport is small, but not without its charms. You can find the best food and drink in the Aligoes at a tavern called the Perky Parrot. I also recommend a visit to the Celestial Gates.”
Mr. Sloan knew about the Celestial Gates, the name of the local whorehouse.
“Thank you, no,” he said.
Greenstreet shrugged. “Suit yourself, Mr. Sloan. I am merely suggesting that you might want to stay on a few days. You could find it to be worth your while.”
Mr. Sloan stopped in the tunnel and turned to face Greenstreet. “Speak plainly, Mr. Greenstreet. Has Coreg changed his mind about the offer?”
“I could not possibly reveal a confidence, Mr. Sloan,” said Greenstreet, rocking back and forth on his heels.
Mr. Sloan reached inside his inner pocket, drew out his billfold, and removed another banknote. Greenstreet plucked the banknote from his hand.
“Coreg wants to speak to someone first,” said Greenstreet, deftly stuffing the banknote up his shirtsleeve. “He has asked me to send for this person and while it might take a few days for him to arrive, the wait could prove to be to your benefit.”
“I understand,” said Mr. Sloan. “I will avail myself of the pleasures of this picturesque little town.”
He and Greenstreet parted on cordial terms. Mr. Sloan spent the remainder of the day acquainting himself with Freeport, which meant that he walked from one end of the main road to the other and back again.
He located the Perky Parrot and viewed it with interest, recalling that Captain Northrop had been known to frequent this tavern and had recommended the tavern as being an excellent place to mingle with the locals and learn all the latest news and gossip.
Returning to the widow’s house at twilight, Mr. Sloan ate the meal she provided, which proved to be boiled mutton and cabbage, and decided that tomorrow he would definitely dine at the Parrot. Following supper, he retired to his room, lit the lamp, and sat down to write a letter containing the latest gossip. He knew Sir Henry would be interested.
The lady at first rejected our friend’s proposal of marriage outright. Our friend was considerably disappointed and was leaving in despair when he was told in confidence that, upon consideration, the lady might be persuaded to change her mind and give him the answer he so ardently desires.
It is my considered belief that our friend has a rival for the lady’s affections and that she is hoping to play one gentleman against the other to determine which has the most to offer her. Our friend plans to remain in town a few days longer, therefore, to see what transpires. I trust he may win in the end.
Yours in Faith,
Franklin Sloan
Mr. Sloan had already ascertained from General Winstead that the mail packets were operating under the protection of the Rosian navy. Amused by the thought of the Rosians protecting Sir Henry’s communications, Mr. Sloan posted his letter. He then walked home, taking time to admire the beauty of God’s creations, of which even Freeport might be considered one. Arriving back at his lodgings, Mr. Sloan retired to his prayers and his bed.
FORTY-SIX
The journey to Kate’s Cove was slow going, with Victorie forced to take a circuitous route among the islands, and Kate chafed at the delay. Victorie had to navigate narrow channels and sail under, over, or around myriad floating isles. They dared not travel at night for fear of running aground or being struck by the huge chunks of rocks that broke off from the islands and floated about the Breath.
Kate kept a daily record of their journey, marking their location in the log, and although she was disheartened by their slow progress, she had no right to complain. Her plan was working. Most of the islands in this part of the Aligoes were small and uninhabited, containing nothing anyone wanted, including pirates. The Rosian navy would not risk their ships or waste their time on them.
The days crawled by. The pin on the chart Kate used to mark their location drew steadily closer to the pin she had placed in Kate’s Cove. When Victorie safely arrived at her destination, Kate congratulated herself on not having seen a single Rosian ship or a member of the Dragon Brigade. She was aware the respite was temporary. Kate’s Cove might be well hidden, but they were close to Freeport and the Trame Channel and Rosian naval patrols. She doubled the watch.
She was pleased to find the Barwich Rose where they had left her, covered by tarps. The ship looked very small and shabby compared to the refurbished and smartly outfitted Victorie, but the Rose had served Kate well and she was glad to see the old girl.
The crew was eager to continue on to Freeport. Kate had to disappoint them.
“We’re going to lie low, keep out of sight until we know what’s going on. I’ll take the pinnace into town, look things over and talk to Akiel.”
Kate eyed the Rose. She considered telling Olaf and the crew to haul the ship out of the trees and make her ready to sail. The Rosians wouldn’t know the Rose, and once she had talked to Coreg and made things right with Dalgren, she could hide Victorie until the Rosians had gone and leave the Aligoes in the Rose. In the end, she decided to leave Rose where she was, on the unlikely chance that the Rosians were sniffing around Freeport.
Kate was eager to be gone. She was forced to wait, however, until the crew had filled the lift tank on the pinnace.
“You’re not wearing that, are you?” Olaf asked, frowning.
“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” Kate demanded, looking down at her slops and the man’s calico shirt.
“Because everyone in Freeport will know it’s you,” he pointed out. He added with a grin, “Dress like a lady and no one will recognize you.”
“Very funny,” said Kate, but she had to admit he was right.
She went down to her cabin and put on the green silk dress and the hat Mrs. Lavender had given her in Braffa. The hat had been lucky for her then. The job in Braffa had gone well, not counting meeting Thomas, or perhaps counting meeting Thomas. She still thought about him sometimes. It would be fun to meet him again. She could taunt him about being a prince.
Kate tucked a corset gun in her boot, then displayed herself to Olaf, who swore he would not know her if he tripped over her in the street. She then boarded the pinn
ace. She had already stashed two pistols beneath the helm. As a last-minute thought, she made a bundle of her shirt and the slops and her kerchief and stuffed them beneath a seat. Hoisting the sail, she sent the magic to the lift tank and the airscrews and set off.
A lady would never sail a pinnace on her own, but Kate couldn’t risk any of the crew being seen in town. She decided to dock the pinnace at the old abandoned lighthouse, which was not far from the Parrot, and walk the rest of the way.
She had not really expected to find the Rosian navy hanging about Freeport, which was a considerable distance from the Trame Channel, and she was unpleasantly surprised to see a Rosian patrol boat sailing near the entrance to Freeport Bay.
Fortunately she saw the patrol boat before they could spot her and she steered the pinnace close to the shoreline, in the shadows of the trees. She blessed her decision to hide Victorie in the cove.
She was keeping watch on the sky as well as the Breath, and saw two dragons of the Dragon Brigade patrolling the Trame Channel. The channel was miles away, and so Kate wasn’t worried about them finding Victorie. She was worried about Dalgren, however. She had been hoping he had flown to the Aligoes, back to his old lair, so that she could talk to him. Now she found herself hoping he had gone to visit his uncle in Travia.
At least, if she could see the dragons, so could Dalgren. He would know the Brigade was in the area and he would hole up in his lair by day, fly out only late at night.
She wondered uneasily what the Dragon Brigade would do to him if they caught him. The penalty for humans deserting the military was death. Dragons were more civilized, however. They didn’t kill their own kind. But his punishment was bound to be severe. Dragons were proud of the Dragon Brigade, believing it symbolized human/dragon friendship and dedication to their chosen homeland. A dragon deserting the Brigade was tantamount to a human spitting on the king.
Kate tied up the pinnace and stowed it among some trees near the lighthouse, and climbed out, cursing the cumbersome skirt that tangled around her legs. She took a moment to adjust her clothes and partially lower the net veil on her hat over her face. No one was likely to be around this part of the island, for no one ever came here, but she waited and watched for several moments, just to be certain, then walked toward town, trying to remember to take small, ladylike strides.
The path from the lighthouse led her past the Perky Parrot. The hour was near noon and she could smell the savory odors of Akiel’s chicken stew drifting out the open windows.
The Parrot had been her home for many years after the death of her father, and memories overwhelmed her, catching her by surprise. She missed the laughter, the good fellowship, and she paused outside, tempted to slip inside to see Akiel and the dear old Parrot, ask about Dalgren, and pretend for a moment that she had come home.
She resisted the urge and kept walking. She couldn’t take the chance that someone might recognize her and, in fact, she passed several people she knew on their way to the Parrot. None of them glanced at her and she was amused to think Olaf had been right. None of them knew her as a lady!
As she continued on down the street, drawing closer to the town, her attention was caught and held by a man wearing a dark frock coat walking in the direction of the Parrot. Much about him seemed familiar: the somber way he dressed, his upright stance and military manner.
Kate studied him as he approached, trying to think why she should know him. He drew nearer and she was shocked and alarmed to recognize Sir Henry’s secretary, Mr. Sloan.
She knew in an instant that Sir Henry had sent his secretary to find her and drag her back to Freya to stand trial for murder.
Kate longed to turn and run, but that would only draw his attention. Better to keep walking. She tugged at the veil and lowered her head, demure and shy. She and Mr. Sloan would have to pass each other, however, and Kate waited in dread for him to place her.
Mr. Sloan slowed, his gaze fixed on her, and Kate almost ran.
He politely doffed his hat, said, “Good afternoon, madame,” and walked on by, continuing down the road.
Kate glanced over her shoulder to see where he was going. Sure enough, he was looking for her. Mr. Sloan opened the door of the Parrot and walked inside.
Kate hurried on, almost faint with relief that she had seen Mr. Sloan before he had seen her. She would have to sneak back tonight to talk to Akiel.
“As if I didn’t have problems enough without this!” Kate muttered under her breath.
She turned off the main road down the path that led to Greenstreet’s house. She didn’t know the big man wearing slops who was lounging on the porch, which was good, for he wouldn’t be likely to know her.
Apparently not many well-dressed women paid visits to Greenstreet, for the big man was flustered at the sight of her stepping onto the veranda and seemed to have no idea what to do. He jumped to his feet and self-consciously pulled up his slops, which had parted company with his shirt, then stood staring at her.
“I would like to speak to Mr. Greenstreet, if he could spare me a moment of his time,” said Kate.
The big man in slops vanished, going inside, leaving Kate to wait on the veranda. The guard was gone a long time, longer than it should have taken to announce her. Growing uneasy, Kate went over to one of the windows, thinking she would try to peek inside Greenstreet’s office, only to be startled when the curtain moved and an eye looked out at her. The curtain fell back into place.
Something was wrong. She was tempted to leave, but the memory of the hurt and disappointment in Dalgren’s eyes when he looked at her made her stay.
“He’ll see you now,” said the big man.
He escorted her into the house and opened the door to the office. Kate swept past him. Greenstreet spoke to the guard.
“You can leave on that errand we discussed, Jules.”
The big man departed, shutting the door behind him. Greenstreet leaned back in his chair. His usually empty desk was no longer empty. A tin box, such as might contain letters, sat squarely in the center. Greenstreet’s hands were laced over his belly.
“You should not be here, Captain,” he murmured.
Kate stared at him in shock. She had hoped to take him by surprise, but unfortunately the surprise was all hers.
“I need to talk to Coreg,” she said. “I have money. I can pay for the information. I came here to find out who killed that dragon and framed me for the murder.”
“You misunderstand me, Captain,” Greenstreet said, opening his eyes and shifting his bulk in the chair. “When I say you should not be here, I mean you should not be here—in the Aligoes. The Rosians have placed a bounty on your head: a thousand silver rosuns. A tidy sum. You should feel flattered.”
Kate sank down in the chair. Feeling stifled, she lifted the veil and dragged off her hat.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, moistening her dry mouth.
“You should, Captain. The entire Rosian navy and half the populace of the Aligoes are searching for the notorious Captain Kate of the Dragon Corsairs. The Rosians have been reading your stories and they do not like to be portrayed as fools and poltroons.”
“That’s … ridiculous…” Kate said, inclined to laugh. “I want to see Coreg.”
Greenstreet opened the tin box, removed several papers, and sorted through them until he found the one he sought.
“I thought you might come to see me and so I obtained this dispatch—compliments of a Rosian officer who has the sad tendency to lose at baccarat—which was sent to all the fleet captains. It is long, so I will summarize. Your ship, the Victorie, was sighted a week ago at the entrance to the Trame Channel. The Victorie escaped and was last seen sailing southwest on a course that would take her deep into the Aligoes.
“The authorities believe you are going to try to establish contact with a dragon known as Dalgren, a deserter from the Dragon Brigade, who was sighted in the vicinity of Freeport a fortnight ago. Orders regarding you and the Victorie are to: ‘take, burn, or
destroy.’ Their orders regarding you are to ‘kill or capture.’”
Kate rose to her feet, not knowing what she was doing. She stood a moment, then sat back down.
“Let me see that,” she said.
Greenstreet tossed the dispatch to her. Kate tried to read it. The words swam in her vision, made no sense. But she saw the name of her ship, Victorie. And the bounty: one thousand silver rosuns.
A bitter taste filled her mouth. A horrid sensation of warmth flooded through her body and ebbed away the next instant, leaving her cold and shaking. A sudden thought flashed through her mind, filling her with terror.
Greenstreet knew the location of her cove. He had been spying on her. He had told her as much when he made the deal with her to attack the Pride of Haever. As he was always saying, he knew everything that went on in the Aligoes.
“Where did you send your man?” she asked, her throat tightening.
“You have become a liability, Captain,” said Greenstreet. “You are bad for business. The Dragon Brigade had very little trouble finding the cove. They have been keeping watch…”
“Oh, God!” Kate gasped.
She bounded from the chair and tripped on the hem of her skirt. Swearing, she hiked it up around her knees and set off at a run. She dashed across Greenstreet’s lawn and up the lane. She did not slow when she reached the main street of the town, but kept running. People stopped to stare at her and some even yelled after her. She paid no attention.
Reaching the Perky Parrot, she burst through the door, shouting Akiel’s name. The patrons looked up in startlement. Akiel was coming out of the kitchen carrying two bowls of stew. He gaped at her, eyes wide.
“Kate—”
“The Rosians!” Kate panted. Her lungs burned. She could scarcely draw breath. “Victorie! They know about the cove…”
Akiel dropped the bowls to the floor, grabbed the loaded pistols Olaf had always kept behind the bar, and ran for the door. As Kate joined him, she caught a fleeting glimpse of Mr. Sloan staring at her in profound astonishment. He appeared completely amazed to see her—which meant he had not come here looking for her.
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