“I apologize, my son,” Don Hernan said smoothly, calmingly. “So tedious. Our ‘association’ will be apparent soon enough, and we no longer need pretend. In any event, I thought you should like to hear my interview with the heretics. The sea captain, particularly.”
“Well… yes, of course.”
“You spent some time with him today. What do you think?”
Reed sighed and sat, uninvited, then poured a cup of tea from the pot just brought by the naked girl. “Dangerous, unpredictable. A complication we did not need.”
Don Hernan was surprised. He considered himself a good judge of character, but he knew Reed was better. The man was a “politician,” after all. “Well, then, if you’re sure…”
“I am.”
“… perhaps I shall order them killed as they return to their ship. I can easily arrange an attack on the Marine escort by the ‘disaffected mob.’ ” He chuckled. “Regrettably, the strangers would die in the scuffle.”
Reed shook his head, horrified. “No, Holiness! That won’t do at all! My spies have been badgering the crew of the iron steamer all day, and have learned little except that their Captain Reddy is a most formidable man. Simple street thugs would likely not succeed, and he might suspect the true motive for the attack and become remarkably vengeful! Apparently, he has a towering temper.” Reed paused. “Perhaps worse, Jenks and His Majesty would surely suspect, and they might well take precipitous steps.”
Don Hernan tugged at his sculpted chin whiskers. “Interesting. Very well. There will be no… covert assassins. You say Captain Reddy has a temper?”
“That is what I understand. I have begun to learn a few things that provoke it…”
“Excellent.” Don Hernan sipped the wine still before him on the table, then looked at Reed and smiled. “As you know, my first inclination has always been to destroy the enemies of God, but I can be patient when I sense opportunity. Perhaps the arrival of Jenks and these ‘Americans’ is heaven-sent.”
“How so?”
“It could provide just the right distraction. We are not quite ready-another month would have been ideal-but the ‘complication,’ as you put it, of their arrival and the approach of Achilles makes that month uncertain. You agree there is more to their story than we know?”
Reed nodded. “There’s been nothing out of Respite in weeks. That is the course they would have taken. I fear, if nothing else, they know that Agamemnon did return and the Company sent ships to intercept the princess.”
“But they said nothing of it… to you. I would warrant they shared considerably more with His Majesty. Achilles must bear proof, and they are awaiting her before the Empire goes on the rampage, leveling accusations against the Company. Achilles has an escort?”
“American ships of unknown power, but if their iron steamer is any indication…”
“Certainly faster than anything we might confront them with. If we attempted another interception, even if we succeeded, they wouldn’t have to fight-they could just outrun our ships… and arrive here with even further proof.” Don Hernan tapped the goblet with his fingers. “As I said, we are not quite ready, but with a distraction
… we are surely ready enough.” He stood, decisive. “We cannot wait until the planned ‘Founders’ Day’ date for the operation. I will have to send dispatches, speed things along, but the gift of the moment must not be ignored. You say this Captain Reddy has a temper? What makes it burn most bright?”
“I do not know, but I provoked him several times… as I do… and in our brief exchange, I learned he takes especial offense to slanders against his ape-like crew! He protects them vigorously and they are one weak spot, at least.”
“Would he rise to a challenge over them?”
Reed smiled. “I should think so. I didn’t even press him. He seems quite fond of the creatures. I suspect that if any were present when offense was given, he would be even more likely to rise.”
Don Hernan chuckled. “The Pre-Passage Ball is in three days. I think we should arrange an… entertainment that should quite consume Imperial attention while we implement our plan. Commodore Jenks will be there, of course. Ensure that Captain Reddy is invited-make it impossible for him to refuse-and do invite at least one of his… animals.”
“You are most wise, Holiness,” Reed said, bending to kiss the offered ring.
The music was Vivaldi and Courtney Bradford was entranced by the unexpectedly familiar melody of the “Spring (La primavera)” concerto from The Four Seasons, played by an excellent violin quartet. “Unbelievable,” he muttered over and over when not distracted by the apparently endless stream of people trying to meet him. Matt was at least as overwhelmed by guests and dignitaries, many in Imperial Navy uniforms. Jenks and his wife stood near Matt, and Jenks did most of the talking, while Matt tried to be engagingly distant to the horde of young ladies fluttering around him in their colorful, cloudlike gowns. The Bosun stood off a little, virtually alone, toying with a glass of something and generally grimacing all around.
The fish-flesh clouds were bright pink overhead as the sun vanished in the gap between the high, distant mountains. The Governor-Emperor spoke to the attendees with his wife, a frail-looking thing, smiling bravely, beside him. He said something about Jenks’s miraculous return, and welcomed their distinguished guests from another land. Courtney didn’t catch it all. Lanterns and torches sprang to life, dancers orbited one another on the close-cropped Government House lawn, and the music became increasingly difficult to hear as the Pre-Passage Ball commenced in full force. Jenks had told them that the festivities commemorated a ball (or it might have been a small dinner party) that occurred a week or so before the three ancient Indiamen departed some East Indian Island (Bradford couldn’t remember which, and it hardly mattered now) bound for India. The Founders’ Day celebration, barely a month away, took note of the survivors’ arrival here, thirteen months later. It was a kind of “before and after” observance. Over the years, the Founders’ Day event had become more a time of remembrance and thanksgiving, while the Pre-Passage Ball evolved into a party.
Bradford didn’t much care just then, as he was nearly half drunk. It was time to taper off, he decided. He’d promised Captain Reddy that he’d keep his wits about him. He noticed Chack was still under siege and began moving toward him. Besides himself, Matt, Gray, and Chack were the only people from Walker at the ball. The entire crew was anxious for liberty, but they understood things were tense ashore, and they needed to remain ready for anything. People came every day to gawk at the ship and the Lemurians aboard her as they went about their duties. There’d apparently even been an attempt to abduct a ’Cat who’d jumped down to the dock to help a screaming child. At the ’Cat’s cry of alarm, Spanky and another pair of ’Cats leaped to his aid, sending four rough-looking men running back into the crowd. The distressed child was nowhere to be found, and even some of the onlookers suspected a plot and urged them back to the ship.
The people of New Scotland were fascinated by the Lemurians, however, and what little they’d learned about them was the talk of Scapa Flow, and even posted on broadsheets. Therefore, while all of the visitors were celebrities and near the center of attention since arriving at the ball dressed in their best, the very center space had been unwillingly taken by Chack-and he was in hell. Despite his immaculate and very martial Marine dress, every diaphanously dressed female in attendance stopped to fawn over him like a helpless, squirming youngling. Some even stroked his fur! He was mortified, and Captain Reddy glanced his way almost constantly, clearly tense on his behalf.
Bradford plowed onward, dispensing apologies. His vision was a little blurred and he stopped for a moment to clear his head. There was a commotion to his right, and he noticed a man with slick black hair doing much the same as he, working his way toward Chack with a purposeful look on his face. Courtney felt a gust of alarm and tried to pick up his pace. He tripped. So many people tried to help him up, laughing, happy, swirling people, that it se
emed forever before he reached his feet. With another string of apologies, he tried to swim through the bodies.
He heard shouts. People pressed back against him, crying out in surprise. A commotion erupted where Chack had been, but he couldn’t see the Lemurian anymore. A woman screamed. Courtney began to panic. What was happening? He couldn’t see! What was he doing? He didn’t even have a weapon. Already he feared the worst. There were more shouts-indignant, offended, enraged. He thrashed his way through a ring of people, practically panting with terror-and was completely taken aback by what he saw.
In the light of the torches, Chack stood safe and sound, but he was holding Captain Reddy by one arm while Harvey Jenks held the other. The captain stood, knuckles bloody, staring at the slick-haired man with that… frightening… look he so rarely got. The Bosun burst into the ring, eyes casting back and forth, searching for a target for the “dress” cutlass (he’d painted the scabbard) at his side. The slick-haired man stood, a little shaky, daubing his mouth with a handkerchief. Daubing wouldn’t do the trick. Both lips were split wide open, and dark blood practically covered the silky cravat and white shirt down to his weskit.
“I velieve I ’ust de’and satisvaction!” said the slick-haired man.
“You got it, you cowardly bastard,” Matt hissed. “Anytime, anywhere! I ordered Captain Chack not to respond to rats like you. I can, by God!”
“Excellent.” The man seemed to be trying very hard not to show any pain. “The Impherial dueling grounds, then. Just after se’vices. Swords.” With that, the man turned and paced calmly through the crowd.
“What the hell?” Matt asked, stunned. He seemed to be getting his rage under control and his expression showed uncertainty. He’d been prepared for a fight right then. “When’s that? What’s going on?”
“Next Sunday, a week from today-after church services,” Jenks said severely. “Sunday’s the customary day.” He shook his head and took a breath. “We’ve been done, my friend.” He released Matt’s arm and strode out into the circle, looking at the faces there. He lifted his gaze until he seemed to see who he was looking for, some distance away. “I want there to be no doubt among any man here that this despicable episode was premeditated and engaged upon by none other than Prime Proprietor Harrison Reed!” He pointed in the direction the slick-haired man had gone. “That creature, you know! How many times has he taken the field for the ‘ Honorable ’ New Britain Company? He’s an assassin! A hired killer! He does nothing on his own account! He is but a tool, a coward’s weapon in the hand of Harrison Reed!”
There was a gasp and the crowd began to shift, as if unconsciously realizing that it formed a barrier between two adversaries. Eventually, a gulf widened between the circle and the Prime Proprietor himself, standing on the steps of Government House. Just a short distance away, unnoticed by most, stood the Dominion Ambassador, Don Hernan DeDivino Dicha. Reed glared back at Jenks, then flicked his kerchief as if to say, “As you will,” and turned away.
Courtney swayed just a bit and wondered if he alone noticed the odd, benevolent smile on Don Hernan’s face. “A bloody duel!?” he roared. “Seriously, we’ve come all this way for a bloody duel? Buggery!”
After the bizarre confrontation most everyone, aside from a few wellwishers, seemed willing to leave the “celebrities” alone, and they managed to secure a well-lit table away from the dancers. The ball slowly gathered speed again, but there was a new, electric excitement as people began to contemplate the “Duel of the Decade.” Jenks recognized the mood and sighed. He’d seen it before. He looked at Chack. It wasn’t the Lemurian’s fault, but Chack couldn’t help but blame himself, and it showed in his body language.
“They suckered us,” Matt growled, rubbing his torn knuckles.
“They suckered you if by that you mean they lured us into their trap instead of the other way around,” Jenks said. He smiled slightly. “I must admit, it was a glorious thing to see, however. You knocked at least two teeth out of that vile man’s head, and he’s never even been touched on the field, with sword or pistol.” He smirked. “Dueling to the death is a common occurrence in the Empire. A serious, honest punch in the mouth is rare.”
“Who was that guy?” Matt asked.
“An assassin, as I said,” Jenks replied. “A damn good one, actually. If you’ll pardon the irony, you should feel flattered.”
“I feel like an idiot.”
“You don’t understand. One way or another, there was going to be a duel provoked this night. I should have expected it, but I never dreamed Reed would be so bold… or is it boldness? Desperation? What if Time is the issue?” He shook his head. “Put that aside for a moment. That man-that assassin-knew exactly what he was doing, and which keys to stroke. I doubt he expected quite as vigorous a response to his taunts”-he grinned again-“but he knew you would react the way you did. Who else has insulted our Lemurian friends lately?”
“Reed.”
“Precisely. The thing is, it didn’t matter if you responded or not. Say Chack had responded. There’d be a duel. If neither you nor he responded, I’ll wager Mr. Gray would have, and there’d be a duel.”
“Not without orders,” the Bosun stated piously.
“Oh, don’t be absurd, you ancient beast!” Courtney burst out. “Of course you would have-but that’s not the commodore’s point, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” Jenks said. “There would have been a duel if that man had had to bite your feet to provoke one. That’s what he does. All you lost by striking him was the dubious advantage of choosing weapons.”
“I’m good with a pistol,” Matt said.
“A licensed, inspected, flintlock dueling pistol? Mmm. I thought not. That may have made you almost even, at best. No, it will have to be swords now, and you simply can’t beat him… in the kind of fight he expects. I doubt I could.”
Matt sat up straighter, but didn’t speak.
“Well… then how come you jumped in too?” Gray demanded, a little loudly. He glowered at a man at a nearby table who’d glanced up when he spoke. Gray’s question was mirrored in the eyes of Jenks’s attractive young wife, seated beside him. She had dark hair and was dressed just as ridiculously as all the other women, but somehow she pulled it off. She didn’t voice the question as Gray had, though; it wasn’t her “place.”
“Why not? The incident was obviously contrived. No doubt there was another hireling in the crowd waiting to challenge me, or vice versa. I simply beat them to it by publicly blaming Reed to see his reaction-and the reaction of others. Most interesting.”
“At least you get to kill Reed,” Matt said, almost jealously.
“What? Oh, of course not! He’ll hire a substitute. It’s his right as the offended party. Can’t have people running around picking duels with others simply because they dislike them or they’re weak,” he scoffed sarcastically.
“Then… why do it?”
“ Because it was contrived. ‘They’-Reed, the Company… perhaps even Don Hernan, by the look on his face-have an agenda, that’s plain. What isn’t at all clear is what it is… and what next Sunday has to do with it.” He became silent, thoughtful. Matt looked at the others. Clearly he was missing something. Finally, Jenks shook his head. “I did what I did to surprise them, to see their unprotected reactions.”
“You’re gonna fight a duel ’cause you wanted to see the look on their faces?” Gray demanded.
“Quietly!” Jenks cautioned. “We don’t want Them to know that! Besides, once more, I presume I would have been compelled to in any case. Consider this: if they only wanted us dead, I assure you they would resort to assassination. What do they have to gain by a public duel?”
“Excuse me, Jenks,” Matt said. “You keep forgetting we’re new here. Dueling’s illegal in the U.S. Navy! What do you mean, public?”
Jenks looked around the table. He even had Courtney’s attention now. “Oh. I see. I was beginning to wonder why you were being so obtuse! Duels in the Empire are very
public affairs. That’s probably why there aren’t more of them. They’re not rare, by any means, but I suspect some are more afraid of the crowd than they would be of an opponent on the field!”
“Crowd? Like this?”
Jenks almost laughed. “Um… not exactly.”
“Bigger?”
“Exponentially. Even under normal circumstances.”
“Normal?” Courtney asked.
Jenks sighed. “I am, deserving or not, a fairly well-known personality. Particularly in certain circles.” He grimaced. “I’ve been ‘on the field’ twice before, for various reasons.” He patted his wife’s hand when it suddenly touched his arm. “On both occasions, the event was… quite a spectacle.”
“That’s it!” Courtney said emphatically, and Matt began to nod.
“Indeed. It must be,” Jenks said seriously. “Imagine the spectacle at a multiple duel involving not only myself but the primary representative of the first ‘new’ people the Empire has encountered in over a century. The spectacle is the thing!”
“And the timing,” Matt reminded.
“The timing,” Jenks agreed. “I’m convinced of it! Somehow, our arrival or the impending arrival of Achilles -perhaps their belief that the princess is aboard her or that we have some proof of their scheme-has put that scheme, whatever it is, in jeopardy!”
“Ahem,” said Courtney. The table grew silent and they all looked up to see Andrew, the Governor-Emperor’s man, approaching. Without waiting to be invited, he sat.
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