by Sean Russell
“I would think.”
“But what did you learn? You are being a bit secretive about this.”
“I learned only that Mr. Flattery agrees with Lord Skye. He thinks the writing on the Pelier is a script and language known to the mages. It also bears some resemblance to the writing on the Ruin of Farrow. He claims to know no more.”
“And do you believe him?”
The countess shrugged.
“Now Elaural, I cannot imagine that he would keep anything from you if you exercised your charm on him.”
“Then perhaps he really can’t read it.”
Marianne looked away. “I hope you will not perform such a service for Lord Skye again. I was rather shocked that he would ask it.”
“I offered, Marianne.”
“Well, he should have refused.”
“For a woman who has rejected so many of our social values, I think you are rather old-fashioned occasionally.”
Marianne shook her head in denial. “Oh, it is not this thing of gentlemen should or should not do this or that. But to ask you to be duplicitous . . . I will tell you, I thought it rather reprehensible.”
“Well, I was not nearly so cunning. I was completely forthcoming with Mr. Flattery. I told him what I wanted of him and even that it was Skye had put me up to it. So you see, there was very little duplicity involved.”
Marianne looked at her oddly. “Where is all this going, Elaural?” she said softly.
“Whatever do you mean?” the countess asked, though she was afraid she knew very well what was meant.
Twenty
Captain James looked into his brandy snifter, then back to his cards. “I think I shall have to resign,” he said to his companion.
“Resign? And not give me a chance to retrieve my losses? Is that sporting?” Wilkes was a little inebriated, slurring his words noticeably, though he showed very little sign of his state beyond that.
“There is always tomorrow, Wilkes.”
“So they say, though I’ve known men who’ve proved that wrong, not that they lived to brag about it.”
James smiled. “Not an accomplishment that I personally aspire to.” He tossed his cards down on the table and pulled out his timepiece. It was almost midnight, not late, really, though these past few years it had begun to seem so.
Wilkes sloshed more brandy into their snifters, and though his hand was not perfectly steady, his concentration was such that he did not spill a drop. “The King’s health,” he said, raising his glass.
“We’ve already drunk His Majesty’s health twice this night.”
“Well then, to our health. Damn the King.”
“Ah, there’s a toast for you.”
Wilkes replaced his glass heavily on the table. “Can you imagine having such a woman pursuing you and choosing to sleep alone?” Wilkes said, shaking his head in disgust. “’Tis not fair.”
It was the litany of the evening. Skye had gone off to the house in which he stayed, not even visiting the Countess of Chilton. James wondered if it was possible that the information from the countess’ maid was not accurate. Wilkes had applied some of his abundant charm and a handful of coins to the problem and managed to learn much from the countess’ servant. Most astonishing of all was that the countess was in love with the Earl of Skye, who seemed hardly aware of her.
James shook his head. Savants, he thought. They live too much in the rarified world of the intellect. Poor bastards.
“I will relieve Lieutenant Darby tonight,” James said. “I cannot sleep.”
“Are you sure? ’Tis my watch.”
“I’m sure.” He stretched. “The excitement of taking all your money will not let me sleep. I must plan what I will do with such a fortune.”
“Well, that’s all right, then,” Wilkes said, pulling a chair over and putting his feet up, clearly ready for leisure. “I’ll relieve you at eight bells. You know where to find me if I’m needed. I’ll tell you, if I were the earl, you’d know where to find me—in the sleeping chamber of a certain lady, make no mistake.” He thought a moment. “How in Farrelle’s name can he be considered such a great genius?”
“The laws of motion, the invention of the cannon, various arithmetical discoveries that I don’t understand, the alloying of metals, improvements to the telescope. He even invented a better water closet. And that is only a partial list of his accomplishments. Perhaps the earl simply does not fancy the countess. He has certainly been with other women, by all accounts.”
“Well, I think he’s the greatest fool of a genius who ever lived!” Wilkes pronounced. “And I think this is all a fool’s errand we’re on. The man is a loyal subject of the King. There is no doubt of it. We should be at sea, James. Not stuck in this fool’s town where the rich come with their pissing little complaints. Flames, but I hate this duty.”
James shrugged and broke into a grin. “It is for the betterment of your character, Wilkes. And to keep you from trouble while you are landbound.” He rose suddenly. “I must be off. Poor Darby will be asleep at the wheel by now. Till eight bells, then.” He pulled on his great coat, checking the pocket for his gloves, for it was cool in the hills yet.
* * *
* * *
Darby was standing in the shadows of a small common across from the house where Skye stayed.
“All’s well, sir,” the lieutenant reported. “No lights, no one has come or gone. Where’s Wilkes? I thought he had the next watch?”
“We’ve traded.” James looked at the house across the street. “There has been a light in that window all evening?”
“Yes, sir, though there is no sign of movement within. A night light, I think.”
James nodded. “All right, lieutenant. You’re relieved.”
“Pleasures of the evening to you, sir.”
“And to you, Darby.”
James took up his place in the shadow, leaning against the tree. He was mostly screened from the street by shrubbery, but he still worried about being seen. It was a small town, and it would soon get around if anyone realized that Lord Skye’s house was being watched. But they could not let a room or even a house that afforded a view of the earl’s home, so this was all they could do: stand in the dark and hope not to be seen.
There was little doubt in James’ mind that they would eventually arouse suspicions in such a town—where everyone was interested in everyone else’s business, for there was hardly another form of amusement.
James rocked from foot to foot, wishing that he could sit down at least. He would begin to pace soon; he could not help it. He was as impatient with this duty as Wilkes, though he did more to hide it. Unlike his friend, he had more information about what had gone on. Better Wilkes did not know. Sailors, even officers, were a superstitious lot, and any mention of mages would have driven Wilkes to the bottle with greater frequency than he visited it now. No, better to keep quiet about the admiral’s real concerns.
Let this have nothing to do with Eldrich, James prayed silently, or the arts in any way.
He stared up at the windows and sighed unintentionally.
The truth was that he would have preferred to be as innocent of the truth as Wilkes and Darby. Unfortunately he had been one of the first to speak with Abel Ransom and the harlot. The worst of it was he believed they were telling the truth, and so did the Sea Lord.
Something damned odd was going on, that was certain.
“And what does the great Skye do that so interests you?” a woman’s voice came from behind.
James whirled around. “What’s that?” He could just make out the form of a woman standing in the shadows.
“I asked what the great Skye does that so interests you?” she said again, a little laughter in her voice. She did not seem the least uncomfortable standing here in the darkness with a strange man.
“I am merely taking
the air, ma’am.”
“As was your friend before you, and the gentleman before that. But that was you, wasn’t it? Let me see, that would mean that Wilkes is in his cups and you have replaced him. Very dedicated of you, Captain James. The Admiralty will no doubt be grateful.”
“I seem to be at a disadvantage, ma’am, for you know my name and business, but I do not know yours.”
She took a step in his direction, enabling him to just make out her long coat and hat. She was dressed as a lady and certainly spoke like one.
“It is I who am at a disadvantage, sir, alone with you in the darkness. I’m sure if I cried out, no one would hear.”
James did not quite know what to answer and she laughed at his awkwardness.
“You may call me Miss Fielding, Captain James, if you wish.”
“Miss Fielding. What is it you want here?”
“Well, that is difficult to explain. I suppose the truth is that I wish answers to a few simple questions, but then you might take that wrongly.”
He thought he heard her whisper, and in the shadow she seemed to be moving her hands, as though she wound a ball of invisible yarn.
“But I do think it would be a good idea if you were to come away from that tree. You’re rather too close to the road and can be seen.”
“I’m standing in complete darkness. No one can see me, I assure you.”
“Well, that is not entirely true. I can see you perfectly. But indulge me, come back into the park a little farther. I give you my word that I will not harm you.”
James heard himself snort. It was an old trick; send a woman to lure a man back into an alley and then—but this woman was a lady, not the usual sort to indulge in such behavior. What in the world was she doing here? Watching Skye as he was? The thought that she might be a servant of Eldrich occurred to him, and he froze in place. No, impossible, she was a barely more than a girl. Some admirer of Skye was more likely.
“I am happy here, I think,” he said.
This answer did not please her, and she fell silent, perhaps wondering what she could say to convince him. “Were you among the gentlemen who invaded the rooms of Samual Hayes in Paradise Street?”
“I don’t know to what you refer,” he said evenly, deciding that this situation was not at all to his liking. She could not be so at ease and be alone. He glanced quickly back to the street, but it remained empty.
“In fact, you do. It is very difficult to lie to me, Captain James.” She paused and he thought he heard her sigh. “What is said of the men who were surprised there?”
“What is it you want of me, Miss?” James countered.
He could almost feel her gaze on him in the darkness, as though she contemplated him. “I am not actually sure. You see, I fear you have information that might endanger me and what I do. I would rather that did not happen. What to do with you is what concerns me now.”
She stepped forward suddenly, into the moonlight, and James saw that she was young, but faded, somehow, as though she had survived trials that had aged her terribly. He felt an unexpected wave of pity for her.
“Come away from the street, please. I do not have large, pugilistic men hidden in the shrubbery. If anything, I should be afraid of you. But I am willing to trust you if you will do the same.”
“What is Skye to you?” James asked.
She sighed, looking off down the street and then toward the house. “It is a tale too long to be told now. Let me say that my purpose is not in conflict with your own. Please.” She reached out and took his arm.
“I’m afraid, Miss Fielding, that I cannot cooperate.” He took hold of her wrist. “But you will answer my questions, or you will find yourself in a situation not to your liking. What is Skye to you, and why do you care about the men found in Paradise Street?”
James heard her mumble something and reach out toward his face with her free hand. His vision clouded oddly, and he wavered. The park went suddenly dark and he felt himself falling. Someone caught him, someone soft who smelled of perfume.
* * *
* * *
“It was necessary,” the woman said. “As you know there are limits to what I can do in a given situation.”
James felt a cool hand on his forehead.
“I think it was a mistake,” a masculine voice said. “We should do nothing more that might draw any attention. We have taken too many chances as it is. Far too many.”
There were several people in the room, James thought. Mostly men. He could smell tobacco from their clothing and wine on their breath.
“What will we do with him now?” It was a third voice, another man. This one spoke very slowly.
There was no answer immediately, and James did not like the sound of that.
“Captain James?” the woman who had called herself Miss Fielding said. “You are conscious—it is obvious.”
“I cannot see.”
“You are in a darkened room, Captain James, but you are unharmed. There are four of you watching Skye, is that correct?”
“Yes,” he answered though he had not meant to. Certainly this kind woman meant him no harm. There was no reason to keep secrets from her.
“Do you know why you have been assigned this duty? Was it the Sea Lord sent you?”
“Yes, Sir Joseph. He thinks that someone practices the arts openly once again.”
A protracted silence. James heard the scraping of feet on wood as people shifted slightly.
“And who does he think this practitioner of the arts might be?”
“Eldrich,” James said. “Though he has not ruled out . . . other possibilities.”
“Meaning?”
“There is another mage of whom nothing is known.”
Someone cursed under their breath.
“Who has set out to ruin Skye?” the old man asked. “Certainly Brookes did not do this on his own.”
“Moncrief,” James said without hesitation. “Moncrief hates Skye.”
“And your only reason for being here is to watch Lord Skye?”
“No. . . . We are on the lookout for others.”
“Who? Speak up, man.”
“Two young men named Kehler and Hayes . . . and Erasmus Flattery.”
No sound again. Someone cleared his throat.
“What has led Sir Joseph to believe the arts are involved?” Miss Fielding asked.
“I—I was not present, but it is said that the officers who searched for Samual Hayes surprised some others there before them, and these men leaped from the window, apparently coming to no harm.”
“And who were these people?” the one with the old voice asked.
“No one knows.”
“Well, we have that to be thankful for,” a younger man said.
“Is there anything else that has made the Sea Lord suspicious?”
“A sailor and his girl saw two gentlemen bring a woman to the harbor. Without coercion or a word of protest she leaped into the water and drowned.”
James heard the sounds of people shifting again. It occurred to him that he should not be answering questions as he was, but they seemed so kind, so trustworthy.
“It is worse than I’d hoped,” the old man said, his voice trembling with fear or anger. “Far worse. Anthing we do now to disguise our involvement can only make matters worse.”
James heard the woman draw in a sharp breath. Fear. He could sense fear in this room.
“What do we do with this one?”
“He is a danger to us,” the old man said, his voice slow and devoid of warmth.
“It’s too late to do anything about that. This goes up to the Sea Lord and Moncrief. Too late to put a stop to it with the likes of Captain James. No, send him back to his duty, that is all we can do.”
“We could put him to work for us, at least,” Miss Fielding s
aid.
“No,” the old man said. “It is out of the question. Eldrich would see our marks upon him in an instant. Even this is too much. If Eldrich finds him, he will know immediately.”
“It is too late to worry about that. We must trust the vision now. But I was not intending to use those arts upon him. No, leave the good captain to me. Better he watches these others than we do it ourselves.” She touched him; he was certain it must be her. A light hand on his head. “We are gathering here—all the players—and each will have a part. That is what our visions have taught us. Everyone will have a purpose. Perhaps even this poor sailor. Perhaps even these two boys who follow Skye so blindly.”
Twenty-One
Kehler climbed slowly down the drop, trying to stay clear of the spray from the falls, while Hayes leaned out as far as he dared, holding the lantern to try to give his companion light.
“It is not so difficult—if one could but see,” Kehler called up.
They were in a large passage, almost round and fifty feet in diameter, that sloped down noticeably. Occasionally the floor almost leveled and then dropped a few feet, though never more than seven or eight and usually less.
Hayes leaned out a little farther, holding the lantern in a rapidly tiring arm, and fought to ignore the muscles’ complaints. He was stiff and sore as he could not remember being in years. His knees were tender from the long crawl, and his arms and shoulders ached so badly that it hurt terribly to carry his pack. Yet he did not really seem to mind. The cave was so incredible, so unlike anything he had ever seen, that he barely complained, and when he did, it was with a bit of laughter.
Suddenly there was a scraping of boots on stone, and Kehler shot down, landing and rolling backward.
“Are you hurt?” Hayes asked as his friend came to rest on his back.
“Oh, hardly,” Kehler said with apparent disgust. “Ass over tea kettle, I think that particular drill is called. Very gymnastic, didn’t you think?” He rolled over and pushed himself up stiffly, pulling off his pack and letting it fall to the rock. Bending over the stream of running water, he washed his now red face.
