The Dagger of Trust

by Chris Willrich

  "Our ship's finished," she repeated, "but our mission isn't." She noticed Gideon. "You. You're Andoren, aren't you?"

  "I'll not deny it."

  "I must confer with the captain."

  Gideon nodded. "This way."

  By the prow, Sebastian was standing with crossed arms beside a trio of piled bodies, listening to Adebeyo report casualties. "We lost Brew, Quick, and the Maestro," the Mwangi first mate said grimly, "and I think we were lucky not to lose more. Zethril, Jarin, Asta, and Krypt were wounded. Lunette, Corvine, and Ozrif are tending to them."

  "Why must it always be this way?" Sebastian said.

  "Sir?"

  "Forgive me, Adebeyo. A moment of weakness." Sebastian studied the fallen. "None of them turned. Even the ones that were Smoke-Tongued before."

  "None."

  "I was wrong to doubt them."

  As he led the Andoren commander to the bow, Gideon looked upon Brew, the cheery man of the mountain town of Dalaston who'd been Riposte's master of explosives and potions, coffee and moonshine. He studied Quick, now dead, reputed to have been a mercenary from the town of Tribulation, who'd tended the ship's ballista and crossbows with the calm of a man who'd left a more personal history of violence behind him. Gideon could hardly comprehend the unmoving halfling they'd called the Maestro, who'd treated the rigging like the upper reaches of a circus tent, and who'd dazzle his small audience no more.

  "Wrap them in sailcloth," said Sebastian. "We'll send them to the river once we're clear of the shallows. They were good men. May the Sellen sweep them to the sea they loved."

  "Won't you say words," said the Andoren commander, "for their lives and souls?"

  Sebastian glared. "Did I not?"

  "Those were words for yourself and your first mate, not for all your crew."

  "There's nothing I can say to bring them back."

  The Andoren nodded. "And you feel responsible. I understand. I've been there."

  "You don't know me."

  "You think if you speak words for the crew it will go wrong, because of the guilt. Let me. I've buried people before."

  Sebastian was silent for a time. "Very well. Say what you would say, Mistress—"

  "Commander."

  "Commander—?"

  "Hannison. Merrigail Hannison."

  Sebastian raised his voice. "Commander Hannison will speak on behalf of our comrades and hers."

  All attention turned to her; she didn't hesitate. Some enchantment upon her figurine glowed and suffused her face with a fiery light.

  "Taldans and Andorens, brought together in battle! We are strangers to each other, but alas not strangers to death. We have little time to mourn, but mourn we must. Each of our dead had a story of courage, from the helmsman of our ship who struggled to keep her intact, to the man of your vessel who banished the vapors that stalked us."

  She raised the bloody sword glinting above her head.

  "Taldans, though most of us have fallen, I'm forever grateful for your rescue. The determination of we Andorens who yet live will be redoubled. Tomorrow begins the new year—a time for new oaths and quests. Mine is to make certain that our comrades and yours won't have died in vain."

  She waved her sword as if in martial benediction over the slain.

  "And to our fallen, I swear on the wings of Talmandor, I will avenge you. I will defeat whatever power lies behind this fog. Your sacrifices will have saved many men, women, and children in Taldor and Andoran." She paused. "My knights and I will now sing for our fellow Andorens, but I welcome anyone to join us."

  Gideon found himself joining the chorus of the old patriotic Andoren hymn "I Will Wander My Land," even as Sebastian looked withdrawn and grim.

  From the mountains of the Five Kings

  To the southern margin's strand

  To the Andoshen's beginnings

  All the gods have blessed our land.

  I will wander it forever

  From Triela to Aspo Bay

  I will honor freedom's splendor

  I will wander because I may.

  To his surprise, Corvine joined in as well.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  After the funeral, the crew went about the work of making Riposte ready to continue its voyage. Gideon lowered his head. Weeks ago, he'd never have imagined his vexing roommate or a pack of privateers would give him cause to mourn. Why had Leothric chosen that moment to become heroic? It didn't suit him.

  Nor did death.

  Thanks to Commander Hannison, at least he could grieve. He watched her cleansing her sword with a bucket of river water, grateful to her...

  I sensed herthoughts, Gideon...don't trust...

  Gideon shivered. Who had Leothric warned him of? Had the puppeteer sensed the same cruel voice that haunted Gideon, his muse, his Desdimira from the ghost ship? Or was there someone more corporeal to fear? Should he mistrust Hannison?

  As Riposte cast off with its depleted crew, someone touched his shoulder.

  It was Corvine, holding up the fan of wood and papyrus. "I retrieved it."

  "We can't say for certain he'd want you to have it," Ozrif said. "But perhaps you can carry it until you can return it to his family."

  Viridia said, "I don't care if he was a Lion Blade or not, he died as one of us. Whatever that's worth."

  Gideon accepted the fan. "Thank you. All of you. He was a most annoying roommate. He was a better traveling companion. And I think in the end he was my friend. I wish I'd reciprocated better. I'll guard his family's heirloom, and face their blame."

  "It's not your fault," Corvine said.

  "Gideon, his own family approved sending him off," Viridia said. "We can't know everything about him. But didn't you see something happier about him, on this voyage, in between all the complaints? Something braver?"

  Gideon said, "He was going to proposition you, I think."

  "Really?" Viridia said.

  "Really?" Ozrif echoed.

  "Well, I wouldn't have put it past him," Corvine said. "I'll take the puppets, if no one minds. I'll try my hand at Leothric's art."

  "I think he'd like that," Gideon said.

  It had seemed ghoulish but necessary to take the fan, but to know the puppets were with someone who might use them was a small warmth on a cold river.

  The cold persisted for many hours, until dawn found them far from the dead ship and the fallen. Gideon had suffered a wheeling dark experience he was reluctant to call sleep, and awoke to an argument at the bow. Grizzendell passed Gideon a biscuit and grunted in that general direction as if encouraging Gideon to butt in.

  Gideon immediately found the discussion by the reflected sunlight glinting off Commander Hannison's shield. For a moment, Gideon wondered why the shield was unadorned. Andorens were rarely shy about their nationality. But Sebastian's voice cut through his musing.

  "Cassomir's harbor didn't report any Eagle Knight vessel named Hawkslight."

  "Indeed! But I think you'll find the patrol logs record a merchantman by that name."

  "A covert mission?"

  "How I wish. Had a ship of the Gray Corsairs been available, things might be different now. No, our only concessions to stealth were blank shields and chartering a merchantman. A good, patriotic crew, but no warriors. But we had to investigate this fog."

  "What do you know of it?"

  "Not enough. I might ask the same of you." Hannison turned her head as Gideon approached. "Or one of these bards you travel with. Unusual passengers, I might say."

  "The fog makes the business of a theatrical troupe difficult," Gideon said.

  "Theatrical troupe?"

  Sebastian, with a glint of gratitude, sketched one of their agreed-upon covers. "We're traveling north as a goodwill gesture toward Egede upon the Lake of Mists and Veils, which has appealed for help with barbarian pirates. In Cassomir we picked up a band of players to help entertain soldiers on leave from the front in the demon war."

  Gideon put in, "We go by the name of the Seasick Troubado
urs—"

  "Nonsense," came a voice.

  Corvine stepped up, arms crossed. She glared at Gideon, and then Sebastian, before facing Hannison. "These gentlemen lie to you, Commander Hannison. They should know better. They're all agents of the Grand Prince."

  "Ah," said Hannison. "Lion Blades. Much becomes clear."

  "Well, to be precise," Gideon said, "I'm a Lion Blade in training..."

  "Enough, Gideon." Sebastian stared at Corvine. "I expected better of you. You've compromised Taldor's security."

  "I don't think so," Corvine said. "I think the damned fog is compromising Taldor's security, and I'm tired of us skating around the problem. Leothric's dead. I've decided, posthumously, that I liked him. And I liked your speech, Commander. Better than I liked Sebastian's."

  "I didn't give a—"

  "Exactly."

  Gideon sighed. "The cards are on the table, Sebastian. No more bluffing. What Corvine says is true, ma'am. We are investigating the same fog."

  "You don't know what cards I have, Gull," Sebastian said, before bowing stiffly to the Eagle Knight. "Nor what gambles I have to make. But you're indeed speaking to one of the Prince's Lion Blades. So. Am I right the fog's attacked Almas itself?"

  "Your information's correct. Some victims merely rampaged, frothing at the mouth. Others ranted of a 'new revolution.' Our government doesn't like the sound of that. And our archives suggest this fog may have attacked before, years ago. Perhaps it's a beast that's slumbered and has reawakened."

  Sebastian gave Gideon a hard glance, saying, "I wonder, given the rhetoric we ourselves heard from the Smoke-Tongued, if someone from Andoran isn't at work. Someone dissatisfied with the course of your experiment in Common Rule."

  "If they're dissatisfied, they can vote," Hannison said.

  "Perhaps they find voting inefficient."

  "Be that as it may, Captain Tambour, I offer an alliance. My four Eagle Knights, and two sailors, joined to your Lion Blades and privateers."

  "I have my doubts."

  Hannison smiled. "I'm not proposing marriage, Captain. We may suddenly part ways. But if nothing else, both our commands need the morale boost an alliance can provide."

  "Hell," Gideon said. "Sebastian—Captain—she's right. I'm not just saying that because I'm Andoren."

  "Are you sure, Gull?"

  I sensed herthoughts, Gideon ...

  Silencing his own doubts, Gideon said, "It's because she's right. The fog has attacked before, at Bellis."

  Hannison widened her eyes. 'You've researched this?"

  "I was there." Gideon nodded to Sebastian. "I think we're losing time, Captain. Adding the Commander's force gains us a little. I think we need all we can get."

  ... don't trust...

  "Very well," Sebastian said. "I've come to trust your instincts. And you seem to have a sense about this fog, that we may have to rely upon. But I'm afraid the Andorens are getting your cabin. You bards will bunk with the crew."

  "Thank you for your hospitality," said Hannison.

  "You'll need a place to confer privately." Sebastian smiled wearily. "And frankly, I need a way to isolate you."

  That earned him a smile back. "I take your point. The paper-shufflers in Almas and Oppara will be happy we took precautions."

  "Ha. No doubt."

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  The banks of the Sellen slid by, and Gideon watched them go.

  He heard footsteps and saw the Eagle Knight commander at his side.

  "May I join you?" she asked.

  "It's a free country," Gideon replied.

  "On one bank, at least." The commander's smile made it a joke. "I have to say, I'm surprised to find an Andoren among the Lion Blades. I imagine there's quite a story there.

  Gideon shrugged, and the commander nodded.

  "Fair enough. I wonder, though, if you'd be willing to tell me a different story. " Her voice softened. "About Bellis. And the fog."

  "Commander—"

  "Merrigail, please. You're not in my chain of command, and I'm no Taldan noblewoman."

  Gideon sighed, then told the general outlines of his story once more. Perhaps he should have been more cautious, but Corvine's rebuke of his clumsy attempt at subterfuge still stung, and as he'd discovered in the jail cell, it felt good to have a sympathetic listener. Or a listener good at appearing sympathetic, anyway.

  "Your archives," he added once he'd finished. "The records of the previous investigation. Did they give any clues?"

  She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Gideon. The investigating knights never found any trace of the fog, or any clues as to its origins." Steel returned to her voice. "This time, I swear to you, it will be different."

  She took her leave and strode up the deck toward where her second-in-command Kester was staring ahead at the waters. She passed Sebastian, who was headed toward Gideon. "You have good people with you," she told him. "I'm glad we're working together."

  Sebastian looked a little startled. "I, too." He bowed a little, then continued on and reached Gideon. "She's most...memorable," he said, voice low. "Self-possessed. Someone with a sword in her hand and no doubt in her mind."

  "Are you in love, Sebastian?"

  Gideon was joking, but something must have struck home. Sebastian went silent for a moment. "I think her second-in-command already fancies her, if you want the truth. And I have no time for such things. Only my duties, and my ship."

  He sighed and looked around at Riposte. "My ship. There was a time, Gideon, when my whole ambition was to command such a vessel. To have the freedom to roam. Yet there's little freedom anywhere, it seems. Only duties and old ghosts."

  "It might seem different on the ocean."

  "True. And the feeling may be worse because we're back in the territory of my childhood." Sebastian scratched his chin and pointed into the deep woods, toward the northeast. "Some days' travel up the Verduran Fork, there's a stone castle on a cliff overlooking the river. There my ancestors dwelled. Before the Wildwood Treaty, the druids made arrangements with various parties to allow settlement, and my family was one such. We were a proud clan of bards and wizards, and Mistwatch was the jewel in our crown. But we dwindled, and my father was the last to maintain the castle. Since the treaty, no logging or farming's been allowed on such sites, so the castle was good only for retreats. I remember long summers there, wandering the woods, while my father conducted his wizardly studies. My elven mother taught me something of woodcraft. I learned to swim, and to hunt. Part of me is always back there."

  "Do you never have time to return?"

  Sebastian regarded the waters. "Oh, once in a while. But the place raises uncomfortable memories. Madness took my father, you see, when his researches did not go as planned. He set a fire that claimed both him and the castle."

  Gideon remembered a scene sketched in shadow, within the foul fog. "I'm sorry. Your mother?"

  "She's gone too. I...don't want to discuss it. At any rate, I could refurbish the castle, but why? My work's aboard Riposte."

  "You're defined by your work, aren't you? Like Merrigail."

  Sebastian smirked. "And you're not?"

  Gideon chuckled. "Part of me remains a simple streetside harpist. You can never take that out of me."

  "Why?" At Gideon's confused glance, Sebastian continued. "What I mean is, why a streetside harpist? As I understand it, you're from a well-off family, back in Andoran."

  "They had definite ideas about my future." Gideon shook his head, looking at the Andoren shore pass by. "We say we love freedom in Andoran, but sometimes it seems we want to be 'free' only to oppress each other in a thousand petty ways."

  "I've heard you share such criticisms of Andoran now and then. I admit it always surprises me."

  "Well, I love my home, but there's a reason I left it for Taldor. Being around Andorens again...I don't know. The self-certainty can grate a little."

  "It has a certain charm, now and then." Gideon caught Sebastian's sideways glance toward the Eagle Knight
commander. "Like a brash youngster out to make a mark on the world."

  "You didn't grow up with it," Gideon retorted. "'We know best! We're the future! We know how everyone should live their lives!' Just like my family knew I was destined for something better than music. You know, it troubles me..."

  "What?"

  "The frothers on the Andoren ship. They were more completely controlled than the afflicted Taldans we've seen. The ones in Cassomir, or your crew."

  "Well, my crew's only partly Taldan—"

  "You know what I mean. You saw them on Hawkslight. How they just kept coming, raving, rending..."

  "Perhaps the fog was simply stronger there."

  "Or maybe my people are more susceptible."

  "How could that be?"

  "Something you said at the Admiralty. How the Andoren border was uncontrolled. I wonder if lack of control goes beyond just borders. We love our freedom, and hate all outside control. But what if we've also rejected self-control while we're at it?"

  "You've never gone frother, Gideon. Even with your experience at Bellis."

  "I'd meant to ask you about that," Gideon said. "You clearly knew about that long ago, without my telling you. How?"

  "It's my business to know things. As your sponsor for the Shadow School, I had a responsibility to learn everything I could about your background before recommending you for service. Even with your fog encounter as a child, losing your own brother, you didn't let it break your spirit. It must have been hard for you."

  "Part of me is always back there." Gideon looked northward along the river.

  "Part of me is always at Mistwatch, watching the ashes after Father's fire."

  "Why did he do it?"

  "It's best if I don't say. Suffice it that he raised forces he couldn't master. Without him...my mother grew strange. She was always a troubled one. Sometimes that goes along with great musicians, and she was a singer beyond compare. Without him, her spirit darkened. She took her own life."

  "Good Erastil, Sebastian, I'm sorry."

  Sebastian shrugged. "I wasn't strong enough to protect what I loved. So now I protect Taldor instead."

  "No child can be expected to replace a void like that." Gideon shook his head. "When my brother died, my parents expected me to be his replacement somehow. Heir to the winery. But wine's not what sings in my blood."