Blood of the Falcon, Volume 2 (The Falcons Saga)

by Ellyn, Court

  She stuck out her chin. “Or what?”

  “And it’s the truth you best be telling about them flags, too.”

  “Lucky for you I’m an honorable woman.” She nearly choked on the words. As yet, Rehaan had no inkling of her deceit, and he hadn’t invited his hostages to dine in his cabin since turning east; she’d had no chance to discuss the matter with him.

  Once the first mate of the Warmaiden realized he’d boarded the infamous pirate brig, he conducted his inspection hastily. Athna hoped to slip him a message, but Rehaan kept the lieutenant well occupied. “Quite the prize you’ve found, Captain,” he said, climbing up from the hold. “Commendable. Had it been me, those Fierans would still be in the water. Be that as it may, once I return to the Maiden, do not raise anchor until we wave you through. Good day.”

  The Aurion drifted slowly through the harbor mouth. A pair of gilded orbs, representing Leania’s setting sun, crowned the two mighty seawalls. Beyond, the wharf looked as if a dragon had swept over it. Many of the piers had been reduced to charwood; teams of men labored to pull down the burned ruins of naval supply houses and merchants’ warehouses, while others towed armaments and canvas from ships lying just beneath the waterline. Fishers were employed to cast their nets, not for fish, but for flotsam piling against the seawalls and clogging up the lanes. They snagged the occasional body, too. Surely the White Falcon would rejoice at the sight. Athna stared with her hand over her mouth. Wyllan, who’d been brought up from below, clenched his jaw in stoic silence.

  At the helm, Rehaan told his sailing master, “I don’t like boxing ourselves in like this. We’ll ease past the patrols, turn our nose back toward open water, and keep the jollies ready for a quick tow. Boatswain! I need a boat and the strongest rowers. Lady! Front and center.”

  Athna took her time responding, partly to give herself time to reel in her sorrow.

  “Where do we deliver the prisoners?” he asked.

  “The admiralty handles prizes, but—”

  “And where are their headquarters?”

  She pointed at a blackened ruin on the waterfront. “There, sir. You’ll have to find where they’ve relocated the offices. In truth, I never guessed things were this bad. The admiralty may be in no condition to see you or take prisoners.”

  “So much the worse for the prisoners. And for you. But you’ll make sure the right man sees me. Won’t you.”

  “You mean, I get to tag along? My joy knows no bounds.”

  “Woman, I oughta cut out that tongue of yours. But I fear some eejit somewhere might actually value it and pay less on account of its absence.”

  Athna chuckled. “It’s wise, perhaps. I’m a good cover for you. If the Admiralty finds out who you are, they may have you arrested. Leania hasn’t issued you a pardon. And then it would be the duchess paying a ransom for you. How ironic.”

  “I’m becoming more and more willing to sacrifice a few silvers for silence and respect.”

  “Silence you may buy, captain. Respect, never.” She gazed across the harbor, gauging the distance between the Aurion and open seas. Three galleons patrolled the waters in between. “How will you manage it? You can hardly walk into the admiralty with us and demand a ransom. Or did you mean to let Wyllan and me slip away?”

  “Is it an amateur you think I am?” He grinned snidely. “No. You and I will arrange for the trade of Fieran prisoners. You will make certain this admiral what’s-it recognizes you. Then we return to the Aurion and off we go. By the time we’re in open water, the admiral will be hand-delivered a letter by the first shoeshine boy I can catch.” He patted his breast pocket where the letter resided. “This will do all the dirty work. The who, where, when, and how much. It may take your lords and your king some time to decide. Until they do, we’ll be hiding in one secret cove or another. Which cove is not for you to know. So get used to it. You may be with me a long time, lady.”

  Athna harrumphed. “A letter. Who would’ve suspected you capable of writing.”

  Rehaan laughed and called to the waist. “Rygg! The lieutenant is in your care. Let it be known that if our hostage is harmed in my absence, the same will be done to the man who touches him.” He turned to his sailing master. “We’ll anchor here. Boatswain, lower the jolly. Better pile in reserve rowers, too, in case we need to flee the wharf.”

  ~~~~

  Athna had never been happier to set foot on land. If only Wyllan were here, too. Was Rehaan serious about going through with the ransom?

  The reek of smoke and stale embers mingled with the stink of dead fish and kenneled sea water, while the screams of wheeling shullas drowned out the shouts of men. On a nearby pier lay a row of bodies, white, bloated corpses of men who had been trapped on sinking ships. Farther down, another row, this one of townspeople who’d failed to escape the fires. Men rowed boats around the harbor, pulling trawling lines, trying to fish out more; others searched through the rubble and raised a shout when they discovered another burned body.

  “Shadryk will pay for this,” Athna said.

  “Tall order for a woman with no ship,” said Rehaan. “Come, you’d better start asking around.” They made their way along the pier toward the ruins of the admiralty building. Its roofs and upper floors had caved in; all that remained were rows of grand pillars, blackened with soot, standing sentry before an empty shell. Where to search next? Part of the naval supply still stood, and men milled about rescuing armaments and ships’ parts. Perhaps someone there would know.

  For an instant, Athna found herself separated from Rehaan by a crowd of workers. He shoved through them and grabbed her elbow. “Just so you know,” he whispered in her ear, “I left orders with Angrev. If I return without you, he’s to cut Wyllan’s throat.”

  Trying to retrieve her arm, Athna measured Rehaan’s face. “You’re bluffing.”

  “Not when there’s this much silver at stake.”

  “Oh, cut the charade. You agreed to this plan so you could return to honorable service.”

  “Is that what you think? Until this plan turns out in my favor, it’s no charade, lady.”

  Athna grit her teeth. “Captain.”

  “Of course. Lead on.”

  At the supply yard, they learned that the Admiralty had met several times in the palace, but that the officers on the board were conducting affairs for the time being out of their respective manses. Commodore, Lord Lo’el had been assigned to oversee the business of prizes and contraband. A carriage-for-hire dropped Athna and Rehaan off at the gate of the commodore’s manse, a small, tidy villa overlooking the harbor. After making the appointment, they waited in a solar that opened on cheerless, winter-gray gardens. Luckily they had not long to wait before a steward ushered them to a study lined with dustless books. A fire snapped briskly in the hearth, and the commodore scrutinized his guests from behind a desk polished to a mirror shine. The commodore himself looked rather grizzled and worn. One of the buttons on his sleeve was missing, and his lapel looked singed.

  “Captain,” he greeted, mouth stern, “you return. You missed the action.”

  “On the contrary, sir,” she replied with a sharp bow of her head. “I arrived in time to engage and lure away three galleons. Was my presence not reported?”

  Lo’el searched the log. “I’m afraid not.”

  Rehaan chuckled. “That’s appreciation for you.”

  The commodore cast him a scathing glare. Rehaan’s dress marked him as a well-to-do civilian; his lax stance against the doorframe, an uncouth one. “Three, you say, Captain?”

  “Yes. We—”

  “Your ship?”

  Athna cleared her throat. “Lost, sir.”

  Lo’el groaned and scribbled in the log. “There will be a hearing against you.”

  “Of course, sir. But the Shadow of the Seas lost his ship as well.”

  Lo’el’s tired, red-rimmed eyes widened a fraction. “Admiral Madon is dead?”

  “Er, no, sir. He and his men escaped aboard the Storm, I bel
ieve it was. We sank the third as well, Victory-something. Falcon’s Victory.”

  Lo’el snorted at the irony but was short on praise.

  “Regardless,” Athna added, “I am to report to His Majesty as soon as possible. I fear I’ve kept him waiting and my family will be worrying.”

  Lo’el wearily waved away the notion. “We hadn’t even marked you as overdue, Captain. There was no knowing how long it would take you to find Admiral Beryr and deliver your message.”

  How could Athna feel both relieved and hurt at once?

  After recording the general coordinates of her battle against Madon, Lo’el finally acknowledged his other guest with a lift of his chin.

  “My lord,” said Athna, “may I present Captain Rehaan of the Aurion, in the service of the Duchess of Liraness.”

  Lo’el’s reception grew cooler still. “Ah. I thought as much.” He examined a note card. “Your appointment concerns prisoners?”

  “One hundred and twenty-three Fieran prisoners,” Rehaan said, approaching the desk.

  Lo’el’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise. “As many as that? We’ve no place for them. The Hold for war prisoners is half cinders and ash. We’ll have to send them up the hill to the palace dungeon.”

  “Good,” said Rehaan. “They’re stinking up my ship, and seeing as we’re allies now, Your Lordship, I thought it a kind gesture to offer them to King Bano’en. In trade.”

  “Trade?” Lo’el glanced at Athna. “Is this man serious?”

  She bit her lip, raised her chin, and said nothing.

  “This lady made it quite clear—”

  “That the crown would pay you? Either she lied or is grossly misinformed. Apprehending enemy seamen is your duty in war. Nothing more. Defeating the enemy is your reward.” Lo’el spoke to Rehaan as if he were a child who had yet to grasp the concept of the game. “Now, if you had returned with their ship … but the ship is lost, yes?”

  Rehaan’s teeth ground audibly. “Slavery and robbery, those are your trade, nobleman.”

  Athna tried to usher him outside. “It’s no matter. I was mistaken.”

  “Little known secret?” he exclaimed, vein bulging in his neck above the perfumed lace.

  “Give me Wyllan,” she pled, “and we’ll call this business done. Perhaps the duchess will reward you instead.”

  “You scheming, lying bitch.” He grabbed her by the arm. “Back to the Aurion with you.”

  Athna glanced to the commodore for help. He’d heard every word and stood from his desk. “What is going on here?” He tugged a bell rope vigorously.

  Rehaan fled down the stairs, dragging Athna with him. Should she break free and run for it? Or take the pirate at his word and go meekly, buying Wyllan’s life for what now may become a brutal captivity?

  At the base of the stairs, they met half a dozen Hellbenders in blazing orange uniforms, hurrying to answer the bell. Seeing the struggle, they bared their sabers. Rehaan released Athna’s arm, held up his hands, and laughed. “Gentlemen, it’s all a misunderstanding.”

  “No, I think not,” said the commodore, descending after them in leisurely fashion.

  The foyer was large, plenty of room to maneuver. Athna nudged the pirate-king and hissed, “Just run. But spare Wyllan, please—”

  “Men,” ordered Lo’el from the landing, “see to this brigand’s reward. Apprehend him and toss him into the clink.”

  So many hungry blades convinced Rehaan to surrender without a struggle. He cast Athna a bitter grin. “Spectacular checkmate … Captain.”

  “Move along!” grunted a Hellbender, dealing him a shove between the shoulder blades.

  Athna stood on the steps, watching him go and trembling head to foot. This is not the turn she wanted. Wyllan was doomed now for certain. Once the pirates realized they were betrayed, they might kill him out of spite alone. Athna had to try something, anything, and fast. Would Angrev let Wyllan stroll the deck at all today? She had to risk it. “Commodore? I need message flags—”

  “I need an explanation.”

  “—and a way to get on board one of the patrol ships. See it done and you’ll have your explanation.

  “You dare—?”

  “Please, sir, a man’s life is in danger.”

  ~~~~

  Gazing through a spyglass aboard the war galleon Rising Sun, Athna decided Wyllan was not on deck. With nothing to be done but wait for his captain’s return, Angrev had a few men scrubbing the decks or stitching sail, while others tossed dice on the forecastle.

  “Ma’am, that’s an Evaronnan vessel,” said the Sun’s captain. “They won’t be able to read our flags.” So he had said for the third time, as though Athna were too dull to comprehend. Or too female.

  She smiled sweetly. “Please raise them, Captain. Precisely as I’ve laid them out.”

  The captain shook his head at the senselessness of it and gave the order. Bright flags ran up the shrouds, blooming colors like vast petals. Through the spyglass, pirates began pointing toward the Rising Sun. Angrev leaned heavily on the rail. Was that a squint? As if glaring hard enough would help him eek meaning out of the flags.

  “No,” murmured Athna, “you need a Leanian to decipher them.” Sure enough, Angrev began waving his arms and ordering men about. Wyllan and Rygg appeared on deck. Angrev shoved the lieutenant and jabbed a finger at the flags.

  Was the wind right? Could he read them clearly?

  Pirate. Captured. Jump. Ship. Immediately.

  Wyllan jumped.

  ~~~~

  Two days later, Athna was summoned to the palace for her audience with the king. Wyllan agreed to accompany her, to bolster her courage if nothing else. Though she often used her kinship to her benefit, she found it difficult to look on Bano’en as her uncle. Speaking with him face to face always set her belly to quivering uncomfortably. She paced the corridor outside the audience chamber, barely able to keep her thoughts straight, while Wyllan sat patiently, calmly on a long velvet bench. It wasn’t letters to allies or sunken ships or enemy admirals that troubled her.

  “They’ll hang him, Wyllan.” Her voice, along with the rhythmic striking of her heels, echoed between the high marble walls.

  “Likely, aye.” His tone implied that he approved the idea. “It’s a good thing I can swim.”

  “If I received word that my father was dead, I might lose my head, too.”

  “Lose your head, maybe. Take allies hostage? No.”

  “Shh.” The guards standing outside the great double doors might not look left or right, but they had ears.

  “People are bound to find out the truth,” Wyllan reasoned.

  “Not from me, they won’t, and not from you.” The lie she told the commodore had barely made sense at first, but she eventually wove it thicker and consistently until he believed it. As far as he knew, it was the Fieran prisoners who had broken free and taken several of the Aurion’s crew captive in a desperate attempt to trade for their freedom. Easy enough to explain why those prisoners were bound when the Hellbenders boarded the Aurion to off-load them. “I must suppose that the Aurion’s crew regained control of the situation. The flags weren’t necessary after all, but because Wyllan alone could read them, he alone jumped ship at my order.”

  “And the brigand was more concerned about payment than the safety of his crew?” Lo’el had asked.

  “Do pirates care about anyone but themselves?”

  “Oh, Captain,” he’d sighed, “your tale fails to explain a great deal. I will get to the bottom of this.”

  Whether or not he had gotten the bottom of the situation so quickly, a pair of patrol ships surrounded the Aurion shortly after Wyllan bailed, and the Hellbenders arrested every man they found. Fieran and pirate alike were herded onto flat-bottomed prison barges and escorted to the royal dungeon.

  “I worry for Rygg, too,” she told Wyllan. “He didn’t deserve any of this. What if they hang him before the duchess can vouch for him?”

  The loose skin arou
nd Wyllan’s eyes lent him the appearance of a mournful basset hound. “They are no longer your concern. Be grateful for that.”

  The double doors opened. A pair of highborns in official state dress departed, looking peeved, and a herald called for Captain, Lady Athna.

  Bano’en was not afraid to sit his throne. It was a priceless thing encrusted with sapphires, topazes, and pearls the size of gulls’ eyes. A robe of orange velvet draped his large frame, turning his puffy skin sallow. In proper fashion, Athna presented the information he desired to hear, explaining that Admiral Beryr had expressed gratitude for the relief to his great burden. The king nodded in response to Athna’s report, half distracted by the parchment a secretary presented for his signature, likely commissions that allowed for the replacement of one government building or another. The king did not ask about the loss of Athna’s ship, if anyone had troubled to tell him, and so she did not mention it. The loss of one galleon, when so many ships and lives had been lost, would not have demanded special attention now anyway, and so Athna mourned her ship and her crew in silence.

  “Is there anything else, Captain?” he asked, because it was the proper thing to ask.

  Propriety demanded that she bow and say, “No, sire.” She offered the bow, but said, “One other matter, Your Majesty.”

  Bano’en’s tiny, flesh-enfolded eyes squinted at her, and his hand waved away the next parchment the secretary offered. The secretary was so stunned by the breach in conduct that he failed to notice the king’s refusal until Bano’en grabbed the man’s wrist and lowered it. While the secretary slunk away, Bano’en drummed his fingers on the arm of the throne, giving Athna the floor, though it was a shaky one.

  “I beg your forgiveness, sire, but I must plead on behalf of another. A sea captain, serving the Duchess of Liraness, delivered prisoners of war to Graynor and, in return, was treated … unfairly.”

  Bano’en squeezed his brow; a sapphire on his finger winked darkly. “This is a matter for the Admiralty, Captain.”