by Will Wight
Her smile didn’t crack. “In that case, I would be forced to call security.”
Suddenly, the whole scene twisted in his mind—the smiling receptionist became the receptionist who had to smile. She literally couldn’t make any other expression.
“What did they do to you?” he asked, hoping for a frown, for an expression of confusion to break through her mask.
The smile remained, strong and steady. “We have excellent medical care at this facility.”
Calder nodded. Of course. He wasn’t sure what else he’d expected.
Maybe that was just another scripted response, or maybe she had been trying to tell him what happened, in her own way.
It didn’t matter, he supposed. If he had his way, he would leave this prison as nothing more than a hole in the ground. It didn’t deserve to exist.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Alsa stood on the outside of the table, watching the meeting between the Guild Heads, the future Emperor, and her son.
It wasn’t her place to speak—she was meant to keep an eye on Bliss, and to translate for her if she said anything particularly strange. But it was getting harder and harder to keep her peace.
Why wasn’t Bliss saying anything else?
Naberius, in his red suit, rose to his feet and bowed toward the door. “Well, Captain Marten, Quartermaster, I’m sure you have many preparations to make. Please, don’t let me keep you.”
Andel was a difficult man to read, but Alsa knew him well enough to notice the way his mouth tightened. He didn’t like Naberius, and he wasn’t happy with being dismissed. That attitude would not serve him if Naberius actually did ascend to the throne.
Calder, on the other hand, smiled widely. “Of course.” He dipped his head toward each member of the council in turn. “Guild Heads. Naberius. Mother.”
She had stayed quiet long enough. Alsa opened her mouth to speak, but found that Bliss had twisted around on her bench to stare her Blackwatch Commander in the eyes.
Alsa hesitated, and then Calder was gone.
Naberius continued, turning to Cheska. “Captain Bennett, you have served us well as host. Now I have a few tasks for you.”
She folded her arms. “Do you, now?”
“Trust me, I don’t have you doing anything that you wouldn’t do on your own. First, you must...”
While the Chronicler spoke, Alsa leaned down to speak in her Guild Head’s ear. “Why didn’t you tell him?”
“I implied that his wife may be alive, and that he should check for himself. I’m sure he got the message.”
“You didn’t tell him about the void transmission. That there is a member of the Sleepless on that island, that they’re in contact with the rest of their cult, and so it’s probably his wife.”
Bliss drifted her hand through the air, as though she were tracing invisible waves. “It’s all implied.”
“With all due respect, Guild Head, no it isn’t.”
“Is that so? Hm. I will look for an opportunity to clarify, then.”
Naberius was still talking to Cheska. The Navigator didn’t seem too happy—Alsa had seen her smile while throwing a man overboard, and now she was scowling. Everyone was far enough away that they shouldn’t overhear, and they probably wouldn’t bother listening to Alsa anyway, but she lowered her voice so that even Bliss would have trouble hearing her from an inch away.
“And what about Naberius? He’s obviously in thrall to Nakothi. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Bliss raised a single finger into the air, staring at it as though it contained all the secrets of the universe. “Not in thrall. Not yet. Close to it, though.”
“That’s even worse than the old Emperor! With him, we would have had a few years left, and then now what? Weeks?”
“Anyone on the throne is better than no one,” Bliss said simply. “If he can stall the Elders for a week, then that’s a week we didn’t have before. We can always replace him.”
“Unless they finish the process, and he’s all they need.”
“Don’t be silly. Naberius isn’t strong enough for that.”
The future Emperor had fallen silent, and Cheska was missing. Bliss, of course, hadn’t bothered to lower her voice—the whole room heard what she’d said.
Alsa resisted the urge to cover her face with a hand, instead straightening her coat and trying to look as disciplined as possible.
Naberius’ handsome smile had an edge to it. “Commander Grayweather, I’m sure you’d like to have a few words with your son before he returns to his ship. You’re dismissed.”
A perfect opportunity. Now Alsa could warn Calder about Naberius, and about the void transmission from the island. She bowed to Naberius and turned to walk out of the room.
A small, pale hand rested on her arm. “I’d rather she stay,” Bliss said softly.
It could be frustrating, working directly with Bliss—the Guild Head often decided to follow whatever whim popped into her head, without reason or explanation, and Alsa was simply expected to adapt. So for a moment, Alsa couldn’t see past her irritation.
She had just explained that she needed to talk to Calder. It was even Guild business! And now Bliss didn’t want her to leave?
Then Alsa noticed something: Jarelys Teach and Mekendi Maxeus were staying at the table, as though they had no intention of moving. He’s dismissing the people he doesn’t need, she realized.
What business did he have to discuss with three of his four supporting Guild Heads, and no one else?
Maybe this was one of those occasions where Bliss actually did know what she was doing.
Naberius clapped his hands together. “Right, then. General Teach, would you remove Commander Grayweather from the room?”
Teach hesitated, looking to the Blackwatch Head.
Bliss smiled just a little. “I’d rather she stay.”
General Teach turned back to her future Emperor, her spine ramrod-straight even in her seat. “I will do as you command. But if the Guild Head resists, then this whole ship would be in danger.”
Naberius’ smile had vanished, and he gestured to Maxeus. “It’s two against one.”
“That won’t matter if we’re all at the bottom of the ocean.”
Bliss began tracing designs on the table with her finger, doodling invisible figure eights.
A bead of sweat traced its way down Alsa’s cheek. If three Guild Heads came to blows...Teach was right, the ship wouldn’t survive. Even The Testament, anchored two dozen yards away, would be in danger. She had to make sure that didn’t happen, even if it meant playing into Naberius’ hand by missing the meeting. But Bliss wanted her there...
She was spared the decision when Naberius threw up his hands. “Fine then, Commander Grayweather can stay. It would have been easier had she just cooperated, but it’s no matter. Make sure she stays under control.”
Alsa’s stomach sank. There were only a few reasons she could think of that Naberius wouldn’t want her specifically to hear the contents of this meeting, and most of them revolved around Calder.
Sure enough, Naberius adopted a commanding pose, leaning one hand on the table and pointing the other at the General. “Load as many Guards onto The Testament as you can. Get the crew on deck, and then execute them.”
Alsa’s stomach was sucked into the void, and it left her feeling empty. She had stayed away from Calder for most of his life, and spent much of that time angry with him. But this was her son. And it made no sense.
Maxeus adjusted his mask, uncomfortable. “Why wait? Why not kill him now?”
“I agree,” Teach said. “Make this an official execution, and let me take care of it right now.”
Naberius’ fists tightened. “If you plan on following my orders in the future, then now would be an excellent time to start. I don’t trust Captain Bennett any more than Captain Marten. Let me remind you all that she is a Soulbound, and we are all riding on her Vessel.”
“It seems to me that she will put the pieces
together when she sees us gunning down her ally,” Maxeus said.
“And what will she do then? Rescue their corpses?” Naberius waved a hand through the air. “I’ve given her an explanation, and orders that will prevent her from acting until it’s too late. We can clarify afterwards.”
General Teach glowered at the table. “I will keep Captain Bennett under control, but I don’t like risking you in this.” She turned her glare on Naberius. “Let them sail off alone, and I will follow on my Windwatcher. I will kill them all in a day or two.”
Alsa’s instincts screamed for her to pull her saber and cut her way free from the room, but she would die before her sword cleared its sheath.
Instead, she spoke. “Please, I must know why.”
The Chronicler looked to Bliss, as if to say, “You see? This is why I wanted her to leave.”
“He has proven repeatedly that he will not follow me or my orders, and I suspect he will turn on me as soon as circumstances allow. I’m simply minimizing risk.”
“We need him,” Alsa said. If she could establish some sort of camaraderie with this uncrowned Emperor, maybe she could get him to listen.
“We don’t need him, we need his ship,” Naberius corrected. “And I can take control of it. That’s why I can’t let them stay a day or two out, General Teach. That ship might well pack up and swim away.”
Alsa looked from him to the Magister. “Can he do that? He has to bond the Heart, if this plan is to work. He can’t do that and take control of The Testament. Can he?”
“It’s technically possible,” Maxeus allowed. “But it would be unspeakably difficult, and I can’t imagine it taking less than two weeks.”
Naberius wore a confident smile like a mask. “You must learn to trust me, Maxeus. I can do things that no one else can.”
The Magister shrugged. “If he believes he can do it, then I have no further objection. Though this does seem extreme. I would think the easiest course would be to simply pay Captain Marten and let him do his job.”
Finally! Alsa thought. A reasonable voice.
But Naberius turned to the Magister with a sympathetic, condescending look that dashed her hopes to pieces. “Mekendi, my friend, you have to trust me. I’ve spent the last three weeks on that man’s ship. I have Read every inch, every board on that vessel. And I have done my best to get to know the Captain. No matter what he says, no matter what he may even tell himself, there is absolutely no chance that he will ever follow my leadership. He simply doesn’t have it in him. I believe he thinks of himself as a…rival, of sorts. No, he has to go.”
Reluctantly, Professor Maxeus nodded.
General Teach actually seemed soothed by the Chronicler’s speech. With her concerns addressed, she rose from her seat and marched over to the door, armor clanking with every step. She leaned a head out of the cracked door, speaking softly to one of her Guards.
Alsa slumped back against the hull, despair settling over her like a cold blanket. Maybe she ought to fight for it anyway. It was somehow worse knowing what was going to happen and being unable to stop it than trying to stop it and dying in the process.
On her way back to the bench, Teach stopped in front of Alsa. In a rare display of humanity, she placed a gauntleted hand on Alsa’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you were here for this, Grayweather. I will make it painless.”
Tears welled up in Alsa’s eyes, and she nodded. Sad to say, but those were the most touching words she’d ever heard out of the General’s mouth.
Naberius straightened his red coat, adjusting the buttons, and then picked up his case of candles. “Well, I’d better keep an eye on my ship. Ladies, gentleman, it’s been a pleasure as always.”
General Teach pushed her way out the door, and Naberius swept out behind her without another word.
Maxeus sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I’m very sorry. Grayweather, is it? You should not have been allowed to hear that.”
In spite of herself, Alsa agreed. It was normally her policy to face unpleasant truths head-on, rather than hiding in denial, but today...if there was nothing she could do to save her son, then what was the point of even knowing about it?
She would have to ask her Guild Head.
Bliss was missing from the bench, but that wasn’t unusual. Alsa leaned over, calling under the table. “The meeting is over, Guild Head. We need to leave.”
“Not you,” Maxeus corrected, his voice regretful. “I’m sorry, but I must ask you to stay here with me for the time being.”
Alsa’s fist tightened on the grip of her sword until her knuckles flared with pain. The Magister could probably reduce her to ashes with a thought, if the rumors were true, but he was still only one man. Maybe if she were fast enough...
He sighed through his mask. “Please don’t make me subdue you. It’s difficult to do so gently.”
Alsa gestured under the table. “Can Bliss leave, at least?”
“I have no orders to the contrary.”
Alsa screamed under the table, a normally unforgivable breach in propriety. “Guild Head! Come out of there, now!”
Nothing. Not a sound.
She dropped to her knees, searching as if for a small child.
There was no one under the table.
She straightened, glancing to every corner of the room. Slowly, a smile crawled across her face.
The Magister’s mask tilted. “What is it?”
“Where’s Bliss?” she asked softly.
Maxeus looked under the table himself, and Alsa took her opportunity.
She vaulted over the table, saber clearing its sheath.
One of the Magister’s hands shot out for his burnt staff, but he was too slow. She landed with her knees on the table, jerking one foot out and kicking the dark wood out of his reach. With the other hand, she pressed the point of her sword against the underside of his chin.
“I’m sorry, Professor, but I must ask you to stay here with me until my son’s ship has departed.”
“Fair enough,” the Magister said calmly, raising both hands. “I sympathize with you, Grayweather, I really do. But this is rash.”
I hope Bliss is using this time well, she thought.
If the Guild Head strolled back through this door and asked what was going on, Alsa was going to do her very best to kill the woman.
Until then, she silently begged Bliss:
Save my son.
~~~
Calder and Andel sat on the benches of a rowboat, surrounded by Imperial Guards. Calder was having a hard time relaxing.
For one thing, the last time he’d been surrounded by the Guards, it had ended in a trial. The time before that, in an arrest. So he had some understandably unresolved issues. But he had a hard time imagining anyone comfortable surrounding by such a menagerie: one of the rowers had red-scaled arms with spikes protruding from the elbows. Another had the reverse-jointed legs of a lion, and furry ears high up on her head.
A thin, pale man in a Guard’s uniform stared endlessly at Calder, his eyes solid blue-white like a pair of full moons. A gaze like that could unnerve a Champion.
Andel leaned in, speaking quietly. The Guards could probably still hear him, but every little bit of secrecy helped. “We’re leaving as soon as we raise sails, right?”
“As soon as Naberius is onboard, yes.”
“I see. You want him to walk the plank. Old-fashioned, but I can see the appeal.”
A Guardswoman with a lashing tail glared at Andel, but the Quartermaster returned her gaze evenly.
“He wants us to go to the Gray Island and wait,” Calder said. “That’s where we want to go anyway. We’ve effectively received Imperial permission to do exactly what we wanted. Why complain?”
“Because he will inevitably see us all dead.”
“So long as he starts with you, I will consider myself the winner.”
The shadow of The Testament loomed over them, even as the Lyathatan’s shadow writhed beneath the water. The red-armed Guard looked
over the edge and shuddered, backing deeper into the boat.
Well, it looked like Calder could do his share of intimidating.
Someone tossed a rope ladder down over the side, and Calder gripped it, pulling himself up the hull. “Is that you, Foster?” he called up.
The head that leaned over the edge was covered in quills.
“Ugh! I mean, ah, pleased to meet you, ma’am.” The porcupine-woman backed up, unamused. What was the Imperial Guard doing on his ship?
When he reached the deck, he realized there weren’t just a few Guards: the deck was crawling with red-and-black uniforms and mismatched body parts. He spotted Foster up in the crow’s nest, clutching a pair of muskets to his chest like a miser hoarding coins.
“What’s going on here, Foster?”
“You tell me, Captain!” Foster shouted back. “They tried to take my guns!”
“Not very hard,” one of the Guards muttered, crossing two pairs of arms.
Calder grabbed that man by the shoulder, stopping him. “Excuse me, Guardsman. What is going on here?”
“The future Emperor is boarding,” the Guard said simply. “We have to make sure this ship is secure.”
Imperial Guards—eternally paranoid. “He sailed here on this ship. If there were any danger onboard, surely he would know it by now.”
A lizard-tailed Guardsman pushed past, bending to examine a perfectly innocent coil of rope. “We’re acting on orders, Captain. If you have a problem, I suggest you take it up with Lord Clayborn directly.”
Andel had reached the deck by this point, and he looked no more pleased than Calder felt. And Calder didn’t get any happier when the rest of the Imperial Guards from the rowboat, which he had assumed were only escorts, climbed up the ladder after Andel.
Calder walked over to the edge, peering down. Only a single Guard remained in the boat, paddling back to The Eternal. A figure in a red suit emerged onto the deck, accompanied by a woman in red-and-black armor. If he was keeping the Head of the Imperial Guard with him, he must be paranoid indeed.
