The cord ended perhaps fifteen feet off the ground, and he’d dropped the rest of the way into a flowerbed. Thank the Unity they were on the second floor. She sat on the sill, gripping the cord, and pivoted her legs out, bracing the soles of her boots against the brickwork as she began to descend. At least she’d had a lifetime of doing the same thing under far more dangerous conditions. She swarmed the length of the cord and let herself fall, going limp and rolling as soon as she struck the ground. He reached down, but she swatted his hand away as she scrambled up.
“Where now?” She looked around. The flowerbeds were surrounded by a spread of tiles ending at a wall that looked easily ten feet tall, topped with iron spikes.
“Over that.” Jason inclined his head towards it. “Quick, before they let the hounds out.”
“The what?”
“I was joking. Come on.”
He had an utterly perverse sense of humor, to go with his vile mind, but at least he bent over next to the wall to give her a boost. Seething, Lera stepped up on his back and jumped with a little more force than was necessary. Her hands closed around the spikes, and the muscles in her arms tightened into knots. She hauled herself up and swung a leg over the top of the wall.
Inside the room, something crashed against the door. Lera jolted, but didn’t lose her grip. She thought of simply dropping from the other side of the wall, leaving Jason to deal with the results of his deception on his own.
Then she looked at him, at the brown eyes watching her, as though he was waiting patiently for her to help him in turn because it had never occurred to him that she would do otherwise. Bracing herself against the spikes, she leaned down, and his outstretched hand closed over hers.
The door burst open. Lera heaved, gritting her teeth—he might not have been brawny, but he wasn’t exactly light either. Her arm ached with the effort, but he reached the top of the wall and grabbed a spike. She scrambled back and let herself drop, feet first, bending her knees to take the shock of the impact. Jason followed, gasping as he hit the ground, his face tightened in pain. Served him right.
“Where do we go?” she said. The brothel’s owner might well send servants or guards out searching for them.
He winced, but nothing looked permanently damaged, and he seemed more intent on the safety of the papers in his pocket anyway. “This way.”
Favoring one foot only a little, he set off across the street and ducked into an alley between two buildings, turning right when they emerged. They finally stopped in an open courtyard surrounding a fountain, and he didn’t bother to glance behind before he sat on a bench.
“They won’t search this far,” he said. “If you follow that path north, you’ll come to a thoroughfare which will take you to the docks.”
Lera would have liked a rest too, but she didn’t want to be anywhere near him. She looked down at herself. To think she’d believed she would walk out of the whorehouse looking as tidy as when she’d strolled in. Her hair was not only tangled but sporting a few souvenirs of the flowerbed and her shirt gaped open at the neck. She turned her back to him, ignoring the surprised glances from passersby, and did her buttons up.
He cleared his throat. “I suppose you’ll be going back to Denalay soon.”
You suppose correctly. Lera straightened her coat, slapping it a few times to shake off the dust before she sat on the end of the bench to lace up her boots.
“Will they give you any difficulty about the race? I’m sure you did your best.”
That was odd enough to make her turn around. “What are you talking about?”
He looked confused. “Well, you know. The race. The one we won.”
“I won it!” Lera took a deep breath and forced her temper back down. She had never met a man so good at infuriating her.
“Oh.” Jason didn’t look as though he quite believed her. “I mean, congratulations. I was told a Dagran ship had won, but that must have been a mistake.”
Even if Lera had been able to speak, she didn’t have the time to explain the events which had led to her taking command of the Dagran ship, so she knotted her laces and stood up. Jason spoke quickly, as though he could stop her from leaving by doing so.
“I’m sorry I lied to you,” he said. “Is there anything I could do to…well, to make up for it? If you’d like a drink or a meal, I could—”
“Damn!” Lera said as something occurred to her.
“What?”
“The coin I gave you.” She looked down at him. “When they find it, they’ll know—”
Silver flashed in the sunlight. “This coin?”
Her lips tightened. “Keep it. To remind yourself this was a business transaction and nothing more.”
Before he could say anything else, she turned on her heel and set off north with quick strides that took her out of the small courtyard in moments. At least she was leaving in two days’ time and would never see him again.
One of Anthony Yurchand’s guards was stationed at the door of the public house, and another on the landing, which left two of them in the room with him. He’d ordered beer for them, but the tankards had been emptied and he forced himself not to check his pocket watch.
A sharp knock finally broke the silence. While one guard remained behind Anthony’s chair, the other went to the door and opened it to admit a tall man in a blue-and-gold uniform, a cap under his arm.
“Captain Garser,” Anthony said, and gestured him to a chair on the other side of the table. The door shut as Garser seated himself.
“My apologies for my lateness, Minister.” He placed his cap on the table. “What news?”
Anthony’s plan had been authorized by the Council of Dagre that morning. “Until the Denalaits agree to our request, Sandcliff Harbor will be closed tonight. With a cordon sanitaire.”
“Quarantine?” Garser said.
Anthony nodded. “No ship or person will be allowed to enter or leave until every vessel in the harbor is cleared of contagion. I’m afraid that will put you in the position of dealing with any panic or concern among your crew.”
Garser’s eyes creased at the corners. “I can handle my crew. Will you need us to participate in the cordon?”
“No. I want Nemesis saved for the real work. Oh, and incidentally, the prospect of contagious disease on board a ship will give us a good reason to evacuate most of the buildings closest to the shore.”
There was a pause. “What if the Denalaits don’t agree?” Garser asked.
“They’ll go down with us.” At that point, Anthony saw no reason to sugarcoat the truth to anyone on his side. And as the Minister of Defense, his first duty was to his homeland, so if he couldn’t save thousands of Dagrans, he saw no reason to spare a far smaller number of foreigners. “Their ship will be checked down to the last drop of water in the ballast holds, all of which will take time and exhaust their resources, if their ship isn’t smashed to pieces first. I intend to make this state of matters clear to their scout. He can choose to aid us or let his compatriots die.”
“I wouldn’t shed a tear for any of them. Those ingrates have been fed and supplied by us for a week, but they refuse us one small request.”
Anthony sighed. “Much as I hate to defend them, their scout isn’t part of their navy. He seems to be in their intelligence service instead, and as such, he doesn’t take orders from a mere captain.”
“What is he, fifteen?” Garser’s teeth showed through his beard. “He had damn well better not give me any backtalk, that’s all.”
“He probably wouldn’t bother,” Anthony said dryly, “since he’ll always have the option of leaving Nemesis and striking out on his own if there’s a difficulty.” That might reduce the likelihood of Garser antagonizing the boy.
Garser’s eyes narrowed. “So he will. Maybe we should take more than one of ’em on board, make certain he stays.”
Anthony shrugged. As long as the scout, who went by the peculiar name of Kovir Stripe Caller, agreed or was made to agree, Garser could take the entire Denalait crew with him for all it mattered.
“You’ll hear from me as soon as there’s news,” he said, in dismissal.
Garser nodded and rose. “Nemesis will stand by, then—unless they try breaking through the cordon,” he added as an afterthought.
Anthony could hardly blame him for wanting such an engagement, since the flagship had been fully supplied and prepared for battle ever since they’d heard the news, but he didn’t think the Denalaits would be so recklessly suicidal. Especially in a ship built for speed and nothing else. “I doubt they will. You’ve seen Checkmate, haven’t you?”
“I’ve seen she’s a fifty-footer with no weaponry to speak of. I’ve also heard she somehow fought off a kraken on the way here.”
The rumor which had reached Anthony’s ears had included pirates too, as if the tale wasn’t implausible enough already. Though he supposed the Denalaits had needed to somehow save face after their defeat in the race, and he said so as he levered himself to his feet with his cane. “Besides, if they attack us, it won’t be merely a battle they can’t win. It will be a clear violation of the Treaty as well.”
Garser put his cap back on. “Assuming this Unity who rules their land cares a fig for the Treaty.”
“They’re still not likely to risk uniting every other land of Eden against Denalay. I think this Unity is the Denalaits’ rather pathetic attempt to appear mysterious and therefore intimidating.”
“Yes, you’d think the ability to command sharks would be intimidating enough, wouldn’t you?”
Anthony gave him a sharp look. He’d been informed about the threat to Dagre four days ago, and had hardly slept during that time, so he wasn’t in the mood for sarcasm from anyone. He longed to lie down and close his eyes until they no longer felt as though they’d been sandpapered.
“There’s evidence for the sharks,” he said, because the scout they needed commanded one of those. He tried not to think of the possibility of that shark—and its master—slipping past the cordon and fleeing to Denalay with the truth. “There’s none for the Unity’s existence.”
The matter of the Unity had come up when he’d presented his plan to the Council as well, because no one knew whether the Unity could communicate with or influence its people over a two-thousand-mile distance. But as Frederick Locen, the Foreign Affairs Advisor, had pointed out, whether or not the Unity was that powerful, at worst it was a long-term threat compared to what they currently faced.
Though Frederick had also seized the opportunity to warn them that just as the Unity had apparently ordered the Denalaits to bring all their territory under its rule, some day it was likely to set its sights on the rest of Eden. Something Anthony supposed his successor might have to deal with eventually, assuming the Denalaits ever learned to fight on land.
His guard pulled the door open and Garser left. Anthony had requested a private room with no windows, so he couldn’t see if it was dark outside yet. Leaning most of his weight on the cane, he flipped open the lid of his watch. Past eight in the evening already. The warships would be waiting to move into position as soon as full dark fell, and his agents in the harbor would be prepared to act. He left the room, his guards falling into step before and behind him.
Checkmate was a good name for a ship without weapons, he thought as they went down the stairs, a ship whose master would have to rely on wits and guile rather than brute force.
But he had played that game much longer, and was more accustomed to winning.
Chapter Two
Plague Flags
Lera would never have slept late on her own ship—there would have been far too much work to do—but her ship had been sunk during the race. And while the remaining Denalait ship, Checkmate, would take her and her surviving crew back home, she wasn’t exactly needed on board.
Or wanted, for that matter. Everyone treated her politely, but it was a cool, arm’s-length courtesy that told her how they regarded the trick she’d pulled to win. The worst part was the money. Lera guessed Alyster Juell, Checkmate’s captain, had only pushed his ship to its breaking point and beyond because the victor’s prize would cover repairs.
She wasn’t sure how he was paying for those, but she was sure he wouldn’t take kindly to an offer of help, or even a loan. Once or twice she’d lain awake trying to figure out how to cover some costs, but she couldn’t think of any way to hide her tracks.
Reluctantly, she rolled out of her hammock. Checkmate was a small ship, its space strained further by the addition of her crew, and she wasn’t looking forward to the return journey, although the Dagran engineers and welders and carpenters had left the ship looking almost as trim as the day she’d first steamed out.
Lera washed her face, pulled on her uniform and brushed her hair before she braided it. Then she went topside. No hope of breakfast so late, but there was always an urn of coffee steaming. Today the engine would be checked, and they would take on board all the supplies they needed so they could leave at dawn the next day.
Before she had reached the top of the steps, she knew something was wrong, and she paused with her head below the hatch, a hand on the hilt of her saber as she listened. She couldn’t hear anything. Yes, that was what was wrong—there were no sounds of new machinery in the engine room being inspected or crates of supplies being carried aboard. Not much likelihood of pirates in a Dagran harbor, but she took the last few steps cautiously and glanced out, ready to duck down if necessary.
There was no activity on the deck. Most of the crew sat idle but a few of the officers were at the stern, watching something in the distance. Lera climbed the rest of the way out and went to the stern.
“What’s happened, Reimond?” she said to her second officer.
“Harbor’s been closed down, sir.”
“Take a look at what’s out there.” Vinsen Solarcis pointed at the mouth of the harbor.
Lera snapped a spyglass out to its full length. She could see ships blocking the way out and, with the spyglass, the names painted on their hulls were clear. Visionary, Vanguard and Dawn, very pretty, but what exactly were they doing?
Then her gaze traveled up and she saw the flags each ship flew—yellow as a cat’s eyes, plain oblongs of fever-bright color.
“Plague warning?” she said, startled.
“Quarantine, they call it.” Vinsen shoved his hands into his pockets, fists balled. “The harbor’s closed until every ship can be searched.”
“That’s ridiculous. Once they clear Checkmate, we should be allowed to leave.” Lowering the spyglass, she looked around at the other ships in the harbor—two dozen fishing trawlers and cargo carriers, whalers and private barges. It would take days to search them all.
Vinsen shrugged. “Alyster said the same thing. No one’s permitted to go ashore, by the way, and he pulled every string he could to be allowed to speak to the harbormaster. You’d have thought he had leprosy, the way they acted.”
Lera glanced at the docks. The guards stationed at regular intervals along the wharves were only too obvious, and the warships at the harbor’s other end all had open gunports, which meant they were armed with cannons. No going past those. Checkmate, outnumbered three to one, had been built for speed rather than battle and didn’t have so much as a catapult on board.
The Dagrans had a lot more weaponry, which in itself was odd—who called out three warships for what should have been a routine examination? And if no one was allowed to disembark, would the Dagrans provide them with water and food while they waited for however long it took?
“Something’s not right here,” she said.
Vinsen tilted his head towards the shadow of one of the huge funnels and Lera went with him. “I wanted to find out if a newly arrived ship was suspected of carrying disease,” h
e said. “Otherwise why lock the harbor down so tightly?”
Lera nodded. Vinsen held the same rank she did, but he’d lost a ship along the way as well, and although he never spoke about either that or his dead crew, she could see the effects in his eyes, in the new lines on his face. If anyone deserved a safe journey back home, he did.
“Then I found Kovir is missing.”
“Missing?” She didn’t like the sound of that at all. Kovir, a scout bonded to a tiger shark, had been assigned to Checkmate in Denalay, and he’d survived everything that had happened to them along the way.
“No one’s seen him,” Vinsen said. “Or the shark.”
Lera wondered what to make of that. Like all Seawatch operatives, Kovir was cautious when it came to the monster he controlled, and he would have kept the shark as far as possible from people unused to her. But unless he’d decided to go out swimming or hunting, he should have been on board.
So they couldn’t go ashore or send their scout to find out more. If there had been other Denalait ships in the harbor, they might have run up code flags to communicate, but they were alone. The Dagrans had no magic at all on their side, but they had cannons, and Lera had no intention of looking down the wrong end of one.
“I suppose all we can do is wait until Alyster comes back.” She tried not to let her frustration show in her voice. “I hope he didn’t go alone.”
“No, he’s not a fool. He took Thom and Reveka with him.”
His first officer and doctor could be relied on to back him up, but Lera felt at a loose end. If this was what less than half an hour of waiting did, a week in harbor wouldn’t bode well for her. Since there was nothing she could do, she went to the galley to see if there were leftovers, and while she was chewing a heel of dry bread, she heard the gangplank go rattling out.
The Highest Tide Page 3
