Pushing himself out of the chair, Tristan went into his bedchamber and changed into his formal uniform, carefully tying the cravat then running a finger under it to relieve the sense of being choked. After a quick check in the mirror, he went back into the main room. Riggan was waiting by the door, in his formal uniform as well. Tristan noticed that he had the bar and dragons that indicated he was in service to the Guild pinned proudly to his uniform.
At the soft tap on the door, Riggan opened it. “Mr. Barrett, First Officer, sir,” he announced formally.
“Thank you, Riggan,” Tristan said, hiding a smile as he stepped forward and shook the officer’s hand. “Everything set topside?”
“When I left it was, the captain is still pacing, but he usually does until he turns in,” Barrett replied, grinning. The fact the captain had not been invited had spread through the ship like wildfire.
“The Air Weavers, Theresa, Sullivan, Sheea and West Aether,” Riggan said.
Tristan ushered them into the room and over to the sideboard where a bottle of wine was waiting. It was from his private reserve, and until he’d discovered that Barrett’s family were vintners he’d been rather proud of his selections. Now he waited anxiously as the first officer went through the ritual of tasting the wine. Tristan let out the breath he was holding when Barrett smiled. Muher, Aubrey and Hall arrived together soon after and they all sat down as Riggan and the other servants served the first course.
As Tristan watched the servants, he marveled at Riggan. The man had arranged the entire thing with no more than a word from him—just the information he was having the Air Weavers and several officers to dinner, and the man had produced this. No discussion of menu, or even of other servants to keep the glasses full and the food coming and going from the galley. He was beginning to realize that Riggan was worth far more than he’d assumed.
“Guild and Dragon,” Tristan raised his glass in the traditional toast; even though there were Naval officers present, it was his table.
“Guild and Dragon,” the others replied.
“How are you?” he asked Theresa as they set the cups down.
“I’m doing much better, Master Tristan, thank you. I was on deck for the launch.” She laughed, a bright and happy sound like tiny bells. “Of course, I would have dragged myself up there if I had been on my death bed.”
“It was something to see!” Hall agreed. “I’ve been on many ships, but there is something about that mainmast, it’s so massive it takes my breath away every time I see it.”
“We try and prevent that!” West said with a laugh.
“Touché, Aether,” Hall said, laughing. “Still, it was a magnificent launch. Do you know why the dragons are still with us?” This was directed to Muher.
“No, they haven’t informed me. I expected most of them to turn back hours ago. Of course, Fenfyr is flying with us, but the others, I am surprised about myself,” the general said.
Tristan looked at the man, wondering if he was lying. The Dragon Corps was there for many reasons, and he suspected at least one of them had to do with why Taminick was still flying with them.
“No shop talk,” Aubrey said, taking another drink. “Once we clear the system, we won’t have nearly enough time for long dinners, we should relax and enjoy.”
“You’re right,” Barrett agreed readily.
The talk turned from the ship to events on Earth. With the exception of Barrett, the officers and Air Weavers had been isolated for several months, and Muher spent fifteen minutes bringing them up-to-date on the latest sports scores. Barrett was an avid lacrosse and curling fan, and Tristan listened in growing amazement as Muher and Barrett discussed the curling championships. He’d watched the game several times and had no idea it was so intricate or required quite as much skill as it seemed to. Aubrey and Hall shared Barrett’s love of lacrosse, and so for half an hour the table was filled with sports talk. After that it turned to the latest movement to expand the Dragon Sanctuaries. There was a brief lull as the main dish was served, then they started chatting again.
It was while dessert was being served that Fenfyr decided to make his grand entrance. A tiny tap on the stern gallery door, Riggan paused as the air pressure was balanced by the Air Weavers on deck and answered the door. “Lokey Fenfyr of the Guild Dragons.” Fenfyr stuck his head in and grinned at them all. There was a soft whoosh as he adjusted to the atmosphere. “Can I get you a grapefruit, sir? I put some by this afternoon.”
Fenfyr huffed happily as Riggan brought him the fruit. Tristan sighed, he would have to talk to the dragon about dramatic entrances. Poor Aubrey looked like he was ready to faint, and Hall was pale as well. Without a word Fenfyr munched on a grapefruit, looking at the table expectantly.
“Did you have a good launching, sir?” Barrett ventured after a moment of silence increasingly filled with the scent of grapefruit.
Fenfyr made a happy sound and nodded. “We enjoyed it,” he said.
“Good gad!” Aubrey exclaimed and went another shade paler, then blushed. “Sorry, sirs, I’ve never been to dinner with a dragon, sir.”
“You’ll have to excuse his table manners,” Tristan said with a laugh.
“Tables,” Fenfyr huffed in derision.
There was another moment of silence, then Riggan brought out the dessert wine and Barrett started chatting about his family’s vineyard. Tristan knew Fenfyr was looking over the officers and Air Weavers, and he had a feeling the dragon was looking forward to giving him a full report of the launch, knowing that Tristan had been caught up in the spell and unaware of a lot of the action. After they had finished dessert, the others lingered for another glass of wine, but then Hall and Aubrey left, followed by Muher and the Air Weavers. Tristan found himself alone at the table with Barrett.
“Another glass?” he asked the officer.
“Thank you, Master Tristan.” Barrett held his glass out.
Tristan poured. “Tristan,” he said, offering the informality.
“Thom,” Barrett replied with a smile.
“Fenfyr,” the dragon said with a chuckle, his head tufts quivering happily. “We’ve been busy.”
“What?” Tristan asked.
“Taminick and I, we’ve been checking things, and there is something wrong. We just can’t be sure what. The other dragons could sense it. She said she will be coming in close to look again, and expects to be let onboard when she asks. Apparently, she was refused,” the dragon said, the horror in his voice only partially feigned.
“What’s going on?” Thom asked.
“We don’t know, that’s the thing,” Fenfyr answered.
“The dragons and Guild have received unsettling intelligence about the ship.”
“What?!? My ship?!? What have they done?” the first officer demanded, his face turning red.
“We’re not sure. We are still checking,” Fenfyr said. “But there is something up, and it stinks like day-old fish.”
“Whatever help you need, let me know. How dare they touch my ship!”
“Your ship?” the dragon asked.
“Thom designed her,” Tristan said.
“Ah, do you know what the bottom deck is? And why the hatch is soldered shut?” Fenfyr asked.
“No, I had nothing to do with it. I was told it was designed for cargo and extra supplies. I have no idea why it’s soldered closed. I asked Stemmer and he said it wasn’t in use for this flight and they were just cutting off the need for atmo on that level. It’s a good excuse, I just don’t buy it.”
“Neither do we. Taminick is quite anxious to get in there.”
“Who is Taminick?” Thom asked, looking from Fenfyr to Tristan.
“She’s the red dragon that’s been flying with Fenfyr. She’s with… with the dragon equivalent of the intelligence service.”
“Black ops,” Fenfyr said. “You never even saw her.” He burst out laughing, blasting them both with grapefruit-scented breath. “Seriously, though, she is one of our top intelligence age
nts, and a bit of a wild one, she specializes in finding and killing Vermin technology.”
“You think they…?” Thom broke off in horror.
“We’re not sure of anything at this point,” the dragon said. “In fact, we hope it’s not true.”
“You really know how to ruin dinner,” Tristan said with a sigh.
“Not ruined, pour me another glass of wine,” Thom said with a laugh, glancing around the cabin. “You play backgammon?”
“What?” Tristan turned, his backgammon board was sitting on a small table between two chairs. When Riggan said he was going to unpack, he must have set it up. “Yes, although it’s hard to find people who want to play. It’s not as exciting as most games.”
“Well, consider yourself challenged!” Barrett picked up his glass and walked over to the table. “Shall we wager?”
“Of course,” Tristan said innocently. Fenfyr snorted.
At the change of the watch, Tristan and Thom walked onto deck. Tristan immediately checked the trim of the sails, watching the willowisps. He walked over and laid his hand on the Elemental Interface and whispered a soft spell, checking that the sails were functioning correctly. For an instant he thought he caught an undercurrent of something else, like the sludge of willowisps past their prime—No, he said to himself, it felt different. Chocking up the feeling to the remnants of the conversation at dinner, Tristan shrugged the feeling off. Even so, he checked the Interface again. “All’s well with the sails, Mr. Barrett.”
“Thank you, Master Weaver,” Barrett replied formally. “Master of the Watch, report.”
While the officer made his report, Tristan took a moment to wander onto the deck. Most of the crew smiled at him as he walked past, but there were a few that turned away, and one or two fixed him with a hostile glance. Ignoring them, he proceeded to the bow and stepped up on the bowsprit. There was a feeling of freedom here. He stayed near the deck, close enough so he was still safely onboard ship, not out at the end hanging in open space, but it was still exhilarating. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught stealthy movement against the hull. Without turning his head, he tried to see what was there, and spotted the very tip of a red dragon tail.
After several minutes he stepped back down on deck. The long day was finally starting to catch up with him. He would need to be back on deck at eight bells in the morning watch and it was already well into the night watch. As he turned, he thought he saw someone move quickly away, as if he had startled them. Shaking off the feeling, and blaming it on lack of sleep and the various conversations he’d had lately, he walked across the deck.
“I think it best I turn in, Mr. Barrett, call me if anything is needed.”
“Of course, sir, I have this watch and will keep you informed.”
Tristan stepped down the stairs to his cabin, the table was gone, the silver and crystal stored away. Fenfyr was still in the middle of the room, his head through one of the stern gallery doors and his tail through another. “Do you like your cabin?” Tristan asked with a laugh.
“It could be bigger,” the dragon complained.
“There is a dragon’s roost.”
“Ah, yes, but I can’t keep my eye on you from there. My presence will discourage people from disturbing your sleep.” Fenfyr looked at him. “And I think they might try.”
“Thank you.” On that unsettling thought, Tristan turned to his bedchamber and closed the door, listening to the hum of the Winds in the rigging until he fell asleep.
XIV
Four bells chimed, the sound running through the ship. Tristan rolled over and looked at the ceiling of his bedchamber. They’d left the outer system two days before, the ship was sailing towards Terra Triovingensimus. They were planning on docking for a day before pushing out further towards the Rim. He was still having trouble getting used to deep-space sailing. There were no planets hanging over their heads as the ship sailed on. He’d been on deck in the graveyard watch to help set the topgallants when the Winds had inexplicably dropped. Tristan had asked Thom about it, and the first officer was stumped, they should still be sailing in heavy Winds. The Doldrums were further out towards the Rim.
He could hear Riggan moving around in the cabin. The man was proving invaluable and kept Tristan up-to-date on the ship’s gossip. Some of it he passed along to Barrett, some he kept to himself—it was still Guild business. There seemed to be a growing movement among the recently pressed men against the Guild. Riggan had circumspectly set enquiries in motion, but so far he had come back with nothing. Since it seemed confined primarily to the last group of pressed men, Tristan and Muher were becoming convinced it had been a purposeful move on someone’s part. The problem was they had no idea who it could be.
The Dragon Corps general had stopped by Tristan’s office—a room off the main cabin—and told him about a few small accidents that looked like they could have been sabotage. Nothing big, little things here and there—enough to keep the superstitious members of the crew on edge, but not enough to do real damage. Taminick continued to fly with them, although most of the crew was unaware of her presence now. Tristan knew she was still with them because Fenfyr told him—the two dragons were trying to figure out a way into the blocked-off bottom deck. All-in-all they agreed there was something not quite right, and Muher and Hall had decided to leave some of the more questionable pressed men behind at the station.
Rolling out of bed, Tristan did his yoga, put on his uniform and walked into the main cabin. Fenfyr was gone on his morning patrols—whatever that entailed. Riggan had the coffee service sitting next to one of the chairs in the main room. “Morning, Riggan.”
“Good morning, sir, I thought you might want coffee in the main room this morning since you have no meetings until later.”
“Thank you,” Tristan said, dropping into the chair.
“There’s talk, sir.”
“Oh?” Tristan waited while Riggan poured coffee.
“Someone said they saw someone sneaking into that hatchway, then soldering it up again. They said they saw them breaking the seal themselves. Of course, they couldn’t tell who it was because they were set up in a suit, there’s no air on that deck, but they said they saw it all the same. It could be true, I’m not sure. They’re saying it’s where they keep the bodies of the dead men by order of the Guild. I told them that was crazy talk, sir, like the Guild would have anything to do with that.”
“No, we would never do something like that.”
“I know, that’s what I said, and some got agitated, like, and kept on about it. I didn’t want to say too much, so as they’d keep talking in front of me, but there’s some crazy talk in the lower decks. I’m not saying there are those that are encouraging it, but the whispers are all coming from the same direction, that’s all I’m saying.”
“The new pressed men?”
“Aye, they seem to be the source, and I’m not saying they hate the Guild or Dragon, but the things they say, sir, would make Master Fenfyr’s feathers stand on end!” A soft tap on the door stopped Riggan. “That’d be Mr. Barrett.” He walked to the door to let the first officer in.
Since the dinner in his cabin, Tristan and Barrett had begun to play backgammon on a regular basis, and as the officer was on watch when Tristan was getting up, he usually came down for a cup of coffee. “Good morning, Riggan,” Thom said as he walked in.
“Morning, sir, coffee is waiting.”
“Thank you, Riggan,” Thom said and walked over, sitting down across from Tristan. “Something’s off.”
“What?”
“I’m not sure, I’ve checked and rechecked, but if I didn’t know better—or at least if the nav computers weren’t telling me—I would be sure we were off course.”
“What do you mean?” Tristan asked curiously, aware Riggan was listening in the background.
“The Winds aren’t right for this part of space, but I’ve run diagnostics twice. The thing is, I can’t shake the feeling something is wrong.”
�
��Chris Muher thinks so too, although he hasn’t mentioned our course, that’s not his domain. I can ask Fenfyr to fly further out and check?”
“That might help, have you ever had that feeling that something is just wrong?”
“Once.”
“When?” Thom asked curiously.
“The day I walked into the council chambers when the Stars Plot came to light with a bang. I’d had a bad feeling all day, just couldn’t shake it. I guess that’s why I was on guard more than the others. Not many survived.”
“You were there, Tristan?” The officer looked sheepish. “Of course you were. You are the Master Weaver of the Guild. I do tend to forget out here, but back home you outrank me by more than a little.”
“I forget it out here, too, Thom, if that helps. I’m only the Warrior Weaver for Winged Victory for the most part. I would only ever use my rank if I had to, and even as Warrior I outrank the captain, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Thom nodded and took a sip of coffee. “I saw Taminick earlier. Well, more to the point I saw the tip of a red tail earlier. She’s still with us.”
“Yes, and with everything that’s going on, I think she will be with us for the duration of this cruise, at least until they figure out what’s going on.”
“I’d like to know as…” Thom broke off when a huge boom rocked the ship. He and Tristan were on their feet as the call to quarters rang through the ship. They ran onto the quarterdeck. “Report, Mr. Aubrey!” Thom demanded.
“Pirates, sir, four ships.”
“I’m at the sails,” Tristan said, laying his hand on the Elemental Interface, getting ready to move the ship into her first battle.
“We’re at battle ready, sir!” Sullivan Aether said, running onto the quarterdeck. The Air Weavers maintained the shields around the upper, open deck while the ship was in flight, deflecting space debris and other physical hazards. They maintained it as long as possible during a fight. Although they could only do so much against the shot from the cannons of the four ships lining up to fire at them, they could at least maintain the atmosphere. Once the ships began firing, the “shielding” would drop as the Air Weavers focused to keep the atmosphere on the open deck and masts.
The Sail Weaver Page 12
