There, on the chaise, lay Sardan’s mandolin, and she picked it up carefully. The curious singer couldn’t help glancing around a bit. She was amazed at the size of the wheel. She had never imagined it would be that big.
Suddenly she tensed.
“Be right with you, Caleb,” came Jahedrin’s voice.
His footsteps were coming up to the pilothouse. Casilda was sure of it. She bit her lip, then saw the stairway that led toward the captain’s cabin. She could hurry down there and leave Dumont’s cabin through the other door. Casilda had heard the captain was in town, and it was better than getting caught in the pilothouse. As quietly as possible, she descended the narrow stairs and closed the door behind her.
She hadn’t been seen. Casilda closed her eyes in relief. Grasping the mandolin firmly, she turned toward the door. She had just reached for the knob when it started to turn.
For a second, fear flooded her. Then she looked frantically around the room, searching for someplace, anyplace, to hide. Her eyes fell on the partially opened wardrobe, and she ducked inside, pulling the troublesome mandolin close to her chest. She left the door open a crack, so that she wouldn’t be trapped.
Dumont entered just as she pulled the door nearly closed. He strode over to one of the chairs and eased himself down, apparently waiting for someone or something. A few seconds later, there came a loud knock. Dumont rose and went to the center of the room. He pulled aside the rug and revealed a trap door. He tugged it open while Tane, a big, swarthy man, pushed from below.
“Can you manage?” Dumont asked.
“Aye, sir,” Tane replied. He disappeared from view for an instant, than reappeared carrying one end of a box about four feet long. Something appeared to be alive inside of it, for Casilda heard rustling and thumping noises.
Dragoneyes emerged carrying the other end of the box. They heaved it up onto the floor, then sat down for a moment to catch their breath. Dragoneyes rubbed his sore arms and glared at the box.
“Boy, you sure cause a lot of trouble, don’t you?” the half-elf said, kicking the box viciously.
A muffled cry came from within. It sounded like a child’s voice. From her hiding place, Casilda gasped. Were they kidnapping someone? Who? And why?
Dumont stood staring down at the box. “Well, Dragoneyes,” he boomed, “what have you found?”
Tane began to pry off the top of the box with a crowbar while Dragoneyes explained. “Easiest catch yet, Captain. We saw him hopping around and set a trap. Bang, we got him. Had to tie him up. Noisy fellow, but mighty stupid.”
Tane had removed the top, and for a moment, nothing happened. Casilda, so curious it was almost painful, held her breath.
Slowly, two long brown ears appeared over the top. A pair of whiskers next to a quivering nose tentatively thrust out, followed by a smooth head and large, liquid, fear-filled brown eyes. It was the biggest rabbit Casilda had ever seen, about the size of a large dog.
Dumont frowned. “Well, gentlemen, it’s interesting, I grant you, but I’ve seen big rabbits before. What can it do for me and my boat?”
Dragoneyes grinned, his gold eyes crinkling with knowing amusement. “Watch this,” he said. The half-elf leaned into the box, and the frightened rabbit cringed.
“Hey,” barked Dragoneyes. “Say something, rabbit.”
“No,” replied the rabbit. Its voice was clear and unmistakable, the high treble of a child. “I’m not going to let him know I can—oops.” The brown eyes looked very contrite, and the ears lowered in shame.
Dragoneyes laughed aloud. “Like I said, Captain. He’s mighty stupid.”
Dumont’s expression had changed, and he rubbed his hands together happily. “Stupid, yes, but unique! Très bien, Dragoneyes! Who did you say found him?”
“I did,” said the half-elf, adding loyally, “but Tane was with me.”
“You are both relieved of tonight’s duties. Visit the purser, tell him I said to give you a week’s wages, and enjoy yourselves, boys.” The two men grinned happily. “But first, take our new friend down and put him with the others. Oh, wait just one moment.” Dumont peered at the rabbit. “What do you eat, little fellow?”
The rabbit remained stubbornly silent, its nose twitching nervously.
Dumont heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Why, then, we won’t feed you anything.”
“Oh!” gasped the rabbit. “Don’t do that!”
“So what do you eat? Grass and carrots like other rabbits?”
The rabbit shuddered in apparent distaste. “No! I can’t eat that! I have to have meat.”
Dumont raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Meat?”
“Yes, preferably the insides of things. I love livers and kidneys—and hearts. Hearts are my favorite. Do you have a heart I can eat, please? I am a little hungry.” It bared its teeth, but judging by the way it cringed, the gesture was meant to be placating. Its teeth were as sharp as any fox’s.
Dumont shook his head. “Well, my friend, we’ll see what we can do. You’ll find things go easier if you cooperate. Tane, give the rabbit a heart or something before you and Dragoneyes leave, will you?”
“Sure thing, Captain,” Tane replied, putting the top on the box again and nailing it shut. The rabbit resumed its crying. Tane and Dragoneyes picked up the box and carried it back down the secret passageway. Once they had disappeared from view, Dumont carefully covered the door and left his cabin. At last the door slammed shut, and the room fell silent.
For a long time, Casilda didn’t move. She huddled on the floor of the wardrobe, trembling. She had obviously just been witness to something she wasn’t supposed to have seen, and it was terrifying. What if Dumont had decided to change clothes for the performance and had caught her spying on him? What might he have done? And the rabbit—dear gods, a flesh-eating rabbit—and they were going to put it with the others? What others?
Come on, Cas, she told herself, you got away with it. And that … animal … is none of your business. She took a deep breath, took a last quick look to make sure there was no one in the room, then pushed open the wardrobe door.
And gasped. Just out of her sight, a shadow moved. The singer recognized it as Lond, the new passenger. He advanced toward her slowly, pulling his hood off. Her eyes widened in terror.
“I think,” said Lond menacingly, pouring some powder from a small vial into his gloved right palm, “that your understudy will be performing tonight.”
* * * * *
“Dumont a slaver?” Larissa echoed incredulously. Her eyes went hard. “Willen, that just isn’t possible. I know him. I’ve grown up on that boat.”
Willen looked at her with sympathy, but continued to press his case. “Would the man you know kill one of his own deck hands? Would he chase you through the square after pressing his advances on you?”
Larissa didn’t want to remember, but she had to. She recalled Handsome Jack’s dying word—“Liza”—and the sinister, unexpected change in Dumont from tender guardian to predator.
She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach as the reality of her guardian’s duplicity began to take hold. The creatures Willen had described were sentient beings, not zoo curiosities. Imprisoning them to use their magic for the boat was slavery. She did not doubt for a minute that he had indeed seen the creatures; her faith in her new friend was absolute.
“When I was younger—I think fifteen or so,” she began in a low voice, “Uncle Raoul let me travel in town by myself for the first time.” She smiled a little in remembrance. “I was so proud of myself—a little bit too proud. I ended up getting the pouch that had all my spending money in it stolen.
“Well, Uncle found out about it and he was livid. He found out who had stolen the money. He even tried to be polite about it at first. ‘I don’t like to quarrel in a hosting town,’ he always says. But, of course, the robbers weren’t about to give back the money, big old Captain Dumont or no. So Uncle stormed back up to the boat and put the crew to work. They dragged out this enormous cab
le and hitched it to the house where the robbers were making their stand. Then Uncle cried out, ‘If I don’t see my ward’s money by the time this cable pulls tight, you and your house’ll be bathing in the river!’ ”
Larissa was laughing at the memory despite the pain of the awful news Willen had imparted, and he was glad of it. She continued. “I never saw anyone move so fast. I got my money back, every last copper. See, folks knew Uncle, and they knew he’d do exactly what he said he would.”
Her smile faded, and there was pain in her blue eyes as she lifted them to Willen. “That is the only Raoul Dumont I ever knew. Hearing that he’s a slaver …”
A thought occurred to her, and the pain on her face deepened. “He wants to use me,” she said softly. “He has been using me, just as he’s using those creatures. I’m a slave, too.”
They were sitting by the road, which was not well traveled this far out of town. Larissa unconsciously drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them. Filled with sympathy, Willen reached to brush back a curl of his companion’s milk-white hair.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him, and there was determination on her face. “Don’t be,” she said in a voice suddenly strong. “I know the truth now. I can defend myself.”
“Don’t trust Lond for a moment, either,” Willen continued. “He’s at least as strong as Dumont, and maybe even more dangerous.”
She smiled a hard smile at that. “Don’t worry. I would never trust that man. When he first signed on board I wondered why Dumont would tolerate him. We’ve never taken passengers before, and Lond seems so … arrogant and sinister.”
“We’d better be getting back,” Willen noted sadly. “If you’re late for the show, it would make Dumont suspicious. I’ve got more I need to tell you, but I’m not sure when we’ll have time. I don’t want to speak to you on the boat, but …”
“We’ll find someplace,” Larissa reassured him. Her own heart was heavy with the bitter information Willen had given her, but she was glad he had spoken. Now she could take precautions against whatever dark forces were at work aboard La Demoiselle du Musarde. She slipped her hand in his as they walked back toward Port d’Elhour.
They boarded separately, to arouse no suspicion, and Larissa flew to her cabin. She dressed swiftly, then realized that she still had to get the Eye from Dumont. A shiver of fear rippled through her, but she ruthlessly quelled it. If she behaved normally but kept her wits about her, she should come to no danger.
She went to Dumont’s cabin, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. Silence. Larissa knocked again, then tried the door. It was locked, of course. Well, someone in the pilothouse would know where Dumont was.
“What did you need, my dear?” Dumont purred in her ear.
She jumped, startled. He was smiling, but there was a hardness about his eyes that indicated suspicion.
“Uncle! I … didn’t see you come up. I need my amulet.” Larissa kept her voice even and casual, and held out her hand expectantly. Her heart was thumping wildly.
Dumont frowned, and for a moment Larissa thought he had seen her with Willen. “Your amulet?”
Relief swept through her. “Sorry, Uncle. I meant your amulet, of course.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Of course. Come in, my dear.”
He unlocked the door and ushered her in. She declined his offer of a chair and stood while he retrieved the Eye. Dumont kept his treasures hidden in various parts of the room, not all in one place. The amulet was in a chest he kept in the wardrobe. As he swung the door open, Larissa noticed the mandolin.
“Wait a minute,” she said as he started to close the door, “Isn’t that Sardan’s?” She stepped beside Dumont and bent to pick up the instrument. “What’s it doing in here?”
“He often plays in the pilothouse. No doubt Tane or Jahedrin put it here for me to give back to him.” The explanation didn’t sound convincing, but Larissa nodded as if she believed it.
“I’ll take it to him,” she volunteered. Dumont hesitated, then handed it and the pendant to her. “See you after the performance, Uncle.” She smiled brightly and left, heading for the theater.
The audience was already seated. Larissa slipped the pendant over her neck and held the Eye shut. Invisible, she easily slipped backstage. Sardan was pacing back and forth nervously when she let go of the pendant and appeared with the mandolin.
“Larissa, marry me,” he exclaimed, gathering his instrument to him like a long-lost child. “Casilda was supposed to fetch it for me but I guess it slipped her mind.”
“That’s not like Cas. She’s usually—”
At that moment, Dumont stepped in front of the crowd. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I regret to inform you that Casilda Bannek will not be able to play the part of Rose in tonight’s performance. Elann Kalidra will be taking up the role, and we hope to have Miss Bannek back with us soon. Thank you.”
As the crowd murmured unhappily, Larissa felt a chill creep through her. Sardan had not seen Casilda since he had asked her to fetch the mandolin. Now she was ill, yet she had been fine earlier that morning.
“Do you know what happened?” the dancer asked Sardan, a creeping fear slowly spreading over her heart.
The handsome young actor shrugged. “The captain says it’s swamp fever.”
TEN
The prisoners aboard the showboat were located directly beneath the theater, and as Willen unlocked the door he could hear strains of “Alas! My Love Is No More.”
His feigned pleasure in the slaves had won Dumont over completely, and the captain had given word to the crew that Willen was now to be in charge of feeding the creatures. The young crewman carried a large sack of meat, freshly butchered. All the prisoners were carnivores.
He whistled the tune Dumont had taught him, and the key turned easily. It was dark inside, but he had brought a torch and reached to insert it in one of the sconces. He yelped suddenly and nearly dropped the torch onto the dry hay as he felt a sharp stinging in his ankle.
He looked down at the hissing pseudodragon. Its long tail, thin enough to stick through the bars of its cage, had a large stinger on the end. Willen assumed this was what the creature had attacked him with.
The animal glared up at him. Although it was still securely confined in its cage, Willen had foolishly stepped within reach. The other creatures were watching him silently, their eyes flickering in the uncertain light.
The young man frowned. He secured the torch, dropped his sack and knelt near the pseudodragon, though he was careful to stay far enough away to avoid a second attack.
Little dragon, I mean you no harm. I am here to set you free.
The pseudodragon’s eyes narrowed, then Willen felt it cautiously probing his thoughts. He did not attempt to shield himself from the probe and after a moment reached his fingers through the bars to the reptile. My sting is dangerous, it told him, but I am glad the poison has no affect on you.
“You have convinced the dragon, but for myself, I trust you not,” said the fox.
“Me neither,” came a small, sad voice. “I don’t trust anybody anymore.” Willen looked in the speaker’s direction and his eyes widened in horror.
“Bouki!” He sprinted over and fell to his knees beside the trembling rabbit. All four of Bouki’s feet were bound with shackles. In addition, a thin wire noose was strung about the creature’s neck. The bonds forced Bouki to sit upright; if he relaxed, the noose would tighten.
Willen reached to hold the trapped animal, and the rabbit squirmed in his arms. “Who’re you?” he demanded, his voice high and frightened.
“Don’t you—oh, you wouldn’t recognize me like this, would you? The Maiden sent me.”
Bouki’s eyes widened. “You’re here to rescue us!” he exclaimed. The other occupants of the room tensed, daring to allow a sliver of hope to brighten their eyes. “Better hurry,” the rabbit said, glancing at the fox. “Bushtail keeps threatening to eat me.”
Willen threw
the fox a reproving glance. The animal shrugged. “What can one do? I am a fox, he is a rabbit, no?”
“This rabbit could eat you if he wanted to. What kind of creature are you, anyway?”
The fox bridled and sat up straighten “My name is Bushtail, and I am the loah of the foxes.”
Willen nodded respectfully. A loah was an animal spirit, a magical hero to the creature’s people. Loahs had a close link with the land in which they dwelt. Taking Bushtail from Richemulot probably weakened the fox’s powers and caused him a great deal of pain.
“Then my friend here is your equal. Bouki is also his people’s hero.”
“That, a hero?” Bushtail’s tone dripped contempt.
Willen smiled. “Bouki has strengths, but not of the mind. I thought foxes were clever. How did Dumont manage to trick you, good Bushtail?”
The fox growled, then suddenly chuckled. “Touché, mon ami. I am put in my place.”
“What is your plan? If, indeed, you really are here to rescue us,” interrupted Yelusa. Willen glanced at the owl maid, who was shackled near the ravenkin. Her body was slight and small, almost boyish. Her round face housed sunken eyes, which gazed at him dully, and her tangled, light brown hair fell just to her shoulders.
Willen glanced from her to the noble bird trapped in the cage. He felt a pang of special sympathy for those two. Imprisonment such as this must be twice as torturous for avian creatures. He rose and went to Yelusa, kneeling beside her.
“Lady, I have signed on to the boat to spy. The men, including Dumont, have complete trust in me. I mean them no harm, but I also mean to put an end to this.” He gestured to her chains. “I don’t have a plan at the moment, but I won’t abandon you.”
He rose and began to distribute the creatures’ food. Every one of them pounced on the raw meat and began to eat hungrily. “How often are you fed?” Willen inquired.
With her mouth full of flesh and a trickle of blood running down her chin, Yelusa answered, “Only once in every three days. Dumont says he doesn’t want to pamper us.”
Dance of the Dead Page 12
