The Huntsman's Amulet (Society of the Sword Volume 2)

by Hamilton, Duncan M.

  ‘What’s the tavern like?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine. Unremarkable.’

  ‘It’ll do. I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat and I’ll fill you in on my meeting.’

  Varrisher tapped the last coin out of his purse. It was a silver florin, enough to pay for a meal for both of them.

  Soren thought for a moment before taking a crown from his own purse and placing it on the table. ‘I’ll get this one.’

  Varrisher nodded and smiled gratefully. He put his florin back in his purse. ‘I met the Commissioner’s secretary. Just as Guardsman Fynn said, it seems the Commissioner’s taken a personal interest in Sailing Master Blasco. As soon as he found out what my business was, he said the Commissioner would be more than happy to release Blasco, and would do so promptly as soon as we pay him five hundred crowns restitution. He had no interest in negotiating a lower amount or an alternative.’

  ‘Well… That’ll take a while to put together,’ Soren said, understating the impossibility.

  ‘Agreed. I don’t see any point in staying around here. There’s no way we can expect to break Blasco out of prison and get away alive; there are too many guards and soldiers here. The only thing that I can think of is to go in and lie through our teeth to him in the hope that he will give us some information that we can use.’

  ‘What are our chances of finding Rui without Blasco’s help?’ Soren said.

  ‘It’s doable, but it’ll take a long time; there are a million and one places for him to hide. By now I’m sure there are other ships hunting him and he probably knows it. We could have done without the delay, but there’s no use in getting upset about it now. Blasco’s our best chance of getting to Rui before anyone else does.’

  ‘Maybe we can bribe the guards to bring in some booze. If we can get him drunk, he’ll be a bit freer with his tongue. We might get something useful out of him,’ Soren said, unlikely as it seemed.

  ‘Perhaps. I’ll have to go back to the ship and see if I can scrounge up some more cash first, unless you have more where that came from.’ He nodded at the crown that Soren had put on the table. ‘Between bribes and buying a few bottles of something strong, I don’t have enough on me to cover what it will cost. Perhaps I can sell some of the ship’s stores to keep us afloat a bit longer; the money’s all but run out.’

  They finished their meal and walked back toward the ship in silence. While the ship could be run for some time without any more money, assuming the sailors were willing to forego pay in anticipation of a share of the bounty on Rui’s head and a portion of the plunder they expected to take from his ship, there were many other things — bribes for the most part it seemed — that did require money. Money that they no longer had.

  They were halfway back to the quayside when a group of men approached them. One was wearing a naval officer’s uniform, while his companions were in the uniform sea-scrubs of Humberlander sailors.

  ‘Gentlemen, I am Lieutenant dal Montesfort. Admiral dal Laucelin wishes to talk with you,’ the Officer said.

  ‘Dal Laucelin? What does he want?’ Varrisher said.

  ‘Perhaps you mistake my manners for giving you an option. You’ll come with me, willingly, or by force. The choice is yours,’ Lieutenant dal Montesfort said.

  Soren reached for the hilt of his sword. Varrisher shrugged his shoulders and gestured for Soren to leave his sword where it was.

  ‘Well, if we have no choice,’ Varrisher said, ‘I’d be delighted to remake my acquaintance with the Admiral. Lead on.’

  ‘You come too,’ the Lieutenant said to Soren.

  Soren expected they would be frog marched back to the Commissioner’s house, but were surprised when the Lieutenant and his men escorted them instead toward the quay. They stopped outside an inn and the Lieutenant gestured for Soren and Varrisher to enter. When they hesitated the Lieutenant nodded to his men, one of whom shoved Varrisher forward. Taking the cue, Varrisher opened the door and went in. Soren followed, realising any resistance was pointless.

  It was an expensive looking place; far removed from The Old Emperor and the tavern they had just come from, and definitely not the type of establishment that either Soren or Varrisher could afford to patronise right now.

  The Lieutenant and his men followed them in. ‘This way,’ he said. He led them through the foyer and down a corridor to a small salon at the back. There was another man sitting there reading through some letters whom Soren took to be the Admiral.

  ‘Good afternoon, Captain Varrisher,’ the man said.’ A twist of tobacco twitched in the corner of his mouth when he spoke, but it somehow remained where it was.

  ‘A good afternoon to you too, Admiral,’ Varrisher said.

  Soren noticed an edge to his voice that told him a pleasant afternoon was the very last thing Varrisher wished for the Admiral.

  ‘You do recall me, I presume?’ the Admiral said.

  ‘I do,’ Varrisher said, his voice cold and his demeanour verging on openly hostile

  ‘And your associate? Who are you, sir?’ the Admiral said.

  ‘Banneret of the Duke’s Cross Soren.’

  ‘An Ostian! You do keep the most unlikely of friends, Captain Varrisher. I must say that I hadn’t expected to see you in these parts, although with recent events I imagine a great many Ruripathians have fled to Valkdorf.’

  ‘What do you want, Admiral?’ Varrisher said.

  ‘Sad days for your country,’ the Admiral said, deliberately ignoring Varrisher’s question. ‘Trying times make the best of us consider work that we would not otherwise.’

  ‘What exactly are you implying?’ Varrisher said.

  ‘You sail into a known pirate haven, albeit one enjoying the benefits of flying the flag of Humberland, in a heavily armed warship with a crew far larger than is needed for sailing alone. The evidence only points to one thing. Turning to piracy is a sad fate indeed for a former doyen of the Ruripathian navy.’

  ‘I’m not a pirate, Admiral. Call me one again and you’ll have to back your words with steel.’

  There was a tense silence. Soren grimaced. Having things get ugly with the Humberland navy was the last thing they needed, and would mean they could forget about Rui, the bounty, the booty, and his sword. He was about to speak up in the hope of calming the situation when the Admiral responded.

  ‘The only steel I’ll back my words with is the steel of the manacles you’ll be wearing in the town gaol.’ He cast a glance at Soren. ‘Both of you. And your crew.’

  The Admiral removed the twist of tobacco from his mouth and stubbed it out on an ashtray. He smoothed his thick salt and pepper moustache with thumb and index finger before continuing. ‘There is, however, something that you could help me with. Something that would make me overlook the highly suspicious nature of your behaviour and circumstances.’

  Varrisher smiled ironically. ‘You expect me to help you?’

  ‘I thought that you might be less than agreeable, considering the particulars of our previous meeting. Before you reject the offer I’m about to make, I’ll add an incentive for you.’

  Varrisher remained silent, his jaw clenched. Soren was not sure what was going on, so he kept his mouth shut.

  ‘My lieutenant informs me that you were trying to negotiate with the Resident Commissioner for the release of a crewmate from prison. He tells me that the Commissioner demanded an extortionate amount of money for the release of your friend.’

  Varrisher remained silent, as did Soren.

  The Admiral sighed. ‘Very well. I’ll continue. Help me and I’ll have your crewmate released.’

  It was a surprising development, and an attractive one. Soren wondered what the Admiral wanted in return.

  ‘You’re not the only people that the Commissioner, Canning dal Camperey, has tried to extort. Extortion is one of his more charming foibles. Embezzlement, murder, fraud, theft. The list is quite eye-opening. Were it not for you Ostians and Ruripathians scrapping, we would never have had to send a flee
t out to keep our trade lanes clear, and like as not the Commissioner would never have had his litany of nefarious deeds discovered.’

  Soren wasn’t sure he liked where the Admiral was going, and he couldn’t see how they would be able to do anything the Admiral’s men would not.

  ‘”Discovered” is perhaps too strong a word, however. I’ve a list of crimes as long as your arm, both against the individual and against the state of Humberland. They could only have been carried out with the complicity and most likely the involvement of the Commissioner. I don’t have anything that directly incriminates him, however.’

  Soren looked over to Varrisher and raised his eyebrows. It looked as though this was where they were going to fit into the plan.

  ‘I plan on bringing dal Camperey to justice, and to clean out this rat infested shithole of a town. The first problem I have is that the Commissioner is not an idiot and proof is thin on the ground. The second problem is the Camperey family are well connected, and although I suspect the reason Canning is down here is because his own kin know him for the deceitful little shit he is, I can’t treat him as I have threatened to treat you: on suspicion alone.’

  ‘What possible use can we be in this?’ Varrisher said.

  ‘I’m glad you asked, Captain, I’m glad you asked. Simply put, I couldn’t give a fuck who dal Camperey bumps off in the middle of the night, or who he screws out of a few crowns. However, someone has pulled a stroke that I’m not willing to let go unanswered and it has his grubby mitts all over it.

  ‘Two of my frigates called here a few weeks ago to take on fresh supplies from the crown dockyard. All crown dockyards are required to maintain stores and all supplies are requisitioned locally but paid for by the crown. All of those supplies are certified as crown property and fit for consumption as soon as they are.

  ‘The supplies my ships took on were spoiled and half the crews died. All the casks were certified recently, and there was no reason for them to be anything but fresh ship’s provisions.’

  ‘Why do we need to know this?’ Varrisher said.

  ‘Because, tragic as it is, this incident gives me the chance to catch dal Camperey in the act. They’re selling the fresh, crown purchased provisions to all comers and pocketing the profit. They replace the missing casks with whatever cheap crap they can get their hands on so the ledgers tally with what is in the storehouse and no one knows any difference; an old trick. You and your chum here are going to pose as smugglers with some black market casks of ships’ provisions.’

  ‘I can see a number of difficulties with that plan,’ Varrisher said.

  ‘No problems, everything is in place. I just needed someone that could pull off the role of smuggler. None of my officers are up to it. When I saw your ship sail into the roads, I thought it was my lucky day.’

  ‘How will we prove we’re smugglers?’ Soren said. There were too many gaps in this plan and Soren had no desire to find himself with a knife in his back when it went wrong.

  ‘I captured a ship a number of days ago, an oceanman not flying any flag. We investigated and found its hold full of casks of provisions looted from Ruripathia. They must have cleaned out an entire dockyard. They were on their way here to sell the casks. I want you to try and sell them at the dockyard. There are a lot of casks so it will be a big deal. Too big for dal Camperey not to be directly involved.

  Soren could see that Varrisher’s knuckles were white. Whatever had happened between Admiral dal Laucelin and Varrisher was clouding his thoughts.

  ‘We agree. Release our man from the gaol and we’ll help you,’ Soren said, before Varrisher could ruin the opportunity, and potentially have them thrown into the cell next to Blasco.

  Varrisher cast him an evil glance, but said nothing. Even in his anger he would know it was the opportunity they had been looking for to get back onto Rui’s trail.

  ‘We’ll need some money for expenses too,’ Soren said.

  ‘Of course,’ the Admiral said, with a smile.

  Chapter 37

  The Plot

  Soren and Varrisher returned to the Typhon and spent the remainder of the day discussing how they would go about the task. They hashed out several ideas that would fit with the Admiral’s plan, finally settling on a backstory that had Soren as an Ostian officer who had been able to steal the contents of a Ruripathian naval depot toward the end of the war. He had negotiated a deal with a captured Ruripathian naval officer to transport the supplies away before the Ostian army arrived to appropriate them, and thus they formed an unlikely partnership.

  They would have to play a clever game though. Soren reasoned that if weaknesses in their bargaining position of their own creation could be revealed during the negotiation, it might deflect attention from any querying of their bona fides.

  They would claim that while looking for somewhere to sell the supplies they had been directed to Caytown, where they heard ships’ supplies could be bought and sold. After the large ports on the mainland, Caytown was one of the biggest, busiest, and second only to Valkdorf in lax application of the law. With a full shipyard — something Valkdorf lacked — it was an obvious choice for smugglers trying to offload a cargo.

  With their backstory decided upon, Soren couldn’t help but wonder what the history between Varrisher and the Admiral was. Varrisher still seemed to be angry so he decided to hold his tongue. These things tended to come out in the open eventually.

  The next morning Soren went ashore headed for the part of the town fringing on what was known as the ‘Deep Pool’, a deep water basin that allowed larger ships to be brought alongside the dock for loading directly. The crown dockyard dominated the quay around the Deep Pool.

  The dockyard was walled and the gate was guarded. Soren stated his business to a sentry who did not seem especially interested in the answers. The guard gave him directions to the Commissary’s office. It was an orderly place, or at least had been when it was first designed and built. Now it bore the characteristics of somewhere that was poorly maintained.

  The dockyard had a number of sign-posted sheds and brick warehouses. The directions he had been given brought him to a single story brick building that abutted onto a far larger warehouse, the largest that Soren had seen there. It bore a sign over the door stating it was the Commissary’s office.

  The door led to a small reception area with a counter that ran the length of the room. Soren cleared his throat and a short, slender man with yellowing grey hair in later middle age emerged from the doorway that led into the warehouse behind.

  ‘Name of ship?’ he asked.

  ‘I, ah, well I’m not really looking for supplies,’ Soren said.

  ‘No? Then what can I do for you?’ the man said.

  ‘Are you the Commissary?’

  ‘I am,’ he said. ‘Commissary Harris at your service.’

  ‘My name is Soren. A friend suggested that I call on you. I’ve come into possession of a large number of casks of ship’s supplies that I thought you might be interested in purchasing,’ Soren said.

  ‘Really. What’s your friend’s name?’ the Commissary said.

  Soren smiled as cryptically as he could.

  ‘I’m sorry, but your friend was mistaken. I can only purchase provisions for the crown stores from certified suppliers. All supplies are cured and casked in the dockyard so we can be sure of their contents and mark them as certified. We have to be sure the casks we provide to warrant and naval ships are of the highest of standards, you see,’ he said, with an oily smile. ‘I’m afraid that I’m not interested.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry to have bothered you,’ Soren said.

  ‘No trouble at all, good day.’

  Soren walked out of the dockyard not quite sure what to make of the conversation. They had not expected that the Commissary would take the bait straight away. If he had, he would have been a fool — and would have been caught out long ago. The Admiral made it clear that he was good at covering his tracks. The rejection meant that they would mo
ve on to the second phase of their plan.

  Soren spent the rest of the day going around the private ship’s provisioners in the town who provided casks to commercial ships that didn’t have the benefit of a royal trade warrant and had to purchase their own supplies. They relied heavily on repeat business and the good reputation generated by word of mouth. To get a reputation as having supplied even one spoiled cask would be hugely detrimental to their business and Soren knew that they’d get short shrift wherever they took their offer. To sell their casks wasn’t their intention, though.

  He was confident that the Commissary’s interest would be piqued by the offer Soren had made if he was in the business of fraud as the Admiral claimed. Being a shrewd operator however, he was not going to jump into an agreement with a complete stranger. They hoped that making some noise around town that they were trying to sell casks, and were not trying to sell them to anyone in particular, would give their story more plausibility.

  Soren hoped this approach would be more believable than trying to portray themselves as seasoned smugglers. In fecklessly trying to conceal their naivety, they were hoping to direct the Commissary’s appraisal of them to their own intentions. Soren had even dallied on his way out of the dockyard to give the Commissary long enough to find someone to have him followed. He had seen the same face more than once in different places along the dock front, always at the same distance and engaged in a mundane and out of place activity in an effort to look innocuous.

  At the end of the day Soren was exhausted from traipsing up and down the docks, trying to draw as much attention to himself as possible while pretending to sell his looted casks. He returned to the ship, making sure to state his destination loudly to the steersman on the launch. There could be no doubt that he was going out to the Ruripathian rigged vessel that had arrived the day before, which again supported the story that Soren and Varrisher had concocted over a glass of cheap whiskey on the Typhon the previous night.