“God go with Your Highness,” she said. “Wait here. I will send D’argent to you. He will provide you with what you will need for the journey.”
Pressing his hand, she left him.
Thomas stood alone in the doorway. He remembered that his fingers had turned white after the plunge into the frozen pond. He had lost all feeling in them.
When the feeling returned, the pain had been excruciating.
FORTY-TWO
Thomas met with D’argent and received his instructions for his journey to Freya: where to stay, how to act, who to trust (essentially, no one). Left on his own at last, Thomas went to find Phillip. He discovered his friend in his room, lounging in a chair, reading a book of poetry.
Phillip looked up with a smile, until he saw Thomas’s face. His smile vanished. He jumped up from his chair.
“Tom! My God, you’re as white as the bed linen. What has happened? What is wrong?”
Thomas looked up and down the hallway, saw it was empty. He shut the door. “Keep your voice down. Did anyone see you come in here?”
“I don’t think so,” said Phillip. “The servants are preparing for the countess’s departure and no one paid attention to me. Sit down. Let me pour you a brandy.”
“I would choke on it,” said Thomas. “We need to talk.”
He grasped Phillip by the arm and dragged him to a remote corner of the bedchamber, far from the door. The servants had laid a fire in the old stone fireplace, but they had not lighted it. The room faced east to receive the morning sun and was dark and shadowy in the afternoon.
Thomas pulled up a chair for himself and one for Phillip and placed them in front of the unlit fire. That done, he stood looking at the chairs. He did not sit down; neither did Phillip.
“What I am about to say goes no further. I am trusting you with my life,” said Thomas.
“You can, Tom,” said Phillip, troubled. “You know that.”
Thomas smiled and felt his tension start to ease.
“I do know that, Pip.” He drew in a deep breath, then let it out. “Queen Mary is dying. Her Majesty has months, maybe weeks, to live.”
Phillip stared at him, wordless, then he abruptly sank down in the chair.
“Oh, my God, Pip!” Thomas rested his hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry! I was thinking only of myself. This dreadful news touches you close to home.”
“I have known the queen all my life,” Phillip said. “She and my father were friends. She carried me in her arms when I was a child. She taught me to ride…”
He could not go on. Shaking his head, he put his hand to his eyes.
“I will pour us both a brandy,” said Thomas.
He left his friend to himself, giving him a chance to recover. Going to the sidebar, he poured brandy from the crystal decanter into the first glasses that came to hand and carried them back to the cold fireplace. He handed one to Phillip and kept one for himself.
Thomas raised his glass. “To Her Majesty, Queen Mary.”
“To the queen,” said Phillip.
They both took a drink. Thomas sat down opposite his friend. They looked at each for long moments.
“That was the countess’s news. Her Majesty is going to name you the heir to the throne,” Phillip said.
“So the countess believes,” said Thomas. “What do you think? You know the queen.”
Phillip was thoughtful. “Mary is cross-grained and stubborn, impatient with fools, loyal to her friends, and implacable toward her enemies. But she is eminently sensible. I think now that she is faced with the knowledge that she must soon quit the world, she realizes that choosing either Elinor or Hugh would plunge the country into war.”
“Why would she choose me? She has never met me. She knows nothing about me, beyond those fool newspaper stories,” said Thomas.
“She does know you,” said Phillip. “Better than you think.” He added with a faint smile, “I never told you this, but after I had made up my mind to confess to you that I had been Sir Henry’s spy, I wrote to Her Majesty. You will recall that night, when I made my confession to you, I expected to be arrested and executed.
“I knew Sir Henry would blacken my reputation, brand me a traitor to the queen. Queen Mary loved me and I did not want to die leaving her to believe that I had betrayed her. I wrote to her in secret. I told her about you. I said that by supporting your cause, I was supporting my country. I said that in my opinion, you would be a good and wise ruler.”
“You are my friend, Pip,” said Thomas, uncomfortable. “Your judgment is skewed.”
“I do not think so,” said Phillip. “Apparently the queen does not think so, either.”
Thomas did not know what to say. Never comfortable hearing himself praised, he left the fireplace to walk over to the window. He looked out to see the countess’s yacht had landed on the castle grounds.
The countess owned several yachts; elegant wyvern-drawn yachts and yachts like this one that was large enough to sail the Breath. Designed for a woman who might need to sail anywhere in the world at a moment’s notice, the yacht had been built for speed and endurance, with luxury an afterthought. The yacht had two full decks and a forecastle, two masts and two balloons. Wings ran the length of the hull, supporting three airscrews on each side.
Footmen hauled heavy trunks up the gangplank, followed by maids carrying hatboxes and jewel cases. The countess’s lady’s maid was already on board, directing the servants where to stow the luggage.
As Thomas watched, Cecile emerged, wrapped in a fur cloak. She paused, as though she felt his thoughts touch her, and looked up at his window. Her expression was enigmatic, her face impassive. She turned and boarded her yacht, disappeared below deck.
Thomas remained at the window, watching the crew prepare for departure.
Phillip joined his friend at the window. “Trust me, my friend. The queen would not just take my word on your worth. She has done her own investigating. You may depend upon that.”
The helmsmen sent magic to the lift tanks and the airscrews. The yacht rose into the sky. Sails billowed and caught the breeze. They watched the yacht circumnavigate the mountain peaks and vanish into the mists of the Breath.
Both young men gave an involuntary sigh of relief.
“The countess is a formidable woman,” Thomas remarked.
“She chills me to the marrow of my bones,” said Phillip.
He offered Thomas another brandy, then said briskly, “I assume D’argent has made all the arrangements for your journey: safe places for you to stop for the night, fresh griffins awaiting you each morning, a false identity, that sort of thing.”
“I have spoken to him,” said Thomas. He turned away from the window. “He has thought of everything. He will have a griffin saddled and ready for my departure tomorrow morning with money and weapons, maps and other necessities in the saddlebags. I know where I am to stop along the way. I am to keep my face hidden and speak to no one. When I arrive in Haever, Sir Richard’s servant, Henshaw, will meet me at a secret location in the dead of night and convey me to his master’s house where I will be wrapped in cotton wool and locked up in the wine cellar.”
Phillip regarded him with concern. “Thomas, this is no time to act the fool. You must take this seriously.”
“I will. I do,” said Thomas. “It is just … You know that Sophia and I must wed the instant the crown touches my head.”
“Of course you must,” said Phillip, his voice steady, matter-of-fact. “You will need the Rosian alliance to serve as a bulwark against your foes as you work to secure the kingdom.”
“You are like the countess. She talked of alliances, of securing the kingdom, of my enemies plotting against me,” said Thomas. “All I could think about was the time when I was a little boy and I plunged through the ice into freezing water.”
“An apt analogy,” said Phillip, smiling in sympathy. “I spoke out of habit. You must remember that I studied statecraft at the knee of Sir Henry Wallace. Do not worry, Th
omas. You will learn and, in the meantime, you will rely on trusted advisers.”
Thomas snorted. “Trusted advisers! I have been told to trust no one—except Sir Rodrigo.”
“And your humble servant,” Phillip reminded him. “I will be there.”
Thomas shook his head. “You should not go, Pip. Especially not now. The risk of discovery is far too great.”
“We have been through this before, Tom. I will not let you go alone. You will need someone who knows Sir Henry, who knows Haever. Especially now.”
Thomas gave a deep sigh. “I am being selfish, but I admit I will be glad to know you are in Haever.”
“We should not travel together,” said Phillip. “Since you are planning to leave tomorrow morning, I will depart this evening before dark.”
“Where will we meet in Haever? I have no idea when I will arrive.”
“Find some excuse to visit Oak Hill Park,” Phillip said.
“I doubt Sir Richard will let me out of the wine cellar,” said Thomas. “The countess says he is deeply concerned for my welfare.”
“Good for him,” said Phillip. “But he cannot deny you exercise. At the north end of Oak Hill Park there is a famous round knob of a hill topped by a ring of oak trees. Every morning at nine of the clock, I will sit on a bench near the pond reading a copy of the Haever Gazette. I will remain there an hour. If you do not appear, I will leave and return the next morning and the morning after that and so on.”
“Oak Hill Park, knob, pond, bench,” Thomas repeated. “I believe I have it. Do you know where you will be staying?”
“I have a couple of places in mind. I must study the situation before I decide. See who’s watching who’s watching who’s watching who, as Sir Rodrigo would say.”
Phillip glanced at the clock. “If I am to leave before dark, I must pack and tell the stable hands to have my griffin ready.”
He and Thomas shook hands.
“Have a safe journey,” said Phillip.
“You, as well,” said Thomas. He paused, then said, “I must give up all hope of Kate.”
“My dear fellow, face facts,” said Phillip gently. “There never was any hope.”
FORTY-THREE
The next two days, the Naofa sailed north, traveling up the western Freyan coastline toward some unknown destination. Kate tried more than once to find out where they were bound. She asked the Bottom Dwellers, but they had no idea nor did they care. In this strange and unfamiliar world, one place was much the same as another. She thought Franklin might stop at Trellingham, but the ship gave the small logging and mining town a wide berth, avoiding the barges that carried logs and coal and iron ore around the southern tip of Freya to Haever or other manufacturing towns.
Kate kept watch for Dalgren during the journey, and once or twice, she thought she caught a glimpse of him. She could not be sure. The Brigade had trained him to conceal himself in the mists or soar high among the clouds. He knew now that the ship was armed with swivel guns and he would take care to keep out of sight.
Kate had little work to do aboard ship; the magic did not need repair, leaving her with time to try to figure out what was going on. She supposed there could be some reasonable and innocent explanation for secretly smuggling contramagic-wielding young people to the deserted western coast of Freya, but she was damned if she could think of one.
“I trust Thomas,” Kate would say to herself in the long, silent watches of the night. “I do. But is it really possible he knows nothing about this?”
She would lie awake, staring into the darkness and doubting.
Early on the morning of the third day of the voyage, Franklin announced that they would soon be docking. He told the young people to gather their things and then stand ready to assist. Excited, they hurried below. Kate was also excited, for at last she would find some answers. She was about to go pack up her belongings when Franklin summoned her.
She expected him to ask her to keep an eye on the magic of the lift tanks or some such thing. His question took her by surprise.
“Do you know how to use signal flags, Private?”
“Yes, sir,” said Kate. “As I told you, I operated my own boat when I was in the Aligoes. Why?”
“Our former crafter handled the signaling. I can do it, but I will have to assist Corporal Roberts with the docking, so that leaves you.”
“What signal do you want me to send?”
“You will have to use the flags to spell it out,” said Franklin. “I will write it down for you.”
He handed her a piece of paper with the word: “Talionis.”
“What does it mean, sir?” Kate asked.
“It means you will have to use the flags to spell it out,” said Franklin.
Every ship was equipped with signal flags that were used to alert other ships of dangerous conditions, transmit orders to other ships during battle, or invite another captain to dine. Each letter of the alphabet had its own flag, as well as flags that could be hoisted to warn that the ship was under quarantine and to keep away. Kate went to the locker where the flags were kept and selected those she needed to spell out the mysterious word. She attached the flags to the line, and stood by, ready to hoist them when ordered.
Franklin conferred with the corporal at the helm. Roberts altered the ship’s course and the Naofa headed toward shore. As the ship drew closer, Kate could see they were sailing toward a harbor formed by two heavily forested peninsulas that extended out into the Breath and curved inward like arms reaching out to embrace the ship. The Naofa was bearing down on the gap between the two.
Franklin came over to inspect the flags. Satisfied, he gave her the order to show the signal.
Kate hoisted the flags and watched the wind catch them. She searched for some indication of a town or even a military camp, but all she could see were gray cliffs, heavily forested with fir trees. Watching the flags flap in the wind, Kate had an idea.
“Begging your pardon, Commander, but how would you like to salute the prince?”
Franklin was watching the ship creep toward the shore and he turned to regard her in puzzlement. “What prince?”
“Prince Thomas,” Kate explained. “We don’t have any cannons, but we could raise a flag in his honor. Or maybe a royal ensign?”
“The flags you have raised will be sufficient, Private.”
“Begging your pardon again, sir,” said Kate, carefully deferential, “but won’t His Highness be offended if we sail into the harbor without saluting him?”
“Ah, now I understand,” said Franklin, amused. “I forget you are a Trundler. Do you truly imagine His Highness would visit us in this godforsaken part of the world? Princes leave military business to their commanders. They do not involve themselves with such matters.”
Kate looked at the Bottom Dwellers, lined up on deck, shivering in their thin coats and squinting against the light of a pallid sun as they looked on this land that was going to be their new home.
“Perhaps they should,” she muttered.
The ship entered the gap, moving slowly. The entrance to the harbor was narrow, and shrouded in mist. When the ship was close, Kate saw two gun emplacements, one on either side of the entrance to the harbor. The guns were concealed by trees and brush and magic. A fleet of naval patrol boats could have sailed past that harbor twice a day and never noticed them.
The signal, Talionis, would let the gunners know that the ship was friendly and could safely pass.
The narrow entrance opened into a large natural harbor with a wharf that would have been able to accommodate at least five ships much larger than the Naofa. Several troop carriers and two Travian merchant ships were docked here.
Kate wondered at first why Travian merchants would be here; then she saw that the ships were being overhauled. Workmen had taken down the Travian colors and were painting over the Travian names. The ships were relatively new and had probably been captured. The merchant vessels were now being transformed, probably into more troop carrier
s.
Kate searched for some sign of a town to house all these people. The only buildings were a couple of large warehouses near the wharf. Beyond that was forest.
Yet people must live somewhere. Soldiers had been manning those guns. Sailors and crafters were working on the merchant ships. More sailors waited on the wharf, ready to assist the ship in docking.
Kate stood at the rail, trying not to laugh as she watched Roberts completely bungle the docking. Each ship had its own berth, iron bollards driven into the rock to hold the anchor and poles to which the ship could be tethered. Roberts sent too much magic to the starboard airscrew; the ship veered, and those standing on the wharf ran for their lives as the ship almost plowed into them and nearly knocked down one of the tethering poles.
Kate dared not look at Franklin, who was standing with his jaw clenched, his expression grim.
Once the ship had finally made a safe landfall, soldiers came on board to round up the Bottom Dwellers. Half blinded by the sun, the young people trooped off the ship clutching their few possessions tied up in sacks. The soldiers escorted the Bottom Dwellers to the end of the pier and they disappeared into the forest.
The sacks reminded Kate that she had not yet retrieved the pistol she had wrapped in a gunnysack and hidden in the storage closet. Roberts had also disappeared, probably to avoid the wrath of his commander over the inept docking procedure. Soldiers began descending into the cargo hold to unload the supplies.
Kate kept an eye on Franklin, hoping he would disembark and give her an opportunity to sneak below. He did not leave the ship, however. He paced the deck as though waiting for someone, and smiled to see a man coming up the gangplank. He went forward to shake hands. The man was wearing the uniform of a Freyan army officer, similar to the one Franklin wore, only trimmed in the gold braid that denoted a captain.
Kate realized now, seeing the two together, that the uniforms were different, although the difference was minor, scarcely noticeable. The decorative piping on the jacket was in red, not green. Anyone observing these soldiers marching down Freyan streets, setting up camp in Freyan fields, would not give them a second glance.
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