A Collar and Tie (Ganymede Quartet Book 4) (12 page)

“You must be one of those men, then?” Theo offered with a
laugh. “The genuinely good? The order-keepers?”

“For this term I am. Next year, I sail again, and someone,
perhaps Captain Smithers, will take my place.”

“Perhaps,” Martin said agreeably in a raspier version of the
feminine voice he used for Jeanette. “We’ll see what happens.”

“Captain Smithers would also like to return to the sea,”
explained Valentine.

“Do you think Theo is going to have some sort of love affair
with this Captain Smithers?” Henry asked, not really seeing the point of her.
“I’m not in favor of that, I have to say.”

“I
don’t
think that,” Martin assured him. “I have
other suspicions about this situation, though.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t want to say just yet. Let’s wait and see what
happens, all right?”

Henry shrugged and ate another cookie.

They chatted with Horatio Valentine and Bonnie Smithers for
another hour, learning more about the island’s complex society. The people of
the Isla Secreta might be quite lawless a-sea, but in port they were fiercely
protective of their peace and proud of what they had created together. The
social code allowed people to live as they liked, in whatever sort of family
arrangement they preferred. There were social clubs organized around every
conceivable interest and hobby. There were innumerable festivals and street
parties throughout the year—they had unfortunately just missed the colorful and
riotous Carnival season.

“I want to find a place like this,” Henry said in all
seriousness. He imagined a place where he could simply decide that he and
Martin constituted a family and all would have to treat them as such. Perhaps
it wasn’t what the author intended, but nothing about this description of the
Île Inconnue ruled out a family made up only of men.

Martin misunderstood, perhaps deliberately. “We could go to
Carnival in New Orleans one year, don’t you think? When we’re older, of course.
I’d love to see the Mardi Gras parades.”

Theo and George parted cordially with Valentine and Smithers
and returned to the
Dauntless
to tell the men what they’d learned. Those
who wanted an advance on their wages were paid, and the men were given leave to
explore the island, leaving a skeleton crew behind to guard the ship against
DeSade or his agents.

George packed a bag and he and Theo went to the hostelry
recommended by Valentine as being the island’s finest, the Fata Morgana Inn, a
few buildings further inland than the Fiddler’s Green Tavern. They were taken
to a richly-appointed room with a private bath and both men took advantage of
the plentiful hot water.

“Do you think they took a bath together? The way it’s worded
doesn’t rule that out.” Henry took another cookie and nibbled at its edge.

Martin thought on this a moment. “I’m sure they did. It
would seem so luxurious to be wet and clean together after all those shipboard
sponge baths, don’t you think?”

Henry was suddenly gripped with the desire to have the faint
taste of soap in his mouth from sucking a freshly-washed cock, and thought it
likely Martin would accommodate him in this when the reading was done.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you, Henry?” Martin gave
him a mischievous grin, fondly amused.

Henry felt his cheeks grow hot, embarrassed at how obvious
he was, how his thoughts were so plainly readable on his face, as if he were
simple-minded or a particularly guileless child. How much better to be
impassive and stoic! He knew Martin loved him, but mightn’t Martin love him
better if he were more stalwart and masculine, less of an excitable boy?

“You have such a powerful imagination,” Martin said
admiringly. “You see them so clearly, don’t you?”

Henry nodded shyly. “I guess I do.” He could picture them in
the bath, their wet hair pushed off their faces, George straddling Theo’s hips,
the water sloshing over the rim of the tub as they moved together, and it
seemed almost as real as Martin sitting in front of him.

“I envy you that,” Martin admitted. “My imagination is not
as good as yours.”

Henry thought this unlikely. Martin did everything so well.
“How can you say that?”

“You see
visions
. You’re
transported
. I have
to work much harder to see even a little part of a scene in my mind’s eye. You
have a unique skill. I’ve said it before—I think you could write your own
stories if you wanted.”

Henry colored at this praise and ducked his head, pleased
but embarrassed. He shoved the rest of his cookie into his mouth and glanced at
the plate—he’d eaten nearly all of them.

Martin snatched one of the few remaining off of the plate.
“This one’s mine.” He grinned and chewed.

Theo and George, bathed and dressed, descended to the inn’s
dining room where they partook of an excellent meal. To Henry’s delight, George
sat at the table with Theo—the people of Île Inconnue were not interested in
upholding the rules of other, more restrictive societies, and there were
several such tables in the dining room, masters and slaves eating together.

“I believe DeSade will come for us,” Theo told George as
they each enjoyed a snifter of brandy after the meal, “but if he doesn’t, we’ll
go to him on the morrow, agreed?”

“Agreed, Sir.”

“This place is not what I expected. It does not feel
dangerous, despite being populated with rogues and reprobates. I daresay it
seems like a good place, George.”

“It harbors DeSade, Sir,” George cautioned him. “Who knows
whether DeSade is even the worst of the devils here?”

“You’re right, of course, George.” Theo sipped thoughtfully
as they listened to a pair of musicians, a man playing a lute and a woman
singing. “There will always be those who see you as nothing more than a slave,
but I’m quite sure I never would have made it so far without your wise counsel.
You have always been a true friend to me. You are as necessary to me as air.”

“You know I am devoted to you, Sir.”

Henry felt a little thrill at this exchange.

They finished their brandies and went upstairs to sleep—a
soft bed on dry land was a rare treat. Henry pictured them curled together,
Theo spooning George and sleepily kissing the nape of his neck. They slept a
few hours and were awakened by loud, brisk knocks on their door in the wee
hours. George answered it and was handed an envelope by a dirty, barefoot
urchin.

“For Captain Drake,” Martin said in a piping, boyish voice.
“I’ll wait for an answer if you like.”

George asked the boy to wait in the hall and lit a lamp.
“Wake up, Sir. It’s a message from DeSade.”

Theo opened the envelope. There was a single piece of paper
inside.

The Six-Toed Cat

The boy will show you the way

While George helped Theo to dress, the boy cheerfully
described the man who’d paid him to deliver the note. Neither Theo nor George
was surprised when the boy described DeSade as well as Turk. “He’s tall and
seems strong, and he has black hair and an eye patch. He’s got a slave with
him, a huge man who’s bald and doesn’t talk. I’ll tell you, these are scary
fellows!”

“Is the Six-Toed Cat a tavern?” asked Theo.

The boy nodded. “A little rough, but lots of sailors like
it.”

“You’ll take us there, then?”

“For a bit of coin,” the boy agreed.

With the boy skipping alongside, Theo and George walked the
short distance to the
Dauntless
and checked in the men’s quarters to see
who could be rousted. Most of the crew were still out on the town. Some of the
men were too drunk to be of any use. Boot was there, only a little drunk, as
were Elmer and Leon, and all three were up for an adventure. Hearing footfalls,
Dooley and Jeanette came out of their cabin barefoot and disheveled. Learning
that a confrontation with DeSade was imminent, they insisted on going, as well.
Jeanette ducked back into their cabin and came out wearing Dooley’s jacket over
her threadbare dress and tattered shoes.

The boy led their group to the Six-Toed Cat. It wasn’t far,
but the way was winding enough that they would’ve had a hard time finding it on
their own. There was a black cat on the tavern’s sign and a black cat snoozing
on top of the bar, quite undisturbed by the shouting and merriment going on all
around. It seemed safe to assume this cat had six toes. The crowd seemed a bit
rougher than the patrons at Fiddler’s Green, but Theo was confident of his own
abilities and those of his men; if it came to fighting, they’d do all right
against DeSade or anyone else.

“He’s in the back.” The boy had to shout to be heard above
the din. He beckoned Theo on, and they followed him through the crowd, which
became quieter and more subdued the deeper they moved into the room. It seemed
that the patrons of the Six-Toed Cat knew who they were and why they were
there, and were all watching with interest to see what would happen.

DeSade was waiting for them, reptilian-pale, a red glint in
his remaining eye. He sat at a table set with two glasses and a large bottle,
his back to the wall, Turk standing silent and imposing at his side. The room
was quite full of people, seated at their own tables or standing in the spaces
between. Rumors of a showdown had spread quickly and an audience was gathering.

“Captain Drake. You’ve come.” The voice Martin used was
deep, somehow oily, and had an unpleasant insinuating quality, as if the
speaker got some perverse pleasure from putting ugly ideas in people’s heads.
It was the first time in all the months since Martin had come that DeSade had
actually appeared and spoken in the narrative, the first time Martin had had to
do his voice.

“What do you think?” Martin asked. “Do you think it suits?”

“I think you’re brilliant,” Henry told him, slightly awed.
“He sounds perfectly evil.”

Martin glowed at the praise. “Thank you. I’m glad you
approve.”

Martin cleared his throat. “I’m here,” Theo said. “What do
you want, fiend?”

DeSade did not answer the question. “I see you’ve met my
daughter.” The voice was unctuous, sneering and smug; Henry would not have
thought Martin had it in him.

“She is under my protection. You’ll not make cruel use of
her again.”

DeSade shrugged. “I had tired of her anyway. She is quite
ordinary. She inherited none of my genius.” Jeanette went pale and pinched at
the insult, but DeSade paid her no further mind. He gestured at the chair
opposite him. “Sit, please.”

Without taking his eyes off the fiend, Theo stepped forward
and put his hand on the back of the chair, but did not sit. George was right
behind him. Again he asked, “What do you want, DeSade?”

“You will have met Valentine,” DeSade said. “I let him know
to expect you, and he will have explained our rules and customs in full, yes?”
Theo nodded, and DeSade continued. “So you know you can sit across from me and
share a drink without fearing for your life?”

“I don’t drink with murderers.”

“Hmm. What if I issue a formal challenge, then? We drink to
see whose world-view will prevail.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Henry pointed out. “It’s not exactly
enforceable.”

“It might provide a psychological advantage,” Martin
suggested. “If Theo were to lose, he’d certainly look weak, don’t you think?”

Henry did not want to admit that Theo could ever seem weak,
but being helplessly, uselessly drunk before DeSade would go a long way towards
supporting such an assessment of Theo’s character.

Theo had anticipated that DeSade’s summons would put him at
a disadvantage, so was not surprised to receive the challenge. He had to
accept, of course; not just for reasons of pride and honor, but to show all the
onlookers that he was committed to his position. Captain Theo Drake believed
that good would triumph over evil, plain and simple.

“Very well.” Theo sat, and George came to stand behind him,
his hand on the chair and his knuckles pressing into the back of Theo’s
shoulder to subtly offer his moral support.

DeSade smiled and poured from the bottle on the table into
the waiting glasses. “This is a local beverage,” Martin said in DeSade’s
unsettling voice. “I’m told it’s flavored with thirty-seven different herbs. I
can’t claim to be able to taste them all. I
can
tell you that it is very
strong.” He slid a glass across the table towards Theo and raised his own. “To
the natural order and a world where the strong subjugate the weak.” Sharply
tilting back his head, DeSade downed his liquor and set his glass on the table
with a sharp bang.

Theo raised his glass. “To dignity, valor, and human
kindness.” He also drank, keeping his eyes on DeSade the entire time. For the second
round, Theo poured the liquor into the glasses.

While they drank, taking turns pouring the shots, the room
became more and more crowded and hot, and excited voices could be heard making
and taking bets. DeSade was favored, if only because the island’s inhabitants
knew something of him, he being one of their own. Elmer slipped out, hoping to
find more of the
Dauntless’
crew to come support their captain.

They drank a sixth, then a seventh generous shot of the
liquor, Theo and DeSade staring each other down all the while. George leaned
down and whispered in Theo’s ear that men from the
Dauntless
were
finding their way into the Six-Toed Cat in greater and greater numbers.

“If it comes to a fight, Sir, we can take them on.”

Henry worried that George was overestimating their strength.
Based on previous fights, Turk alone would require two men to subdue him. Plus,
wouldn’t Theo be quite drunk and unfit to fight? Also, the
Dauntless’
men would likely have been drinking and carousing, and who knew what state they
might be in? He thought it had been stupid of Theo to give the men leave,
actually, knowing they were on their nemesis’ home turf.