Malspire (20 page)

“Looks like any other Imperial port to me,” I said.

“It was Imperial, not so long ago, Captain” said Harl.

There were the subtle differences in architecture and clothing but otherwise it was unmistakably Imperial Emben. The charismatic leader of the rebels, Krist Jarahn Valthorn had managed to convince the lords of this region to join his cause and fight a fight that would end the rule of blood. Of course this was not good for those lords but they probably had guarantees such as the one made to Ajator, or perhaps they were a more enlightened people in the west. No longer would they pay tribute to the Emperor who lived a world away in the east. The west was to be free and so they rebelled. Valthorn was a criminal traitor, often depicted as an evil vulture in the Gazette whereas in the non-Imperial publications, he was seen as a hero, tall and handsome. He was undoubtedly somewhere in between like everyone else but probably possessed of a keener mind than most. I would have liked to meet the man, but that would never happen.

The rebel navy had obviously taken over most of the town, but I was not worried about this. Every town has its fair share of brothels, and I was on the lookout for a finer establishment.

It was an odd feeling walking amongst the enemy, acting as though we were meant to be there. At times I felt like everyone was watching me, but when I looked round, nobody seemed to be taking any notice at all. At the same time I felt quite excited to be in the lion’s den, right under the nose of the enemy, and about to commit a terrible crime in their eyes and a heroic deed in the Emperor's. So far we had outwitted them, and with any luck, we would pull off the crime and the rebels would be none the wiser.

Turning a corner off the main street up from the harbour, we found what we was looking for. Officers and gentlemen were coming and going from a building that was in fine repair, with doors wide open and welcoming at the top of a short flight of stone steps. Outside the three storey building stood a pair of fine looking ladies as advertisements for what lay within.

“This looks about right, Mister Harl. What do you think?”

“Over my deck, Captain, but if it’s officers you want, then that’s probably the best place to look.”

There was a side road leading down behind the building and I left Harl as a lookout while I went to investigate. It was just an alley and had empty barrels stacked along the walls as well as the odd man sleeping under rags. A small mongrel growled at me. Behind the building, the alley ended when it met the wall of yet another house. There was a back entrance which was closed. Looking up, I saw row upon row of shuttered windows all closed to the prying eyes of neighbouring buildings. I returned to Harl who was winking at one of the girls on the steps.

“Perfect. Let’s get back to the ship and get ready. I want to be back here by sundown, and I need to look respectable.”

Some hours later, my long coat was beaten, brushed and pressed, my boots polished and I even managed to find a respectable pair of breaches, frilly shirt, waistcoat and a bicorn hat, courtesy of Mister Olvan. Using the long mirror the previous captain had installed in the cabin, I looked quite respectable although I could never make clothing look good the same way my brother did. My clothing at least made me look a little more presentable. I would never be able to totally hide the lump on my back however.

Mister Olvan sighed. "I suppose it will have to do, Captain."

Frowning at the comment, I thought I looked better than that.

“I look like a frilly city boy! Don’t the women fall over themselves for men dressed like this?”

“Well... It's not that simple, sir.”

“Are you saying I’m just an ugly mongrel dressed like a groomed stallion, Mister Olvan?”

“No!” said Olvan, Willan who dressed me could not suppress a smile.

“Yes you are. And you’re right too, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not chasing fancy ladies today. I need to look respectable, that’s all.”

“You look a lot more respectable, Captain.”

I grunted, and felt uncomfortable in these clothes, uncomfortable and worried. Obein Klarans had been spotted, the man who had invited Ajator into the Ship of Mariners. At least I was sure it was him. Sudlas had reported a man with red hair, a missing ear and two missing fingers moving from the grand battleship to the transport and back. I did not know the ways of the Secret Servants, but was sure there was foul play at work. Klarans was either a rebel spy or working both sides. What did this mean for Ajator? I did not have time to ponder this now, but I was determined to get to the bottom of it when we returned to Umuron.

Worryingly more rebel navy had arrived too. What were the rebels up to? Already there was a force large enough to strike at Umuron. This must have something to do with Klarans' presence in Sulenfir. Was my duty to head back at once and warn High Admiral Villor? No. The rebel fleet was large enough to wipe out the depleted Western Fleet. If we could get a code book first it would give the Imperial Navy a better chance. A chance at surprising the enemy fleet. I would go ahead with the plan.

“I need your sword.”

Olvan undid his belt and handed the sword and scabbard to me, fitting it where I normally kept my heavy cutlass. Taking a last look in the mirror, I sighed and left the cabin to find Harl and Jodlin.

The establishment had no visible name but the ladies at the front door welcomed me to "Lillan’s Palace". The door was now closed as night drew in, but was opened from the inside by a burly door guard. In the reception room, my coat and hat were taken by a woman who then pointed out that she had not seen me before.

“My name is Captain Karn,” I answered playing with my bulging money purse which had the desired effect. She smiled brightly. I did not want to use my assumed name here as there was a very good chance that Captain Yorlwig was a known customer and so plucked a new name from the air.

“Welcome, Captain Karn. When leaving please be sure to pick up your coat and hat and then you will also be given the chance to settle the bill.”

“Very good. Would you be so kind as to show me the way?”

She ushered me into a large room that was full of people talking, drinking and laughing. It was a fine house with fine furnishing, rich tastes and lavish carpets. Chandeliers lit the place and a large fire burned in one wall with padded chairs facing it. The ladies wandered round the room, serving the officers and gentlemen who sat at tables and at a bar, who played cards and smoked pipes and cigars. I was immediately set upon by two beautiful girls who asked what my pleasure was?

“Cards. I am in need of a game of cards and a bottle of wine.”

“Of course, sir.”

They took me to one of the gaming tables and I began to spend money. Drinking little, I played with the girls and I talked to men, mingling, as high society did. I forced myself to smile more, and forced a joviality that was painful but required. Customers came and went, girls played the perfect hostesses, and I felt for them. The type of place I would normally frequent had a cockier, more independent type of woman who had no qualms about complaining and grumbling, but were always happy enough to take your money. Here the girls just smiled and giggled on cue. They put on perfectly innocent faces and were probably called upon to perform the most perverted acts without the slightest complaint. This type of harlot wore out quickly and what happened to them after was anyone’s guess; perhaps the mad house?

Inevitably it started getting late. I was still at the table and was pleased to note that I had not lost too much money, but was frustrated at not finding the chance I had been waiting for. The House was a small man with spectacles and a quick card hand. We played Crows Heads, a simple gambler’s game that was currently the fashion although it had been a peasant’s game originally. At the table was myself, a naval officer, a young gentleman who was probably also an officer but in civilian clothing and a rather portly middle-aged lady who looked completely out of place, yet at the same time, completely at home.

The game was played with an odd deck that was comprised of numbers and mythical creatures. The most valuable card was the crow’s head, hence the name. The idea was to build a Gathering of creatures during a round. At the end of the round, the player with the strongest army won the pot. The house could also win but never lose money. He always had a card less than the players but seeing as he never entered money into the pot, the house always won in the end.

The portly lady had been at the table a long time and seemed to love the game. “I do love spending my husband’s money,” she remarked when she had lost a hand to me.

I could not help raise an eyebrow.

“He’s upstairs now with Enibba. He thinks the world of her and I am sure he pays her well in tips and gifts. She has him wrapped round her little finger!”

“So you spend his money?”

“Of course! She thinks she has it good. I’ve lost over four golden heads tonight haven’t I Sinders?” This was to the House who nodded.

“Are you married?” she asked.

“Oh no,” I said. “I’m in no hurry to do so either.”

“Hm. Are you a merchant?”

“No. I serve the duke as a private contractor.”

“A pirate?”

“No, no. A privateer.”

“A pirate,” she said as though that was that.

“Only to the Empire.”

At that, there was a call from the large steps at the end of the room, where a stunningly attractive and very young lady was helping an ancient man down the stairs. I realised that this was the lady’s husband as she got up and took his arm from the girl. The man must have been twice the age of the portly lady. I did not miss the curt smile the girl gave her and realised that perhaps the lady had once stolen this man herself from another older lady in just such a place as this.

I was now left with the young gentleman and the officer, who I decided was my last and only bet. “Drinks!” I called and gestured to the table as a whole. The two other guests nodded their thanks, and drinks were brought round for all. The game continued and I began to talk about the recent weather. It was a tedious subject but always on the lips of sailors and officers alike. Hopefully the subject that might bore the younger gentleman into leaving, but it didn’t work. “Senior Officer?” I then asked, trying to decipher the officer’s rank.

The officer looked up from his cards. He had dark eyes and a strong jaw but he was slim, and looked like he had recently recovered from an illness. The man was perhaps in his mid-thirties.

“Senior Officer Darl Obringer of the Battleship War Lion.” He introduced himself. “You are a privateer? I overheard.”

“Captain Hostom Karn, at your service.”

“An adventurous life I should imagine?”

“I would say so. Dangerous, but it has its rewards,” I said, patting my purse.

“Indeed,” Darl said looking round, and then indicated that a girl should join him. There were plenty of seats available now.

This was my chance and I ordered more wine, the best wine, and we all drank. I even insisted that the women join in.

The mood relaxed a great deal, and the talking continued. The girls giggled more, and the men got louder. I saw to it to lose more money. It got very late, but I kept the wine coming, and soon the young gentleman had had enough. He slurred his thanks. Then, with an arm around a woman ten years his senior, but as kindly and attractive as any wench there was, he left the table for a room. Darl and I continued the game, drinking and fondling the young things until I noticed that Senior Officer Obringer’s eyes began to close.

“Take the poor man to a room,” I slurred. The girl he was with was quite drunk herself but managed to get him to his feet.

I assisted them both and half carried the fool up the grand staircase, and then into a room as indicated by the woman. On placing the officer on the bed, I kicked hard as though trying to regain my balance and smashed the chamber pot that was tucked just under the bed. In the drunken bustle to get the man to bed nobody took much notice of the damage done. Then I turned to the woman and bowed. She gave me an unexpected drunken kiss before closing the door on me. I smiled. The room was perfect. No washroom and situated at the back of the building.

Returning back downstairs, I picked a girl who had been drinking heavily of my wine. Snapping my fingers, the girl took me to a room, where she began to get undressed, but I told her to go to sleep. She looked upset.

“You’re a pretty thing,” said I. “And I will find the strength soon enough but right now I want sleep.”

She looked like she was going to complain but then gave in to the spirits and fell fast asleep on her side. I sighed for she truly was pretty in the dull light. What a waste, but I had no time, and instead stood listening at the door. When things quietened down I carefully opened it and stepped out into the now dark corridor. There was still light coming from downstairs, but I found a shadowy corner and waited.

People came and went as the hours passed, but nobody saw me there. Sounds came from various rooms, but slowly things quietened as the house fell asleep. Finally the door of the room I had taken Darl Obringer to opened and an unsteady woman stepped out, who, with her chamber pot broken, made for the ladies room on the other side of the corridor.

I moved quickly. There were minutes at best and I desperately wanted to avoid hurting any of the girls. This was war but they were innocent. Opening the door I went in without hesitation and saw the officer lying naked on the bed.