Master of Myth (The Antigone's Wrath Series Book 1) (20 page)

“Jamyang will know what to do,” she murmured softly as the ship sailed on.

Using the route Captain Owusu provided, the remainder of the journey passed quickly. Now, Rachel stared, grim-faced, at the troop of men waiting for them at the dock. The muscles in her jaw hurt from being clenched so tightly for so long; they had been set this way for over an hour before Singapore was in sight. A headache was most certainly in her very immediate future. She was counting on Yong Wu’s sense of contractual obligation to see them safely out of the area. The contingency plan was practically nonexistent: keep the engines running and weapons handy. More than once she had to fight the urge to throw the ship into reverse and be done with the whole mess, but she knew, in the end, that would cause more problems than it solved.

Five hours outside of port, the
Antigone’s Wrath
made a water landing, as per Yong Wu’s instructions. They were tailed in the air until a small fleet of vessels took up the charge, seeing them safely to their destination.

Lines were flung to men waiting on the pier. With a heavy sigh, Rachel exited the pilothouse and descended the stairs to the deck below. She gave a final visual sweep of the area, ensuring that Silas and Eddie were nowhere to be seen. She had instructed the inventor and his apprentice to stay below deck at all times, as she didn’t want them seen by anyone lest there be a spy waiting on the pier to catch a glimpse of them. Silas solemnly agreed, taking a protesting Eddie to the makeshift workshop where they would continue building the particle cannon. The work was meant to be a balm to Eddie’s aggravation at being told to make himself scarce; that boy was a gearhead to the core if ever there was one.

The thought brought a momentary softening to her strained countenance, but it didn’t last long. A sturdy set of stairs was brought alongside the ship. A group of men stood at the bottom, faces mostly unreadable, but unquestionably impatient. All six of them were bald, save one, whose thick queue flowed from the very top of his head to the middle of his back. They wore black cotton gi, with a green silk belt tied at the waist and gold Chinese characters embroidered on the cuffs. They could be none other than Yong Wu’s lackeys.

Iris was at her side, regarding the waiting men. “Are you sure you don’t wish me to accompany you?”

Rachel shook her head, remembering the last time they visited Yong Wu. “I can’t risk it. You know he’d love to add you to his… collection.” She grimaced, recalling the harem of witches, seeresses and mediums he kept around for “entertainment.” He’d taken a fancy to Iris, believing her to hold some sort of mystical power. “Besides which, I need you here. If anything goes wrong, it will be up to you to finish this little adventure.”

“I wish you wouldn’t speak of it so certainly,” Iris said. “I have no desire to be captain, nor to take on the Brotherhood. I will leave both in your capable hands, thank you.”

She gave a half smile and clapped the first mate on the shoulder. “How kind of you.” She glanced back down to the pier and took a deep breath. “Well, wish me luck.”

“Captain, if I thought you needed it, I would do so.” Iris smiled warmly. Rachel chuckled before heading down the stairs.

The two merchants, who were nearly invisible during the journey here, appeared and strolled down the gangway, looking relaxed and refreshed. They garnered looks filled with irritation from the crew as they went.

The last to appear was Danton. Rachel watched an odd, wordless exchange as his eyes met Iris’s. There was a quiet longing in his gaze as she gave him a genial, but distant, smile. Danton was most assuredly interested, but something was amiss with Iris. Rachel thought it odd that an intelligent, kind, attractive man, and one who clearly fancied Iris, stood no greater a chance for romance with the first mate than a cold, dead fish did. The matter confounded her many times. It was not a new subject. Iris simply refused to consider
any
gentlemen suitors, Danton included. She let out a resigned sigh as the master-at-arms joined the party on the dock. She turned away and nodded to their escort. Without further conversation, Yong Wu’s guards led them off the pier.

She left her best weapon with Iris.

Rachel’s mind returned to that thought the entire march to Yong Wu’s palatial compound. She knew they would search for and take any weapons they found on her upon arrival, but still, she missed the feel of her gun strapped to her rib cage. It was her security, and its absence plagued her.

As she predicted, the moment the compound gates closed behind them, all obvious daggers, pistols, and swords were removed from both her and Danton’s possession. They relinquished them willingly, as a show of good faith. Rachel didn’t mention the knife concealed within the sole of her boot, however. She would give Yong Wu the advantage, but refused to be defenseless. She wasn’t stupid.
 

She also handed over a wrapped bundle, indicating it was for the
Hakka
leader. It contained the knife she had taken from Li Han as proof of his Brotherhood involvement. Rachel asked that it be presented on her arrival.

She knew Danton was not as deadly without a blade, but his hand-to-hand combat skills were nothing to disregard. On more than one occasion, she saw him snap arms and legs in brawls and skirmishes. If any member of her crew could handle themselves in this situation, he was the one. If Yong Wu had a mind to eliminate her, she’d make sure to take as many of his men with her as possible.

Once disarmed, they were escorted into the main building, a three-tiered structure with swooping roofs tiled in gleaming brass plates. After passing through the massive, ebony wood entrance, they stopped in front of large, rice paper sliding doors. The queued man of the escorting party spoke to a posted guard who, in turn, slipped inside the room and disappeared from view. Several minutes later, he returned, opening the entrance to allow the entire group to proceed.

Gleaming wood floors reflected the light from the gas-powered fixtures attached to the support beams lining the expanse of the meeting hall. The master here had expensive and technologically advanced tastes regarding his home.

Rachel fixed her gaze on the front of the room, where Yong Wu lounged on his throne. Several dozen of his black-clad guards sat on their knees, knuckles pressed into the floor, awaiting the command from their Lord Mercenary. A path up the middle of the group led to the front. She tried to hide her displeasure at her circumstances. Any sign of weakness would invite disaster. Being a woman was enough of a mark against her here; she didn’t need to give him another reason to disrespect her.

They stopped, and the escorting guards circled behind the visitors. No one spoke as the opponents sized each other up.

Yong Wu leaned on his left hand, long nails pushing into his cheek. His left foot hung over his right knee and shiny gold slippers caught the light as he bounced his foot, an indicator he was unhappy about who stood before him.

“Why…” Yong Wu began, his voice nasally as he drew the “w” out longer than necessary. “Why is it that the only captain brave enough to transport my cargo is this… woman?” The venom in his voice was tangible as he spat out the word “woman.”

Rachel bit back her urge to rail at him. Her position was a precarious one, and any misplaced word or snide comment could make the difference between an uneventful transaction and a slit throat. She refused to speak unless spoken to. Under any other circumstances, hurling a dagger at his chest would be her first response. The blasted truth of it was that her whole plan hinged on the outcome of this meeting.

Yong Wu sat up and leaned forward, and his eyes narrowed as he stared at Rachel. “I could have you executed where you stand. Tell me why I shouldn’t.”

She forced her expression to remain unreadable. “I could have your cargo torched.” There was no malice in her words. “The safety of your precious tea depends entirely on the return of myself and Monsieur DuSalle to my ship. If I am not back on board, unharmed, by an appointed time, I’ve left standing orders with my crew to destroy the goods you started a war to get.”

His jaw set and face flushed an angry shade of red. “You are bluffing.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you willing to wager the entire shipment on that suspicion?”

He was silent, and she knew he was considering his options. Taking the cargo by force might prove too risky. His knowledge of the
Antigone’s Wrath
armaments and layout would be limited. There were too many unknowns. She saw his mental scales of logic tip in her favor. Brute force was not an acceptable choice. She allowed the corner of her mouth the flicker of a smile. The first victory went to her.

“Very well.” Yong Wu settled back. “Excellently played. Now as for my men you killed in Baraawe—”

Her fists clenched tightly, then relaxed. She exhaled. “The ones who tried to kill the only person capable of securing your cargo? The ones who spoke with unabashed hatred about their employer? The ones also working for the Brotherhood?
Those
men I killed?” Rachel crossed her arms in front of her, silently smug. One of the guards scurried to the front and knelt in front of the throne, presenting the opened bundle to his master.

Yong Wu flicked his gaze at the weapon, then back to her. He was visibly unhappy at this turn of events. By disposing of disloyal men, Rachel had actually done him a favor. With so many of his men witnessing the interaction, he was now beholden to her. He wouldn’t be able to tolerate that for long. “It appears I am in a position to grant you a request in repayment for your considerable trouble.” A muscle below his left eye twitched hatefully. “Is there something I might grant you?”

It was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud. Stifling any and all outward signs of amusement, she made her request. “We seek safe passage to the Tibetan Plateau. Will you grant me immunity from attack while my ship is within your area of control?”

While clearly irritated at having to grant her anything, he seemed relieved that this was all she asked, but also that his debt could be repaid immediately. “Done. I give you two weeks immunity in any area within my reach.”

“Then we have an accord.” Rachel nodded. “We’ll return to my ship to oversee the unloading of your cargo and—”
 

“Baba!”
An impatient female voice broke through the closing niceties. “You promised me the next ship that—”

“An jing!”
Yong Wu slammed a fist on the arm of his chair. “Not this one, Jiao.”

A young Chinese woman stepped out of the shadows from the right side of the room, hands on her hips, lips pursed angrily. She was a tiny thing, dressed in the finest green silk cheongsam, gold dragons embroidered throughout, her black hair drawn into a tightly secured bun at the base of her skull. She argued with him now, in Chinese. Rachel blinked confusedly as the exchange grew heated, unsure of how to react. Jiao’s voice rose in pitch until it was nearly unbearable to hear. “You promised me!” She screeched.
“Pian zhi!”
 

“Enough!” Yong Wu pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. He ground his teeth together as he looked up at Rachel, at the end of his patience. “Captain Sterling…” he trailed off, took a deep breath, and spoke again. “I must ask one more thing of you.”

Her mouth hung open slightly. Could it be? Was the merciless, cold-hearted Yong Wu completely and utterly wrapped around the finger of his daughter? She snapped her jaw closed and stood up straighter. “Ask what you must.”

A pulsing vein added to the growing cacophony of twitching muscles in his face. “My daughter, Jiao, has made me promise to send her for training at a monastery in Tibet. She wishes to board your ship and have you take her there.”

Rachel blanched. This couldn’t have come at a worse time. Not only could she not guarantee the girl’s safety outside of her father’s home, but, in fact, the trip could prove to be fatal. “I… I… My apologies, but I don’t think it’s in her best interest to—”

“Let me rephrase,” he cut her off. “If you refuse this request, I will personally guarantee that the last several months of your life will be spent in complete agony.” The blaze of anger behind his eyes told her he was deadly serious. He was so intent on this that he would risk the destruction of the cargo he worked so hard to secure in order to make this happen. Clearly, he would rather have that than his daughter unhappy.

Either way, it would end badly for Rachel. She sighed, resigned to her fate. “Very well, but be sure that this…
favor
,” she paused for emphasis, “will be remembered.”

The significance of this registered on his countenance, and he gave her a tight nod. “Jiao!” His head whipped around to his daughter. “Prepare your things. You will depart in the morning.” The girl gave an excited squeal and rushed out of the hall. He turned his attention back to Rachel. “You understand the great responsibility I am entrusting you with?”

She swallowed in an attempt to ease her dry throat. “I do. Am I to assume then, that should any harm come to her, I will be held accountable?”

“You are correct.”

She took a deep breath and went all in. As long as she was risking her neck, she might as well get something out of the deal. “Then you will also make sure my ship is adequately supplied and armed?” This was pushing the limit of his generosity, but she had little left to lose.

Yong Wu snapped his fingers and three of the kneeling, pony-tailed guards popped to a standing position. “You!” He pointed to one on her left. “See that Captain Sterling’s rations are fully stocked. And you two!” His hand shifted to the other side of the room. “See to it that her armory is prepared for any eventuality.” The three men bowed and exited.

“Return to your ship, Captain Sterling.” He folded his hands in his lap. “In the morning, I will send Jiao to you, along with instructions for her conveyance. Her things will arrive within two hours time. I expect you to clear an adequate space for her to accommodate her belongings.”

“Belongings?” Rachel balked. “Exactly how much are we talking abou—”