Of Sea and Shadow (The Elder Empire: Sea Book 1) (6 page)

Naberius looked somewhat put out. “I see.” He holstered his pistol once more. “I apologize for bringing it up, then. Your gunner, what is his name?”

“Duster,” Calder said quickly.

Andel snorted a laugh.

Jyrine took over before the Chronicler could ask any more questions. “Now that the introductions have been dealt with, shall we turn to business? You implied that we might see some
danger
on this journey?”

From her tone, you would have thought she’d said “excitement” instead of “danger.”

Naberius sobered up quickly. Even Tristania set her plate down and rested her hands inside the pockets of her coat.

“I will admit to you, there are political ramifications to our actions,” Naberius said, eyeing each of them in turn. “The Empire has held together remarkably well these past five years, thanks especially to the efforts of the four Regents. But cracks are beginning to form at the seams. Elders stir in the Aion and beyond, along with those who worship them. Izyrians have quickly begun to revert to the old ways, and some of their arenas feature blood-sport once more.”

Urzaia rubbed one of the scars on his cheek. “Is that so?”

“Even worse, there are those in Erin—and elsewhere—who begin to talk of independence. Secession.”

Calder and Jyrine had spoken of the idea before, usually out of dread, but it was Petal who responded this time.

“You mean...little Empires?” she whispered.

“You’re half right. They want small, self-governing states, each of them ruled by separate rulers with separate goals. If it falls to men to govern separately, then war is an inevitability.”

“You know Sadesthenes,” Calder said in approval. The actual quote was,
“When men govern according to their own petty concerns, rather than for the good of all mankind, then war becomes an inevitability.”
But at least Naberius had paraphrased, which was more than most bothered to do.

Naberius shook his head. “I’m not as familiar as I should be, sadly. But his words remain as true today as when he first spoke them. The Empire is falling apart, as should be expected without someone to hold it together. We need an Emperor once again.”

This time, instead of reacting, his whole crew froze. Even Foster’s scraping against the inside of the cannon stopped. Calder could feel Jyrine’s dark eyes boring holes in his head, but he couldn’t afford to look at her.

How much does Naberius know?
he wondered.
How much
can
he know? Did he really hire us because of Cheska’s recommendation, or is there some other reason? How much does Cheska know?

“You expect to install another Emperor?” Calder asked, raising a bite of food to his mouth to make himself look as casual as possible.

Tristania shifted in her seat, looking between Naberius and the crew. It was obvious that she sensed something off about their reaction, but she didn’t seem too nervous yet.

The Chronicler, it seemed, noticed nothing. “It is not an expectation of mine, but a
necessity
. With my knowledge and resources, as well as the treasure we look to find, we can raise a second Emperor. If we do nothing, this Empire will tear itself to pieces inside a decade.”

The crew and Calder relaxed, Urzaia letting out a heavy breath.

“What is it we’ll find on the island?” Calder asked.

This time, Naberius hesitated. “I would like to keep that to myself for now, if you don’t mind. Other ears than yours may be listening.”

Calder glanced around. There were other ships nearby, but none within easy earshot, and no one on the docks. The bay itself, of course, was empty. “I’ve trusted my crew with secrets before, Naberius.”

“I do not refer to your crew,” the Witness said grimly. “Where we seek to preserve the Empire, there are others who would prefer it to fall apart. Those who profit more from its dissolution, or who simply oppose me. I believe they may have hired the Am’haranai.”

Calder scratched his head. “The Consultants?” It was well-known that the Consultants could answer any question or give you advice in your business, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard of them as objects of fear.

Jyrine smiled at Naberius, an invitation to share the joke. “Are you so afraid of a well-informed opponent, then?”

Tristania locked eyes with Jerri and slowly shook her head. In front of her grim silence, it was difficult to take anything lightly.

“Do not underestimate the Consultant’s Guild,” Naberius said quietly. “Let me tell you a story. A man once believed that he would be driven out of business, so he hired the Consultants. Within a year, his opponents all filed for bankruptcy.”

“I beg you, don’t tell such terrifying stories before bed,” Andel said drily. “Petal still needs to sleep.”

“Let me tell you another story. A man was outnumbered two to one in a battle, and he feared that his troops would lose. So he hired the Consultants. The enemy general surrendered in a week.”

Urzaia hefted one of his hatchets. “It would not take me a week before my enemy surrendered.”

Naberius went on, undeterred. “Let me tell you another story. A woman was cornered by a gang of killers. With no one else to turn to, she stumbled into the Consultants’ chapter house and pawned everything she owned to hire their services. Her attackers were found dead the next morning, deposited inside a cemetery and prepared for burial.”

The pattern was clear, but these still sounded like myths to Calder. The other Guilds operated more or less openly, but the Consultants seemed like they were prone to theatrics.

“Let me tell you one last story. Roughly twenty years ago, a man began kidnapping children around the poorer areas of the Capital. He continued, uncaught, for years before the parents of the missing children hired the Consultants. The
very next day,
he was found murdered in his own home, and the children were recovered.”

“I take your point,” Jyrine said. “But even according to your many stories, the Consultants are advisors only. Even if they have been summoned against you, they can’t sail the Aion without hiring a Navigator. And we’re on official Guild business. Captain Bennett would never allow two competing contracts.”

Naberius ran a hand down his long hair. “Many stories...there are thousands of stories like these, Missus Marten, stretching back before the Empire was founded. Much rarer are the stories that tell of one side
losing
after having hired the Consultants. Indeed, I have never been able to locate a single example of such a tale.”

That seemed absurd to Calder. The Consultants were a Guild like any other, and not even so powerful as some. If the Champions had been hired against them, for instance, he would be heading for the horizon even now. The Magisters could likely find a way of setting their boat on fire from a distance, and the Alchemist’s Guild would be even more terrifying than that. They would find themselves frightened to breathe for fear of some exotic poison.

So, in his personal threat estimation, the Consultants did not rank high enough to justify any paranoia. Naberius’ obvious caution seemed...unnecessary, at best.

“Well, if they’re that good, then why not give up now?” he asked. “There’s no point in opposing an enemy who can never lose.”

Naberius rested his hands on the hilts of his pistols. “I did not mean to imply that they never lose. Only that when they do, they have ways of making sure that no one ever hears about it. To me, Captain Marten, that is plenty frightening.”

When he put it that way, they did sound relatively frightening. “If that’s true,” Calder said, “then we’ll only be safe at sea. Why did your message say to depart at dawn?”

“In your estimation, Captain, should we leave now?”

“Absolutely not.” The tide was against them, his crew could use the rest, and the Lyathatan was exhausted from pulling them back to land with such speed. Well, not
exhausted
precisely, because Calder wasn’t sure the Elderspawn ever got tired as he understood it. But from Reading the giant creature that pulled their ship, Calder was sure that it would find a way to retaliate against overwork. Forcing it to pull against the tide could be a straight route to the bottom of Candle Bay.

But if it was a choice between trying to persuade the Lyathatan and fighting off assassins, then Calder would pick the “flee to open ocean” route anytime.

Naberius nodded. “I agree. Tristania and I are also tired from our journey here, and we would welcome a night of rest before we headed out into open ocean. To be fully honest with you, we do not expect to be pursued this early, and we have set other precautions in place to be sure. But in case our preparations come to nothing, this is why we hired you.” He leaned forward. “It may be improper to ask, but...is it safe to say that you have a Soulbound among you?”

Calder tried not to do anything that would draw the Chronicler’s attention to Urzaia. Or Foster. Or, for that matter, himself.

“That would be safe,” he said at last.

“Then I am relieved.” He held up a hand. “Again, I do not expect any trouble tonight. But in case of a mistake on our part, it is a relief to know that there is at least one member of your crew who can stand with Tristania in our defense.”

“For the amount you’re paying, Naberius, consider the lives of my crew completely expendable. If you’d like to kill one to relax, I have a pistol you could borrow.”

Andel took a swig of wine. “That offer is good for the next ten minutes, until our inevitable mutiny.”

Calder jerked a thumb in the direction of his Quartermaster. “Andel will be first in line to take a bullet for you. I can tie him to a shield, if necessary.”

With a crash like thunder, the trap door to the hold burst open, and a dark figure soared out.

Naberius had a pistol out and aimed before the sound faded. Urzaia rose to his feet with a hatchet in each hand, Petal shoved herself behind a barrel, and Andel drew a pistol of his own. Tristania reached a hand inside her coat, Calder’s hand tightened on the grip of his cutlass, and even Jerri pulled a dagger.

Then the dark figure flapped into the light of the quicklamp, its black eyes glaring, working stubby wings to stay afloat. “MUTINY,” it bellowed, and then hopped up onto Calder’s shoulder. It leaned over, reaching out with the nest of tentacles on its mouth to clean the last bits of debris from Calder’s dinner plate.

The rest of the crew relaxed, but the Witnesses kept a tight grip on their weapons.

“What is
that?”
Naberius asked in disgust.

They normally kept their pet Bellowing Horror sealed up when they had passengers onboard, but it seemed that this time the cage hadn’t held.

Oh, well,
Calder thought.
He was going to find out sooner or later.

“Naberius, Tristania, meet Shuffles.”

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

When someone charges an object with their Intent, we call that process ‘investing,’ and we say that the object has been ‘invested.’

Why? Are we nothing more than slaves to ignorant tradition?

The early Empire knew nothing of finance, and thus nothing of true financial investment. I think you’ll find that our proposed term, ‘empowering,’ really captures the modern spirit of today’s Empire.

-From the (rejected) proposal of the Aurelian Banker’s Union to the Guild of Magisters

Thirteen years ago

Rojric rarely spoke of Calder’s mother at all, and Calder thought he was beginning to understand why.

“He took you with him on a
burglary?
You’re lucky the Guard knew to take you to me, or you might be in prison right alongside him!” She did not shake her finger at him, as Calder had somewhat imagined mothers would do, but remained seated. Her back stayed straight as a poker, even as she stared down at her son with disapproving eyes.

His mother, Alsa Grayweather, was everything Rojric pretended to be. She could trace her family line back to the dawn of the Empire, she wore only the latest in Imperial fashion, and she owned her own three-story home in one of the Capital’s wealthier districts.

In Calder’s mind, she needed more flaws. She was
too
perfect; like an Elderspawn stuffed into human skin. And, of all the Imperial Guilds, she had to work for the worst one.

The family line was mostly confidential, the Imperial records of her family sealed for security purposes. Her high-fashion dresses came in only one color—tar-black—and her home was stocked with more curios and deadly artifacts than a museum.

A curving tusk sat on a rack next to a pair of dueling sabers, all of them polished and oiled for immediate use. When he had first asked her about the tusk, she’d seemed shocked.

“If a Whispering Gaunt finds its way in my back door, how do you expect me to defend myself? With a sword?”

And, worst of all, that crest she had embroidered into her dress, woven into a tapestry, and displayed in the stained glass of her sitting-room window: a squirming mass of tentacles with six eyes overlaid.

The Elder’s Eyes, symbol of the Blackwatch.

“He needed me,” Calder insisted. “Only I can tell him what’s fake and what’s worth taking.”

“Worth taking! You have too much talent to waste on someone like your father. You’ll be better off with me, that’s for certain.”

Calder decided that honesty had gotten him as far as it could. It was time for persuasion. “I’ve always wanted to meet you, Mother. To think you had a house like this...I’m sure even Father would agree that I
am
better off with you.”

He smiled up at her, watching a brace of ornamental pistols out of the corner of his eye.
Eighty silvermarks.

One side of Alsa’s mouth curved up. She was a pretty woman still, with rich brown hair running down her back.

“You have your father’s tongue as well as his hair,” she said. “Flattery can serve you well, or it could end with you in the cell next to him.”

That didn’t sound too bad to Calder. If he wound up in a cell next to his father, at least they could see each other every day.

“Do you have horses here?” he asked. He’d wondered about that ever since he’d arrived here. Big houses were supposed to have horses.