Scimitar War (44 page)

“We could question the legality of this transfer easily enough,” he said. “We can have a ship there in a fortnight, and confiscate these plans.”

“You could attempt to, Your Majesty, but I left instructions that the plans were to be destroyed if anyone tries to take them without a signed letter of consent from me.”

“We see.” Tynean Tsing glared at her for a moment, then sighed. “What do you want, Mrs. Flaxal Brelak?”

“I would like, Your Majesty, to negotiate.”

≈

Hooves clacked noisily on the cobbles as the two carriages wound through the steep streets of the Hill District. Camilla peered out the window. Between the tall townhouses and lofty estates, she caught glimpses of the harbor far below, the cordon of armed ships across the entrance. Even in this rarified air of privilege, tension blew so thick you could almost smell it. Though the poorer sections of the city were being evacuated first, many of those who had the means were effecting their own departures. Wagons and carriages piled high with possessions or goods crowded the streets, slowing their progress.

What was I thinking
? Camilla wondered silently, her stomach roiling as she strained to keep an impassive expression on her face.

Last night she had been so certain; she
had
to be there when they arrested Parek. He had to see her face, let him know that
she
was the one who would send him to the guillotine. But now she quailed at the thought of seeing him. Visions of his brutality plagued her mind, and she could feel his rough hands pawing her.

The others in the carriage were also quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Even Tim sat with a solemn look on his face, fingering the hilt of the cutlass he had brought from the Shattered Isles. The men were all armed, their choice of weapons ranging from the fencing blade on Emil’s hip to the long, obsidian-spiked club across Chula’s lap. Only Huffington’s weapons were not obvious. Though Camilla knew little of the man’s true skills, she was beginning to appreciate how much Emil relied upon him.

All too soon, they pulled up in front of an elegant townhouse, and the men debarked from the carriages. Camilla hung back, watching as Horace motioned for four sailors to go around the corner to the back entrance. The rest formed up behind Emil, who looked relieved that she had yet to climb down from the carriage.

“Huffington, you wait here with Camilla. We’ve plenty of men, so it should take only a few minutes.”

Camilla’s stomach fluttered. He had given her a perfect excuse to remain here, to close the door and pull the curtain and never look Parek in the face again. But a deeper part of her, a darker part, knew she had to do this. If Parek died, he would never know she had survived. She
needed
to see him. He needed to pay for what he did to her. He needed to pay…in blood.

“I’m coming, Emil,” she said, though her head spun with panic. Camilla accepted Huffington’s hand to descend from the carriage. “Let’s go.”

≈

“And loyal as one we are, Farin,” Parek said, glaring at his former first mate. “But you gotta understand; I didn’t know if you were dead or alive, and more than half the booty’s already grown legs and walked away. Besides me and Kori, I know of only five others still here in Tsing. The rest legged it already with all this talk of war.”

“And what
you
gotta understand, Captain, is that me and the lads don’t particularly care who’s here and who’s legged it.” He glanced at the glowering crowd of pirates around him and grinned. “We just want our share.”

“And you’ll get it, Farin, but you’ll have to bloody wait. I don’t keep my money tucked under my mattress. We’ll round up as many of the lads as we can, and we’ll figure out a fair split.” He spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture, figuring he had to be magnanimous when faced with a mob of angry pirates. It felt like mutiny, but they weren’t aboard ship. If he didn’t placate Farin, he’d end up face down in his own blood, but he wasn’t about to let that make him a coward. “But share and share alike goes both ways, Farin. Whatever you made on your run to the Sand Coast will go into the pot, too.”

“Aye, I suppose,” Farin said reluctantly, “but it’s not near as much as you—”

“You expectin’ company, Captain Parek?” a man at the window interrupted.

“No. Why?”

“‘Cause two carriages full of armed men just stopped outside, and some are goin’ ‘round back.”

Parek joined him at the window and peered down to the street.
By the Nine Hells, if that fat fop of a banker ratted me out
… he thought murderously, but these weren’t constables. Then a flash of crimson caught his eye, waves of red hair and golden skirts as a woman descended from the carriage. She glanced up, and the face that had haunted his dreams took his breath away. “Camilla!”

“Who?” Farin asked, joining him at the window.

“Never mind, Farin. We’ve been found out, that’s what matters.” An idea flashed through his mind like lightning, and he grinned. He strode to the mantle and lifted the golden hilted cutlass from its pegs. “They’ve got swords, but it looks like there’s barely a dozen. They can’t know you’re here, so we’ve got surprise on our side, lads. If we play this right, we’ll all get out of here, but we’ve got to be smart. And quiet!”

He motioned them out of the sitting room and onto the second floor landing where a broad marble staircase descended to the entry hall. Balustrades bordered the stairwell and the entry hall, with three doors on each side along the carpeted halls. He pointed to these doors, and three or four men vanished behind each, leaving them cracked to peer out. Another hall ran to his left toward the back bedrooms and the stairs that led up to the third floor and down to the kitchen, a handy escape route. Standing at the head of the stairs, Parek listened while his butler answered the door.

“I am Count Emil Norris,” came a voice from the front stoop, “and by the power vested in me by the emperor, I demand entry!” The door banged open, and his butler stumbled back.

“Norris?” Parek muttered, trying to remember where he’d heard that name. Then it came to him; he had been tied to his bunk aboard
Cutthroat
with a dagger at his neck. Timothy Norris…his sister Samantha.

“
Count
Norris? Well I’ll be damned. If it isn’t Count Norris invading my home once again.”

Parek grinned down at the men crowding into the entry hall and drew his sword. As they advanced toward the stair, Camilla entered, an innocuous bespectacled fellow at her side. “And you brought me a present. How considerate! I’ve missed dear Camilla very much.”

“I’m here to place you under arrest for murder and piracy, Captain Parek.” Norris ascended two steps, flanked by his squad of sailors, and drew his sword. “Put up your weapon and come down.”

“To lay my neck on a guillotine? I don’t think so.” He laughed and flourished the golden-hilted cutlass. “Tell me, Count, did the
lady
tell you of our time together? She’s quite a skilled doxy, you know. She taught me things that I daresay she’s never practiced in
your
bed. Makes one wonder where she learned such tricks, doesn’t it?” He enjoyed the flush of color that rose to Camilla’s cheeks, and the glower of rage on the count’s face. This was almost too easy. “Word is that Captain Bloodwind taught her, and that he loaned her to his captains for taking prizes. I see she’s duped you, too, so I don’t feel so bad now about being had by one so practiced in the art. I’d be careful with her, though. Those waters have been plumbed by more pirates than ever sailed the Shattered Isles.”

“Shut your filthy mouth!” Norris growled, his knuckles white on his sword.

“Why don’t you come up here and shut it for me,
Count
. Or will you send your
lady
up to do it for you?”

The count advanced up the steps, his men close behind. Parek grinned, noting their dispersal on the wide stair. The bespectacled fellow stayed behind with Camilla. This would work perfectly.

The count stopped three steps from the top and raised his sword. “This is your last chance, Parek. Put up your sword and surrender.”

“My last chance to die like a coward, you mean.” Parek grinned and raised his own weapon. “You should have let your son kill me when you had the chance. Now I think I’ll just kill you, and take Camilla back.”

“Over my dead body!” yelled the count as he lunged.

“That’s the plan,” agreed Parek. As he parried, the doors along the halls burst open.

≈

Camilla’s blood chilled as Parek announced his intentions. Her knees trembled, and she clutched the side of the door. Emil attacked, and despair welled in her heart. She had seen enough swordplay at Bloodwind’s feasts to know that he was no match for the pirate captain.

Then pirates poured out of the doors flanking the stairwell. Leaping over the balustrades, they fell on the intruders with shrill cries and flashing daggers. One took position beside Parek and squared off with Tim, while rest of the sailors defended themselves on the stairs.

Two pirates jumped from above to land beyond the fray. Startled, she stumbled back against the ornate front door, slamming it shut. Before the pirates could reach her, Huffington stepped forward, daggers in both hands. The pirates attacked.

Camilla gasped as Huffington flipped one dagger and threw it. The blade sunk hilt deep into one pirate’s stomach, and the man folded over and went down. The second pirate lunged, slashing with two daggers of his own. The count’s secretary managed to parry one, but the other raked a long gash in his arm.

Glancing up, Camilla watched as Parek beat back Emil’s attacks. She remembered the pirate’s cruel strength, and saw Emil’s slimmer blade shudder with each clash of metal. It was her fault; Emil was going to die, Tim was going to die, they were all going to die. Then she would be in Parek’s hands once again…helpless.

In front of her, Huffington whirled low, ducking another raking dagger, and flipped his bleeding arm in an arc. His blood splashed her face, and Camilla jerked back in shock. She licked her lip, tasting the salty sweetness. The memories of blood—of power—crashed in on her. She didn’t have to be weak and helpless. She stoked the anger that grew hot in her belly. Never again would she allow her friends and loved ones to die for her.

≈

Parek feinted and lunged, then parried Norris’ counterattack. The fop was good, but no match for him. Under normal circumstances he would have finished the man in seconds, but he was distracted. The boy had leapt to the attack. He had been intercepted by Farin, but now it seemed that the pirate was on the defensive, his daggers ill-matched against the longer reach of the boy’s sword. Whenever Farin faltered, the boy swiped at Parek, who was forced to defend. If he didn’t pay attention, the boy might spit him with a quick thrust.

Then he heard heavy footfalls from behind and to his left; the men who had gone to the back were pounding up the back stairs. They’d arrive from down the hall to Parek’s left in seconds. If he didn’t move quickly, he’d be trapped.

He glanced down to the entry hall. The stairs were slick with blood and crowded with battling sailors and pirates; he couldn’t risk that route. Beyond them, he spied Camilla. She stood against the front door, defended only by the bespectacled man, who was already wounded.
There
, Parek realized,
is my way out
.

Farin’s gasp told Parek that he had to move now; the boy had scored a hit, and would soon be on him. The pirate captain feinted and thrust, scoring a cut on the count’s arm. It was hardly a winning stroke, but enough to buy the opportunity to disengage and dash down the corridor above the entry hall. Halfway, he stepped atop the balustrade and leapt for the huge chandelier that overhung the entry hall. Thankful that the beeswax lamps on it were unlit, he caught the chandelier’s heavy rim.

His momentum sent the wrought iron frame swinging, and he released it at the apex of its arc. He landed heavily in the center of the entry hall, but rolled to his feet with his sword still in his hand. His satisfied grin faded, however, when he saw that the two pirates who had been facing the bespectacled man were lying on the floor, one with a dagger in his stomach, the other bleeding from a slashed throat. Neither was breathing.

The man stood in front of Camilla, a dagger in one hand; the other hung limp at his side, blood dripping from a gash in his arm. Parek smiled at the injured man and lunged to the attack.

His opponent raised his dagger to parry, but also lifted his empty hand. Parek caught a glint of steel at the man’s wrist, and twisted away just as he heard the click of a spring. A tiny steel shaft whistled past his ear, missing him by a hair’s breadth. Parek rolled to his feet and lunged again. This thrust was met with a late parry, the man’s dagger skittering up the length of his sword to meet the gilded guard.

The bespectacled man gaped down at the length of steel that pierced his waistcoat. Instinct saved Parek again as the man slashed at his throat with the dagger that had failed to turn the sword’s thrust. The pirate captain ducked and jerked his blade free.

“Huffington!” Camilla cried, rushing forward to catch the man as he crumpled to the floor. She knelt over him in a cascade of red hair and golden skirts, but Parek had no time for her sentimentality. She was his ticket out of this mess. He nested his fist in those crimson locks and jerked her to her feet.

“Up you come, little lady,” he quipped, clutching her close and resting the bloody length of his sword against her beautiful neck.

≈

Camilla felt the blade against her throat. Instead of cold steel, the metal was warm and wet with Huffington’s blood. She heard Parek’s breath at her ear, felt his heartbeat against her back. A sudden silence had descended.

All the pirates were either lying in pools of blood or standing empty-handed with swords at their throats. Only two of the sailors lay unmoving. They had met the surprise attack with amazing skill, and the reinforcements from the back stairs had turned the tide, forcing the pirates to surrender or die. Norris hurried down the steps, followed closely by Tim, Horace and Chula. They stopped, glaring at Parek as the pirate tightened his hold on her.

“You’ve lost, Parek,” Emil growled, flourishing his blade and ignoring the cut on his arm. “Let her go.”

“You still don’t understand pirates, do you?” Parek pressed the edge of his sword against Camilla’s throat. The scent of him, the feel of him pressed against her, brought back a flood of memories, and Camilla shuddered. Parek laughed softly and tightened his fist in her hair. “You see, I’d rather die on the end of a blade than lying down like a dog with my head on the block. I’ve still got something you want, and if you don’t let me leave here, you’ll be weeping over her corpse.”

“Killing her won’t gain you anything, Parek,” Emil warned as his men fanned out around him, but Camilla saw the fear for her in his eyes, and knew that Parek did, too. “Let her go, and I give you my word that I’ll do my best to get your sentence commuted to prison.”

“Yes, bargain for the life of your red-haired harlot, Count Norris. Your little girl, Sam, was a whore, too, you know. She spread her legs for any man who could get her what she wanted, but at least she was a pirate! This,” he jerked Camilla’s hair and she cried out at the pain, “this bitch has no honor. She lay with me for no reason but to save her own skin. She gave me Bloodwind’s treasure and led me to her bed while we slaughtered her friends and looted the sea witch’s keep.”

Visions of a blood-splattered beach and the scent of charred flesh pounded in Camilla’s mind.
You are not helpless!
whispered the voice in her mind as a flood of rage rose up from the pit of her stomach. She licked her lips and tasted the blood again.