Scimitar's Heir (27 page)

Slickfin pulsed her gills slowly in satisfaction, and sank to the bottom of the chamber. Taking the glistening orbs into her mouth, she stored them one by one in the special pouch deep in her throat. There, by the grace of Odea, a new generation would hatch in a few weeks—the first new generation Akrotia had seen in a thousand years.

≈

Huffington snapped awake, one hand on his dagger, the other batting away the light touch on his shoulder. Fortunately, he recognized the wiry ensign with whom he shared a berth aboard the
Marie Celeste
and stopped short of putting a blade in the boy’s eye.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to startle you, but—”

“Morning already?” He levered himself out of the narrow bunk, deciding not to tell the tight-laced young officer just how close he’d come to meeting the gods.

“No, sir. It’s just the midwatch, sir. Six bells.”

“Six bells, mid…” Huffington hated the blasted system these nautical types used to tell time, bells and watches and all. Why not just say it was three o’clock in the morning? “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, sir. Master Upton sent word for you, sir.”

“From
Indomitable
?” One look into the youth’s blank face told him there would be no explanation forthcoming. Ensigns didn’t ask questions, didn’t know any answers, and, aside from saluting and calling everything that had two legs and wore a jacket “sir,” didn’t have any redeeming qualities at all that Huffington could see.

“Very well, then.” He reached for his boots.
When the emperor’s spymaster summons you at three in the morning, you don’t ask why
. “Thank you, Ensign.”

“Sir.” The boy saluted, turned on his heel, and left the cabin as quietly as he had arrived.

Huffington put on his jacket and spectacles, checked his pockets, picked up his satchel and made his way to the deck. There, a burly coxswain and a crew of six sailors waited impatiently at the leeward boarding ladder.

“You bein’ Mister Huffington, sir?” the coxswain asked, knuckling his forehead half-heartedly, as if unsure if Huffington was worthy of the deference.

“Yes, I am,” he answered. “And I’m not navy, so you don’t have to salute me or call me anything but Mister Huffington.”

“Yes, sir. We’s to take you to the flagship straight away. Captain’s orders.”

“So I heard.” Huffington looked out at the pitch black sea and the smattering of lantern lights, and asked, “You’re sure you can find it?”

“Oh, aye sir!” The man pointed at one particular array of lanterns among the many. “There she lies, clear as the nose on me face, sir.”

“Very well, then.” He set the strap of his satchel diagonally across his chest, head and arm through the loop so that there was no way he could accidentally drop it overboard. “Lead on.”

He boarded the launch and was borne across the ink-black waters with astounding alacrity, straight as an arrow, right to
Indomitable’s
leeward boarding ladder. Huffington clambered aboard the flagship and was escorted by yet another ensign—this one probably all of thirteen years old—to Master Upton’s cabin. The ensign knocked, two quick raps, and stood with his hands behind his back until the door opened.

“Mister Huffington, sir,” the youth said with a sharp salute.

“Very good. Come in, Mister Huffington,” the spymaster said, backing away from the door and waving at one of the two chairs in the small cabin. It was only slightly more spacious than Huffington’s own, though the spymaster did not have to share it with three ensigns. “Please make yourself comfortable. I’ve got blackbrew, or I can call for tea if you prefer. We have a great deal to discuss.” The spymaster was in shirtsleeves, so Huffington lay his satchel aside and doffed his coat.

“Uh, nothing for me, sir. Is there a problem, sir?” he asked, sitting in the indicated chair and eying the room with practiced scrutiny. Papers were stacked in neat piles on the little folding table. In the bright lamplight, he could see that one stack was the packet he had handed over three days before.

“Problem? I daresay there is always a problem, Mister Huffington, and usually more than one. Such problems are the reason people like you and I have a profession. We are solvers of problems.” Upton poured steaming blackbrew into a cup and lightened it with milk, which surprised Huffington. Evidently, Admiral Joslan’s rank warranted such luxuries, and
Indomitable
was large enough to accommodate a cow. Huffington wondered if the admiral knew that Upton was nicking his private stores. “As to a particular problem, no. Need there be?”

“The hour, sir,” Huffington explained, nodding to the dark porthole.

“Why, what is the…” Upton fished a pocket watch from the jacket that hung next to his chair and flipped open the cover. “Well, it is late, isn’t it?”

“Late?” Huffington could not suppress a little cough of laughter. “Er, I would call it early, sir, but…”

“Well, nevertheless, here we are, and we may as well discuss your particular situation while we have a moment to ourselves; less chance of curious ears.” Upton sipped his blackbrew and nudged the stack of papers that Huffington had delivered. “You will find, I’m sure, that the hour of the day or night, or even the day of the week or month, has little to do with the duties of our profession.”

“Pardon me, sir, but that’s twice you’ve said ‘our profession’.” He shifted uncomfortably under the spymaster’s scrutiny, but he was still irritated enough with being woken in the middle of the night that he pressed forward with his point. “I never thought of you as a secretary, sir, and I know that I’m no specialist in the arts of…security.”

“Do not attempt to be flippant or evasive with me, Mister Huffington,” Upton warned, lifting his cup again for a sip. The man’s narrow eyes stared over the rim at him, but Huffington just stared back. “As I told you earlier, I have looked into your past. I know your abilities, your strengths and your weaknesses. You are in the emperor’s service, now. I have read your orders. What I want to discuss is how you plan to carry them out.”

“Your pardon again, sir, but my employer is Count Emil Norris, and the emperor himself told me that it was to remain so.” He firmed his resolve and pressed forward.
In for a copper, in for a crown.
“As a loyal subject, I could not refuse His Majesty’s service in this one…endeavor, but when it is done, I intend to resume my service as Count Norris’ secretary.”

“None of which changes the fact that you are currently in the service of the emperor.” Upton’s tone was mild, but his eyes screamed danger. “Now, we will discuss your assignment, and you will tell me how you plan to carry it out.”

“No, sir,” Huffington said, keeping his tone equally calm and his hands open and flat on his knees. “I’m sorry, sir, but I won’t be doing anything of the kind.”

“It is not in your power to refuse me in this, Mister Huffington,” Upton said, a slight rise in the timbre of his voice the only obvious sign that he was upset. “I know what you are, what you have been told to do, and to whom you are going to do it. Now you will tell me—”

Huffington stood, careful to make his motions as slow and deliberate as possible. He reached for his jacket and lifted it from the hook.

“Sit down, Mister Huffington! This instant!”

“No, sir, I won’t.” He put his jacket on and lifted his satchel. “I was told by the emperor that I was still Count Norris’ man. I’m in the service of
His Majesty
, and while I was told that you would know of my assignment, I was not told that I would answer to you in any way, except that I might ask your assistance if I needed it. This task is mine, and I’d prefer not to discuss it.”

“Why ever not, Mister Huffington?” Upton said, his tone returned to normal, though with some obvious effort. “I am the Master of Security, after all. I might be able to offer some helpful advice.”

“Because, in
my
profession, Master Upton, a man never tells
anyone
how he’s going to kill another man. Or woman, if it comes to that.” He put the satchel strap over his head and reached for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Master Upton, I will be going back to my bunk aboard the
Marie Celeste
. Good night.”

“Good night, Mister Huffington,” the spymaster said as the door closed between them.

Huffington squared his shoulders and rolled his neck to loosen his tense muscles. He doubted he would get back to sleep, but was determined to try. Getting out of that cabin without telling the spymaster what he wanted to know, and without getting a dagger in his ribs, was an exhausting and exhilarating accomplishment. And best of all, he was still his own man.

Chapter 20

Moth and Flame

“Edan…Edan.”

Sam whispered his name, enjoying the way it felt on her lips. It was like a prayer…or a curse, she wasn’t quite sure which. On the one hand, her memory of their intimate introduction exalted her, teased her with its intensity, and his power very much intrigued Sam-the-pirate. On the other hand, he had awakened a part of her—the weak, sentimental Samantha—that she had thought dead. That she had, in fact, tried to kill. She found herself longing for that part of herself, grieving for its loss. She was confused, and that confusion made her angry. Who wanted Edan? Sam, who was attracted by his power, or Samantha, who was attracted to the passionate young man who made her feel safe, wanted, loved? Whatever the reason, she was here. And now,
finally
, she had found him.

She crouched behind an ornate stone crenation, her glass leveled through a guano-stained balustrade and focused on the harbor far below. Sam and Uag had found this harbor with little trouble, moving like wraiths through the moonlit streets, working their way around the outer avenue that ringed the floating city until they spied the schooners’ masts. Finding a high place to watch from, they had settled in to wait. Now the sun had breached the horizon, and her patience had paid off. She watched as the seamage and her Morrgrey husband, the half-elf shipwright Ghelfan, Edan, and two burly sailors left the ships and headed into the city.

“Dat’s him?” Uag asked, his low whisper barely audible. “Dat skinny one wit de pointy ears?”

“No, the one with red hair. The only one not wearing a sword,” she said. “He’s their prisoner.” She looked more closely.
What in the Nine Hells is he doing with all those bottles and jars on his belt
? She shrugged and handed the glass to Uag.

“Dat boy?” he asked, focusing the scope, then wrinkling his brow at her. “
He
got powerful magic?”

“Yes, he does,” she answered defiantly, grabbing the glass and tucking it in her belt. She rose to a crouch and moved to the stair down to the harbor level. She had to hurry if she was going to follow Edan’s group. “Go back and get
Manta
off the reef. Mind her rudders. If you break them, we can’t get home. I’ll be along soon, by nightfall at the latest.”

“You gonna try to get dat boy away from dem
alone
?”

Uag’s skepticism almost made her laugh. She gave him a grin, her sharpened teeth gleaming in the morning light. “Once the seamage is dead, the rest will be easy.”

≈

“You’re sure this is the one?” Cynthia asked Ghelfan, squinting down at the odd-looking bronze hatch in the floor. It was one of the floating staircases and it was closed, which meant that the level below was flooded.

“Yes.” The shipwright’s fingers traced the silvery elvish script etched into the wall. “This refers to the Chamber of Life.” He looked at her and raised one slim eyebrow. “The sea lies beneath this hatch, Cynthia. You must make it recede if it we are to open it.”

“I can hold back the water,” Cynthia vowed. She knelt and placed a hand against the hatch, then closed her eyes. Yes, she could feel the sea against the hatch, and it was pressing hard. They were well below the city’s waterline now, perhaps eighty feet or so, and the pressures were substantial. “Though you might get your feet wet.”

Edan groaned softly, and Flicker’s high-pitched chitters sounded like a stream of sprite curses. Mouse’s cackle of laughter in response confirmed it. Cynthia waved him away impatiently, then stood.

“I can’t push back the entire ocean, but I can keep the immediate area around us relatively dry. But after we descend the stairs and move toward the chamber, the water will fill in behind us, raising the stair and closing the hatch.”

“That’s where you two come in,” Feldrin said gravely to Rhaf and Janley, his two crewmen who had volunteered to come along. “If we need to open the hatch from below, this level will start to flood as we swim up through, so one of you is gonna have to block the next one open until we can get up to the next level.”

“Swim?” Edan said, his eyes widening so much that it was almost comical. “You never said anything about swimming!”

Cynthia sighed; they had left this part out of last night’s discussion with Edan, not wanting to frighten him with a litany of all the possible things that could go wrong. Perhaps they had erred in that decision.
What’s done is done
, she thought, and considered how to explain it to him now.

“As Feldrin has pointed out, I’m not invulnerable. If something happens to me down there, I don’t want the rest of you do be trapped and drowned. And there are fail-safes to make sure that won’t happen.” The color had drained from the boy’s face, his freckles standing in stark relief. “Ghelfan, please show him.”

“Of course, Mistress. These staircase hatches can be opened from the underside even when water fills the room below. See here, Edan.” He knelt beside the hatch and tapped a small disc that looked like it was engraved in the metal. “This is an air-release vent. It works in concert with a water-intake vent below. On the back side of the stairs is a handle. You simply turn the handle, and water fills the door, the displaced air coming out of the vent here. The stair then sinks under its own weight. A rather ingenious safety device, probably used during construction to adjust the trim of the city once it was floated. The point is, once opened, the hatch cannot be closed again without pumping all the water out of the flooded level and draining the hatch.”

“So, if someone is trapped below, they turn the lever and the hatch opens?” Edan asked. “But then this level will flood, too, and
fast
!”

“Exactly,” Cynthia said. Relieved that Edan seemed to accept Ghelfan’s explanation without too much fuss, she turned to the sailors and gestured at their tools. “That’s why Rhaf and Janley are staying here, and why they lugged those heavy crowbars down here with them. If this level starts flooding, they’ll run to the next hatch before it floats closed and jam a crowbar into the jaw of the rising stair, blocking it open. Once everyone’s clear, we pull out the crowbar and let the hatch close behind us.”

“I don’t suppose you’d let me volunteer to stay up here,” Edan asked, glaring at her.

“No, Edan. I need you with me. The mer fear fire more than anything, and you
are
fire.”

“Just remember what we talked about last night, Edan,” Feldrin said, “and keep yer wits about you.”

“If anything happens to me, I want everyone to get out, and get out fast.” Cynthia raised a hand to forestall them before anyone could speak. She was impatient to get on with this. They’d worked so hard to get here, now it was time to get this done. She knew Edan was scared, but they were all scared. “Save our son, Feldrin, whatever it takes. Promise me.”