Ashes of the Earth (47 page)

Hadrian
stepped to Nelly's side and led her away, toward Jori, who sat on the
ice, stunned from the collision.

Fletcher
lowered himself from the hull and walked along the tether line,
pulling out his belt knife to cut it. As he did so, a howl rose from
the now fog-shrouded shore. He turned to Hadrian with a heartless
smile. "Wolves. They smell the blood. They'll be here soon. Ten,
twelve, maybe more. They can run a lot faster on the ice than you
can." He paused to study the damage to his boat, muttering a
curse. "You're not worth the bullets it would take to finish
you. I told Sauger to let me kill the two of you that night at St.
Gabriel but he wouldn't have it. Doesn't like to foul the nest where
he lives."

As
he spoke Kinzler stumbled out onto the ice, throwing splinters of
lacquered wood at them, missing widely. "I'm glad you're hurt,
you damned bitch!" he screamed. Hadrian looked back at Jori, who
still sat on the ice, brushing the frost from her hair with a dazed
expression.

No,
not dazed. She was staring at the surface of the lake. The freighter
had come to rest on a patch of black ice.

The
cries of the wolves increased as the pack spread the news of the
imminent meal. Hadrian saw shadows in the murk now, moving with the
fog out onto the ice.

"You
can't be allowed to do this!" Nelly shouted from his side. He
grabbed Jori's shoulder and pulled both of them back.

Kinzler
seemed amused as he climbed back onto the boat and sank into his
furs. "We'll be feasting by a fire tonight while your cold bones
'rattle across the ice," he taunted.

The
sound was like that of a firecracker. One of the exploding arrows had
struck the ice near the bow of the ship.

Fletcher
spun about to see Dax nocking another arrow. "Fool! You can play
with your toys as you die!" he snapped as the boy sent another
arrow in a high arc to land near the stern. Fletcher's men mocked the
boy, mouthing small popping noises as they laughed. The fog was
moving quickly toward the boat now. Wolves howled again. Oddly, crows
began calling from the mist.

"You
had a chance at greatness, Nelly," Kinzler told her as he tucked
on his elegant fur cap. "Now look at you. You won't run half a
mile before they're at your throat."

A
third arrow from Dax's bow landed, then a fourth, all in a radius
five feet from the boat. Hadrian pulled his companions still farther
away from the corpse as Fletcher directed his crew back on board.

The
crows called as loud as the wolves now. Even Hadrian could smell the
blood. The fog was nearly upon the boat when suddenly there were four
of the small explosions, in rapid succession, along the pattern
started by Dax. Fletcher, busy with getting his vessel underway, did
not seem to realize the arrows had not come from the boy. A strange
grin lit the boy's face as he saw four ghostly shapes at the edge of
the fog. The lead phantom made another crow call and three more
appeared. Dax raised his own bow. Eight arrows were aimed at the
damaged struts.

"Peculiar
thing about your boat, captain," Hadrian called to Fletcher. "It
doesn't float."

The
snarl on Fletcher's face was replaced by confusion as he saw the men
at the edge of the fog. The strangers fired an instant after Dax
released his arrow. The struts shuddered as the shells exploded
against them, then broke away. As the hull slammed down, the weakened
ice groaned and broke along the line started by Dax. The largest of
the intruders skied to Hadrian's side. Sebastian offered a grim,
silent nod.

Fletcher
yelled at his jackals to get their weapons and was climbing down when
the slab under the boat upended.

The
heavy vessel sank like a boulder. Hadrian glimpsed Fletcher trapped
between the ice and the hull as he went under, saw Kinzler futilely
struggle to get out of his heavy furs. A crewman trapped in a rope
uttered a frantic cry, then there was only the mast, sinking into the
black water.

CHAPTER
Sixteen

The
line of
figures bent with heavy
loads moved out of the fog toward the docks like a frost-covered
snake. A dog barked in fear. A woman gasped and ran into the building
as if to hide. A girl cried out and darted away, warning of spirits
rising out of the ice.

"God
be praised," Father William, at Hadrian's side, exclaimed as he
hurried to a ladder and climbed down to the ice.

"Bring
it now," Hadrian called to Wilton. The farmer turned toward the
shadows between the buildings and whistled. A heavy farm wagon pulled
by a team of horses appeared, filled with burly workers.

The
figure at Hadrian's side threw off the hood of her cloak to better
see the column of strangers, most bent under a heavy bag of grain,
some hauling at tow ropes in front of sleds stacked with bags. "I
think," Emily said to Hadrian, a rare note of joy in her voice,
"that is the most beautiful thing I have seen in years."
Buchanan's rationing system had already taken effect, and most of the
city's population was going to bed hungry.

Hadrian
had puzzled over how Nelly would organize her first caravan, but she
had insisted she would find a way when she had hurried him off to
arrange its reception in Carthage. Now he saw a familiar face and
understood. Sebastian kept the bag of grain on his shoulder until he
dropped it onto the wagon, followed by his brother Nathaniel and half
a dozen more of the First Bloods, who then hurried to help the
others. He stepped to the edge of the dock. At least half the party
were Sebastian's tribesmen.

When
Nelly finally appeared she looked close to collapse, the fingertips
sticking out from her tattered gloves frostbitten. Emily quickly
guided her into the fish plant, where hot tea and soup were waiting,
followed closely by Jori, who'd brought a carriage to take Nelly to
Mette's house once she had eaten. Hadrian glanced with worry toward
town. Those in the caravan who were not tribesmen were clearly on
their last ounce of strength.

But
they were far from out of danger. With a sinking heart he now saw a
man with a boathook appear from behind a stack of barrels, then two
more with fishing spears. Sebastian stepped to his side, picking up a
fish club.

"Stand
tall, you scrubs!" came a sudden shout.

The
fishermen stiffened and looked back at the compact woman who began
calling out orders as she arrived with a dozen more men. Captain
Reese of the Zeus had brought the crews of the skipjacks and was
quickly positioning them as guards. Hadrian pushed down Sebastian's
club and looked back at the big house that had been the jackals'
headquarters. Its windows were blackened, its doors smashed in. While
he was gone the jackals had been attacked in a running street fight,
the smugglers' apartment stripped and its door nailed shut. The next
day the paper had referred to an accidental fire gutting the house on
the waterfront. Hadrian no longer had any doubt who had caused it.

They'd
nearly finished loading the grain into the wagon when a buggy
appeared, from which a plump man in spectacles emerged. Hadrian stood
in the shadows as Emily walked up to the man, the editor of the
colony's newspaper. Gazing in wonder at the precious cargo and the
strangers who had brought it, he took from Emily a folded paper,
which she read before handing it to him.

"The
people of New Jerusalem," she recited, "freely donate this
grain to the schoolchildren of Carthage."

Dr.
Salens's face
had
grown gaunt since Hadrian had last seen him. When he saw that Hadrian
had followed him into his house as he carried wood to his stove,
Salens did not speak. His eyes drifted toward a carton on the table,
containing a stethoscope and a framed certificate. He lifted a bottle
marked with a medicinal label and took a long swallow.

"I
just have one question, Doctor," Hadrian said, "one thing
that's been troubling me. You said the police couldn't find your
painting after it was stolen. But surely you wouldn't have asked for
their help, not with those death ledger sheets in the back."

Salens
cast a sullen glance at Hadrian. "I didn't say that. I just said
they couldn't find it."

"I
don't understand."

The
thin, dark man gazed at the bottle in his hand. "You're the one
who caused all my problems."

"Fletcher's
dead," Hadrian replied. "I saw him drown."

"She
won't even speak to me."

"The
camps are getting a new clinic. It's going to be hard on whoever goes
as the new doctor. They won't trust him. A lot of his early patients
are going to be too sick to save. They'll hate the doctor for giving
them false hope."

Salens
was slow to react to the invitation behind Hadrian's words. He put
the bottle down. "They came to me," he said at last. "I
didn't report the lost painting. They came to me and asked what it
looked like."

The
meeting room
at
the rear of the newly restored library was lit only by a solitary oil
lamp when Lucas Buchanan angrily shoved the door open. He paused,
trying to make out all the faces at the long table.

He
decided to address Emily. "You didn't say there was a Council
meeting," he growled, gesturing to the two farmers who flanked
her. "The others should be notified."

"The
others are gone," Emily replied in a level voice.

"Then
you must wait until they return," the governor snapped.

"If
you refer to the heads of the millers, merchants, and fishing guilds,
they have all disappeared. We have it on good authority Captain
Fletcher is dead. It seems that when they received word about that
particular accident, the other guild masters fled. One of the ice
sloops was seen going north, toward a place called St. Gabriel.
Perhaps you have heard of it?"

"Don't
be ridiculous. You can't just—"

"Sit
down, Lucas. Now."

"That
grain came directly from the camps. An obvious admission of their
crimes."

Emily
pointed to the chair across from her. "Sit down."

The
governor stared at her a moment, then gestured his new bodyguard out
of the room and sullenly pulled out the chair. As he did so, two more
lamps were lit. His eyes flared as he saw Hadrian sitting in the
corner.

"It
is a long and convoluted story," Emily continued, "that
apparently begins with the Dutchman and arrangements you made with
the smugglers."

"Hadrian
will tell you anything to turn you against me," Buchanan
protested.

"Actually
the evidence has been presented to us by your own trusted Sergeant
Waller. And you must stop interrupting or we will rule you out of
order and remove you."

For
a moment Buchanan leaned forward, seeming to consider leaving the
chamber, but then he studied the stern expressions of the other
Council members and sank back in his chair.

It
took Emily nearly half an hour to recite the facts that had been
presented to the Council, reviewing the smuggling, the drug network,
the subversion of the guilds, the destruction of the drug factory,
the deaths of Bjorn, Kinzler, and Fletcher, even the assistance
provided by Sebastian and the First Bloods.

"Hadrian
Boone is just trying to get a seat on the Council," Buchanan
charged. "He wants to pretend nothing has changed."

"I
think he would be the first to admit much has changed. And yes, the
Council is changing."

"I
don't understand."

"The
three of us"—she gestured to the two farmers who flanked
her at the table—"with you make all that is left of the
Council. An emissary from New Jerusalem has presented a formal
proposal. Their Tribunal has unanimously voted to merge with us. One
Council, one colony, with two settlements. For us to accept such an
extraordinary change we need a unanimous vote as well. Before you
leave this room the four of us will vote to accept the proposal."

"Impossible!
You cannot ignore the other Council members."

"We
have police out looking for them, interviewing those present at the
docks when that ice sloop mysteriously departed. An interesting
question, Lucas, is whether you really want us to find them. Before
they could participate again on the Council they would have to answer
some very inconvenient questions. About what happened to their
predecessors in the guilds. About how Captain Fletcher and a
committee in St. Gabriel directed their votes. About how you and they
were always voting together. About the murders of Jonah Beck, Micah
Hastings, Officer Jansen, and two former guild masters. By the time
we finished we would need a new wing on the prison.