Princess at Sea (42 page)

The wind that had been clamoring in my head when Duncan
left was nearly gone. Whispering. Slumberous. Soothed into almost nothing by Jeck and Kavenlow's conversation. They were ignoring me, though I sat within fifteen feet of them. I didn't care. I had been arguing with them; I was lucky to be in the same room.

Jeck had taken my usual place beside Kavenlow as they pondered the chart spread atop the low table before the stone fireplace. It was lit more for the light than the warmth, and I curled up in my usual chair beside it, thinking how different everything was from just last night, when I had been shivering in the dirt. A wisp of worry went through me, and I hoped my sister and Alex weren't as miserable as I had been, but knew they probably were.

My gaze went to Jeck, his resonant voice catching my attention as he pointed down with a strong, sun-browned finger. I thought it odd that he and Kavenlow were working together as well as they were, their games meshing for the good of both of them, and a pang of jealousy flickered through me that Jeck was sitting where I usually would be, at Kavenlow's right.

“Here,” Jeck was saying, silently tapping. “If you bring men in from the water and hold here at this cove until we're ready, you'll remain undetected. I will bring men in from the land and take what they have ashore. You can then bring the water force around when I signal with smoke, and we will have them all.

Kavenlow's bearded face was empty of emotion. “I'm not taking the water force. You are.”

Eyebrows high at the resoluteness of Kavenlow's voice, Jeck leaned back and eyed him in question. “Why?” he asked flatly.

“I don't like the water,” Kavenlow said immediately, and I nodded, curling my feet up under me though I had been told not to more times than there were leaves on a linden tree. Kavenlow abhorred the water. I think it was because he believed his father had been a sailor and was afraid he might find him—though his father would be an old man by now.

“You take the water force,” Kavenlow said.

Jeck shook his head. “I'm going to have the men taking the area where the queen and Prince Alex are likely to be.”

I pulled my knees up to my chin and clasped my hands about my shins. It was an inexcusable breech of protocol, but it was late, and even the servants had been sent to bed. And I didn't care if Jeck thought I was an uncouth woman with no manners. But he probably thought that anyway, after seeing me barefoot and tied to a mast, doused with oil and dripping, standing on a beach in my underthings . . . The list was endless.

“One of us needs to be in charge of the boats,” Kavenlow said, not noticing my feet on the cushion though Jeck did.

“You do it,” he said, as his eyes slid from me. “You're the master of the seas.”

Kavenlow bristled. “Fine. I'll get a second guard detail to do it.”

“If you think that adequate.”

“I don't think it adequate, but seeing as you won't do it—”

“That's right. I won't.”

They sounded like a married couple bickering, and I dropped my cheek to my knees to watch the fire. I was beginning to realize why two players working together was such a rare phenomenon.

“If you're so bent on it, I'll take the water,” Kavenlow said with a poor grace.

“Good,” he said, his annoyance tempered with a shade of satisfaction. “I'll take the wagon and put my men on it in hiding.”

My head came up as unease pulled me straight. “Are you sure there will be enough room for them with the money and spice already on it?”

Jeck glanced at Kavenlow and away. Muscles bunching under his clean Misdev uniform, he stood and went to tend the fire. My eyes narrowed. Pulse quickening, I focused on my teacher.

“Captain Jeck will have the wagon,” Kavenlow said, and my shoulders tightened at what he was not saying. “And I will take the water force. It will be close as it is, finding the best available men from those who are here and getting them into position without their being spotted.”

“We're going to put money on that wagon, not men,” I said, fear pulling me to the front of my chair and my feet to the floor. “I promised Duncan there would be money on the wagon.”

Jeck poked the fire, his back hunched. Kavenlow stood. Drawing me to my feet, he took my hands and pulled me a short distance away to the dais, my skirts rustling in the absolute quiet broken only by the snapping of the fire. His eyes were pinched in what I recognized as heartache. “Tess,” he began, and I pulled my hands from his.

“She's my sister, and there will be money on the wagon,” I said, louder. My pulse rose, and I felt the tingle of venom rising. I took a slow breath, willing myself calm.

Kavenlow pressed his lips together to make his mustache bunch. “Contessa and Alex have forbidden it, but more importantly, it's my game, and there will be men, not money.”

I looked to the floor, not seeing the bright-colored tile through the darkness. The venom made me feel ill, unreal. I wanted to shout at him, to rail against him, but if I did, the wind in my head would break free. Even worse, he would send me to my room, disgraced.

Forcing my fear down, I whispered, “You know they'll kill Duncan if something goes wrong. If you don't get there in time, they'll know he betrayed them.”

“I'm sorry, Tess. He knew the risk. He went back willingly.”

“He went back because if he didn't, they would murder both of them!” I pleaded. “Did you coerce him? Did you use your magic to sway him?” I asked, ready to be angry, but he shook his head and ran a hand down his graying beard.

“No. It wouldn't have been right.”

I glanced at Jeck, wanting to ask him the same thing, but I knew in my heart Duncan had willingly taken this risk. He had done it because I had promised the ransom would be on that wagon. “I have to sit down,” I said breathily, my mind whirling as I returned to my couch.

“I'm sorry,” Kavenlow was saying, his voice sounding hollow. “We will do all we can.”

“But you won't put money on that wagon.” The back of my knees hit a cushion, and I instinctively sat. I could see a corner of the flames past Jeck. The fire leapt and I watched, too numb to look away.

Slowly it began to take on meaning, making my heart sink to my belly. Duncan was going to die because he believed my promise. I couldn't argue with Kavenlow, and I knew I couldn't convince Jeck to side with me. Duncan was going to die. Because of me. I wouldn't let it happen.

Cold despite the fire, I watched the two master players return to brooding over the chart, arguing over who got how many men and how they should get past the city walls under the notice of the pirate ship still at anchor in the harbor. They'd argue until the sun came up and it was too late to do anything.

My stomach clenched, and I felt a sweat break out over me. I was going to take that wagon out, and it was going to have the ransom on it. Duncan's life depended on it. If I couldn't convince them with my words, by God, I'd do it by magic.

I listened to my breath slip in and out of me as I steadied myself, wondering if I could. Manipulating memories was a master's skill. Kavenlow hadn't even tried teaching me yet. But as Jeck said, I had been doing master twists of magic since being bitten. It would be the only good thing to come of it if I could.

Kavenlow was murmuring something, and I focused on him.
Forgive me, Kavenlow,
I thought. But I could see no other way.

I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of the fire on my face. Fingers tingling, I willed more venom into me, increasing my pulse and quickening my breath. I stifled a gasp when a rush of power flooded me. For a moment, I sat and did nothing, hoping neither of them looked up as I panted, trying to get ahold of it. I had no idea the strength that was at my thoughts to wield had been this strong. Pushing aside my fear, I reminded myself that it was to save Duncan's life.

Kavenlow,
I thought, closing my eyes so I could find his presence in my mind easier. My chin trembled when I sensed his bird-quick thoughts, silver against the closed blackness of his character. It had to be him, as I sensed a great concern.

Aloud and in my head came Jeck's voice saying, “No, ten. More than that, and they'll be noticed.”

My lips moved, and I realized I'd found Jeck's thoughts. My surprise melted into understanding; I had spent all winter practicing finding him by tracing his emotions through the palace. Of course I would find him first.

“Ten isn't enough,” Kavenlow said, sounding peeved and jolting me from my thoughts. “You said there were at least forty men on that boat.”

“And at least six of them will still
be
on the boat,” Jeck said, and I found myself mouthing the words again. I had to find them both. I had to do this simultaneously, or it wouldn't work. Dizzy, I willed more venom into me, and Jeck's emotions came out of the blackness of my mind like a slap. My breath caught, and I held it for a second, then started breathing in time with him. He was irritated, wanting to act now, not waste more time on this old-man planning of movements. I knew the feeling.

“That leaves thirty-four men on land,” Jeck said, not a hint of his bother showing in his voice, and I wondered how much was going on under his closed demeanor that I continually missed. “Ten men plus me will do it,” he added. “Four if I use venom. They stole mine. I'll need some of yours.”

“I'm not giving you any of my toxin,” Kavenlow said, sounding insulted. “I cannot believe you asked.”

Confidence joined Jeck's annoyance. “You need more men than we have to take the boat successfully as it is. Don't get your nets in a knot; I'll replace your toxin, old man.”

The last had been a dark mutter, and Kavenlow sighed. Leaving a breath of my awareness in Jeck, I sought out Kavenlow. I floundered, his higher tolerance to venom making him harder to find. But it was his voice—ever familiar, ever the sound of security—that led me to him.

“Four men,” I heard Kavenlow say, and I followed the echo of it in my head to fasten on to his thoughts. They flowed like gray silk amid the black, almost unseen, like smoke. “That's rather bold of you,” he added. My hand rose to my chin, and the soft feeling of his beard rose through my tingling fingertips. I had them both.

Guilt tightened through me, though I hadn't done anything yet. It wasn't like reading their minds. More like standing too close and whispering into their ears, eavesdropping on their thoughts an instant before they had them.

A wash of bother flooded me, an emotion not mine. “I kill men for my bread and butter,” Jeck's voice echoed in my ears and head, frightening the wind into a gibbering silence. “You do books. I only need four, and most of them will be for show.”

Kavenlow's sour tone mixed with it, making me ill. “Four men with my toxin. Fine. But they won't be my best men.”

“I don't care. I'll be the one doing most of it.”

I waited for the opportunity to make a suggestion to put the ransom on the wagon as a precaution for not finding my sister and Alex where they thought they were. Four men would leave room for money. Why not put it on the wagon with the men just in case?

My hands were clenched in my lap as I tried to keep my own heartsick emotions to myself lest they pick them up. I knew this was wrong, but I had to do it.

“There aren't many men to choose from,” Kavenlow said. I heard a rustle of paper, and his mood sifting through mine turned glum. “All but a few of my best are out ranging for them. We can't wait for their return. We need to move the land force at least within the hour so we can remain under the cloak of darkness.”

There it is,
I thought, clamping down on my excitement. It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but I didn't trust myself to remain undetected much longer. Getting them to put money on that wagon instead of men was going to be impossible, but if I could put off their attack for half a day, I could take the wagon of money in the morning, get my sister and Alex, and be back in the palace as they were starting to move. Once the pirates had their money, Duncan would be safe. He could slip away when the pirates were celebrating. Alex, Contessa, and I could be back in the palace before Kavenlow had sailed from the harbor and Jeck had left the city.

An hour?
I thought more firmly, focusing on the pattern of Jeck's thoughts, melding my will with his until he whispered the words in tandem with me. Confusion flashed through Jeck, and I suggested it was because of what Kavenlow had said. Still he hesitated, and I almost passed out from the venom I drew upon.
It's sundown they want the wagon to pass the gates. Sundown, not sunup.
I imagined the cool breath of the hour, the red angle of the sun, the sound of leather creaking, and the smell of horse.
It's sundown. The fool of a chancellor wants to move too quickly. It would alert the pirates that not all was as it seemed.

“An hour?” Jeck said hesitantly, and my heart pounded. My eyes almost flew open, and I forced them shut. “It takes only five hours to get to that river by way of boat or horse. Moving sooner will alert them of what we're doing.”

The small sounds of Kavenlow rustling in the paper ceased. I could almost see his questioning look, the firelight glinting on his eyes as he peered at Jeck in disbelief. I turned my thoughts more fully upon the gray silk of him. My eyes warmed under my closed lids. Betrayal rose high in me, making my chest hurt. This was wrong. So wrong.

“Noon?” my teacher said.

I scrambled to find Kavenlow, but his venom-rich mind slipped from mine. My dread began to overshadow his confusion. I was losing him. He was too strong.

“They wanted the wagon to come out at sunset,” Jeck said, sounding suddenly unsure. His doubt joined Kavenlow's, making my fear double, mixing with their emotions in a chaotic slurry that left me reeling and my head pounding. “That way we can bring whatever men out in the morning crush and the pirates would be none the wiser,” Jeck finished.