Queen of the Pirates (21 page)

Jessica felt her eyes grow bigger unconsciously.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Marcelle step forward and to one side, able to watch the newcomer and anyone approaching from behind. Paranoia on her part, but it let Jessica know she could concentrate on the woman before her and not worry about her flanks.

The two of them made a very good team that way.

Desianna smiled tightly, her eyes twinkling. She saw it as well.

“I had not expected…” Jessica trailed off whatever she was going to say.

“To find someone who knew the Republic so well? Here? Personally?”

“We are a long ways from those worlds, madam,” Jessica replied. “Perhaps, sometime soon, we could meet privately and discuss such things.”

And pick your brain about these men, to see if you had any axes to grind that I might find useful.

Jessica tried to imagine herself as a dilettante spy from a movie. It didn’t work.

But still,
Aquitaine
society was all about the small, intimate tea. These major events, these soirees, they always left her drained. Tonight, she would go back to her room and sit quietly in the darkness for at least an hour before she felt human again.

“That would be lovely, Command Centurion,” Desianna replied. “I look forward to it.”

“Indeed,” Jessica replied. “Now, how may I be of service, First Wife? Or should I call you Queen of the Pirates?”

“They have no queens,” Desianna said with a hint of storm cloud on her face. “Only a harem of wives, some of who may, occasionally, be allowed to have an opinion outside fashion, or sexual gymnastics.”

Oh ho. Yes, very much an axe to grind. Possibly a potential ally. Perhaps an agent provocateur. Still, an avenue to explore.

“Lady Indah, perhaps?” Jessica continued delicately.

The taller woman studied her with an even greater intensity than before.

Jessica could see her leap of faith, even before the woman spoke. She felt the same way.

Two strangers, possibly met on the road to Damascus. It was like the sun deciding to rise.

“Desianna,” she said simply.

“Desianna, please, call me Jessica. I will hope that you might be someone who can help me to better understand this world and the people.”

“Are you really here to make war?”

Jessica felt her eyes narrow and her mouth purse a shade.
Leap of faith?

“No,” she said, just as simply. “I wouldn’t have gone to the hassle of bringing
Warlock
and his people home if that was the case.
Sarmarsh IV
would have been their tomb.”

Desianna nodded minutely to herself.

Jessica could see some conclusion reached, but the woman would say no more.

“It has been lovely to make your acquaintance, potential sister–wife Keller,” she said suddenly. “I hope you will be able to call on me tomorrow afternoon for tea and we can get to know each other better.”

Jessica felt like the ground had shifted under her feet. Again. Still, she rolled with it, nodded politely, and smiled. “I look forward to it, First Wife.”

Desianna was gone in a swirl of fabric and lovely scent.

Marcelle suddenly shifted in that way she did when she was sizing someone up for a kick. Jessica glanced at her to make sure, and then turned to look the other way.

Jing Du, King Arnulf’s chancellor, in all the resplendent glory of his official red robes, approached, obviously full of his own self–importance.

“I trust you are enjoying yourself, Admiral Keller?” he purred as he moved up beside her. It was like watching an iceberg ooze along. Or a glacier. Almost as warm and friendly, for all the smile on his face.

Jessica nodded. “Indeed, Chancellor. It has been a most illuminating evening already.”

“Pity you could not partake of the food we have prepared.”

Oh, please. Eat something here, out of a random buffet, after someone tried to assassinate
Warlock
in broad daylight? Not bloody likely, pal.

“Unfortunately,” she replied with a sad smile. Ever the airhead.
Sell it well
. “Fleet regulations are very explicit about such things. Perhaps, with a bit of planning, I could entertain a small, intimate group of prominent locals such as yourself aboard
Auberon
sometime soon. Perhaps a dozen or so? Fly you all up for the evening? I have a truly fantastic head chef who lives to entertain lavishly and compose fantastically complex meals.”

If I would ever let him. Unlike dinner last night, which was shrimp in curry over rice, with leafy greens on the side and a glass of fruit juice.

Best not to mention that part. Chef Aoiki really was magic when she let him turn it loose. She just had far simpler tastes than that.
Maybe I should reward him by letting him go crazy some night soon. I’m sure they don’t deserve his best efforts, but I might. Especially after all these posturing fools.

Jessica smiled vacuously at the man.

He muttered something that sounded like, “Perhaps, m’lady,” as he nodded briefly to her and headed off.

Jessica smiled at his back as he left. She would consider this evening a double win. Frost the chancellor, and possibly meeting an ally.

That might make up for the noise.

Ξ

Desianna moved through the large chamber at a healthy pace. Not awkward or hurried, but obviously
Headed
Someplace Important
.

Here and there, she diverted her course long enough to chat as she made her way through the crowd, but paused only briefly until she came up to a young man, well–dressed in the latest pirate fashions.

On him, however, it worked. And looked good. She had made sure of that. Arnulf wasn’t going to live forever, regardless of what he thought. David, her first child, Arnulf’s oldest son, would be in line for the throne in any proper monarchy. Here, it also put an extra–large target on his back. One she had to work to protect.

And she did.

He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek as she stepped close. He had all of his father’s height, if not the muscular bulk that had made the man King of the Pirates. But he had gotten brains from both sides of the family, as well as charisma.

In any other place, she could see him making a very good king.

The old hidebound captains who ruled here would never allow it.

Not for the first time, she considered talking him into fleeing. She had contacts and relatives in
Aquitaine
, her own dirty secret. They could start over.

He would never accept her logic. At least not until it was too late.

She looked backwards over her shoulder at the crowd, seeing them as a mother bear eying a pack of weasels. Hungry, but still vermin.

She smiled and turned back to her son.

“Whatever plans you had tomorrow,” she whispered as she leaned close to kiss him on the ear, “you need to cancel and visit me immediately after lunch. No questions. Smile at all the people like I have just told you a particularly funny joke.”

She felt his hands turn hard for a second, gripping her upper arms tightly before he relaxed. His laugh even sounded almost natural.

“Of course,” he said as he kissed her on the forehead with a ready smile before he turned back to the group standing nearby.

Desianna smiled at them, kissed a few more young men, complimented a few wives’ outfits, and then made her way to a side door.

She paused there, turning back to examine the room. Arnulf was on his platform with Mei Fan, Wife Number Three, close by, still looking utterly gorgeous. Arnulf really did have a knack for finding beautiful women who aged slowly, something she still teased him about on the few nights she had him to herself.

Across the room, Mei Fan met her eyes suddenly with a harsh glare. The woman could be territorial about such things, insecure about her own place in the palace. Pity they could never be friends.

Elsewhere, that worm of a chancellor seemed intent on Keller from the corner where he was currently conspiring with Captain Zhao. Several other men circled them. Nobody she trusted. Few she liked. Many she would happily poison, given the opportunity.

When she felt no eyes upon her, Desianna slipped through a side door.

Things were coming to a head. It felt like clouds suddenly rushing upwards as the lightning was about to begin. She didn’t know what was next, but she trusted that she could ride it out. After all, she had successfully navigated the shoals of palace politics for more than a quarter of a century.

And now
Aquitaine
had arrived as well. Was that a beneficial outcome, or merely a respite before the storm?

Chapter XXVIII

Date of the Republic November 2, 393 City of Corynthe, Petron

Jessica walked down the clinic corridor past four of her own marines, plus two of the
King’s Own
, currently in a very polite pissing match about precedence and who was the bigger bad–ass.

Boys being boys.

Marcelle waited outside, with the boys. Probably would make them all look like pikers in seconds. She was good at that.

Inside,
Warlock
was awake, his eyes bright on her as she entered and closed the door.

He looked sallow, almost yellow, eyes bloodshot and tired even after a night of sleep.

“Apparently,” he said with a smile, “I’m not dead.”

Jessica cocked an eyebrow at him. “Is this your vision of what hell looks like,
Warlock
?”

He shrugged, painfully from the wince on his face, and then smiled. “Heaven, maybe.”

“Really?” Her voice dripped with utter sarcasm.

Warlock
grinned at her and tried to leer. The yellow hue to his cheeks ruined the effect. And she was in no mood to play nurse.

“Feel like answering some useful questions for a change?” Jessica inquired, hoping she could play on his weakness and emotional debts.

“Depends, Keller,” he replied, suddenly going all cagey on her. “What type of questions?”

She looked closely at him. Wounded on hip, forearm, and shoulder, plus the after–effect of the poison. Tired, weak, perhaps a touch angry, although at her for bothering him, or at himself for being bedridden, was a hard call. An active man like him couldn’t enjoy that level of disability.

“I met Desianna Indah–Rodriguez last night,” she began.

Warlock
smiled. “She worried you’ll supplant her as First Wife?”

“Not anymore,” Jessica replied. “I hope. We’re meeting later.”

The man pursed his lips, but remained silent.

“What kind of woman is she,
Warlock
?”

He was silent for several moments.

“Driven,” he said finally. “She’s been with Arnulf for nearly thirty years, protecting him, protecting the kids.” He thought for a moment. “Hard. Tough. Smart. Reminds me of someone.”

Jessica’s eyes threatened to roll back in her head. Flirtatious banter from a pirate was absolutely not on her menu this morning.

“She and Chancellor Du get along?”

“Nobody gets along with Jing Du,” Warlock replied. “He is simply a fact of life. Not a force of nature like Arnulf, but a quiet little schemer who makes things run.”

“He the one who tried to have you assassinated?”

“What do you mean, Keller?”

She had his interest now.

“
Hellhound
cleared it with Arnulf before he challenged you, Ishikura,” she said simply. “I presume that he felt he had some level of protection. Arnulf was so angry he warned the family off you, under penalty of exile, so it had to be someone else who would have given him that protection, if the fight had gone the other way.”

“Really?”
Warlock
got a thoughtful look on his face. “That would explain a lot.”

He started to say something else, but stopped himself.

“What?” Jessica asked, leaning closer. Not quite in his face, but hovering over him.

“It would…” he trailed off.

“Talk, Daneel.”

He looked up in surprise at her hard tone. She was tired of dancing with him. Either she got something useful, or she abandoned him, right here.

“One of the reasons I got sent to
Sarmarsh
originally was because of
Hellhound
’s brother.”

“I knew that already,” she sounded exasperated. She considered walking away right now.

“Willem was one of Du’s people. So was Rory.”

That stopped her.

Jessica’s tactical mind locked in and began spinning out scenarios and testing them, at a speed that probably would have frightened
Warlock
. She could see lines and tides, patterns she had remembered from the first audience, the fight, the meeting, the reception.

She also began filing names into dangerous players and bystanders likely to be collateral damage. At least she had something to work with now.

Like a rock dropped into a still pond, her arrival here had probably upset a number of carefully laid plans. Now, she just had to figure out how she could press the course of that river into something useful to herself,
Lincolnshire
, and
Aquitaine
.

A voice intruded from behind. Marcelle.

“Sir?” was all she said. The tone was enough to bring Jessica’s head around.

The door to the room was open. She could see Marcelle standing in the door, not quite barring someone else, but preventing them from coming further.

“What is it, Yeoman?” she said, careful to drop into the formal set of rules. Public behavior for the civilians. Someone was out there beyond the doctors they already knew. Someone interesting enough to make Marcelle get formal.

“Someone to see
Warlock
, sir,” Marcelle replied carefully. Neutrally.

That in itself said something about Marcelle’s opinion of the person.

“Show them in, please,” Jessica replied. Marcelle would come along. The six boys with guns outside could probably hold the door without her help. Probably.

“Aye.”

Marcelle escorted a tiny woman into the room.