Vengeance of Dragons (Secret Texts) (5 page)
BOOK: Vengeance of Dragons (Secret Texts)
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She heard him swallow. “As you wish. The one who appeared oldest to the witnesses wore his hair short—the doxy recalled him as well. Said that she thought he was balding, and had shaved his head to make the fact less obvious. He apparently was rude to her, telling her he had no interest in women of her sort. Another was remarkably pale, and had, two male witnesses said, a face like a moon. He was apparently adept with fortuna—won a great deal of money from them before he finally left the tavern. And the last no one recalled until I asked if they were sure there weren’t five men together instead of four. Then various witness recalled a fifth man who had occupied a chair at the same table.”
“That would have been Jaim,” Imogene said. “He has the most remarkable ability to be unremarkable. It’s a gift.”
“It would be,” the Finder agreed.
“Well, then.” She rubbed the silk hem of her tunic between her fingers, a nervous habit she’d acquired since she lost the last of her sight. She considered her options. “You’ve found them. I have no doubts of that. So what became of them? Where are they now?”
“The men who lost so much money followed them to the harbor, where the five men boarded a ship. No one recalled the name of the ship. So I checked the harbor records. Several ships sailed that night—the tides and winds were favorable. None would seem to be the ship they sailed in, for each listed a cargo and a destination, and none noted passengers, but one, the
Wind Treasure,
claimed to be sailing for the colonies with a cargo of fruit and wood. The log was signed out by one C. Pethelley. Merchant Registry lists no Pethelleys, Sea-Captains’ Registry lists two Pethelleys living but both are accounted for, and the
Wind Treasure
had never received a cargo, and never arrived in the colonies. It is a Sabir registry, a secondary ship that had been in dry dock for repairs, had just been returned to the water and recrewed, but was well-known to have had empty holds. I still cannot prove a connection between your son and his friends and this ship, but every other deep-sea vessel that sailed that night—and for the next week, in fact—I can account for. They went where they said they were going, and did what they said they would do.”
Wind Treasure,
claimed to be sailing for the colonies with a cargo of fruit and wood. The log was signed out by one C. Pethelley. Merchant Registry lists no Pethelleys, Sea-Captains’ Registry lists two Pethelleys living but both are accounted for, and the
Wind Treasure
had never received a cargo, and never arrived in the colonies. It is a Sabir registry, a secondary ship that had been in dry dock for repairs, had just been returned to the water and recrewed, but was well-known to have had empty holds. I still cannot prove a connection between your son and his friends and this ship, but every other deep-sea vessel that sailed that night—and for the next week, in fact—I can account for. They went where they said they were going, and did what they said they would do.”
Imogene snorted. “Oh, I doubt you can account for
every
ship. Piracy being what it is in these waters, I would expect there are dozens of ships he and his friends
could
have left on. So, tell me. Where did they go?”
every
ship. Piracy being what it is in these waters, I would expect there are dozens of ships he and his friends
could
have left on. So, tell me. Where did they go?”
“I don’t know. The
Wind Treasure
has not signed in to any harbor whose records I could obtain. I’m waiting to hear from Kander Colony, Finder’s Folly, and the settlement in the Sabirene Isthmus, but I don’t expect the results will be positive. All I can tell you for sure is where they aren’t.”
Wind Treasure
has not signed in to any harbor whose records I could obtain. I’m waiting to hear from Kander Colony, Finder’s Folly, and the settlement in the Sabirene Isthmus, but I don’t expect the results will be positive. All I can tell you for sure is where they aren’t.”
“I see. You can’t tell me what I most wish to know.” She let him fidget for a long moment, considering possible outcomes for her displeasure. At last she said, “Still, you’ve been laudably thorough.”
The Finder exhaled softly. “Then you’re satisfied?”
She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I’m
convinced.
All I requested of you was that you bring me enough information to convince me. Satisfied . . . well . . . my satisfaction lies outside your influence.” She twisted the silk hem, imagining it as her son’s face, wanting to shred it. “Do go. I need to be alone to think. My secretary will pay you before you leave.”
convinced.
All I requested of you was that you bring me enough information to convince me. Satisfied . . . well . . . my satisfaction lies outside your influence.” She twisted the silk hem, imagining it as her son’s face, wanting to shred it. “Do go. I need to be alone to think. My secretary will pay you before you leave.”
“Will you be needing anything else?”
“If I do,” Imogene said softly, “I know where to find you.” She made sure that sounded like the threat it was.
Finder Malloren scuttled from her study like a bug whose rock had been lifted away, exposing him to the light.
Imogene waited until she felt him leave the House, a matter of only a few moments. She stayed cautious around Finders—men and women who collected information for a living could collect it for many buyers, and Imogene knew Calimekka was full of enemies who would pay well for anything that could weaken or destroy her.
Once she heard the outer door close, though, she rang the bell that summoned her secretary.
When he entered the room, she said, “Porth, I’m going to require a talented assassin. The best you can locate. Not one already contracted to the Family, however. I want an independent.”
Porth waited, saying nothing.
“I have a bit of punishment to exact.” The Sabir paraglese—for the first time in two hundred years—had removed the Wolves’ right of self-governance by naming Crispin head of the Wolves and creating assistant positions for Anwyn and Andrew. This elevation of the Hellspawn Trinity to power over Imogene she could attribute directly to her son Ry’s actions. Because of him, she was shut off in a marginal corner of the House and relegated to near-powerlessness in the affairs of the Family. Now she found his friends far from being the heroes she’d believed them to be—heroes who’d died for the Sabirs at Galweigh House, as Ry had claimed on the day he was “killed”—his best friends had aped his lies and betrayals. They had abetted him in fleeing the city and her orders. “Ry and his five dearest friends have been having a joke. At my expense.”
“They are alive, then?”
“All
six
of them are very much alive. And apparently very much out of my reach.”
six
of them are very much alive. And apparently very much out of my reach.”
“But you know where they went? You’re sending the assassin after them?”
“Not at all. For now, at least, I cannot touch them. But they have thoughtfully left their relatives behind, and put me in a position where I have come to know them. After all, as family of these ‘heroes,’ I have given them every courtesy.”
Imogene chuckled, and felt her secretary shudder.
“Then the assassin . . .”
“I want to play a little game. I want this assassin to kill off Ry’s friends’ families, person by person, in creative ways. Let’s see how many of them we can annihilate before the boys get back home. Don’t you think that will be amusing?”
Porth said nothing.
Imogene let the silence run for a while, then said, “Porth?”
“Yes, Parata. Amusing.”
He didn’t sound amused at all. Poor Porth—he lied so badly.
5
T
he water simultaneously weighed her down and buoyed her up as she slipped through a world marked by shifting, fluid light. Water flowed in through her mouth and out through the sides of her neck, and though something about that seemed wrong, she didn’t know what it was. She heard the pounding of the tide in her bones and felt the movement of prey through her skin, as if her entire body had become her eyes. Pain lay behind her; ahead of her lay uncertainty. In her present, she knew only hunger, a hunger so immense that it devoured her. She knew she was more than appetite, but she could not reach the part of her that insisted this. She knew that breathing water was somehow wrong, but she didn’t know how she knew, and for the moment she didn’t care.
he water simultaneously weighed her down and buoyed her up as she slipped through a world marked by shifting, fluid light. Water flowed in through her mouth and out through the sides of her neck, and though something about that seemed wrong, she didn’t know what it was. She heard the pounding of the tide in her bones and felt the movement of prey through her skin, as if her entire body had become her eyes. Pain lay behind her; ahead of her lay uncertainty. In her present, she knew only hunger, a hunger so immense that it devoured her. She knew she was more than appetite, but she could not reach the part of her that insisted this. She knew that breathing water was somehow wrong, but she didn’t know how she knew, and for the moment she didn’t care.
She rolled, shifting fins to arch her body around, and caught sight of a cloud of silver shimmering before her. With a flick of her tail she was gliding toward it, hardly disturbing the water through which she moved. She slammed into the center of the cloud and devoured a dozen of the fish before the school erupted, then followed the largest group that broke away, pushing after it with three hard thrusts of her tail, conserving energy. She hunted, and fed. When the school of silver fish scattered beyond convenient reach, she moved into a smaller school of large red and yellow ones, and then another, and another sort of fish. She avoided anything that created a bigger pressure line while moving than she did, and when she tasted blood in the water, she stayed away.
She refused to question her existence, avoiding her mind’s nagging insistence that she was not what she seemed to be. She fed, because she had been weak and damaged and near death; and as she fed, she grew stronger.
And when she was strong enough, her mind forced her body to acknowledge its presence. It named her to herself, and with remembrance of her name came the flood of other memories.
She was Kait.
She had friends who would need her help.
She had a task she had to accomplish.
And trouble was coming.
Shifted into human form, exhausted, waterlogged, naked, freezing, and with her senses dulled and slowed, Kait dragged herself back to the camp. She could not guess how long she had been gone, and she could only hope that she would find her friends alive when she returned. The burned wasteland through which she’d come had been nothing but a sodden stew of ash, with the ruins of the Ancients’ city suddenly standing as clear and obvious as if they’d been abandoned only the day before.
In that sea of ash, the perfect circle of ground that Hasmal had been able to protect from the spellfire stood like a vision of Paranne: heavy with evergreens, laced with the fine sculptures of deciduous trees picked out in black against the gray winter sky, carpeted with leaves that still retained some of their autumn color and that lay like gemstones carelessly tossed upon the ground. The castaways’ camp lay within the center of that circle. Kait heard voices inside the ruin they used as their base. She also smelled decay and death. She knew that when she stepped into the shelter, she was going to get bad news, but her nose refused to tell her how bad it could be. Post-Shift depression, post-Shift dullness.
She went in.
Her bad news greeted her by the door. Turben lay to the right in the first room, his body pulled under the intact portion of the roof. She knelt at his side and touched him. His corpse was cold and rigid. He’d been dead for a while.
A soft groan from the back room caught her attention next, and she hurried in. Ian and Hasmal crouched at either side of Jayti’s bedroll. Jayti twisted and groaned again.
“Not Jayti,” she whispered. She’d come to admire the crewman, who had impressed her with his loyalty, his common sense, and his courage. “What happened?”
Jayti looked at her with pain-fogged eyes, and managed a smile. “You’re back,” he said. “Gives me hope that the captain’s prayers for me will be heard, too.”
“Kait!” Hasmal shouted. “You’re alive!”
Ian leaped to his feet and ran over to her. He picked her up and swung her around, holding her close, unmindful of her nakedness. He kissed her passionately, then pressed his cheek to hers. “Ah, Kait,” he whispered. “I thought I’d lost you.” He pushed her back from him briefly, studied her, then pulled her into his arms again. “You’re nothing but bones, girl,” he said. And then, when he let her go, “How’d you get through it? And where have you been? I . . . we . . . I gave up on you yesterday.”
“How long have I been gone?”
Hasmal had been digging through her bags; he handed her spare breeches and tunic to her as he said, “Three days, two nights.”
“That long?” She frowned, surprised that she’d stayed in Shift longer than a day. “I was . . . under the water. Lost.” She tugged on the clothing. “Lost inside my head. I was in the bay, but I’d forgotten who I was. I jumped into the stream to get away from those . . . the beasts, and to escape the spellfire. I remember that well enough. And after I went over the waterfall, I just barely remember hitting those boulders at the bottom. And then I don’t remember anything else until this morning, when I suddenly recalled my name and remembered that I wasn’t supposed to be a fish. Or whatever I was. My body Shifted me into a form that would let me heal and eat, and I guess that’s all I’ve been doing since I disappeared.”
They looked awed. “You can do that?”
“I’ve only done it one other time,” she said. “And that for less time than the passing of a single station. When I jumped into the bay in Maracada, the night I met you”—she looked at Ian—“I hit the water so hard it stunned me, and I nearly drowned. My body Shifted me then, too—partly. Left me human, but gave me gills so that I could breathe in the water. Until that happened, I didn’t know I could take any form but the four-legged one.”
Hasmal looked thoughtful. “To answer
your
question, Jayti walked past the corpse of the beast you disembowled after the spellfire stopped burning,” he said. “Except it wasn’t truly dead. It grabbed him by one leg, mangled the leg. We got him away from it and finally managed to kill it, but . . .”
your
question, Jayti walked past the corpse of the beast you disembowled after the spellfire stopped burning,” he said. “Except it wasn’t truly dead. It grabbed him by one leg, mangled the leg. We got him away from it and finally managed to kill it, but . . .”
“Hasmal took the leg off for me. Did a good job of it. I’ll be back t’ myself soon enough.” He said it, and he might have believed it, but Kait knew it wasn’t true. She smelled the stink of blood-rot—faintly, perhaps faintly enough that human noses couldn’t detect it. Jayti wasn’t going to get better. She looked quickly at Hasmal and saw the bleakness in his eyes. He knew, then.
Ian said, “Jayti will be helping us build our boat before you can blink.” The pain was in his eyes, too. They were keeping it from him, the fact of his impending death. Keeping it from him as long as they could.
She turned back to Jayti, and knelt by his side. She looked into his eyes, and willed him to fight off the blood sickness. “We need you,” she said in a voice pitched only for his ears. “Especially Ian. He’s lost his ship, his crew, everyone he thought he could count on except for you. Don’t let him lose you, too.”
Jayti, face gray and waxy, smiled a little, and in a voice even softer than hers, said, “I smell it. I know—but they’re happier thinking I don’t. So we play this game.” He patted her arm. “But even when I’m gone, the captain hasn’t lost everything. He still has you.”
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