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  He examined the inscription, trying to determine if it was in his father’s hand. His handwriting was rowdy, scrawling, nearly unreadable. But this was printed. So it could have been him, being careful to make it legible.

  But it couldn’t have been him. He’d died that same day.

  Unless he’d written it there beforehand. Had he had a premonition that he was going to die? Had he wanted to lay the groundwork for a meeting after death?

  Or was it some kind of a trick?

  Ash would have to go. He knew he had to go—either to meet up with his father or confront his killers. But it would have to wait until this mission was done. He couldn’t risk letting his sister down again.

  Slowly, he closed the book and shoved it back into his sea bag.

  Later that day, after dinner, Ash made his way aft, descending the midship ladder to the gun deck, then continuing on to the officers’ quarters in the stern. Hadley had made this space available to Ash’s hand-picked band for private discussions. The rest of the crew was housed on the berth deck below.

  Ash could hear low voices when he reached the day cabin, but they stopped abruptly when he pushed the door open.

  It was Talbot, Finn, and Hadley, blinking at him like guilty co-conspirators.

  “Don’t mind me,” Ash said, taking the stool closest to the potbellied stove and extending his hands to warm them. “You were saying?”

  They all looked at one another. Hadley cleared her throat. “This isn’t working.”

  “What do you mean?” Ash said, though he had a guess.

  “It—it’s just that we think it’s a mistake to trust Strangward and his crew,” she said. “He’s already betrayed you once. Every third word is a lie. He’s been decimating our shipping for years. Who’s to say that he isn’t in league with the empress and this is an elaborate trap?”

  “Didn’t Julianna say that was unlikely, based on what she was hearing from her eyes and ears?” Ash said. “All reports suggest that Evan and Celestine are sworn enemies.”

  “Eyes and ears have their limits,” Finn said, brushing his fingers over his betrothal ring. “Julianna would be the first to admit that.”

  Julianna wasn’t there to admit that, or anything else. Although she’d been included in early planning, in the end she had elected to stay behind. With the queen in frail health, the realm needed a capable administrator to keep the engines of government going. Besides, as the queen’s niece, she was in the line of succession to the throne if their mission failed. The last thing Ash wanted was to hand the empress another weapon.

  “Isn’t it late to be having second thoughts?” Ash said, knowing he was now the outsider in this group of longtime friends. “If you all had a concern, you should have raised it earlier, before we sailed.”

  “That was before we saw what he can do,” Finn said. “I’m on third thoughts by now.”

  “It didn’t seem to bother you earlier, when you were talking about how impressive he is,” Ash said, blindsided by this about-face.

  “He is impressive,” Finn said. “That’s what worries me. He can take this ship wherever he wants to go.”

  “It doesn’t help that he’s up there in the rigging, where everyone can see him work,” Talbot said.

  “In all fairness, he can’t do that job from his cabin,” Ash said. “He has to be able to see where we’re going. Maybe he can leave off stormlord duty now that we’re in the open ocean.”

  Hadley snorted. “I can ask him to leave off, I can order him to leave off, but he’s not very good at following orders.”

  “Any minute, he could conjure up a storm, sink this ship, and drown us all,” Finn said.

  “At any moment, you, I, or Hadley could burn this ship to the waterline,” Ash said. “I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t do that because I’m not that good a swimmer.”

  His attempt to lighten the mood was met with grim faces.

  “I trust you,” Talbot said. “I don’t trust him.”

  “Look,” Ash said, “he’s a pirate without a ship. The last thing he’d want to do is sink this one.”

  “So we sail to Tarvos, he throws us in prison, and then he takes our ship,” Finn said.

  “That is a risk,” Ash said, wondering how the hell he’d gotten into the position of defending Strangward. “Before we left the Realms, didn’t we all agree that we would go by way of Tarvos, so that we can take a small crew and a smaller ship to Celesgarde?”

  Talbot scowled. “Those bloodsworn of his are—”

  “Stormborn,” Ash said.

  Talbot rolled her eyes, dismissing the distinction. “Whatever they are, they make my skin crawl. They look at him like they’re hungry and he’s supper.”

  “My crew is in a panic,” Hadley said. “They’re afraid they’ll end up the same way—as half-dead slaves to Strangward.”

  “They’ve lived with magic all their lives,” Ash said. “You’re a wizard. Why are they so skittish all of a sudden?”

  “Sailors are skittish,” Hadley said. “Even though they’ve been sailing with me for years, I still don’t show off a lot of wizardry when we’re at sea.”

  “Look,” Ash said, his irritation rising, partly because he shared some of their reservations. “I have more reason to distrust Strangward than any of you, but this was a forced choice. We need him if we’re to have any chance of finding Lyss.”

  “But . . . wouldn’t it make sense to go straight to Celesgarde with the crew we have?” Talbot said. “If Strangward really wants to help us, he’ll go along. The longer we delay, the more chance that—that something might happen to Lyss.”

  “I agree,” Finn said. “Why risk detouring to his stronghold? We have a ship, and now we know that we have a crew large enough to sail it, and we know where we’re going. You have the maps and charts, right, Hadley? Even if Strangward won’t cooperate, can’t you get us to the Northern Islands without a guide?”

  “Wellll,” Hadley said, shifting in her seat. “I’ve never sailed in those waters. Most of what I know is rumor and tales, and the maps and soundings I have are centuries old.”

  “Could it have changed that much?” Finn said. “Talbot, you’re bound to Lyss. If we get close, you could find her, couldn’t you?”

  Talbot looked uncomfortable at having that draped around her shoulders. “I’ll do my best, of course,” she said. “But I don’t know.”

  “What are you proposing?” Ash said, losing patience. “That we dump Strangward overboard?”

  “No,” Talbot said hastily. “Of course not. But this is our mission. He’s agreed to help us, but shouldn’t we be the ones to decide how to go about it?”

  I’m paying the price for being away so long, Ash thought. They’ve been fighting together for years. Why should they trust my judgment? Last they knew, I was a thirteen-year-old healer who ran away.

  “It’s Hadley’s call, as long as we’re aboard ship,” Ash said.

  “And yours once we make landfall,” Hadley said, as if throwing him a bone.

  “All right, then, we’re at sea,” Ash said. “What’s your decision, Captain?”

  “It’s risky either way,” Hadley said. “If we sail straight to Celesgarde in Sea Wolf, there’s a greater chance we’ll be spotted and recognized, but I would feel a lot more comfortable sailing Sea Wolf into a storm line with my crew than Strangward’s little ketch with his. If we make straight for Celesgarde, we avoid the risk of being double-crossed in Tarvos, and we get there faster, since there aren’t many ships that can beat the Wolf for speed.” She paused, as if waiting for Ash to pull rank on her. “So I say we bypass Tarvos and sail straight to Celesgarde.”

  “And I say that would be a mistake.”

  All eyes turned to the doorway. Evan Strangward stood there, leaning against the frame, one bare foot atop the other, the silver and blue streaks in his hair glittering in the lamplight.

  How long has he been listening? Ash thought. Long enough, he guessed.

&nbs
p; “I’m here because I want this mission to succeed,” Evan said. “That’s the only reason I’m here. I’ve been fighting Celestine since I was thirteen, so I know what I’m doing. You asked for my advice, and I gave it to you. You’d do well to follow it, if you want to get out of this alive.”

  “Is that a threat, pirate?” Hadley said, eyes narrowed.

  “The empress is the threat,” Evan said, “not me. But I make this promise—I will not be delivered into the empress’s hands, which is what will happen if you try to sail this ship into Celesgarde. If that’s your plan, just drop me off on the nearest point of land, and we’ll go our separate ways.”

  “So you can send word to the empress that we’re on our way?” Hadley shook her head. “I can’t risk it. Whether you help us or not, you stay for the entire mission.”

  “If I were truly working for the empress, I would keep my mouth shut and let you sail straight to Celesgarde,” Evan said, his voice trembling with anger. “That is exactly what she wants.”

  3

  THE DANCE BARBEAU

  Captain Charles Barbeau hurried through the familiar corridors leading to the king’s small council chamber, determined not to be late. As newly minted captain of King Jarat’s guard, this would be his first big appearance before the king’s council, the culmination of an investigation that had been going on for weeks. This would be his opportunity to exact revenge on the murderer of his friend Luc Granger in the streets of Ardenscourt.

  King Jarat had practically anointed Granger a saint for giving his life in defense of the empire. Charles was good with that. Maybe Granger had sometimes acted like he was better than him, but he’d given him a hand up when he needed it. Plus, now Charles had Luc’s old job, and so was now lord and master of the estates Granger had vacated. So he had nothing but good things to say about his late friend.

  Everything was riding on this meeting—his new status as a thane, his promotion, maybe his very life. He’d spent half the night practicing what he had to say before drinking himself into a deep sleep. Now he had a hangover, which didn’t help.

  Charles examined himself in the looking glass at the top of the stairs, straightening his uniform tunic. He’d paid a pretty price for custom-tailored blacks reflecting his new status. This is your day to shine, he thought, adjusting his sword belt.

  A brace of blackbirds was stationed outside the council chamber, collecting weapons. The table behind them was already cluttered with blades and amulets.

  Charles nodded approvingly at the guards and went to pass by, but one of them blocked his path.

  “All weapons are to be left outside of our council chambers,” the blackbird said. “His Majesty’s orders.”

  “I know that,” Charles snapped. “I cosigned the order. I don’t think the king meant to include—”

  “Everyone,” the blackbird said. “We’ll return them to you as you leave.”

  Charles reluctantly gave up his sword and dagger, a fine matched set left behind by a previous occupant of one of his new estates. Though he’d made sure to arrive early, most of the council members were already there. King Jarat sat at the head of the table, his hands scrabbling through a stack of papers. The young hawk looked to be suffering from a bad case of nerves, too. Maybe, like Charles, he was worried about the confrontation to come. In any event, the king had forgone his usual finery. He was clad in dung-colored velvet, his face pale and haggard. As Charles watched, Jarat refilled his cup from a decanter of wine.

  Charles recognized most of the others at the table: Father Fosnaught, principia of the Church of Malthus; Lord Botetort, one of the few old guard thanes who’d remained loyal.

  And, of course, General Karn. He was scowling, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. People said that he and his son, the spymaster, despised each other. From what Charles had seen, that was true. Every conversation between them was a series of verbal thrusts and parries.

  How would the general react to what Charles had to say?

  Both of the Karns were mages. Both of them were dangerous.

  There were only two empty seats. Charles prudently took the one farthest from the general.

  Blessedly, his fellow thanes and drinking companions Beauchamp and LaRue were there, too. Beauchamp gave him a nod of encouragement. LaRue only smirked. Neither had a clue what was about to happen. Charles liked being in the know. Still, he wished it was all over but the toasts.

  It didn’t help that it was already hot and stuffy in the room. Charles loosened his collar and debated whether to get up and throw open the shutters. In the end, he let them be.

  Everyone jumped as the door banged open, admitting Lieutenant Destin Karn. The spymaster was sleek in his usual King’s Guard black. He paused in the doorway, scanning the room. His flinty eyes rested momentarily on Charles, then moved on.

  Charles shivered, and his mouth went dry. The spymaster had to be younger than Charles. How did he get to be so intimidating?

  Charles glanced at General Karn, then poured himself some very early ale. Hair of the dog, and all that.

  “Here we are, finally,” King Jarat snapped. “Give us some privacy, please, Lieutenant.”

  The lieutenant walked around the room, murmuring charms. When he’d finished, the blackbirds collected his amulet, too, then left, closing the door behind them.

  King Jarat pointed to the one empty chair. “Sit, Lieutenant Karn,” he said. “I hope that you have brought us some intelligence regarding the recent attack on our city and the disappearance of our . . . guests.”

  The spymaster tented his fingers together and looked around the circle of councillors. He was as cold-blooded as any temple crow. “Any other requests before I begin?”

  Charles gulped down some ale. “I hope you can offer an explanation for how such a disaster could have happened right in our capital and in the presence of representatives from all over the empire.”

  The spymaster raised an eyebrow, as if this well-prepared speech was just a little over the top, but said nothing.

  “Perhaps we should offer a prayer for the safety of our beloved queen mother and Princess Madeleine,” Fosnaught suggested.

  Jarat waved that away. “Save that for the temple.”

  “Is this inquest really necessary, Your Majesty?” General Karn said, rubbing the back of his fleshy neck. “It’s obvious who’s behind the attack, and why. This likely means that the rebel forces will attack sooner rather than later. Instead of dithering, we should mobilize against them in order to choose the most advantageous battlefield.”

  “Your Majesty, I am all in favor of swagger and sword-brandishing where appropriate,” Lieutenant Karn said, his voice dry as dust. He kept his eyes on the king, never glancing at the general. His own father. “My job is to make sure that we choose the most appropriate target.”

  “General Karn, surely we can spare a few minutes to hear what the lieutenant has learned,” Jarat said. “Captain Barbeau, please join in when called upon.”

  Damned right, I will, Charles thought, first sitting back in his seat, then leaning forward, gripping the arms. Then sitting up straight.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” the spymaster said. “I’ll cut to the bone. As you know, our original theory was that the attack on our capital was engineered by the traitorous thanes, seeking to—ah—to secure their families before launching a military operation against us. We were wrong.” Young Karn paused, waiting until every eye was fixed on him. “All evidence suggests that the attack on our city was planned and executed by agents of the empress in the east.”

  A murmur of shock and disbelief rolled through the council. Fosnaught made the sign of Malthus and muttered, “Great saint, protect us.”

  “The empress in the east?” Botetort said. “As I recall, we sent her emissary packing.”

  General Karn’s eyes narrowed, but his posture didn’t change. “You mentioned evidence, Lieutenant?” he said, in a bored voice.

  “We believe that Emissary Strangward’s vis
it was for reconnaissance purposes,” the lieutenant said. “The story about searching for a magemarked girl was a ruse to gain access to the castle close and assess the feasibility of an attack on our capital. Apparently, in view of the security here, they decided that the north was an easier target.”

  “But if they’ve invaded the north, why would they return here and kidnap our women and children?” Beauchamp said.

  “Here I can only speculate,” Lieutenant Karn said. “Either they saw an opportunity and took it, or they are looking to the future. Once they subdue the north, they’ll come south. How better to soften us up than to encourage the thanes to march on the capital? How better to encourage the thanes than to remove the obstacle of the hostages?”

  This produced a satisfactory sucking in of breath.

  “The other possibility is that the empress is in collusion with the rebels.” The spymaster shook his head. “If so, they’ll find out how risky that is.”

  “We’ve still not heard anything that proves it was the empress and not the rebels,” the general said. “Why complicate things?”

  “Tell me, General, do the rebels have a navy?” Lieutenant Karn said, gazing up at the ceiling, as if the answer might be written there.

  “What does that have to do with—?”

  “If you’ll let me finish, you’ll find out,” the spymaster said. “What we do know is that the hostages—and, presumably, Queen Marina and Princess Madeleine—were taken out of the ballroom via the servants’ entrance, through the pantry, and into the street. After that, we lose track of them until they take ship from Southgate the next day.”

  “The next day!” Beauchamp shook his head. “How would nearly fifty women and children travel from Ardenscourt to Southgate in a day?”

  “How indeed?” Lieutenant Karn said. “Here’s the thing—my eyes and ears in Southgate have identified the ship as belonging to Empress Celestine.”

  Eyes widened all around.

  “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Botetort grumbled.