The count stood quite at his ease on the pier. He gazed at the boats and their gaily colored balloons and the Trundlers going about their everyday business: hanging out laundry to dry, cooking, sweeping; all the while keeping a wary eye on the stranger in their midst. The count smiled at Stephano with the air of calm and cool self- confidence he’d displayed during the attempt on his life. Reaching up, he tipped his hat with a courtly gesture.
Stephano kept silent. The Cloud Hopper was not his boat. It was not his place to say who could come aboard or not.
“He can board,” said Miri. “We’ll see to him.”
“Shout if you need help,” said her uncle, as he took his leave.
Miri promised she would. The count came on board. He cast a glance at Dag, who stood stolidly on deck, his musket under his arm and Doctor Ellington on his shoulder. The count turned to Miri, standing on deck with Gythe at her side. The count’s eyes widened at the sight of Gythe, whose remarkable beauty tended to have that effect on most men. He spent a moment regarding her in silent admiration. Gythe did not notice; she never did notice men staring at her. Rodrigo saw, however, and he nudged Stephano.
“There’s hope for me!” he whispered. “Ask him about his lady friend.”
Stephano snorted and stepped forward. The count swept off his hat. He expressed his pleasure at meeting Miri and Gythe and thanked them for permitting him to come aboard.
“I have business with Captain de Guichen,” said the count, turning to Stephano with a bow. “Private business,” he added gently.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” said Miri. “Come along, Gythe. I need your help with the washing up. Try not to get yourself shot,” she added in a low voice, walking past Stephano. “I’m running out of herbs for my poultice.”
“Let us be grateful for small blessings,” said Rodrigo.
Miri and Gythe descended into the hold. Stephano knew quite well she had no intention of washing dishes. She and Gythe would both settle themselves on the stairs on other side of the hatch, where they could comfortably overhear the entire conversation. Stephano nodded at Dag, who stalked off to the bow, out of earshot, but within musket range. Stephano politely invited the count to sit down. Rodrigo brought up a chair and joined them, despite the fact that he had not been invited.
“You’re no count, are you,” Stephano said, as the stranger took a seat.
Rodrigo blinked. “What do you mean he’s not a count?”
“How very clever of you, Captain de Guichen,” said the stranger with that same cool and confident smile. “But then, the son of the Countess de Marjolaine would have inherited his mother’s brains.”
Stephano’s face froze as always when his mother’s name was mentioned.
“What is your name, sir?” he asked. “What do you want of me?”
The count reached into an inner pocket. Seeing Dag raise his musket, the count lifted a warding hand. He drew out a piece of paper, which he laid on the table.
“My name is Russo. Here are my credentials, Captain.” Monsieur Russo tapped the wax seal on the letter in an odd staccato rhythm, paused, then tapped it again. The seal was the King’s Rose, the official emblem of Alaric, King of Rosia. When the stranger tapped the seal, it began to magically change. The rose vanished and was replaced by a thorn, the emblem of a unit of elite undercover operatives tasked with protecting the king.
Stephano cast a glance at his friend.
“Is it genuine?”
“Quite genuine,” said Rodrigo. “The hand-tapping activates the magic. Monsieur Russo has to tap the seal in a certain way or the magic won’t work.”
“What does the Thorn want with me, Monsieur Russo?” Stephano asked.
“You and Monsieur de Villeneuve performed a valuable service to your king last night, Captain de Guichen,” said Russo, picking up the letter and returning it to his coat pocket. “I came to thank you.”
“I didn’t know I was helping the king,” said Stephano. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have.”
Monsieur Russo smiled. “Your mother told me you might be difficult.”
Stephano flushed in anger and rose to his feet. “If that is all you have to say, Monsieur…”
“You will be interested to know that I have in my care a certain missing journeyman,” said Russo.
Stephano shrugged. “Good for you. What has that to do with me?”
Monsieur Russo glanced around the boat, then said quietly, “Is the name Henry Wallace familiar to you?”
“I’ve heard of him,” said Stephano, shooting Rodrigo a warning look, ordering him to keep his mouth shut.
“Your mother told you about him, I assume.”
Stephano shook his head. “I’ve heard his name bandied about town.”
“I very much doubt that,” said Monsieur Russo with a dry chuckle. He grew serious, his face shadowed. “Henry Wallace is a dangerous foe. He is the man who kidnapped Alcazar. Two days ago, I managed to free Pietro Alcazar from Wallace’s clutches. Alcazar’s brother, Manuel, is a merchant seaman. We were to sail on his ship, the Silver Raven, last night. As we left the hotel, Wallace’s bully boys tried to grab Alcazar. You and Monsieur de Villeneuve thwarted that attempt.”
Rodrigo was bewildered. “Excuse me, sir, I don’t understand. We saved you and a lady-”
He stopped talking and stared, aghast. “No! Don’t tell me! That beautiful creature! I held her in my arms…” Rodrigo paused, then added, “I did think the dear girl weighed rather a lot…”
Dag, who wasn’t supposed to be listening, was seized with a violent fit of coughing. He turned his back to them, his shoulders shaking. Stephano ran his hand over his mouth and rubbed his chin to hide his grin.
Monsieur Russo frowned at them both. “This is not a matter for levity, gentlemen.”
“So you managed to escape from Wallace with our help,” said Stephano, regaining control of himself. “What happened? Why didn’t you leave Westfirth?”
“The closing of the port, of course,” said Russo impatiently, annoyed by the question. “You do know the port was closed, don’t you, Captain?”
Rodrigo was saying sadly, “I can’t believe it. The woman of my dreams is a man.”
At this, Stephano feared Dag was going to rupture something and he said hastily, “Just because the port is closed doesn’t mean you and Alcazar can’t leave Westfirth. You could travel overland to reach Evreux.”
“We could… if we were going to Evreux,” said Russo.
“Where are you taking Alcazar?”
“Somewhere safe,” said Russo evasively. “You do not need to concern yourself with our destination, Captain. The less you know, the better.”
“So how can I help you?” Stephano asked. “In case I am inclined to help you. Which at the moment, I’m not.”
“Alcazar is in a secure location being guarded by two of my agents.” Russo said, then shrugged. “Or at least I thought the location was secure. Last night, I caught sight of one of Wallace’s agents outside the house. This morning, I saw several more. We are surrounded. I need you to draw off Wallace’s men, while I take Alcazar to safety.”
“Where is Wallace?”
“I have no idea,” said Russo. “If I had to guess, I would say he is no longer in Westfirth. I received a report that an attempt was made on his life yesterday.”
Stephano exchanged glances with Rodrigo. This much of the man’s story was true.
“Then who is watching you?” Rodrigo asked.
“One of Wallace’s best men-a pudgy, nondescript little fellow. He goes by the name of Dubois. Do you know the name?” Russo asked casually.
“No, Monsieur,” said Stephano. “Should I?”
“I thought perhaps your mother might have mentioned him,” said Russo.
“My mother doesn’t tend to confide in me,” said Stephano dryly.
“You saw Dubois, though you probably didn’t notice him. He was in the cafe when you killed another of Wallace’s agents, a man named James Harrington. You knew him as Sir Richard Piefer-”
“Good God!” Stephano exclaimed, astonished. “I remember. The pudgy fellow I took for a clerk. He ran over to see if Harrington was dead.”
Stephano eyed Russo. “But if that was this Dubois, he told me I had ruined his chance of finding
