hurriedly removed Doctor Ellington from his shoulder and dumped him on deck. The cat stalked out into the passageway. Stephano could see yellow eyes gleaming in the shadows. Dag, with some effort, managed to lower himself to his knees. He clasped his hands and bowed his head.
Stephano was the only one still on his feet, and he had the feeling Father Jacob knew it, though the priest had his back turned and his head bowed. Stephano joined the cat in the shadows of the corridor. He and God were on speaking terms, but Stephano was not yet ready to kneel to Him or anyone. He did bow his head and, in his heart, he joined in the prayer. Father Jacob spoke in the Trundler language, of which Stephano knew only a smattering. He couldn’t understand the words, but he could hear in the priest’s rich, mellifluous voice his compassion, his steadfast faith.
Stephano did not know what to make of the enigmatic Father Jacob.
The prayer ended. Miri rose to her feet, wiping her eyes and unwittingly smearing gunpowder residue across her face.
“Thank you, Papa,” she said, resting her hand on his arm. He put his arm around her shoulders and spoke a few soft words to her. She smiled and went to sit on the floor beside Brother Barnaby. Father Jacob assisted Dag to his feet. The big man’s face was flushed; he didn’t seem to know where to look.
“Thank you, Father,” he mumbled.
“Let us leave them,” Father Jacob said, herding Dag out into the narrow passageway where they encountered Stephano and the Doctor. The cat hissed at the priest. Dag made a grab for the cat. He missed. Doctor Ellington dashed into the cabin where Brother Barnaby was still playing Cat’s Cradle with Gythe, each of them taking turns forming the yarn into various configurations.
The cat ran to Gythe and, lifting his paw, began batting at the yarn. Brother Barnaby reached out to pet the Doctor, who arched his back beneath the monk’s touch and purred loudly.
“I’m sorry, Father,” said Dag, flushing even more deeply. “The Doctor’s making a nuisance of himself. I’ll fetch him-”
“The cat is trying in his own way to help her,” said Father Jacob, halting Dag. “Never discount love, no matter how small the heart that offers it.”
Miri accompanied them into the passageway.
“Papa, you look ill and tired. Don’t return to the abbey. You must spend the night with us.”
“Thank you, my dear,” said Father Jacob. “But I must report back. If not, Sir Ander will be certain to come looking for me.”
“We will see you tomorrow?” Miri asked.
“Oh, yes,” Father Jacob replied cheerfully. “You’ll be seeing a good deal of me.”
Stephano didn’t like the sound of that. Miri went to her sister and Brother Barnaby. Stephano and Dag escorted the priest to the top deck. The sun was sinking into the twisting coils of the Breath. The twilight was murky, unsettled. Wind gusts rose unexpectedly, singing in the rigging with a mournful sound that echoed Gythe.
The Suspicion was gone. The captain and crew of the sunken vessel were straggling up the hill to the abbey, carrying their wounded with them on litters. Rodrigo leaned on the rail, gazing down into the swirling mists that had swallowed up the ship. He looked up, saw Father Jacob, and looked away.
“If you please, Monsieur de Villeneuve,” said Father Jacob. “I am going to be returning to my yacht. I would appreciate it if you would walk with me.”
Rodrigo cast Stephano an alarmed glance.
“He can’t help you, I’m afraid,” said Father Jacob.
“I’ll just go… fetch my cloak,” Rodrigo said faintly.
Stephano, looking out into the inky sky, saw one of the two dragon brothers circling above the cathedral spires. “Do you think the demons will be back tonight, Father?” Stephano asked quietly.
“At a guess, I would say no,” said Father Jacob. “They found what they came for. Or rather, they didn’t find it, but they no longer believe it is here.”
“I don’t understand,” said Stephano.
“You’re not meant to,” said Father Jacob. “Just in case, you should move your boat near the abbey walls, close to Retribution. And your proximity to my yacht will save us time in the morning.”
“Time for what?” Stephano asked suspiciously. “Time to put us under Seal? I have important work to do in Westfirth. I give you my word of honor, Father, that none of us will say anything-”
“I accept your word, Captain,” said Father Jacob gravely. “You are Sir Ander’s godson. No more need be said on the subject. And, that reminds me, I have been remiss in offering you my sincere thanks. You saved the day, Captain de Guichen. You and our friends, Hroalfrig and Droalfrig.”
Stephano brushed aside the praise. “So we can sail to Westfirth?”
“You can sail, Captain, if you will permit us to accompany you,” said Father Jacob. “The Retribution needs extensive repairs. Master Albert says that the yacht can be taken under tow to the shipyards at Westfirth. I was thinking the Cloud Hopper could handle that job. The journey requires only a few hours, as I understand it.”
Stephano was not certain he wanted to spend even a few hours with Father Jacob. He needed to reach Westfirth, however, to pursue the hunt for information regarding the kidnapped journeyman, Alcazar-almost forgotten in the dramatic events of the past few days.
“Brother Barnaby can remain with Mistress Gythe,” Father Jacob continued. “I think that would be wise. The two have been through similar experiences. The demons spoke to him, as well.”
“You think the demons spoke to Gythe?” Stephano asked, astonished.
Father Jacob sighed and gave a grave nod. “I believe they did. They spoke to me. I didn’t answer, but I think she did.”
Stephano was doubtful, incredulous.
“You said the demon commander came for her, Captain,” Father Jacob explained. “Even though she was down below, locked in her cabin, the demon still found her. He was guided by her voice, as it were.”
“I will have to speak to Miri about towing the yacht,” said Stephano, troubled. “The Cloud Hopper is her boat. But I am certain she will be more than happy to assist you.”
“Excellent!” said Father Jacob. “I trust I will have the pleasure of seeing you and your friends later this evening after you’ve moved the boat. And now, Monsieur de Villeneuve, I await your convenience.”
Rodrigo pressed Stephano’s hand. “You will think of me from time to time, my friend, as I sit chained to the wall in some forgotten oubliette…”
“By far the best place for you,” Stephano said firmly. “If you say a word to him about Alcazar, I’ll chain you up myself.”
Rodrigo reached inside his coat. “I almost forgot. I found this. Dag says it’s a demonic grenade.” He held out the brass plate with the diamond to Stephano, who regarded it with disgust and made no move to touch it. “He says this is what the demons used to shoot off their green fire-”
Father Jacob swooped in with a flurry of black, plucked the brass plate from Rodrigo’s hand, and tucked it into the bosom of his cassock. The priest’s movements were so fast that Rodrigo stood staring blankly at his empty palm.
“A remarkable find, Monsieur,” said Father Jacob. He slapped Rodrigo on the shoulder. “Perhaps I won’t have you burned at the stake as a heretic after all.”
“He’s jesting, isn’t he?” Rodrigo asked nervously, looking back at Stephano over his shoulder. Stephano only waved and Rodrigo turned to the priest, “You’re jesting, Father, right?”
Dag sailed the Cloud Hopper to the abbey, landing the houseboat on the ground close to Retribution. Dinner was a somber affair and didn’t last long. Brother Paul insisted that he was well enough to go minister to the captain and crew of the sunken ship, who had taken refuge in the one stable that had not been burned. Father Jacob warned everyone to keep out of the cathedral, due to the extensive damage.
Droalfrig had flown off, at Father Jacob’s request, carrying urgent dispatches to the Arcanum. Hroalfrig’s wound was healing well. The dragon had offered to stay at the abbey, assist in its defense and make certain the sailors under Seal did not try to leave.
“The Arcanum will send a fast ship to pick up the survivors from the Suspicion and Brother Paul and take them to the Citadel for their own protection,” Sir Ander told Stephano. “Don’t worry. They will be treated well. They won’t be thrown into an oubliette.”
