“Dangerous, unpredictable. A complication we did not need.”
Don Hernan was surprised. He considered himself a good judge of character, but he knew Reed was better. The man was a “politician,” after all. “Well, then, if you’re sure…”
“I am.”
“… perhaps I shall order them killed as they return to their ship. I can easily arrange an attack on the Marine escort by the ‘disaffected mob.’ ” He chuckled. “Regrettably, the strangers would die in the scuffle.”
Reed shook his head, horrified. “No, Holiness! That won’t do at all! My spies have been badgering the crew of the iron steamer all day, and have learned little except that their Captain Reddy is a most formidable man. Simple street thugs would likely not succeed, and he might suspect the true motive for the attack and become remarkably vengeful! Apparently, he has a towering temper.” Reed paused. “Perhaps worse, Jenks and His Majesty would surely suspect, and they might well take precipitous steps.”
Don Hernan tugged at his sculpted chin whiskers. “Interesting. Very well. There will be no… covert assassins. You say Captain Reddy has a temper?”
“That is what I understand. I have begun to learn a few things that provoke it…”
“Excellent.” Don Hernan sipped the wine still before him on the table, then looked at Reed and smiled. “As you know, my first inclination has always been to destroy the enemies of God, but I can be patient when I sense opportunity. Perhaps the arrival of Jenks and these ‘Americans’ is heaven-sent.”
“How so?”
“It could provide just the right distraction. We are not quite ready-another month would have been ideal-but the ‘complication,’ as you put it, of their arrival and the approach of Achilles makes that month uncertain. You agree there is more to their story than we know?”
Reed nodded. “There’s been nothing out of Respite in weeks. That is the course they would have taken. I fear, if nothing else, they know that Agamemnon did return and the Company sent ships to intercept the princess.”
“But they said nothing of it… to you. I would warrant they shared considerably more with His Majesty. Achilles must bear proof, and they are awaiting her before the Empire goes on the rampage, leveling accusations against the Company. Achilles has an escort?”
“American ships of unknown power, but if their iron steamer is any indication…”
“Certainly faster than anything we might confront them with. If we attempted another interception, even if we succeeded, they wouldn’t have to fight-they could just outrun our ships… and arrive here with even further proof.” Don Hernan tapped the goblet with his fingers. “As I said, we are not quite ready, but with a distraction
… we are surely ready enough.” He stood, decisive. “We cannot wait until the planned ‘Founders’ Day’ date for the operation. I will have to send dispatches, speed things along, but the gift of the moment must not be ignored. You say this Captain Reddy has a temper? What makes it burn most bright?”
“I do not know, but I provoked him several times… as I do… and in our brief exchange, I learned he takes especial offense to slanders against his ape-like crew! He protects them vigorously and they are one weak spot, at least.”
“Would he rise to a challenge over them?”
Reed smiled. “I should think so. I didn’t even press him. He seems quite fond of the creatures. I suspect that if any were present when offense was given, he would be even more likely to rise.”
Don Hernan chuckled. “The Pre-Passage Ball is in three days. I think we should arrange an… entertainment that should quite consume Imperial attention while we implement our plan. Commodore Jenks will be there, of course. Ensure that Captain Reddy is invited-make it impossible for him to refuse-and do invite at least one of his… animals.”
“You are most wise, Holiness,” Reed said, bending to kiss the offered ring.
The music was Vivaldi and Courtney Bradford was entranced by the unexpectedly familiar melody of the “Spring (La primavera)” concerto from The Four Seasons, played by an excellent violin quartet. “Unbelievable,” he muttered over and over when not distracted by the apparently endless stream of people trying to meet him. Matt was at least as overwhelmed by guests and dignitaries, many in Imperial Navy uniforms. Jenks and his wife stood near Matt, and Jenks did most of the talking, while Matt tried to be engagingly distant to the horde of young ladies fluttering around him in their colorful, cloudlike gowns. The Bosun stood off a little, virtually alone, toying with a glass of something and generally grimacing all around.
The fish-flesh clouds were bright pink overhead as the sun vanished in the gap between the high, distant mountains. The Governor-Emperor spoke to the attendees with his wife, a frail-looking thing, smiling bravely, beside him. He said something about Jenks’s miraculous return, and welcomed their distinguished guests from another land. Courtney didn’t catch it all. Lanterns and torches sprang to life, dancers orbited one another on the close- cropped Government House lawn, and the music became increasingly difficult to hear as the Pre-Passage Ball commenced in full force. Jenks had told them that the festivities commemorated a ball (or it might have been a small dinner party) that occurred a week or so before the three ancient Indiamen departed some East Indian Island (Bradford couldn’t remember which, and it hardly mattered now) bound for India. The Founders’ Day celebration, barely a month away, took note of the survivors’ arrival here, thirteen months later. It was a kind of “before and after” observance. Over the years, the Founders’ Day event had become more a time of remembrance and thanksgiving, while the Pre-Passage Ball evolved into a party.
Bradford didn’t much care just then, as he was nearly half drunk. It was time to taper off, he decided. He’d promised Captain Reddy that he’d keep his wits about him. He noticed Chack was still under siege and began moving toward him. Besides himself, Matt, Gray, and Chack were the only people from Walker at the ball. The entire crew was anxious for liberty, but they understood things were tense ashore, and they needed to remain ready for anything. People came every day to gawk at the ship and the Lemurians aboard her as they went about their duties. There’d apparently even been an attempt to abduct a ’Cat who’d jumped down to the dock to help a screaming child. At the ’Cat’s cry of alarm, Spanky and another pair of ’Cats leaped to his aid, sending four rough-looking men running back into the crowd. The distressed child was nowhere to be found, and even some of the onlookers suspected a plot and urged them back to the ship.
The people of New Scotland were fascinated by the Lemurians, however, and what little they’d learned about them was the talk of Scapa Flow, and even posted on broadsheets. Therefore, while all of the visitors were celebrities and near the center of attention since arriving at the ball dressed in their best, the very center space had been unwillingly taken by Chack-and he was in hell. Despite his immaculate and very martial Marine dress, every diaphanously dressed female in attendance stopped to fawn over him like a helpless, squirming youngling. Some even stroked his fur! He was mortified, and Captain Reddy glanced his way almost constantly, clearly tense on his behalf.
Bradford plowed onward, dispensing apologies. His vision was a little blurred and he stopped for a moment to clear his head. There was a commotion to his right, and he noticed a man with slick black hair doing much the same as he, working his way toward Chack with a purposeful look on his face. Courtney felt a gust of alarm and tried to pick up his pace. He tripped. So many people tried to help him up, laughing, happy, swirling people, that it seemed forever before he reached his feet. With another string of apologies, he tried to swim through the bodies.
He heard shouts. People pressed back against him, crying out in surprise. A commotion erupted where Chack had been, but he couldn’t see the Lemurian anymore. A woman screamed. Courtney began to panic. What was happening? He couldn’t see! What was he doing? He didn’t even have a weapon. Already he feared the worst. There were more shouts-indignant, offended, enraged. He thrashed his way through a ring of people, practically panting with terror-and was completely taken aback by what he saw.
In the light of the torches, Chack stood safe and sound, but he was holding Captain Reddy by one arm while Harvey Jenks held the other. The captain stood, knuckles bloody, staring at the slick-haired man with that… frightening… look he so rarely got. The Bosun burst into the ring, eyes casting back and forth, searching for a target for the “dress” cutlass (he’d painted the scabbard) at his side. The slick-haired man stood, a little shaky, daubing his mouth with a handkerchief. Daubing wouldn’t do the trick. Both lips were split wide open, and dark blood practically covered the silky cravat and white shirt down to his weskit.
“I velieve I ’ust de’and satisvaction!” said the slick-haired man.
“You got it, you cowardly bastard,” Matt hissed. “Anytime, anywhere! I ordered Captain Chack not to respond
