“For the next two hours, I will discuss my work regarding the electrostatic potentials of these crystals and alignment of their potential with the magnetic fields of certain alloys, which when brought together allow not just the carriage of power but its transformation from one state to another…”
Stilton blinked. He felt his own jaw drop.
Two hours? Did Sokolov just say… two hours?
Sokolov paced the stage, and talked, and talked, and talked.
Two bloody hours?
Stilton felt a sinking feeling somewhere in his stomach. Of course. He should have known. Sokolov had insisted on presenting a lecture before carrying out his practical demonstration, and Stilton had been forced to agree to it just to get the natural philosopher to come.
But this?
The sinking feeling turned to nausea. Stilton reached for his inside pocket and pulled out a silver hip flask. He unscrewed the top and took a long swig. Behind him, against the wall, was a tall stool, onto which he negotiated his not insubstantial frame. He sighed, his eyes fixed on the glittering gemstones onstage.
Tuning out Sokolov’s monotonous voice, Stilton tried to get comfortable and took another drink.
PART TWO
THE COLLECTOR
12
PORTERFELL, GRISTOL
20th to 25th Day, Month of Earth, 1852
“For an empire straddling several large land masses and surrounded by a boundless ocean, the most optimal sailing routes around the Isles have, quite understandably, been navigated for centuries. The southern and western coasts of Gristol offer placid, flat seas, ideal for close coastal travel, even in conditions that would be considered somewhat unsavory in other geographies. Further to the west, a strong ocean current traveling southward enables even larger vessels to make impressive progress; however, despite this advantage, traffic along these routes is lighter than on the eastern channels, given the heavier distribution of shipping industries along south-eastern Gristol, from the capital city of Dunwall up to the western settlements of Morley to the north, most notably the major ports of Alba and Caulkenny.”
—TRADE ROUTES AND THEIR NAVIGATION
Excerpt from A Discourse on Maritime Industries
Maximilian Norcross.
Daud had been given the name by Eat ’Em Up Jack. Hehad been given the place, too—Porterfell, a fishing town on the southern coast of Gristol—and he had been given transport. A steam-and-sail clipper used by the Sixways Gang to transport goods, piloted by a captain who wouldn’t speak and a first mate who couldn’t, on account of his tongue having been cut out.
The harbormaster at Young Lucy’s Grave, Malcolm, had personally rowed Daud out to the clipper, which was anchored in the open sea beyond the harbor. In the driving rain and howling winds, the sea seemed impossible—to Daud, anyway—to navigate in so insubstantial a craft, but Malcolm proved to be an able seaman indeed, and the journey had only taken an hour.
The next phase began immediately. With their passenger aboard, the captain ordered his mute first mate to set course, and they ploughed through the somewhat less violent seas, heading first south, and then west.
The journey was uneventful, and for that, Daud was grateful. The smuggling route the Sixways ran between Dunwall and the western settlements of Gristol was totally unmolested by any official patrols, although whether that was because of the situation in Dunwall or not, Daud wasn’t sure. His two companions for the six-day expedition gave no indication that anything was particularly unusual about the trip.
But after getting caught in the aftermath of the coup, and after the narrow escape from Wyrmwood Way, Daud had no problem with a few days of relative solitude. It gave him time to think and plan.
Maximilian Norcross.
Norcross was a collector, not exactly famous, but well known in certain quarters for not only owning one of the largest private museums in all the Isles, but for being an astute, practical businessman. He acquired artand treasure for personal enjoyment, but buying, selling, and trading—although he was already a wealthy man, according to Jack—also made him a tidy profit.
Which gave Daud hope—just a little, just enough. Because it meant that perhaps, if Norcross still had the Knife, then he’d be willing to come to terms of some kind. Daud had left one of the platinum caches on the table in the Suicide Hall back in Dunwall, but another pouch rested in a concealed pocket. If Norcross was interested in money, then money he would get.
And if he wasn’t, then Daud would take the Knife anyway.
Daud had expected Eat ’Em Up Jack to come with him, but on that count, he had been disappointed. The woman’s attitude was cold, the way she viewed the massacre at Wyrmwood Way with detachment, talking about it with the harbormaster as an unfavorable business situation, rather than the wholesale slaughter of her men and her friends—at least, Daud assumed that some of them had been her friends.
So she was staying in Gristol. She was already planning on regrouping with agents the Sixways still had along their smuggling routes. They may have been driven out of Wyrmwood, but Eat ’Em Up Jack was not so easily put out of business.
Daud admired her resilience. He also appreciated her efforts to arrange a meeting with Norcross. To achieve this, she gave Daud a coded phrase, one that set him up as an interested buyer, and directions on whom to give it to once he arrived in Porterfell. Once the code was accepted, Daud only had to be patient and wait until Norcross himself found him.
The plan suited Daud just fine.
In the meantime, he sat on the boat, watching the two-man crew work, ignoring their passengercompletely, even leaving him to prepare his own meals.
That also suited Daud just fine.
The captain and his first mate were highly skilled sailors, and Daud had to admit he was impressed, considering the clipper was a reasonably large vessel, which under normal circumstances would have required a few more crewmen.
