Steel's Edge

What do you know about it? What do you know about Jack, about his rages, about his not understanding how people think, about Rose spending hours to coax him back to humanity? What do you know, you slimy weasel? You know nothing of our family. You chose to know nothing.

“How’s Rose?”

Where were you when she worked herself into the ground? Oh, that’s right, getting rich from misery, rape, and pain.

“You afraid to speak to me, George?” John slapped his palm on the desk. “Damn it, boy. Tell me how my daughter is!”

George moved Lynda a step closer. “Do that again, and I’ll let her gnaw on your neck, slowly, one bite a time. Rose will be delighted when I bring her your head.”

John leaned back. Fear shot through his eyes. He hid it fast, but George had seen it. Yes, he knew the type. John would do anything, say anything to avoid physical pain and punishment. He feared being held accountable more than anything.

“You wouldn’t do that,” John said. “Not the Georgie I remember. The Georgie I remember was kind.”

“The Georgie you remember had a father.” Argh. He knew he shouldn’t have responded to the bait. Too late now.

John’s face brightened. “You still have one. Look, I know I haven’t done right by you kids. And it’s not like I set out to haul slaves for a living. I just kind of fell into it.”

“Do tell. How does one fall into slavery?”

“The same way one falls into anything.” John spread his arms. He was becoming more animated, happy he’d found some common ground. “You’re hard-up for cash, and one day in port, a man asks you if you want to make some easy money.”

Easy-breezy. No need to worry about paltry things like honor, integrity, and sleeping well at night.

“That’s the only kind of money you were ever interested in, isn’t it? The easy money.”

“Hey, I work hard just like anybody else. I just had a stretch of hard luck there for a while.” John leaned forward. “Georgie, listen to me. Whatever else happens, I’m still your father. I’ve done pretty well for myself here, and I wanted to come and find you guys. I kept thinking, just do one more run, get a little bit more money, then I’ll split. But I’m in a good place now, and I’m sick of these slaver assholes. We can take off, you know. You and me. I can show you the ropes, bring you into the family business. I’m a good sailor, Georgie. Let me tell you, when you go out on the ocean and leave the shore behind, it’s something. Just water everywhere, sapphire blue for miles and miles. Water, wind, and sky. You can taste the freedom. There is adventure there. Mystery.”

He was good.

“What about Jack?”

John shrugged. “What about him? Jack’s a good kid. Didn’t go nuts like his people do.”

“His people?”

John leaned closer. “Oh, come on, Georgie. We all know it. Rose is mine, you’re mine, but Jack was never mine. For him to be what he is, one of his parents had to be a changeling, and there ain’t no changelings in my family or your mother’s. I checked. My father wasn’t one, my mother isn’t one . . .”

George fought against grinding his teeth.

“Their parents weren’t changelings, and on your mother’s side, nobody was one for three generations back either. Your mother, she wasn’t a bad woman, but she was troubled. You think it was easy knowing she opened her legs to every bastard that came through town? It hurt me. Really hurt me, but I’ve come to terms with it. And so should you. You always looked out for Jack. Rose and your grandma, they put that burden on you, and I never thought it was fair. Everyone deserves a break, Georgie. Everyone. Come with me. Jack can look after himself. And later, when you’re older and I’m ready to retire, you can take over. This ship isn’t just named after me. It’s named after you, too.”

No, it isn’t. He looked into John’s eyes and saw a cold calculation there. In that moment George realized he would be dead the moment they left land behind. They’d find what was left of him later, bobbing on the waves with his throat slit and his body torn by fish. My own father.

“Thank you, but I already have a career.”

“What sort of a career is that?” John pointedly looked over his rags. “If you got one, it doesn’t pay too well by the looks of it. No offense to you, boy, but you can do better. Or are you talking about those bandits over there? That’s no good. We picked you up near Kelena, that means it’s either the Rook, the families, or Jason Parris, and it has to be Parris, because the families know better, and Rook likes running his show personally, and I haven’t seen him. Am I right? I am right. Parris is a ravenous shark, that’s what he is. Cutthroat. Can you take a man’s life, Georgie? You think about that because you’ve got to be a cold, calculating killer to be in his company.”

“I’m not with Jason Parris.” George leaned back.

“Who are you with, then?”

George reached inside his sleeve, peeled off the coin he kept taped on his forearm, and tossed it to him. “I’m with the people who fish for ravenous sharks.”

John caught the coin. The magic charge bit his fingers with tiny sparks. He flinched. The surface of the coin flowed, turning into a miniature mirror. Every agent of the Mirror carried one. Some wore rings, some had earrings, and some embedded it into a knife’s hilt. He’d chosen a coin. It seemed appropriate.

John stared at his own reflection. Blood drained from his face. John dropped the coin like it was hot.

“I’m an underagent of the third degree, Father. I started when I was fourteen. My mission count is at twelve, ten successes and two aborts. My kill count is at seven, and I’m very good with a rapier. In two years, when I complete my training, I’ll be the youngest full-fledged agent in the Mirror’s recent history. Coincidentally, in two more years I’ll also graduate from Brasil’s Academy, since I’ve taken their entrance exams and passed them with a perfect score. There is a place for me waiting in the Diplomatic Corps.”

John Drayton stared at him, his face slack with shock.

“So you see, Father, if I ever feel the need to play at being a sailor, a vessel will either be provided for me, or I’ll purchase one. Given that my name is now George Camarine and the Duke of the Southern Provinces thinks of me as his grandson, I can afford an entire fleet. A small one, but it will be sufficient.” George smiled, a controlled baring of teeth. “I’ve already accomplished more in my life than you could ever hope to achieve. Your promises of a grandiose smuggler life hold no attraction to me, so do be quiet, Father. I’m fighting a strong urge to kill you, and I’d hate to slip up and do you in before Jack comes back.”

Knuckles rapped on the door.

“Enter,” George said.

The door swung open. Richard shouldered his way in, favoring his left side. His left arm rested in a sling. He had washed off his disguise and looked like himself. Jack followed, supporting Charlotte. She, on other hand, looked like a shadow of her former self: pale, exhausted, and sickly.

“Did you run into trouble?” George asked.

“Some,” Richard said. “Any problems?”

“None. Just talking to the dead man.”

John licked his lips. “What have I ever done to you that you hate me so much?”

“The crew you were supposed to be meeting by Kelena was chasing me,” Richard said. “I’m the Hunter.”

John drew back.

“I ended up at your mother’s house,” Richard said. “We’re distantly related by marriage, and she recognized me and tried to help me.”

“Grandmother is dead,” Jack said. “The slavers burned our house. You killed grandma, Dad.”

John’s hands shook. He swallowed. “I wasn’t there.”

Oh no, you don’t get to weasel your way out of this one. “Not directly, but you made it possible,” George said. “You contributed.”

John dragged his hand over his face and through his hair.

Richard took a piece of paper off the desk, wrote something on it, and pushed it across the desk to John. “Five names. What do you know?”

John looked at the list. His voice lost all emotion. “They’re called the Council. That’s where the real money goes. Maedoc is the muscle; he supplies the slavers. Casside is the main investor. I don’t know what the other two