A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(12)
“You had better do it.” Whitechurch nodded. “Blackwood, you are in charge of this particular assignment. Go with Howel.”
I shut up at once, stunned. That had been far easier than I’d expected. Even though I was the one who’d found the blasted painting in the first place, I found I couldn’t get too frustrated that Blackwood had been given the lead. At least we’d be doing this together.
“When should we leave, sir?” Blackwood said. He sounded rather dumbfounded. But if the Imperator assigned him something, he’d get it done.
“The Queen Charlotte is stationed in St. Katharine’s Docks. She leaves to patrol Cornwall against the Spider today, I believe. I’ll write to Caius and have him wait upon you.”
Today. I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to Rook before I left—I’d missed him at breakfast. Fear of returning from a mission to find Rook gone reared its head. But if there were some key in Cornwall to end this madness, then it would be worth it.
“If you don’t mind my saying, sir, I can’t believe you’re allowing this,” I blurted out.
“I might not have, but for the letters I’ve received.” He looked rather uncomfortable. “Word has spread amongst the queen’s government. They are petitioning Her Majesty to give in to R’hlem’s demands.”
Parliament would hand me over on a silver platter if it could, no doubt. Bloody cowards. The government and the prime minister, Lord Melbourne, did not like me. They blamed me for opening their city to slaughter and the queen to danger. Once again, I imagined cool water running down my hands, calming myself.
Perhaps leaving London was a good idea.
—
“YOU SHOULD BE AT HOME,” BLACKWOOD told Eliza, sounding exasperated as our carriage pulled up to the docks.
Eliza plumped the large emerald silk bow of her bonnet. In a forest-green velvet gown that highlighted her beautiful eyes, she’d dressed especially nicely to see us off.
“Honestly, George, you make me feel as though I shouldn’t care about your going to war at all,” she said.
“Eliza’s right. You should be more charitable,” I said.
Eliza beamed at me, and Blackwood grumbled as he got out of the carriage and handed us down. On the ground, I waited for the coachman to set my satchel on the dock, then hefted it onto my shoulder—despite Blackwood’s trying to take it—and walked. It banged against my back with every step. I’d attempted to pack light, but I hadn’t been sure what I’d need. The journey to Cornwall would take at least five days by boat if the weather stayed good. Even if we had extraordinary luck in finding Strangewayes’s house, this whole expedition would last the better part of two weeks.
Two weeks away from Rook. My stomach lurched to think of it. I’d left a note for him before I’d gone, hastily scribbling it while Blackwood waited.
I have to attend to the Order’s business. I’ll be back as soon as I’m able.
I’d sat there a full two minutes, debating whether to write the word love, and how to write it. Blackwood had had to remind me that the tide waited for no one.
The cool breeze snatched at my skirts as I walked along. Ships were anchored and waiting in the water, their sails tied up. Men climbed up and down the rigging, while barrels and other cargo were loaded. Sailors swarmed the decks, their sleeves rolled to show sunburned arms decorated with tattoos of frolicking mermaids or rude parrots. One of them caught me looking and winked.
Was it my imagination, or was the dock moving beneath my feet? My stomach rippled. I’d never been sailing before. My father was supposed to have drowned at sea, after all, which hadn’t made me especially keen on it. But then Mickelmas had denied that story, right before he’d vanished that terrible night in St. Paul’s Cathedral, when the world fell down around our ears.
Bloody Mickelmas.
I’d tried writing letters to him, putting them in his chest and hoping that they’d reach him. I’d kept asking what on earth he’d meant about my father, but nothing ever came of it. I wasn’t sure if he’d received the notes, or if he simply didn’t care.
Speaking of the chest, I touched the strings of the reticule at my wrist. I’d brought a few magician spells. Not all of them, of course, but one never knew when they could come in handy.
“There,” Blackwood said by my ear, pointing to a rather grand vessel. She was lacquered black and trimmed in gold along the sides, sporting enough masts to seem a veritable forest. “Queen Charlotte.”
“We’re looking for Captain Ambrose, yes?” I asked as we dodged around a pair of men wheeling a barrow. One of them looked after Eliza and muttered something I hoped I hadn’t understood.
“Whitechurch said they’d have someone assigned to help us.”
“To take us to the cliffs, or all the way to Strangewayes’s house?” I asked as we arrived at the—what was it called? Gangplank? Really, my knowledge of all things nautical could fill a small thimble.
“All the way. He’s supposed to be a great soldier.”
“Bless my soul,” a familiar voice cried.
Blackwood’s head snapped up as Magnus sauntered down the walkway toward us. “Is this a reunion? We should have invited all of Master Agrippa’s former Incumbents. Though I believe Dee vomits at sea.”
Magnus stepped onto the dock, smiling easily. He hadn’t changed a bit in the months since I’d seen him. His hair was still a shining mass of auburn curls, and his gray eyes still sparkled with irreverence. Yes, he’d the same square jaw, broad shoulders, and infuriatingly informal expression. My spirits plummeted. Blackwood looked as though he’d swallowed a raw turnip. Eliza was the only one who appeared delighted.