Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(78)

“He doesn’t know my father very well,” Hal growled.

“No. He doesn’t. And unfortunately, when Jarat hears about Chalk Cliffs, that will reinforce his decision to take a hard line.”

“Perhaps if I spoke to King Jarat, I could convince him that—”

“That’s not a good idea,” Karn said.

“I realize that it’s a risk, but—”

“The king doesn’t know that you and your brother are here. So. That could be awkward.”

Hal glanced at Robert, then back at Karn. “He doesn’t know we’re here?”

Karn shook his head. “I thought it best not to bother the king with this matter. He has been very busy trying to form a decent council out of the few thanes who have remained loyal.” He straightened his sleeves, wrinkling his nose. “The social season has been a disaster. It’s a good thing that the marching season isn’t far off.”

“But, if we’re here in custody, doesn’t—?”

“This is my prison, and the guards are my people. They have learned not to be curious. Besides, as I said, you’re dead. That’s an advantage, as you’ll find.”

While they’d been talking, Robert had grown more and more restless, shifting in his chair, clearing his throat, and so on. Now, apparently, he could not remain silent any longer.

“What if the hostages were freed?” he blurted. “Do you think that would influence King Jarat’s willingness to compromise?”

“Possibly,” Karn said, his cool gaze brushing over Hal’s brother. “Or it might inspire the thanes to attack.”

“They are going to attack anyway,” Hal said. “Trust me on that.”

“I do trust you on that, Captain, which is very odd,” Karn said. “Unfortunately, it’s highly unlikely that His Majesty will give up what he sees as a winning hand.”

“I’m not suggesting that he’ll free them,” Robert said. “I’m saying that we should free them.”

“Won’t that be difficult, locked up in a cell as you are?”

Robert’s enthusiasm withered. “Oh. Well. I thought perhaps you could—”

“Free you? Or join with you in freeing the hostages? Are you suggesting that I commit treason, Corporal?” Karn shook his head. “I’m careful about who I partner with. Given your performance so far, I’d be going to the block in no time at all. Have a little patience. In the meantime, are you comfortable? Are you getting enough to eat?”

“Yes,” Hal said. “The food is much better than in the prisons in the north.”

“That’s what everyone says.” Karn stood. “Gentlemen. You’ll hear from me soon.”

After the door closed behind him, Hal heard the bolt sliding shut.

“Do you think he’s going to help us?” Robert said, glaring at the closed door.

“I wish I knew,” Hal said. Time was passing, and both the empress and the thane armies would soon be on the march. There was no way to know who would arrive in the city first.





32


WEEPING SISTER


For the first few days of the crossing, the weather was blustery and cold—typical for early spring in the northern oceans. Personally, Breon enjoyed the ride, spending as much time as possible on deck, chatting up the crew and asking questions about the ship, the rigging, and the ports they’d been to. Gathering information that he hoped to use later.

Most were the empress’s purple mages, and they were a dour lot, not particularly receptive to his considerable personal charm. Gradually, though, they grew to tolerate him, allowing him to help them in their work and join them on their watches.

The Siren was built for speed and maneuverability and not for the tender stomachs of day sailors. Her Highness huddled miserably in her cabin until Breon finally managed to coax her up on deck. Once they were there, he advised her to put her face in the freshening wind and fix her eyes on the horizon. After that, she was less prone to spewing, which made their shared cabin a lot more livable.

Since that day on the beach, when she’d murdered Aubrey, the empress had been sweet, solicitous of their comfort, so kind that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

Breon listened hard for Celestine’s music, but he heard only the raging storm—the crash of thunder, the creak of the masts and singing of the lines as the sails filled, and the flapping of the sheets when they lost the wind. He watched and waited, looking for a chance to get hold of one of Celestine’s belongings that might give him a clue. But she was exceedingly wary of him, as if she knew all his tricks and how to sidestep them.

He meant to make her pay for Aubrey somehow. Now that he was clean, he seemed to have lost his limitless ability to make excuses for himself. He’d done some low-down things in his life. He understood what it was like to have nothing and want something, and know that the only way to get it was to take it. His “manager”—the streetlord Whacks—had taught him that honesty was something only a blueblood could afford. And then he’d come to realize that most bluebloods lie and cheat and steal even if they don’t have to. The only difference was that their takings were bigger and they nearly always got away with it.

As they neared their destination in the Northern Islands, the seas rose and the weather worsened. A howling wind drove needles of rain into their faces and made it all but impossible to remain on deck. Visibility was so poor that Breon couldn’t see more than an arm’s length past the gunwales anyway. He worried that they wouldn’t know they’d found land until they broke apart on the rocks.