Red Seas Under Red Skies: The Gentleman Bastard Sequence, Book Two (Gentleman Bastards 2)

Maxilan Stragos was red-faced with wine, exertion and surprise. The Archon was dressed more sumptuously than Locke had ever seen him, in a vertically striped cape of sea-green silk that alternated with cloth-of-gold strips, over a coat and breeches that also gleamed gold. He wore rings on all ten of his fingers, set alternately with rubies and sapphires, very close approximations of the Tal Verrar colours. He stood before Locke and Jean in a tapestry-walled chamber on the first floor of the Mon Magisteria, attended by a pair of Eyes. If Locke and Jean had not been granted chairs, neither had they been trussed up. Or placed in the sweltering chamber.

‘We, ah, used it to initiate successful contact with pirates.’

‘By losing it to them.’

‘In a word, yes.’

‘And Caldris is dead?’

‘For some time.’

‘Now tell me, Lamora, just what sort of reaction were you hoping for when you brought me this news?’

‘Well, a fucking heart attack would have been nice, but I’ll settle for a bit of patience while I explain further.’

‘Yes,’ said the Archon. ‘Do.’

‘When the Messenger was taken by pirates, all of us aboard were made prisoners.’ Locke had decided that the specific details of injuries and scrub watches and so forth could be safely left out of the story.

‘By whom?’

‘Drakasha.’

‘Zamira lives, does she? With her old Poison Orchid?’

‘Yes,’ said Locke. ‘It’s in fine condition, and in fact it’s currently riding at anchor about two miles, um . . .’ He pointed with a finger towards what he believed to be south. ‘... that way.’

‘She dares?’

‘She’s practising an obscure technique called “disguise”, Stragos.’

‘So you’re ... part of her crew now?’

‘Yes. Those of us taken from the Messenger were given a chance to prove our intentions by storming the next prize Drakasha took. You won’t see the Messenger again, as it’s been sold to a sort of, um, wrecker baron. But at least now we’re in a position to give you what you want.’

‘Are you?’ The expression on Stragos’s face went from annoyance to plain avarice in an eyeblink. ‘How ... refreshing to hear you deliver such a report, in lieu of vulgarity and complaint.’

‘Vulgarity and complaint are my special talents. But listen – Drakasha has agreed to drum up the scare you want. If we get our antidote tonight, by the end of the week you’ll have reports of raids at every point of the compass. It’ll be like dropping a shark in a public bath.’

‘What do you mean, precisely, by “Drakasha has agreed”?’

Improvising a fictional motive for Zamira was elementary; Locke could have done it in his sleep. ‘I told her the truth,’ he said. ‘The rest was easy. Obviously, once our job is done, you’ll send your navy south to kick sixteen shades of shit out of every Ghostwind pirate you find. Except the one that actually started the mess, who will conveniently hunt elsewhere for a few months. And once you’ve got your grand little war sewn up, she goes back home to find that her former rivals are on the bottom of the ocean. Alas.’

‘I see,’ said Stragos. ‘I would have preferred not to have her aware of my actual intentions—’

‘If there are any survivors in the Ghostwinds,’ said Locke, ‘she can hardly speak of her role in the matter to them, can she? And if there are no survivors ... who can she talk to at all?’

‘Indeed,’ muttered Stragos.

‘However,’ said Jean, ‘if the two of us don’t return quite soon, the Orchid will head for the open sea and you’ll lose your one chance to make use of her.’

‘And I will have wasted the Messenger, and poisoned my reputation, and endured the abuse of your company all for nothing. Yes, Tannen, I’m well aware of the angles of what you no doubt believe to be a terribly clever argument.’

‘Our antidote, then?’

‘You’ve not earned a final cure yet. But you’ll have the consequences further postponed.’

Stragos pointed to one of the Eyes, who bowed and left the room. He returned a few moments later and held the door open for two people. The first was Stragos’s personal alchemist, carrying a domed silver serving tray. The second was Merrain.

‘Our two bright fires have returned,’ she said. She was dressed in a long-sleeved gown that matched the sea-green portions of Stragos’s cape, and her slender waist was accented by a tight cloth-of-gold sash. Threaded into her hair was a circlet of red and blue rose blossoms.

‘Kosta and de Ferra have earned another temporary sip of life, my dear.’ He held out his arm and she crossed over to him, taking his elbow in the light and friendly fashion of a chaperone rather than a lover.

‘Have they, now?’

‘I’ll tell you about it when we return to the gardens.’

‘Some sort of Festa Iono affair, Stragos? You’ve never struck me as the celebratory type,’ said Locke.

‘For the sake of my officers,’ said Stragos. ‘If I throw galas for them, the Priori spread rumours that I am profligate. If I do nothing, they whisper that I am austere and heartless. Regardless, my officers suffer far more in society when they have no private functions from which to exclude their jealous rivals. Thus I put my gardens to use, if nothing else.’

‘I weep again for your hardship,’ said Locke. ‘Forced by cruel circumstance to throw garden parties.’

Stragos smiled thinly and gestured at his alchemist. The man swept the dome from the silver tray, revealing two white-frosted crystal goblets full of familiar pale-amber liquid.

‘You may have your antidote in pear cider tonight,’ said the Archon. ‘For old times’ sake.’

‘Oh, you funny old bastard.’ Locke passed a goblet to Jean, emptied his in several gulps and then tossed it into the air.

‘Heavens! I slipped.’

The crystal goblet struck the stone floor with a loud clang rather than a shattering explosion into fragments. It bounced once and rolled into a corner, completely unharmed.

‘A little gift from the Master Alchemists.’ Stragos looked extraordinarily amused. ‘Hardly Elderglass, but just the thing to deny rude guests their petty satisfactions.’

Jean finished his own cider and set his glass back down on the bald man’s serving tray. One of the Eyes fetched the other goblet, and when they were both covered by the silver dome once again, Stragos dismissed his alchemist with a wave.

‘I . . . um—’ said Locke, but the man was already out through the door.

‘This evening’s business is concluded,’ said Stragos. ‘Merrain and I have a gala to return to. Kosta and de Ferra, you have the most important part of your task ahead of you. Please me ... and I may yet make it worth your while.’

Stragos led Merrain to the door, turning only to speak to one of his Eyes. ‘Lock them in here for ten minutes. After that, escort them back to their boat. Return their things and see that they’re on their way. With haste.’

‘I ... but ... damn,’ Locke sputtered as the door slammed closed behind the two Eyes.

‘Antidote,’ said Jean. ‘That’s all that matters for now. Antidote.’

‘I suppose.’ Locke put his head against one of the room’s stone walls. ‘Gods. I hope our visit to Requin goes more smoothly than this.’