Retribution

CHAPTER FOUR

Brice burst into the house late in the afternoon on the same day he’d arrived. “We’re booked to depart at dark.”

“Tonight?” Prin asked.

“Yes. The next ship that sails directly to Indore departs in two days, but it’s a slow cargo ship with a single mast. The ship tonight is a fast passenger ship, and I booked the last cabin. It’s due to arrive six days sooner than the cargo ship.”

Prin turned her attention outside through the rear window that overlooked the garden. The summer sun was well past noon. She turned to Sara, who nodded to Brice. They were all in agreement. “You did right. We need to pack.”

Sara said, “I only have to grab my bags and say goodbye.”

Brice said, “I’m ready, too.”

Prin felt her lower lip tremble and tried to hide her anxiety. Yes, she had also prepared for this, but it still came too soon. Maude sat and sipped her endless tea and thankfully didn’t make eye contact. Prin said to her, “Send for a carriage.”

“It’s waiting out front,” Brice said.

Prin spun and strode to her room, back straight until the door closed softly behind her. She fell on her bed and wept. A movement caught her attention, and she saw four ravens, so black their feathers shimmered. They landed at the glass door leading to the garden and beaks tapped the glass. She wiped her eyes and opened the door, suspecting what was to come.

“Hannah, time to go home. Hannah. Hannah, time to go home.” They all squawked at her in the same voice, repeating the same phrase, but not beginning at the same time. The resulting burst of sound was almost comical. But it drew her out of her funk—at least, the worst of it.

She began packing with a vengeance. There was not much, but she checked to make sure everything she’d brought from her father’s apartment was safely stored. It was too dangerous to take it with her and too valuable to risk. Maude would send it later. She threw a few clothes into another bag. In minutes, everything she intended to take was packed in three small bags, one of them a backpack. Not a lot for nearly six years.

A soft knock sounded.

At her call to enter, Maude slipped in, closing the door gently behind her. Words failed Prin, but few were required. Promises were made, thanks given, and it was time to leave.

The four of them climbed into the waiting coach, but the combat master strolled down the road in his limping gait before it departed. He paused and asked, “Room for one more?”

Of course, there was. Prin decided to finally ask his name, but he spoke first, “The Order of the Iron Ring told me to pass on a message to you.”

Sara gasped, placing her hands near her mouth. Prin stiffened.

Maude said, “Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“Every mage, fortune hunter, assassin, low-life, and sneak-thief is on edge and searching like never before. Word came this morning that the King of Wren died and the heir is missing.”

Maude drew in a deep breath. “Just another problem to solve.” She reached into a pocket and withdrew a small glass vial. After pulling the stopper, she wet the tip of her finger, leaned forward and gently touched a drop to the neck of the driver.

Sara said, “He will forget all he sees and does during this afternoon.”

Maude reached inside her coat and retrieved an envelope made of rough brown paper. She sprinkled a few granules of the contents over the heads of the three travelers and said, “You all know how to act—we’ve practiced this a dozen times. Now, make me proud.”

Prin watched the features of Sara droop and sag, wrinkles digging furrows across her face while her nose expanded. Her fluffy brown hair turned dull and limp. Brice did much the same. He appeared well over fifty, probably closer to sixty. His chest deflated, his neck thinned, and his hands grew gnarled. A glance at her own hands confirmed the changes were taking place to her, also.

Maude and the combat master remained the same. The driver hummed a tuneless melody. Sara accepted the proffered envelope and slipped it into her pocket, then buttoned the flap. Most of the rest of the short trip passed in silence. As they neared the docks lounging men, and a few women, were watching all passersby with greedy eyes.

They passed three mages, all young, and probably none had yet been confirmed as full mages, but all were anxious to claim the prize of locating Princess Hannah. With that claim came a lifetime of gold and more. The soon-to-be Queen Eleonore would appoint that mage to a high post in her royal court.

The eyes of those searching took in every detail of those passing. The carriage was standard transportation for Gallium, and the five passengers didn’t meet the descriptions of either Hannah or her companion. Twice ravens flew nearby, and one landed on the carriage before Prin could wave it off.

Maude chuckled. “Wouldn’t that be ironic? Having the same ravens that were dispatched to warn you giving away your identity?”

“I have never liked ravens or crows,” Prin snapped.

Maude turned to the combat master. “She has the perfect mannerisms and crankiness of an old woman, don’t you think?”

He curled a lip. “Even when she fights.”

“Do not,” Prin said automatically.

They laughed at her, but the sight of another mage cut it short when he strode into the road to stop the horse. The combat master started to climb down as he snarled, “I’ll gut him and throw him into the alley for the rats to feed on.”

Maude reached out and took his arm. “Wait.”

From the deep shade of the overhang of a doorway, a figure emerged. He stood tall, back straight, and he was armed with a bare blade worn through a rusted iron ring on his belt. Without seeming to hurry, he reached a spot one step ahead of the mage. He held a palm out, pressed against the chest of the mage—then gently pushed him back several steps while the carriage lumbered past.

Prin hadn’t heard any words passed between them. But the Order of the Iron Ring demanded respect in all lands. The figure was more than a full head taller than the mage, and his other hand rested lightly on the hilt of the sword. A glance behind found the two of them still together, the mage shouting and waving his arms in anger. The other calmly listening.

The carriage pulled to a stop with the confrontation still within sight. Prin looked ahead and found a sleek ship sporting three tall masts. Her eye for ships picked out details, especially after sailing as part of a crew for half a year. That knowledge told her she’d never boarded the likes of this ship.

Her impression that the ship was sleek deepened when she mentally measured the width of the deck. It was no wider than the cargo ship she had sailed when leaving Indore nearly six years earlier, yet it was more than twice the length. The sharp bow would cut through the waves instead of climbing over them, the three masts were twice the height of those on the Merry Princess. A row of windows ran from bow to stern. Flags of all colors waved from the mastheads, and from anywhere else that might add a little gaiety.

She sniffed the tang of the air of the harbor, finding the scents of tar, sawed wood, sweat, canvas, and salt water, refreshing. Like going home. In other circumstances, the thought might have drawn a smile.

The driver was busy unloading their baggage while a porter shouted for help to carry it across the gangway. As their belongings disappeared into a doorway on the main deck, the reality that Prin might never see her fighting instructor or Maude again, took hold. She would sail with Sara, but Sara would return with the ship, perhaps never to meet again. Only Brice would travel with her to Wren.

Prin had a thousand things to say, but few words passed her lips. She was hugged, whispered to, and kissed, but knew little of what happened until Maude was helped up into the carriage by the one-footed man who had taught her so much about fighting and life. For the first time, Prin noticed they sat closer together than was necessary or proper. How did I miss that?

They waved as the carriage pulled away—then it was gone from sight, and Prin had never felt so alone, especially in the crowd of people swarming around the pier.

Sara interrupted her thoughts. “Don’t turn around. A mage is coming this way.”

Prin now wore a third knife to complement those on her thigh and between her shoulder blades. It was shorter than her little finger, the blade wide and sharpened on both curved edges. The handle was flat bare metal, worked with a simple filigree design, the whole thing dipped in a nonreflective finish. The knife slipped under the broad leather belt she usually wore, located where her hand naturally fell, should she need it.

“He’s talking to another. I think we should hurry aboard,” Sara said.

Brice took Prin’s arm and escorted her as if she needed the support. Together, they appeared three elderly, but not old, people who might have been related. Prin’s instincts told her to run onto the ship and the safety it offered, but her mind told her to move slow and careful, using tiny, faltering steps.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed the mage had finished his examination, or interrogation, of the young woman and now looked for his next potential princess-in-hiding. She averted her eyes and refused to move quicker, despite her direction taking her too near the mage. Any change of speed or direction would draw his attention and suspicion.

As they passed, Sara’s shoulder almost brushed his robe. Then they were on the temporary gangplank leading up to the deck of the ship. Brice helped Prin move or gave that appearance, while the mage stepped aside to question another passenger. Her breathing returned to normal.

A raven flew past, then changed direction and headed for them, its eyes centered on Prin. Brice saw it and reached for the bill of his hat. As the bird started to speak, he waved his hat and frightened it, drawing the attention of those nearby, including the mage. The raven flew off, as Prin watched the mage for any reaction. There was none. She felt the most dangerous part of the voyage was behind her, and the ship was still tied to the pier.

Brice handed his three tickets to the purser at the top of the ramp and received directions to their cabin. The design of the ship easily fit the needs of a modern passenger ship. All the woodwork held multiple coats of varnish, while the hull and most of the rest of the beautiful ship gleamed white from fresh paint in the late afternoon sunshine. The main deck held a single central passageway with well-marked doors on either side. Their cabin was 16. Brice held the iron key.

The deck above the main deck contained the dining room, sitting room, bar, and even a small library. Ample seating inside and outside on the deck provided the passengers with a view and a promenade for walking. It circled the entire ship. All other areas were reserved for the crew. The working parts of the ship were also shielded from the passengers. There would be little, if any, mixing between the crew and passengers.

Brice used the key and stepped aside. The cabin was roomy enough for one. Two tiny bunks were built-in, one above the other. Not even a closet or chest. The bottom bunk was high enough off the floor for their luggage to slide underneath leaving a “walkway” wide enough for one. Prin fondly remembered her snug hammock on the Merry Princess and longed for the same.

Their baggage had been neatly laid on the lower bed. A single small square window provided a view of the city if they knelt to look up the hillside. At sea, the view would be of the water.

Prin said, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Nonsense,” Sara said. “You and I will sleep in the lower bunk, our heads at opposite directions.”

“Is there room?” Prin asked.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Brice offered but didn’t sound sincere.

Sara removed a bag and slid it under the bunk. “We’ll make do. Nobody will sleep on the floor if there is room to do otherwise.”

They pitched in and soon emptied the lower bunk. If anything, it looked even smaller. Prin cast a questioning look at Sara.

Brice muttered, “I don’t suppose either of you knows a spell to make them larger?”

“Like the stretch-spell used in Maude’s garden?” Sara asked, then continued, “I wish I’d have learned that one.”

Brice was confused, not realizing how many things had been kept from him over the years. “There’s such a thing? It was a joke.”

Sara climbed onto the bottom bunk. “Come on, Brice. Use your mind. You remember the day when we searched for her hidden workshop?”

Prin watched Sara take up more than half the bed before attempting to climb in, to the amusement of both Brice and Sara. “Remember? The workshop didn’t extend outside, so where was it when you entered?”

He paused. “I guess I was so impressed by it, and all it contained, that I never thought about the shape of the house. I knew there was something odd about the hallway with our rooms, but decided it just couldn’t be seen from the garden.”

Prin climbed into the lower bunk, wiggled and squirmed until she managed to lie beside Sara, although neither would be turning over during the night without the cooperation of the other. Still, it was better than sleeping on the floor. Probably.

Brice snapped his fingers in sudden understanding, “That endless hallway where our rooms were. How did that even exist on the land for Maude’s house? And the garden out back was bigger than when you looked from the street.”

Prin said, “Never mind thinking about that stuff. I want to be on the outside deck when we depart.”

“Me too,” Sara said. “That was always my favorite part of being a sailor. Departing and arriving.”

Brice began climbing down from his bunk. “I’ll go with you. By the way, the Merry Princes tied up when my ship was in Indore.”

Prin sat up, bumping her head on the bottom of the bunk overhead. “Did you go there? Were the captain and bos’n glad to see you?”

“They both asked about the two of you and offered you jobs on the deck if you would return.”

Sara sighed, “If only we could.”

Really?” he asked. “You’d be a cook’s helper and Prin a deckhand again?”

“In an instant. That was a good part of our lives,” Sara declared. “There are a hundred ports we never sailed to, and sometimes I wonder what we missed in them.”

Prin led the way to the deck outside, and they stood on the promenade deck searching for Maude’s carriage, knowing it wouldn’t be there, but hoping for one last glance. Instead, she instantly spotted two more mages. How many of them are there?

They were speaking to a pair of young women, one with blonde hair. Prin felt a pang of guilt at what those two women must have to put up with. They probably couldn’t take a hundred steps without being accosted and confused with Sara and her.

She glanced at Sara and Brice. They appeared old in age, but familiar. Maude hadn’t changed their total appearances—that would be far too difficult to maintain. Instead, she had given them the wrinkles that come with age, huge noses that instantly drew attention instead of other body parts. Beyond the basic appearances, they all knew to move and act old.

In particular, Prin enjoyed being cranky, especially when there were young people around. She ate what she wanted, and when she wanted to do it, and made no bones about throwing tantrums when she didn’t get her way. “Say, I wonder when we can get something to eat?”

“Now, that’s an idea,” Brice said, his head spinning to look at the windows behind. Inside were rows of tables, and people were sitting at many of them, food on the plates in front of them.

Sara said, “Me too. Let’s go see what’s inside.”

A man dressed in white from hat to shoes waited inside to seat them. He consulted a notepad. “A window table?”

“Please,” Sara said.

He scribbled the false family name they’d given across an empty table on his seating chart. Most of the tables were already assigned to passengers. “This way, please. If the table is acceptable, it will remain yours for the entire voyage.”

The table was pushed against the wall of windows, three chairs on the other three sides. The view was of the pier—and the backs of those few passengers standing at the rail outside watching the departure. “Perfect,” Sara assured him.

He helped seat them, then began a memorized spiel in a monotone, “You may eat at any time, but the food is determined by our cooks, and there can be no individual preferences. However, I’m confident you’ll find the food better than that served on other ships. We also have a doctor on board, and he can attend to minor injuries. He has medicine to prevent seasickness.”

All three giggled in unison at the last statement, interrupting his memorized speech. Sara said, “We’ve all crewed on ships, so I think we’ll be fine.”

It didn’t appease him. The man stood stiffly and said through lips that barely moved, “A steward will be with you soon.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Sara said.

“Not a problem,” said the man who was apparently insulted. He spun and returned to his station near the door.

A diner at the next table leaned close and whispered, “It wasn’t what you said. The steward gets upset when he can’t give his full speech.”

Prin asked carefully, “What did we miss?”

“The part about not wandering about the ship. You’re as much as restricted to these two decks. At least, the rest of us are. Is it true you worked as seamen?”

Prin said, remembering her appearance was that of an unattractive middle-aged woman, “We did, but that was many years ago. I’ll apologize to him later. Thank you for the information.” And thank you for letting us know to watch what we talk about in the dining room because at least one nearby diner has exceptionally good hearing.

Prin turned to look out again but still couldn’t see much of the activities on the pier because of those outside waving to friends and relatives on the shore. However, she felt the shift in movement the instant the ship was freed from the pier. A crosswind gave the ship a rolling motion as the wind and tide worked against the side of the hull to move it from the pier.

Once away from the shore, minimal sails were hoisted, and the ship turned and attacked the waves with her sharp bow. The motion was one of a restrained lion, but as more sails were raised, the ship charged and sliced its way forward as if finally, free from captivity.

Prin said, “Not at all like the old Merry Princes.”

Sara said, “The difference in riding an old nag and a racehorse.”

They waited for Brice to comment, but his attention lingered across the dining room. He ignored the small talk as his eyes focused on one table all the way forward in the room.

Prin shifted her chair slightly to watch where he did without being too obvious. Perhaps five tables away was a small one, set for a single person. It was near the forward bulkhead. Instead of a view outside, the table provided a view of the entire dining room, and those eating. The man sitting there wore the long, dull robes of a mage, but more than that, she instantly recognized him. It was the one she called the young mage.