CHAPTER TWO
ORDERS
GHOSTMAKER STUMPED THROUGH THE hallowed halls of the Mercarian League main offices, immune to the grandeur of the palatial buildings and disgruntled about being summoned by her employers. She patted Baby’s breech and muttered soothing words beneath her breath. Soon. Soon they’d be out of here and back on the job. Hunting Phinneus Shae had, indeed, become a full-time profession, and despite the willingness of the League to support her efforts, she was growing frustrated. This had become more than a contract—it had become a vendetta, even a point of professional honor. Never in her long career of assassination had Ghostmaker been so thwarted.
“Damned pirate.” She stalked up to the gilded doors of the Director of Operations’ office.
The two guards stationed there nodded, and one reached for the handle. She was expected. They knew better than to ask her to hand over her weapons, for Baby never left her side. As she entered, two men rose from their seats, one from behind the broad polished desk and the other from a chair before it. The former, Lord Tewksbury, director of the Eye of Mercir, the League’s intelligence-gathering arm, smiled warmly. The latter wore a jacket with epaulets on the shoulders and a Mercarian League crest on the breast. The naval officer scrutinized her from head to foot, and she returned the favor, her clockwork eye clicking and whirring as she examined him in every detail, right down to the polish on his buttons.
“Ah, Ghostmaker, good of you to hurry over.” Tewksbury gestured to an expansive sideboard festooned with a dozen different decanters and bottles. “Can I offer you something?”
“No, thank you.” She braced her feet wide apart and folded her arms, Baby resting comfortably between her elbows. “You called me in for business, not for a social engagement.”
“That I did.” Tewksbury’s expression didn’t waver. He was long accustomed to Ghostmaker’s brusque manner. He had been her liaison with the League for months, feeding her information from their network of informants and paying her the stipend they had agreed upon. He got right to the point. “This is Captain Hully. He commands the armed merchant Raucous. You’ll be boarding his ship after you leave here.”
“Captain.” Ghostmaker gave the captain a respectful nod, which the man returned without expression, before she turned back to Tewksbury. “I assume Talion’s been sighted, and we’re to give chase.”
“Not exactly.” The director gestured to the second chair stationed before his desk and sat down. “Please have a seat. There has been a change in our strategy with regards to the Talion and Phinneus Shae. At least for the short term.”
“Change?” Ghostmaker didn’t like the sound of that and ignored the offer to sit. “What kind of change?”
“Don’t worry, Ghostmaker.” Tewksbury’s expression shifted to one of stern tolerance. “Our long-term goals haven’t changed. The League still very much wants Shae’s head on a pike, but something more pressing has come up. We’ve come into some information that Shae’s been contracted to find a particular ship the League lost some time ago. Aside from being rightfully ours, the cargo of that ship is priceless. We wish to follow Shae to this shipwreck then take the cargo from him once he’s recovered it. You’re experienced with Shae, his ship, and his tactics. You’ll be going along as an advisor and forward scout.”
Ghostmaker clenched her jaw against a curse and ran one hand through her short-cropped white hair, counting slowly to ten to tamp down her temper. “And what about my contract?”
“You’ll be well compensated for your work, Ghostmaker. Once the cargo is recovered, you’ll be free to kill Phinneus Shae and fulfill your contract.” Tewksbury smiled thinly. “These terms are not negotiable.”
Ghostmaker didn’t like this one bit, but she knew better than to argue. Arguing with the Mercarian League was like arguing with fate itself, a practice in futility with which she was well acquainted. She couldn’t back out of her contract without considerable expense and damage to her reputation. Further, she’d never failed to fulfil a contract and wasn’t about to do so now. “Where’s this wreck he’s going to salvage?”
“If we knew the exact location, we’d have recovered it long ago. All we know is that Seacutter was lost on her way back from Zu.” Tewksbury frowned. “We feel sure she ran afoul on the reefs, but we don’t know where or why.”
Ghostmaker knew full well there were hundreds of wrecks on those reefs. Without precise coordinates, finding a single ship in that maze of coral and tidal bores would be like finding an honest man in government. “And Shae knows where it is?”
“Not yet, but he’s about to learn.” Tewksbury nodded to Captain Hully.
“The League’s informant told us that Talion left Clockers Cove in a southerly direction two days ago. We believe he’ll be rounding Southpoint sometime tomorrow. When he does, we’ll follow at a discrete distance. Wherever he’s going, we’ll dog his steps until he leads us to Seacutter.”
Hully’s cocksure attitude would have been amusing if it didn’t risk the mission and Ghostmaker’s reputation in the process. She refrained from voicing the derogatory expletive that leaped to mind, however, and instead gave him a level stare.
“Phinneus Shae has been hunted by the League and the Cygnaran Navy for years, Captain. If you can shadow Talion without him spotting you and doubling back to come up on your stern and blast you out of the water, you’re a far better mariner than any other I’ve sailed with.” She turned to Tewksbury, even as the captain’s face flushed crimson. “If we can get Seacutter’s location from the same person Shae does, we could beat him there and take it without a naval battle.” She nodded to the irate captain again. “No offense to your prowess, Captain, but I watched Phinneus Shae best two Mercarian frigates twice in the span of three days, and I ended up stranded on a shipwreck in the Southern Ocean for three weeks as a result. I don’t plan on doing so again.”
“If it’s possible to get the location from Shae’s contact—and from what our informant tells us, this fellow is reticent to speak to anyone about the location of Seacutter—we can attempt it.” Tewksbury nodded to Hully. “I’ll have two Freebooter warjacks and someone to operate them on Raucous in an hour. If you reach the wreck first, you can use them to salvage the cargo yourself.”
“As you wish, sir.” Hully nodded respectfully to Tewksbury and ignored Ghostmaker.
“What both of you must understand is that the League cannot allow anyone else to recover that cargo. This is imperative.” Tewksbury fixed them both with a meaningful stare. “This supersedes all other concerns. If there is a choice between getting that cargo and killing Phinneus Shae, the cargo is far more vital. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly clear, sir.” Hully still sounded smug.
“It’s clear,” Ghostmaker agreed, keeping her tone level. In the heat of battle, who knew what could happen or who would catch a stray bullet? Given the opportunity, she would not allow Phinneus Shae to evade Baby’s crosshairs again. She would help the League chase down their precious cargo, but in the end, she would still put a bullet in the warcaster’s brain.
Ghostmaker left the director’s office, ignoring the pleasantries, well wishes, and meaningless assurances exchanged between the two men. She hurried on her way. She had a few things to pick up before they set off for who-knew-where. As she made her way to a nearby gunsmith’s shop, she absently patted the breech of her rifle and once again made the one promise she intended to keep.
Baby will have her due. . .
* * *
CAPTAIN LIANE FROMISH FOLLOWED the admiral’s aide into her commanding officer’s great cabin with a mixture of trepidation and closely bridled excitement. If this was another reprimand for un-officer like conduct, she would make her stand and take her lashes as she had before, and then she’d go right back to crawling around the confined spaces of her vessel with her gobber mechaniks, tinkering with Intrepid’s inner workings. Her life and her career depended on that ship. Too much could go wrong with a hundred feet of water over her head for her to trust the machinery to anyone but herself.
Besides, she enjoyed tinkering. She related better to machinery than she did to most naval officers.
But if this wasn’t a reprimand, what was it? With the chaos of the recent civil war, money, support, and the very life of the fledgling submarine service had been shaken up. Rumors that King Julius might want to see a demonstration of one of these submarine vessels had been bandied about. If the admiralty wanted to use Intrepid as their show pony. . . Well, she would show them what Cygnar’s newest prototype submarine boat could do.
Admiral Huxworthy didn’t even look up from his desk as she entered the flagship’s great cabin. A tall officer stood before the admiral’s desk with his hands clasped behind his back, feet spaced exactly shoulder width apart in precise parade rest. Without a word, she assumed the same posture beside the officer. He was a senior captain by his epaulets, though she didn’t know his face, which meant this probably wasn’t a reprimand. She clenched her hands to hide the grease that never quite washed out from under her fingernails and spaced her feet significantly closer together than his, as her shoulders were somewhat narrower. The crown of her head didn’t even reach his shoulder.
Brawn does not a sea officer make, Liane. She recited her father’s long-held mantra to herself. He’d been only five-foot-four himself. A cannonball doesn’t care if you’re only five feet tall or six-feet-six! He’d told her that to encourage her military career, his own never having exceeded the rank of bosun’s mate. She’d taken his axiom to heart and had even worked it to her advantage in gaining command of Intrepid, for her small stature made the submarine’s cramped confines tolerable, whereas anyone taller tended to find the submarine claustrophobic.
“Captain Fromish, Admiral,” the aide said with a crisp salute.
Admiral Huxworthy looked up from the documents he was reading to regard her, his face unreadable but certainly not happy. “Ah, yes. Good to see you in a clean jacket for a change, Captain. Do you know Captain Blakely of the Maelstrom?” He gestured to the other officer.
“Only by reputation, Admiral.” She turned to nod respectfully to Blakely. She certainly knew both his reputation and his ship. In general, Blakely had a good name in the fleet and a solid battle record. Maelstrom wasn’t one of the Navy’s new iron-hulled steamers but a formidable hybrid frigate of sixty guns.
“Good enough. No time for lengthy introductions now. You’ll have a chance to get acquainted once you’re underway.”
“Underway, sir?” A surge of excitement gripped her heart in a vice. It wasn’t a silly demonstration but an actual mission. Intrepid was to be deployed with Maelstrom!
“Yes, Intrepid is to be loaded aboard Maelstrom as soon as may be accomplished and you’ll set sail.” Admiral Huxworthy scrawled a signature on a page and folded it over, stuffing it into a document pouch as he spoke. “Your orders and Captain Blakely’s are here, but I’ll give you a short summary, then I’ll tell you what is not in your orders and must never leave this cabin.”
Not only a mission, but a secret mission! Liane’s nerves sang like rigging in a cyclone.
“Intelligence within the Mercarian League has informed us that a notorious pirate, one Phinneus Shae, will be passing Highgate soon, and a heavily armed Mercarian merchantman, Raucous, will be following her at a distance.”
“Talion?” Liane was confused. Were they to aid the Raucous in destroying Talion, or did they want Shae alive? What good was Intrepid going to be in hunting down a pirate?
“You know Talion?” Huxworthy squinted at her dubiously.
“Again, only by reputation, sir.” Who in the Cygnaran Navy didn’t know Talion’s reputation? “Phinneus Shae’s responsible for more dead sailors than scurvy.”
More than a dozen officers she knew about bore scars inflicted by the pirate ship’s uncanny gunnery, and none had anything more than those scars to show for the encounters. Shae was a consummate seaman, a wily adversary, and a powerful warcaster to boot. But chasing Talion with Intrepid didn’t make sense to her. The submarine could make six knots, at best, while any decent frigate could make twice that easily. Intrepid also had a very limited range and carried only a crew of ten. Granted, the sub was armed and might sneak up on the pirate ship while she was anchored to blow a hole in her hull, but there was no way she could chase down the pirate at sea.
Huxworthy said, “Yes, well, Shae’s taken a mission to discover the location of a lost Mercarian League ship, Seacutter. You are to follow Talion to her destination without being detected by either the pirate or Raucous, and find out who he speaks to. You will attempt to learn the location of Seacutter from that person and then beat both ships to the wreck in order to salvage an item of cargo from the hold using your newly designed grasping arm for Intrepid.”
Liane tried to swallow all that at once. It sounded intriguing, especially if they were trying to undercut the League. The Cygnaran military and the Mercarian League had been thick as thieves for years, and with Duke Gately a member of the League’s board and his brother in charge of Highgate’s 9th Division, though not the Navy, that wasn’t likely to change soon. If the Navy intended to beat the League to its own lost cargo, Liane would bet a month’s pay that Gately didn’t know about it. If he did, he’d be forced to support the military’s interests over the League’s or risk his career. One thing Huxworthy had said, however, raised a red flag in her mind.
“Begging the admiral’s pardon, but the grasper’s not been installed yet.” Or sufficiently tested, for that matter, but she wasn’t going to balk at that.
“You’ll install it underway.” The admiral sealed the envelope and handed it to Blakely. “There’s no time to lose, and you do have a talent with machinery. Your crew and engineering detail will accompany you aboard Maelstrom.”
“Very good, sir.” Salvage and spying on pirates wasn’t what she’d hoped for, but it would test her abilities and might prove the value of submarines to the Navy.
Liane had long professed that if half the research and development effort that the army applied to warjacks were invested in upgrading and producing submarines, the balance of naval warfare would shift significantly in Cygnar’s favor. Let Cryx try to attack or Khador try to send an invasion fleet from the north while a blockade of submarines lurked unseen beneath the surface, ready to send them all to the bottom of the sea.
“Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Captain Fromish. You will be subordinate to Captain Blakely during this mission. He is senior to you and has more experience. He will be calling the shots. Yours will be a role of reconnaissance and salvage, nothing more.” Huxworthy fixed her with a steely stare. “We care much less about Phinneus Shae than we do about that cargo.”
“Understood, sir.” Liane refused to bristle at being put under the supervision of another captain, but another thought already occurred to her. “But if that’s so, why doesn’t the Navy simply let Shae salvage the cargo then outbid whoever hired him to do so?”
“Because the Cygnaran Navy does not make deals with pirates, Captain.” Huxworthy frowned so prodigiously that his chins doubled. “If Shae recovers that cargo before we do, you will assist Captain Blakely in taking it from him.” His flinty gaze shifted to Blakely. “But if you sink Talion in deep water with that cargo aboard, I’ll personally hang both of your officers’ commissions on my wall and use them for pistol practice. Do you get me?”
“Yes, Admiral,” Blakely answered, his tone hard.
“Of course, Admiral.” Liane looked at the taller captain with a raised eyebrow. “I assume Captain Blakely is familiar with Intrepid’s capabilities.”
“Only slightly.” Blakely smiled thinly. “I will, of course, consult you in that regard.”
“I expect you two to work together on this mission, Captains. There’ll be no sniping at one another over points of honor or valor.”
“Yes, Admiral,” they answered.
“Good. Now for the portion of your orders that is not in that envelope.” Huxworthy took a deep breath before he continued. “This is a politically delicate mission. If the Mercarian League learns we’ve found Seacutter and intend to salvage the cargo first, the Navy will be placed in a difficult position. If Raucous gets that cargo first, you are to get it back at all costs, and leave no one to tell the tale. Do you both understand?”
“Yes, Admiral,” both captains responded.
Sink a Mercarian League ship and kill everyone aboard. Liane swallowed hard. That all but confirmed Gately didn’t know about the operation.
“Very well.” The admiral gestured to the door and his aide opened it. “Carry out your orders.”
“Thank you, Admiral.” Liane saluted and followed Blakely out.
Before they even emerged onto the deck of the flagship, Blakely started.
“We’ll be warping Maelstrom over to the maintenance pier as soon as we can manage. I trust you’ll have Intrepid ready to load.”
“She’s ready right now,” Liane said, but then added, “but I’ll need some time to get everything else ready to go. My engineers, spare parts, tools, equipment, armament—”
“Armament?” Blane looked confused. “Do you need armament for reconnaissance and salvage?”
“No, but one thing I have learned is that it’s best to have a weapon and not need it than to need one and not have it.” She kept her tone even, but she’d march naked into the Lord Admiral’s afternoon tea party before she left port without Intrepid’s weaponry.
“I suppose.” He looked down at her, not in a dismissive or derisive manner but simply due to their foot and a half difference in height. “You have a reputation of being very proud of your ship, Captain Fromish. I hope you don’t take exception to my estimation of her usefulness or her limitations.”
“I’m as proud of my ship as you undoubtedly are of yours, Captain Blakely.” She smiled and nodded politely. “But I’m not so foolhardy that I’ll try to push her outside her capabilities out of pride. And I’ll be more than happy to tell you what Intrepid’s limitations are.”
“Good. Then we understand each other.” They strode down the gangplank to the pier, and he stopped, extending a hand. “I look forward to this mission, Captain. I’m eager to see what Intrepid can do.”
“As am I, Captain.” She shook his hand, her smaller one lost in his huge paw. “I’ll see you at the maintenance pier in, say, two hours?”
“Three, at best. We’re coaling.” He nodded and walked away.
Liane turned and headed for her ship. Reconnaissance and salvage. Well, it beats sitting on a pier tinkering all day and night. As much as she enjoyed the mechanical workings of her ship, she’d much rather take Intrepid to sea.