The sky blazed with fire, the dying light of sunset breathing life into the heavens. The first stars hove from the darkening twilight as crimson gradually faded to indigo, and Akiton’s spark winked to life.
War …
Low in the sky at this time of year, the war planet shone for bare minutes before it dipped below the horizon, but the stars of the Cosmic Caravan never changed, and Celeste knew what constellation the red planet resided in: The Pack. These followers of the caravan could signify friend or foe, dutiful hounds or hungry wolves.
Or in this case, maybe a fleet of marauding Chelish warships.
Celeste watched Akiton vanish below the horizon and raised her eyes to the heavens. The song sang in her mind …
“Don’t you ever get a crick in your neck?”
Snick’s question snapped Celeste out of her musing. She turned to the gnome with a smile. “No. I’m pretty much all neck.” She twisted her long sinuous body into a coil and then unraveled. “See?”
“Huh!” Snick twisted her body as if considering how she might match the trick, but gave up and looked up at the brightening stars. “So, you reading our future tonight, or just musing?”
“Musing, I guess. There’s nothing new to read from a few days ago.”
“Well, no news is good news when there’s a war brewing.”
“So, Torius told everyone?” Celeste knew he’d planned to inform the crew of what little they knew of their mission, but didn’t know when.
“Yeah, at dinner.” Snick gave a little snort of laughter. “Ruined a few appetites.”
“Anyone leaving?”
“Well, not yet!” The gnome gestured at the wide expanse of sea. “Kinda hard to jump ship in the middle of the ocean. Not everyone’s happy about it, though, and there were a few questions about what we’ll do if there is a war. Captain said Stargazer’s not a warship, and he never intends to make her one. Also said if anyone wants to leave, he’ll put in at Sothis, and they can go.”
“Do you think anyone will?”
“Maybe a few.” Snick shrugged. “Can’t blame ’em.”
“You’re not…” Celeste looked at the gnome worriedly.
“Leaving Stargazer?” She snorted and ran her nimble fingers along the smooth taffrail. “Don’t be daft. Ship’d fall right apart without me!”
“Right.” Celeste knew it was Torius that Snick would never leave, not the ship. The gnome was one of the few Stargazers who had been with Torius when he instigated a mutiny and seized the ship from its slave-master captain. In fact, Snick had apparently saved his life during that fight, much as she had saved Celeste’s only days ago. Snick was surprising in that way. Though the gnome didn’t care for violence, she could be deadly when she needed to be. “I never got a chance to thank you for the other day, Snick. You saved my life, you know.”
“Nah! Just a lucky shot.” The gnome grinned. “You’d do the same for me.”
“Yes, I would.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to your stargazin’. The compass is all boogered up again. Gotta swing it true.”
“In the dark?”
“Only time I can.” Snick grinned and pointed to the north where the gleaming mote of Cynosure hung in the sky. “Gotta have a true north, ya know.”
“I didn’t know you knew the stars.”
“Don’t. Just that one.” Snick grinned and turned to her work, leaving Celeste to her musing.
Celeste often envied the gnome’s simple, pragmatic view of the world. Nothing ever got her down for long. Not even dying. The naga shivered at the thought. Snick was what sailors called a gallows jumper, someone who had died and been brought back by magic. She didn’t talk much about the experience, except that it had strengthened her faith in Desna and her devotion to Torius. Celeste found it ironic that the gnome looked to the goddess for both spiritual and practical guidance, since Cynosure was reputed to be one of Desna’s palaces. She gazed up at the glowing blue-white mote and wondered if Snick had made the right decision to allow her soul to be brought back. Was the Great Beyond so terrible? Had shuffling off mortality—even if only for a little while—changed her view of life and death? Did the gnome have some purpose on Golarion that she felt compelled to accomplish?
Do I?
The song of the heavens sang in Celeste’s veins, but no answer came. She considered getting out her instruments and making some astrological calculations, but twitched her tail in frustration. Previous attempts to analyze their situation had only confused her. She was tired of ambiguous prophecies, tired of trying to figure out the meaning of things, the purpose behind their struggles. Why can’t I just get a simple answer?
Because there are no simple answers, Celeste. Laughter like chiming bells rang in the naga’s mind.
Snick leapt up onto the rail and pirouetted on one toe, glittering stardust arcing in a nimbus around her. You must muddle through, like all mortals do, to find your own purpose, to follow your own dreams … The gnome winked and laughter chimed again, but her lips didn’t move, and her voice sounded only in Celeste’s head.
Celeste tried to speak, to ask Snick what she meant, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. Suddenly she realized the wind had stopped and the sea around them was frozen in place. The very stars themselves had ceased to twinkle. Panic surged up as she realized that her heart wasn’t even beating. She felt as if she were caught in some kind of spell or waking dream.
Yes … Only you, Celeste. Stardust trailed from the finger Snick pointed at her. This is only … for … you! The gnome’s finger touched the tip of the naga’s nose.
Celeste’s mind expanded as the heavens rushed in: a billion shining suns, misty nebulae, brilliant supernovae, swirling galaxies, newborn planets, and pits of blackness so deep that neither light nor the captured gods imprisoned within could escape. Like a crescendo of her own thoughts, trillions of beings cried out to the heavens for guidance. In that instant, she and the universe were one. For that moment in time, she understood … everything.
Celeste blinked, and the world around her resumed. The breeze flapped the sails, the sea rolled past in foamy crests glowing with phosphorescence, and the stars filled the sky instead of her mind. The universe continued spinning, expanding, living, and dying around her. She no longer heard the pleas of trillions, no longer understood all the meanings of existence … but she knew that for a brief, intense moment, she had.
By the stars! What’s happening to me?
With a glance, Celeste spied Snick still working beside the binnacle, her eyes intent on the compass as she fiddled with her tools. There was no way the gnome could have been dancing on the taffrail a moment ago, trailing stardust from her fingertips.
Now I’m hallucinating! She shook her head, and a flick of movement caught her eye.
There on the rail sat a beautiful blue butterfly slowly opening and closing its wings, completely unruffled by the strong breeze. This far offshore, it wasn’t unusual for a weary bird to perch in the rigging until it had regained its strength, but a butterfly?
How odd. Celeste peered at it more closely.
It was unlike any butterfly she’d ever seen, its swallowtail wings spangled with stars, a sunburst, and a crescent moon. The patterns stuck a chord within her mind. Where have I seen that before? Then she remembered, and fear cramped her gut. This exact butterfly was engraved on the platform of the Observatory in Katapesh—a shrine to Desna.
Desna … What would the goddess of stars want from me?
Celeste blinked in wonder as the butterfly fluttered its fabulous wings and rose easily into the air, still unaffected by the wind. Laughter—remembered or imaginary—chimed in her mind as the creature wafted away into the darkness. Suddenly all the strange things that had been happening to her—the magical cloak of starlight, speaking in tongues, the stargazing trances, her questions seemingly answered, and laughter in her head—clicked into place like the pieces of a puzzle.
Could these be, not curses, but gifts from Desna?
The universe spun overhead, the stars sang, and Celeste finally had an answer.
* * *
“More wine, my dear?” Admiral Ronnel waved the steward forward.
“No, thank you.” Vreva dabbed her mouth with a monogrammed napkin, then dropped it beside her plate. “Any more and I’ll be positively tipsy, and that wouldn’t do at all.”
“No?” Ronnel smiled like a shark scenting blood in the water. He emptied his own glass, and the steward refilled it. “I thought tipsy would suit perfectly for a night of unabashed frivolity.”
“Perhaps at the end, but not just yet.” She was nowhere near tipsy, of course, but more wine might make her careless, and this was no time to be careless. “I prefer to have my wits keen. So much enjoyment is lost if the mind is befuddled with alcohol.”
“Do you think so?” The admiral sipped his wine. “I find that wine sharpens my senses, rather than dulls them.”
“Your warrior’s constitution, no doubt.” Vreva felt a tug of desperation. The evening was winding down, and she had gotten nowhere.
While the meal had confirmed the chef’s talents, the conversation had been as bland as a bowl of gruel. Nothing but banal blather about his exploits and her fabricated past. The playful mood of their initial encounter had been stifled, and she wasn’t sure why. No matter how she’d tried to draw him out, he remained withdrawn, as if holding her at arm’s length. To complicate matters, the hovering footmen and steward prevented her from employing her magic or using the few drugs she had smuggled aboard. She needed to get him alone, but not the way he obviously wanted to be alone with her. If she gave in too easily to his lust, she could soon find herself back on the pier with a tainted reputation and no information for her trouble. I’ve got to get him out of this room first.
“The other night you promised me a turn on deck. A breath of fresh air would help this fabulous meal to settle.”
“A capital idea, Madame Korvis.” Ronnel stood. “The weather’s fine and the moon’s risen. The view from the poop deck should be lovely.”
“My thoughts exactly.” A footman held Vreva’s chair as she stood and took the admiral’s arm. Her beaming smile drooped into a pretty pout as she glanced back at the two footmen following a step behind. Squeezing his arm, she arched an eyebrow. “We don’t need chaperones, do we?”
“Well…” The expression that flashed across Ronnel’s face worried her: concern, maybe even a little suspicion. The admiral was no fool, but could he suspect that she was more than just a smitten businesswoman?
“No matter.” Vreva shrugged and pressed his arm against her bosom. “I’m just not used to such luxury. Servants at your beck and call all day and night…” She sighed wistfully. “We live very different lives, Admiral.” It seemed that there was only one way to get him alone.
Mathias is never going to let me hear the end of this. Her familiar was close enough to pick up on her emotions. If she bedded the admiral, there would be no end to his jibes.
“One hardly notices servants when one becomes accustomed to nobility.” Ronnel smiled down at her as the steward opened the door. “I feel positively naked without a footman to serve my meals and a valet to help me dress.”
“Do they even attend you in your private cabin?” That would make things difficult.
“Well … not always, of course.” Ronnel paused and pursed his lips. “If you would prefer a game of cards in the privacy of the quarter gallery…”
“Cards?” Vreva smiled knowingly. “You do know I run a gambling house, don’t you, Admiral? I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you.”
“Oh, and I was so hoping you would.”
Vreva laughed despite her mood, caught off guard by his quip. Maybe he’s loosening up after all. “A hand or two of cards sounds lovely, Admiral.”
“This way, my dear.” Smiling affably, Ronnel guided her down the corridor to the left. Where the passage turned to the right, he stopped before a closed door and withdrew a key from his waistcoat pocket. “This is actually my favorite cabin in Devil’s Trident.”
“Really? I’m breathless with anticipation!” Worry thrilled down Vreva’s spine. She didn’t like Ronnel’s tone of voice, suddenly as slick as oil upon water, but this was her chance to get him alone. Once inside, she could use magic and drugs to ease his mind and delve his thoughts. As the key clicked in the lock, she readied a spell.
“After you, my dear.” He ushered her through, and the footmen stationed themselves in the corridor like a pair of palace guards.
Finally. Vreva stepped into the room, scanning the environment with a practiced glance. Open windows lined two sides of the small chamber, and the scent of the sea wafted in on the light evening breeze. Easy escape, if necessary. The furnishings were opulent and cozy—richly upholstered settees, a small table, sideboards stocked with crystal decanters, all illuminated by the soft glow of lamps turned low. Ideal for intimate conversation. Perfect!
As the door clicked closed behind her, Vreva mentally recited her spell and discretely wove a complex pattern with her fingers. Before she could complete the last gesture, however, an unyielding hand grasped her arm. Ronnel jerked her so hard that an involuntary yelp of alarm escaped her lips and the spell spun from her mind. Her back slammed against the bulkhead with enough force to snap her head back into the hard wood. Before Vreva could gather her wits, he had her pinned up against the wall, his hands gripping her arms painfully.
“Admiral!” At first, Vreva thought this might merely be rough foreplay, but the look in Ronnel’s eyes chilled her to the bone. She tried to move, but his hands grasped harder. Panic surged up, memories of chained wrists, pain, pleading. Not again. Never again … She fought to keep fear out of her voice. “What are you doing?”
“My exact question for you, Madame Korvis.” His chest pressed against hers, his wine-scented breath warm on her face. “What are you doing here? Why did you ask me to your club? What do you hope to gain?”
He doesn’t know. He can’t know! “Gain?” Vreva tried again to break free, but he had a good grip and outweighed her by half. “Admiral Ronnel, release me this instant! I came here as your guest!”
“Yes, you did. What I want to know is why!” Instead of releasing her, Ronnel leaned in closer, inhaling her scent. “You run a gaming house and brothel, so you’re not here because you crave male company. What game are you playing?”
So he doesn’t know. He’s just suspicious. She could use that. If she gave him a legitimate reason, something he could believe, he would let her go. Then … Vreva thought of the poisoned needle in her hair, but instantly banished the image of jamming it into her host’s pulsing jugular. You can’t kill him, Vreva! Explaining a dead admiral would be more than problematic. Naval justice was swift and harsh. Most likely, she would be strung up by her neck from a yardarm. She had to deal with him, still needed the secrets locked in his head.
Feigning exasperation, she said, “I’m not playing a game at all, Admiral, I’m conducting business!”
He leaned back and gave her an incredulous look. “If you think I’m going to pay you for—”
“Please, Admiral. Don’t insult me.” Vreva writhed expertly against Ronnel, stifling her fear of him with a sensuous smile. “You’re very astute. If you release me, I’ll explain.”
“Very well.” He took a step back and let go of her arms. “Why did you invite me to your club?”
“Prestige, Admiral Ronnel.” She straightened her dress, noting how his eyes still drifted down to her cleavage whenever he wasn’t speaking to her. “You’re commander of the Ostenso fleet. To have you in my club would honor my humble establishment. When you declined and invited me here, I thought that a dalliance between us might accomplish the same.”
“You hope to elevate your social status through our association.” It wasn’t a question.
“And drum up business, yes. Surely you didn’t think our … association would remain a secret from the officers of the fleet.” Vreva smiled at him cunningly. Strolling past him to the sideboard, she began exploring the decanters, removing one crystal stopper after another and sniffing each. She took the opportunity to cast the silent spell she’d attempted before, and was relieved to feel his mind soothed by her magic. Now for a little something else. Pretending to smooth her skirt, she ensured that the tiny vial of striped toadstool toxin was accessible. The drug would weaken his defenses and befuddle his mind. Then she could direct the conversation to guide his thoughts, and strip away his secrets. Decanter in hand, she turned to him and smiled. “Brandy?”
“Please.” He joined her at the sideboard before she had time to drug his glass.
Frustrated, Vreva locked a smile onto her lips and handed him a snifter. “Do you think I’m a terrible person for using you so? You did say you hoped I would take advantage of you.” Swirling her brandy in her glass, she inhaled the aromatic vapors before taking a tiny sip.
“Using me to advance your business prospects wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” Ronnel’s tone had shifted from accusative to introspective. The spell was working.
“It could be a mutually beneficial arrangement, Admiral.” Vreva sidled up to him and ran a finger over his jaw, the slight stubble like sandpaper beneath her fingertip. “I use you, you use me…”
His hand closed on her wrist again, but gently this time, and his eyes searched hers. “You really are … something.”
Vreva leaned forward and drew his hand closer until it pressed against her cleavage. “You have no idea, Admiral.” She brushed his lips with hers in the promise of a kiss, then pulled away. His grip turned to water, and he let her go. “But if you’d rather send me away…” She turned and sauntered to the windows, keeping a keen eye on his reflection.
“Whatever made you think I would send you away, Virika?”
Oh, so now I’m Virika … While the admiral bolted his brandy and turned aside to place his snifter on the sideboard, Vreva capitalized on his inattention to cast another silent spell, this one to delve his mind. Immediately, she felt the flicker of his thoughts like a nearby candle flame.
“We all use one another when the day is done. No one’s innocent of it.” He pursued her to the windows, his hands encircling her trim waist. “I was just suspicious of your motives. I’m sure you can understand.”
“You frightened me rather badly, you know.” She met his gaze in their reflection. “Are you always so suspicious?”
“It comes with the onus of command. I’m a powerful man, Virika. The entire Ostenso fleet and, by extension, the well-being of Cheliax herself rests in my hands.” He pulled her close, his lecherous thoughts filtering through the haze of alcohol that clouded his mind.
“So much responsibility must be a dreadful burden.”
With Bushatra and Anguillithek fighting over who gets to destroy Augustana first, you bet your sweet little ass it is. His thought came to her as clearly as if he’d spoken.
Augustana. She bridled her delight at the discovery. So that’s the target. Augustana was the nearest Andoren coastal city to Cheliax, and the bastion of Andoran’s naval might. If the fleet stationed there was devastated, or the city razed, Andoran would be at a serious naval disadvantage. That would be the perfect crippling stroke as a prelude to war. Should she warn Trellis? Not yet. If Chelish spies noticed an evacuation of the harbor at Augustana, they’d know news of the attack had leaked. Then they’d start hunting for the source of that leak. And that, Calistria forbid, might lead back to her.
“A burden, yes, and with responsibility comes caution.” Ronnel crushed her against him, his lips on the curve of her neck, the stubble of his beard sending shivers down her spine. “And the need for a distraction.”
“Is that all I am to you, a distraction?” She leaned back against him and pressed his hands to her bosom. “What did you think I wanted from you?”
Can’t exactly tell her you thought she might be a spy, Vaetus. “I have more to lose than most men, my dear. I’ve a reputation to consider, and family in Egorian. You might blackmail me.”
So, he had suspected me of spying. Laughing to hide her fear, Vreva sipped her brandy and moved in slow, tantalizing gyrations against him, encouraging his fondling. “I’m not a fool, Admiral, and I would have to be an incredible idiot to blackmail a man like you.”
“Yes, you would.” He chuckled low. And they’d find your pretty corpse floating in the bay.
Nice. She reconsidered the poison needle in her hair. Maybe later …
“But I certainly can’t blame you for trying to use me for your own ends.”
“And what exactly did you think my ends were, Vaetus?” She turned in his grasp, her free hand wandering down to his trousers. “I’m not exactly after your title.”
“You wouldn’t be the first.” His fingers deftly loosened the laces of her dress. If Narika ever finds out about her, she’ll drag my name through the muddiest streets in Egorian, the simpering shrew. If I didn’t need her money …
Vreva committed the detail to memory. So Ronnel’s chasing a wealthy heiress. That fed into her theories about him well. A man who would marry someone he despised for money might also start a war for it.
“I’ve worked very hard to build a reputation here as well, Vaetus.” She teased his lips with hers. “Just like you, I’ve got a lot to lose. My very livelihood, in fact. We’ve all got our secrets to keep, demons in our closets. I don’t care about yours, and you’d find mine incredibly boring.”
“I doubt that.” She could probably tell some stories …
“Honestly, though, I thought you would enjoy the Officers’ Club.” It was time to get his mind back on track, and off of her drooping bodice. She had him where she wanted him now. There was no rush. “We do have the best entertainment in town, you know. Don’t you ever get to leave this dreary old ship?”
“In a few days, perhaps.” When that slug Robust gets here, and I can get that bloody thing off my ship! Damn that cuckolding rake Giavano. Probably out sailing in circles. The scrub never could navigate worth a damn. “But we can have our own entertainment here, can’t we?”
Vreva’s mind spun to decipher his thoughts. “That bloody thing” must be the weapon. Robust … She remembered a galleon by that name from her lists, but it was nothing but an old cargo transport, not a warship. What were they planning with a scow like that?
“Oh, that’s right!” She slipped out of his grasp, ignoring the loose laces of her dress. The neckline sagged near the point of indecency, but she ignored that, too. “We were going to play cards!” She spied a deck on the table and snatched them up. “What should we play?”
Bloody tease. “You pick the game, I’ll pick the stakes.”
“Very well.” Vreva took a seat beside the table and shuffled expertly. “Drakes and lions is my game. What are we playing for?”
He removed his cravat and dropped it on the table. “Ante up, my dear.”
I should have guessed … “Very well.” Slipping off a shoe, she flicked it up with her toe. She caught it in one hand and placed it on the table. “I may have slightly deeper pockets than you.”
“Then we’ll have to think of something else to wager.”
She didn’t need to read his thoughts to know what he meant, but did it anyway, and fought to keep her composure. The man would make a satyr blush. She examined him professionally, and decided that he was definitely handsome. She remembered what Mathias had said about taking pleasure in her work.
Vreva won several hands—how could she not, with her magic exposing his thoughts?—then lost one as her spell ran out. Finishing her brandy, she sent the admiral for a refill and recast the spell as soon as his back was turned.
“You must get lonely being in command.” She rose from her seat and strolled to the window again, listening for his thoughts.
“Sometimes, but it has its rewards.” Like a governorship, when we rebuild Augustana.
Rebuild? That didn’t sound good. Was this weapon really so devastating they could destroy an entire city? If so, why transfer it from a man-of-war to a transport ship? She remembered Mathias’s report about their worries concerning magic and the weapon, and realized what it must have been about. Teleport … they can’t teleport the weapon to Augustana for fear of triggering it here.
“All the politics and bureaucratic nonsense must be wearisome. How do you cope with it?”
He sidled up behind her and handed her the snifter. “I’m above most of it.” And I’ll be even farther above it soon. “And tonight’s not so lonely.”
“I get lonely, Vaetus. You might think it strange, but I do.” Turning, Vreva caressed his stubbly cheek. Now that she had his mind soothed, she could put any suggestion she wished there, and she knew he’d accept it. “You needn’t fear your reputation from me. You must know that I’d never risk your wrath.”
You better not … “And you needn’t fear me, my dear.”
“And as your power grows, perhaps we can continue to … use one another?” She teased his lips with her fingertips.
“I’m sure we can reach a mutually beneficial arrangement.” Once Giavano completes his suicide mission, and my fleet swoops in to aid the devastated city, she can keep me company in Augustana. Perfect!
That explained much. A suicide mission to deploy this weapon would allow Cheliax to deal a death blow to Andoran’s navy without the inconvenience of taking responsibility for killing thousands. If the Chelish fleet arrived to render aid after the devastation, the locals would be in no position to refuse them. Once ensconced, the Chelish would never leave. She wondered what lever he had over this Captain Giavano. What could force a man into suicide?
“I’m not used to … men like you, Vaetus.” That was true enough. She was used to men a lot worse than the admiral. He might be a lecherous, power-hungry devil worshiper, but he didn’t seem truly sadistic.
“You’ve never met anyone like me, Virika.” He slipped her dress off her shoulders with deft assurance, his grip hardening on her arms again.
She shivered, not entirely unpleasantly. “What about our card game?”
“I tire of games.”
“Patience is a virtue, they say.” She leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss. “Good things come to those who wait.”
“I’ve waited long enough.” Ronnel grabbed her glass, quaffed the brandy, and tossed the snifter casually out the open window. He crushed her against him, his teeth playing the nerves along her neck, sending shocks down her spine.
“Oh, Vaetus!” Vreva dismissed her thought-reading spell and let Calistria, goddess of lust, have her way. Vreva would get nothing useful from him for the time being. At least nothing from his mind.