20

CLOUDS HAD ROLLED IN FROM THE EAST OVERNIGHT, AND THOUGH I welcomed the reprieve from the sun, the low gray sky made for a gloomy welcome into Havensport. The Gyrfalcon slid effortlessly into the harbor, and I braced myself for cheering crowds and the feigned smiles that I was sure would be expected of me.

Instead, the people gathered by the dock were quiet, not part of one undulating mass but sequestered into groups of ten or twelve at most. Bright scarlet peppered the browns and grays and indigos in the crowd, in red caps but also in sashes and cockades and kerchiefs. They hung back, and I found myself mimicking their reluctance and staying away from the rail of the deck. The only detail that had the look of a formal welcome party was the soldiers lining the perimeter of the docks. The garrison of Merhaven’s naval station would have been present at any arrival of dignitaries, but in the presence of the stone-faced crowd, they appeared more of a necessity and less of a formality.

“I thought you expected a small crowd,” I said as Theodor joined me, looking out over the knots of people waiting on the cobblestone square by the dock.

“We may require a change of plans,” he replied, scanning the near silence with concern. “I’ve misread something, for certain.” He walked rapidly toward the captain’s quarters, where Admiral Merhaven waited, then turned back to me. “Go find Annette. Tell her—just tell her to wait. And not to wear anything too flashy.”

I intercepted Annette before she left her cabin, dressed in a modest dove-gray worsted traveling suit. Not flashy at all, even with the pert tricorn hat perched atop her glossy dark hair.

“Theodor says to wait inside,” I said.

“Whatever for?”

We could see the shore from her cabin’s doorway, and I simply pointed. “Well.” She pressed her lips together, turning them nearly white underneath her light coat of carmine rouge. “They look like they could use a colonic, don’t they?”

I smiled, but it was an empty smile and we both knew it.

Then a bellow like thunder erupted on the cobblestones and I jumped back, into Annette. A thick plume of smoke accompanied a brief and unimpressive flash. As the sea breeze wafted the smoke aside, I saw the source—a pair of barrels lay in shards and the stones around them scorched. Gunpowder. Annette’s audible gasp next to me mingled with shouts and a few screams from the docks. Not everyone on shore had anticipated this particular form of demonstration.

The soldiers moved like quicksilver, sliding into position and moving on the center of the square while maintaining some defensive positions nearer the docks. Then I saw something that hadn’t been there before the explosion—a pair of figures, like crudely crafted rag dolls, slung with thick rope over a tree branch. Effigies, hung from miniature nooses.

My stomach clenched and I tasted sour fear at the back of my throat. “Is that Theodor?” I asked, voice tight and distant.

Annette stiffened beside me. “I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t see well enough—there’s no royal insignia.”

“It’s someone,” I countered. “Two someones. The king and the first heir to the throne?”

Annette laid her hand on my trembling arm. “It’s impossible to know from this far away.” She edged backward, as though by instinct. “But that is a fair guess.”

Lieutenant Westland stood by the railing near the bow of the ship, surveying the scene with a looking glass. “I imagine he could tell,” I said.

“Perhaps,” Annette said. “In any case, I assume we’re not going ashore.”

I leaned against the nearest wall, watching the effigies sway gently in the sea breeze as though they were merely toys, not threats. No one seemed to claim them or make a move toward them—or, I noticed, toward the quay or toward the soldiers.

Then the first bottle landed in the water.

“Down!” Ballantine shouted as more bottles rained into the sea, hurled by clutches of men and women on shore.

Annette gripped my arm and pulled me backward, into her cabin, but I strained to see. The bottles weren’t doing anything—just floating. Floating with something stuffed into each one, something white and, to my first glances, something that looked like coarse fabric.

I let Annette pull me inside and she slammed the door. “We’ll wait to see what Theodor wants us to do,” she said, as much to herself as to me. “No one can reach us on the ship, not without launching boats—and we can be out of the harbor before they’ve cleared their docks.”

“I didn’t think—I thought we were past this,” I said, shaking. “Past fighting and past division. The reforms—I thought—I thought—” To my surprise I was nearly crying, images of Red Cap protests six months old dredged up from my memory, the slick texture of fear coating every thought. My brother nearly shot at a protest. The scythes and guns in the streets the night of the coup. The wet stain of blood on the stairs of the palace. “It can’t be,” I whispered.

“It may not be anything of import,” Annette said, but her voice was hollow and insincere. Long minutes passed in silence, the closeness of the cabin pressing in on me from all sides.

A sharp rap on the door made us both jump, but it was, perhaps predictably, Theodor.

“It’s the city lord, Pommerly. And Merhaven.” He ran a hand through already-disheveled hair. “The effigies.”

“It’s not you?” I gasped before I could think better of it.

“Are you disappointed?” Theodor cracked a strained smile. “No, it’s not me. Those people are happy enough to see me. And you. And probably Annette, though, no offense, I don’t know that they’re worried much about dignitaries or royalty.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the crowd out there is unhappy with their local governance and wants to tell us about it.” He pulled several scraps of canvas from his pocket and held them out to me. “These were in the bottles.”

“Not explosives?” Annette managed a small smile. “My cousin the lieutenant seemed to think they were water-borne grenades.”

“Explosive enough,” I murmured. “Traitors to the people, traitors to the Crown,” I read as I passed the rough canvas to Annette. “More taxation without election, there will be men without heads.” I scanned several more. “They’ve refused to hold elections?”

“It appears so.” Theodor shook his head. “Merhaven said there had been delays in enacting some of the reforms here, but this suggests deliberate avoidance—or, at least, that the populace interprets it as such.”

“And how do you interpret it?” Annette said, squaring the stack of canvas as neatly in her hands as she could.

“I don’t know. I hadn’t seen Merhaven as an obstructionist, but then again, he’s been in Galitha City for the past few months. It’s entirely possible he’s guilty only by association as the most powerful lord near Havensport.”

Annette considered this, then looked toward the shore again. “But the city lord?”

“Yes, he should have, per the Reform Bill, been joined in governance by an elected committee. That has not happened. The people seem to think that their best recourse was to make me aware of this by a demonstration.”

“My goodness, they could try writing a letter next time,” Annette said.

“They learned from the revolt,” I said quietly. Both watched me. “Words alone didn’t suffice then, I imagine the people believe they can’t suffice now. They had to show some force.”

Theodor’s face grew taut. “That interpretation doesn’t bode well.”

“I know.”

“I imagine we’re staying on board, then?” Annette said.

Theodor swallowed. “On the one side of it, yes, there’s been a threat to safety and we ought to cancel our events on shore. At the same time—the people don’t seem to be a threat to us. The soldiers will of course obey our royal person”—Theodor cracked a smile—“and there may be much to be gained in terms of the people’s confidence by going ashore.

“At the very least, I do have to meet with Pommerly. There is no reason not to be moving ahead with the implementation of the reforms. In fact, there is nothing worse than not moving forward—it shows incompetence and weakness on the part of both the Crown and the local lords.”

“If you’re going,” I said, raising my chin, “I am, too.” I considered, then added, “But I’m not drinking tea with a gaggle of perfumed ladies. Why are these messages written on canvas?”

“Shipbuilding and fishing are predominant trades here—this is old sailcloth. I think they were establishing themselves as tradesmen.”

“Then I want to see the fishing docks. Or the shipwrights. Something that tells them we’re listening to them.”

Theodor hesitated, weighing, I was sure, the dangers of sending me on a one-woman diplomatic visit to the working class of Havensport. “Merhaven will arrange something. You will be under guard, of course.”

“Of course,” I replied. “Annette, care for a short shore visit?”

Annette took a deep breath. “Why not?”