The office of the governor in Wellinsport maintained its own official private docking facility. Governor Crichton kept his personal yacht here. Boats carrying supplies or those who had business at the governor’s mansion were permitted to dock here. On those evenings when the governor entertained, the dock was host to a glittering armada of private vessels.
Henry and Alan arrived at the governor’s dock in the late morning. They disembarked, walked the short distance to the mansion, and gave their cards to a servant, requesting an audience with the governor.
The servant invited them to wait in the garden, then went off, presumably to deliver the message. Alan declined to sit with Henry, and walked into the garden, saying he needed to stretch his legs. He spent his time pacing beneath the shade trees.
Henry chose to find a bench. He was already fatigued by the trip in the pinnace and he began to think he should not have come. His shoulder throbbed, the bandages itched, the sling was hot and uncomfortable. He fanned himself with his hat and watched Alan make a point of ignoring him.
Alan had been known as a hothead in his youth. He was quick to act, quick to anger, reckless, daring, and bold. As captain of a ship, responsible for the lives of his crew and the successes of his missions, he had learned to temper his impulsiveness and give careful consideration to his actions. He could still be reckless, but he was now “mindfully reckless,” as he always said with a laugh. Quick to take offense, he was also quick to forgive offenders. He had never been one to harbor a grudge, nurse his anger.
But he could not forgive what he considered to be an insult.
Henry could concede that Alan had every reason to refuse to listen to him. Henry had urged him to risk his career—which was his very life—on what he considered to be a mad whim. Henry had no evidence to back up his claim that Freya was in danger from King Ullr. Alan was correct. The Countess de Marjolaine was a Rosian who had actively worked for Freya’s downfall for most of her life; Henry could see why Alan would not be willing to accept her as a reliable source of information.
But Henry knew from his own experience that there were times when one had to take risks, throw caution—even wisdom—to the four winds. Henry believed with every fiber of his being that this was one of those times. Their country was in dire peril. And the Terrapin, the most formidable ship in the Royal Navy, was far from Haever, hoodwinked into confronting a Rosian threat that he was certain did not exist.
Henry found the inexplicable absence of the Aligoes Fleet and the simultaneous presence of three Guundaran warships in the Trame Channel extremely troubling.
“In which case, Alan will be in the right place at the right time for the wrong reason,” Henry muttered grimly. “Just like his goddamned luck!”
The servant returned to say that Governor Crichton would be pleased to see them—as indeed he should be, for he owed his governorship appointment to Henry. The servant escorted them into the governor’s office. The hallway was cool and dark, shaded from the blazing sun by the thick stands of trees in the gardens outside the house.
As Henry paused to admire the beauty of the exotic flowers, he noticed three gentlemen walking the garden path—and came up short at the sight of them.
The three men were Guundaran naval officers, two captains and a commander. They were leaving by a private entrance. Henry was intimately familiar with the mansion, and he knew that a door from Crichton’s office opened onto a veranda and a pathway into the garden.
“Alan,” said Henry, calling his friend’s attention to the visitors.
Alan paused, brought up short by the warning tone in Henry’s voice. He looked outside, saw the officers, glanced at Henry, and continued walking.
Crichton was in his office, waiting for them. He rose to his feet and advanced to shake hands.
Born and raised in the Aligoes, Crichton had the brown, weathered complexion of one who spends much of his time in the sun. He still oversaw the work on the family sugar cane plantations, and because he was one of them, he was well-liked among the populace.
He was friends with Henry and knew Alan from the latter’s Rose Hawk privateering days. He had been Henry’s choice to succeed the profligate and corrupt Governor Finchley. The three men spent a few moments reminiscing and catching up on family news and tidings of old friends before turning to business. Crichton was concerned to see Henry’s heavily bandaged arm in a sling.
Henry made light of his injury. “I was leaving work, slipped on the ice, and took a tumble down the steps of the Foreign Office. Broke my collarbone. Tell me, Your Excellency,” he added, his tone sharpening, “I saw three Guundaran naval officers in the garden. I assume they belong to those three Guundaran warships in the Trame Channel.”
“You don’t miss much, do you, my lord,” said Crichton with a smile. He was a tall man with a shaved head in deference to the heat, and sported a golden earring. “Yes, those were three of their officers. They’ve had a rough time of it. They were bound for Bheldem when the Winter Witch caught them and blew their ships off course. The storm winds did considerable damage to masts and rigging. They have requested permission to enter the harbor to make repairs and to take on water and provisions.”
“Those ships did not appear to me to be badly damaged, Your Excellency,” said Henry.
“I wouldn’t know, my lord,” said Crichton. “Being a landlubber, I can’t tell a bowsprit from a keel. Captain Northrop, I would very much like a chance to tour the Terrapin, if that is possible given your duties here. I have read a great deal about your wonderful ship.”
Alan was about to reply, when Henry interrupted him.
“What duties, Your Excellency?”
“I assumed Captain Northrop and the Terrapin are here to guard the channel in the absence of the Aligoes Fleet,” Crichton replied.
“We noticed the fleet was not in the usual station,” said Henry. “Where did they go?”
Crichton appeared bewildered at the question. “I thought you must have known, my lord. Admiral Tower received orders a fortnight ago to sail immediately to Sornhagen.”
Alan had been sitting in his chair, staring out the window, absently clenching and unclenching his fist. His gaze suddenly snapped to the governor.
“Sornhagen!” he repeated, startled.
“Yes, Captain,” said Crichton. “Are you telling me you didn’t know?”
Alan sat back in his chair, his expression darkening.
“What were Admiral Tower’s orders, Excellency?” he asked.
“The orders were secret, of course, but he had permission to tell me since the safety of Wellinsport was involved. Our new Chancellor of War—I think his name is Smythe—ordered the fleet to Sornhagen to protect Freyan interests in the region from an attack by the Dragon Brigade. As you know, gentlemen, we do a great deal of business with the Travian cartels. Admiral Tower did not want to leave until another ship had arrived to take over, but since he had to be in Sornhagen by this date, he had no choice but to depart.”
“We were delayed,” said Alan. “We ran into the same foul weather as the Guundarans. But no matter. The Terrapin is here now. We will take over the fleet’s duties.”
“Admiral Tower was duped, as were you, Governor,” said Henry. “The Dragon Brigade is not about to attack Sornhagen, or Freya either, for that matter.”
“But we are at war with Rosia, or we soon will be, my lord,” Crichton protested. “They assassinated our queen!”
Henry was grim. “The Rosians are no more responsible for assassinating our queen than you are, Excellency.”
Crichton blinked at him, shocked.
Alan attempted to draw him away. “Henry, you do not look well. I think we should leave.”
Henry ignored his friend and faced Crichton. “I know for a fact, sir, that our queen was killed by this Smythe, an evil man who has seized control of our kingdom. He had himself named Chancellor of War and is trying to lure Rosia into war with us. Thank God, our king has refused to rush into battle and the Rosians have more sense than to take the bait. All the while, Guundar lies coiled like a snake in the grass, preparing to strike. And now I find three Guundaran warships in the channel about to be invited to sail into the harbor. You must refuse the Guundaran ships permission to dock here, sir. Send them on their way.”
Crichton was astonished by Henry’s vehemence. Despite his piratical appearance, the governor was a mild-mannered man who disliked unpleasantness and confrontation.
“My lord, the captain of the Sunsvall tells me that they have been forced to ration food and water for a week and their crewmen are suffering,” Crichton said. “The Godswald was struck by wizard lightning that disrupted the magic on their lift tanks. They barely made it this far without sinking.”
“As I have said before, we are not at war with Guundar, Henry,” Alan added tersely. “Governor Crichton cannot in good conscience deny aid.”
Henry leaned forward to fix the governor with a gaze meant to intimidate. A wide expanse of mahogany desk separated Henry from the governor, but he had the satisfaction of seeing Crichton nervously shrink back.
“Yet we are presumably at war with Rosia with not a single Rosian ship in sight,” said Henry in biting tones. “I arrive in Wellinsport, which I remind you, sir, is our country’s most valuable asset in the Aligoes, to find three Guundaran ships in the harbor and our fleet in Sornhagen! You must deny the ships entry, Excellency!”
Crichton drew himself up, finally prepared to assert his authority. “I have made my decision, Sir Henry. I have already granted the Guundaran ships permission to enter the harbor. They have ordered new rigging, new masts, and victualing, bringing much needed revenue to our city.”
Henry glared at the man in impotent fury. Afraid of what he might say, he jumped from his chair and stalked out of the room. As he flung open the door to the office, he heard Crichton say in troubled tones to Alan, “Did His Lordship hit his head when he fell?”
Henry slammed out of the office, catching the servants by surprise. He snarled at them. “Leave me alone! I know the way!”
Once outdoors, he had time to cool his anger while he waited for Alan, who was undoubtedly spending a few moments apologizing for Henry’s outburst.
Henry walked rapidly about halfway through the garden before pain and fatigue got the better of him. He stopped beneath a lime tree to rest and think what he should do.
Alan found him a few moments later.
“Henry, we have to talk,” Alan said, his voice grating.
“Not here,” said Henry, indicating the thick growth of trees and flowering bushes in which an army of spies could be lurking.
Alan took his meaning and managed to contain his fury until they had reached the docks, which were out in the open. The pinnace had not yet returned to pick them up. The afternoon sun was hot, and the docks were deserted, save for the two of them. Henry sat down on a bench. Alan sat down beside him.
“Ullr again!” Alan said, exasperated. “Frankly, Henry, you are obsessed with this man. You are making him into some sort of diabolical monster!”
“Think of it, Alan. Ullr takes us by surprise while our ships are scattered all over the world and the Terrapin is hundreds of miles away. Our king is young and inexperienced. Ullr defeats Freya and then what? He has the Freyan navy as well as the Guundaran navy under his control. He attacks Rosia. Guundar could well rule the world!”
“And what about the Dragon Brigade?” Alan asked.
“I am certain Smythe has found some way to deal with them,” Henry muttered.
“That is nothing but wild speculation!” Alan said in exasperation.
Henry gave a faint smile. “On the contrary, it is a careful calculation based on twenty years of knowledge of our adversaries.”
Alan regarded him grimly. “What have you done, Henry?”
“What I had to do,” said Henry with a shrug of his shoulders, which he immediately regretted. He grimaced at the pain. “I sent a letter to the Countess de Marjolaine warning her of Smythe’s scheming, asking her to keep Rosia from declaring war.”
Alan was livid. He abruptly stood up, walked to the end of the dock, and stood staring down into the Breath, breathing hard until he had mastered his anger. He turned around and walked back to confront his friend.
“You are a traitor, Henry. I should clap you in irons, lock you in the brig, and carry you back to Freya.”
Henry was tired and in pain. “All the years of our friendship you have trusted me, Alan.”
“All these years, you have never betrayed our friendship!” Alan retorted. “For the sake of your wife and children, I will not expose them to the shame of seeing you stand trial. But from this moment, our friendship is at an end. I denounce you. I no longer know you.”
Alan waited a moment to give Henry a chance to say something, perhaps apologize or plead for forgiveness. The wind rustled the leaves. A bird sang nearby. Henry sat unmoving, his head bowed.
“Since you will not be returning to the ship, I will send a sailor with your things,” said Alan. “I assume you will be in your usual lodgings.”
Henry raised his head. “Tell Mr. Sloan—”
But Alan was gone.
Henry Wallace kept hired lodgings in every major city and many minor ones throughout the world under one or another of his aliases. He generally chose nondescript boarding houses for single gentlemen and in each he kept a locked chest containing clothing, papers to prove false identities, funds in the local currency, pistols, powder, and ammunition. He paid well for the privilege of being left undisturbed.
The boarding house in Wellinsport overlooked the harbor. His single room was sparsely furnished, stuffy, hot and cheerless, and smelled of boiled cabbage. He opened the window to air it out and stood watching the ships. The first of the Guundaran warships was just entering the harbor when there was a knock on his door.
“Who is there?” Henry called, hoping without much hope it would be Alan.
“Perry,” was the answer.
Henry opened the door to find the surgeon with his black bag, accompanied by a burly sailor lugging Henry’s sea chest.
“Put it there,” said Henry, pointing.
The sailor deposited the chest on the floor. Henry paid him for his trouble and the sailor left.
Perry looked about the small room in some surprise. “Quite cozy, my lord.”
“Indeed, sir,” said Henry, smiling. Perry was nothing if not diplomatic. “How can I help you, sir?”
“Captain Northrop said you had decided to stay in the city. I came to check your wound and change the bandages.”
Henry offered Perry the only chair and sat down on the end of the bed. Perry removed the sling, studied the wound, sniffed at it for signs of putrefaction, and smiled.
“Healing nicely,” he said. “The bones are knitting well. Still in pain?”
“Not that I notice,” Henry lied.
“I can give you something for it,” said Perry, having learned not to believe his patients.
“Thank you, no,” said Henry.
Perry began to rummage about in his bag. “Captain Northrop says you have business in Wellinsport and will not be returning to the ship. I will leave clean bandages and a jar of this healing ointment. Spread it liberally over the wound three times a day. And keep your arm in the sling,” he added, noting that Henry had removed it and flung it on the bed.
Henry grimaced, but he obediently slipped the sling over his head and gingerly slid his arm inside. He eyed the Guundaran ship, the Godswald, as it glided past. He noted some signs of damage, but most of it was superficial, nothing that couldn’t have been done deliberately and easily repaired.
“Anything else you require, my lord?” Perry asked.
“Thank you, sir, no,” said Henry.
Perry packed up his bag. Henry accompanied the surgeon to the door and opened it for him.
Perry wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Judging by the smell from the kitchen, I recommend for the sake of your health that you take your meals elsewhere.”
Henry laughed and agreed to do so. But his laughter must have sounded hollow, for Perry regarded him intently.
“Is everything all right, my lord?”
Alan would not have said anything to reveal that he and Henry had parted in anger, but Alan was easy to read, and Perry was both astute and observant.
Henry held out his hand. “Good-bye, sir. Thank you for coming.”
“Good luck, sir,” Perry said, shaking hands. “Send word to me if you need anything.”
Henry promised that he would. Perry departed and Henry went back to watching out the window, just as the second Guundaran warship was starting to sail into the harbor.