Redemption (Book 6) (16 page)

Kendril narrowed his gaze. “The day’s still young.”

Blackstone chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He put the glass down on the table. “You should never have come back to Redemption, Kendril. You’ve been away too long. We’ve moved on without you.” His blue eyes gave Kendril a piercing look. “Without the Ravenbrooks.”

“Is that why you tried to have me killed?” Kendril growled.

Blackstone raised a finger. “Careful, Lord Ravenbrook. That’s slander. No one regrets what happened to you more than me, but Colonel Belvedere and his gang were mercenaries of the lowest caliber.” He raised the glass. “There’s no telling who hired them, or why. Surely a man such as yourself has made plenty of enemies in his time. People who might want you dead.”

Kendril took a deep breath. “We both know who hired them.”

“And yet,” said Blackstone as he studied his brandy glass, “you’ve brought no charges against me.” He glanced at Kendril. “You haven’t even challenged me to a proper duel. And that makes me think you have a distinct lack of evidence to support your accusations.”

“Trust me, Blackstone,” said Kendril, “if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

Blackstone gave another dark chuckle. “Now, now, Ravenbrook. You’ve moved from slander to
threats
.” He motioned to the chair that Kendril’s hands were on. “But that’s not why you’ve come, is it?”

Kendril ignored the proffered seat and remained standing. “You can’t disband the militia. Not now. For Eru’s sake, man, I always knew you were a schemer and a blackheart, but I didn’t think you were a
fool
as well.”

Blackstone tapped his finger against the side of his glass. “More slander,” he warned. He took a slow sip of the brandy. “And for the record, I have every right to disband the Redemption militia.” He gave Kendril a sidelong glance. “Unless, of course, you and your men are removing a parliamentary-appointed official from his rightful place of rule.” He swished the ice cubes around in his glass. “A military takeover? I suppose you could install yourself as the next mayor, for however long it might last.”

Kendril eyed Blackstone carefully. “You really only think of yourself, don’t you? If you disband the militia, the Wall will fall.”

“Really?” Blackstone took another sip and settled down into one of the chairs next to the crackling fire. “Because I was under the impression that the Arbelan regulars were in charge of holding the Wall, not the militia.”

“Arbela is up to its neck in cult uprisings and civil war,” Kendril said in a grinding voice. “We’re not their priority right now. The Lord Protector isn’t going to be showing up anytime soon with an army to protect us.”

“We have the dragoons,” Blackstone said calmly.

“Yearling’s men are stretched thin,” Kendril said. He rose to his full height. “When the Jombards hit the Wall again, they won’t stand a chance if the militia isn’t backing them up.”

“
If
they hit the Wall again,” Blackstone said. He stretched a hand behind him and snatched a fire poker from where it hung next to the hearth. “It’s been what, almost four weeks?” He got up from the chair, and stabbed at the logs in the fire. “If the Jombards were going to attack, they’d have attacked by now.”

Kendril took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “The Jombards just attacked the Wall this morning. They overran the milefort at Hangman’s Hill. For Eru’s sake, there was a
werewolf
—”

Lord Blackstone gave a short, barking laugh. “Oh, please, Ravenbrook, let’s not start telling wild stories, shall we?” He replaced the fire poker and turned to face Kendril. “This is hardly Vorten, is it? There are no demons here, no pagan gods come to destroy us.” He fixed his blue eyes on Kendril. “Just you and your delusions of grandeur.”

Kendril’s hands twitched, as if he was going to reach for a weapon. “The Jombards are coming.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I have a scouts’ report on my desk that says that thousands of Jombards are sitting just miles from the Wall,” Kendril seethed. “When they come, and they
will
come, they’ll sweep over those dragoons in a moment. If the militia isn’t there to reinforce the line, they’ll be in Redemption before we can stop them.”

“Yes,” said Blackstone as he dropped back into his chair, “so you keep saying. From time to time the Jombards have been known to gather together, burn a few outlying farms and make their presence known, and then disappear back into the forest.” He picked up his glass again. “It happens every few years or so. If you lived here you would know that.”

Kendril ignored the barb. “This is different.”

Blackstone gazed coolly at Kendril. “I don’t see how.”

“I’ve written it all time and again in my reports,” Kendril said in a strained voice. “The Jombard tribes are being led by a skilled war chieftain.”

“Ah, yes.” Blackstone drained the last of his brandy and smacked his lips. “Your so-called ‘Great Fang.’” He raised a thin eyebrow. “It has rather the air of the melodramatic, wouldn’t you say?”

Kendril took both hands off the chair. “I think
you
had better be careful now, Lord Blackstone,” he said quietly. “By my count this is the third time that you’ve implied that I’m a liar.” He rested one hand significantly on the hilt of his rapier. “Men have been called out for less than that.”

“Me, take you on in a duel?” Blackstone waved a hand with a laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ravenbrook. You’re the man of action after all, not me.” He gave a smile, pressing the fingertips of his hands together. “I would never suggest that you were
lying
. Perish the thought. But I am also aware that intelligence reports can sometimes be faulty. Incomplete.” He made a circle with his hands. “Makes it hard to get the whole perspective of what’s going on.”

“And
you
have the whole perspective?” Kendril’s voice was as hard and cold as iron.

“I admit that I’m not a military man,” Blackstone said. “Tactics and strategy and regiments and all such are beyond my knowledge.” He pointed a finger in the air. “But economics,
that
I understand.”

Kendril didn’t say anything. He continued to watch Blackstone through narrowed eyes.

“You see, Kendril,” Blackstone continued, speaking as if he were lecturing in a classroom, “for you and your friends to play soldier like you’re doing costs
money
. Lots of it. And the longer you dash around on horseback and drill on your parade ground and fight imaginary Jombards—”

Kendril’s face twitched angrily, but he still didn’t say anything.

“—the more money it all costs.” Blackstone began holding up fingers. “Base salary for the militiamen, for starters. Then uniforms. Ammunition. Food and drink. Feed for the horses. Weapons—”

“War is expensive,” Kendril said unsympathetically. “But it’s still cheaper than letting Redemption burn to the ground.”

“Oh,” said Blackstone as he sat up in his chair, “but you haven’t let me even get to the best part. All these men you have in uniform are not only draining money from our coffers, but they’re not
making
money either.” Blackstone rose to his feet. “There are fields that will need planting here in just a few weeks. Right now the farmers are all drilling at Stockade. The saw mills are silent because there’s no one to work them. The fur trade has practically dried up because all the trappers have taken arms.”

Kendril crossed his arms and gave a cynical smile. “Seeing a loss in your profits, Blackstone?”

“I’m no fool, Kendril,” Blackstone said, his eyes blazing. “I know what your plan is. Your family has hated mine for years. There has always been a feud between us.”

Kendril raised his eyebrows. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Is has to do with
everything
,” Blackstone hissed. “You intend to ruin me. To take over as Lord Mayor. Admit it!”

Kendril stared at the man as if seeing him for the first time. “You’re completely insane,” he said.

“If someone doesn’t stop you,” Blackstone said, his eyes feverish, “you won’t just destroy me, Ravenbrook. You’ll destroy Redemption. Everything my family has worked to build here.”

“I’m not trying to destroy Redemption,” Kendril said. “I’m trying to save it.” He jabbed a finger at the letter on the table. “But if you disband the militia, you’re signing all of our death warrants.”

“Am I?” said Blackstone with a laugh. “Or am I just ruining your little game, Ravenbrook?” He fell back into his chair and pressed the fingertips of his hands back together. “I’ve sent a letter to Colonel Yearling. You have until the end of the day to send the men home, or the dragoons are to consider your army an unauthorized rebel force.” His eyes glinted. “And if you don’t disband the men, Yearling will do it for you. By force if necessary.”

“Talin’s ashes,” Kendril whispered. “You really
are
mad.”

“This meeting is concluded, Lord Ravenbrook,” Blackstone announced triumphantly. “And next time, please wipe your boots before entering the building.”

Kendril snatched a flintlock pistol from his holster. He snapped back the hammer and aimed the barrel directly at Blackstone’s head. “If you do this,” he said in a cold voice, “we’re all as good as dead.”

“Yes,” said Blackstone with a mocking laugh. “Well then, go ahead and shoot me.” He stood up from his chair, spreading his arms wide. “Here, I’ll make a better target for you. Shoot me dead, Ravenbrook, and take the town for yourself. Prove me right.”

Kendril gritted his teeth.

Slowly, almost painfully, he lifted the pistol up into the air.

Blackstone chuckled. “Well, well. It appears that you’re a coward after all, Ravenbrook.” He smiled. “I win. You lose.”

Kendril shoved his pistol back in his holster. He gave Blackstone one last icy glare, then turned on his heels.

“Always nice chatting, Lord Ravenbrook,” Blackstone called out behind him. “Be sure to come again soon.”

Petranus and another pirate grabbed Kara by the arms. They lifted the struggling girl to place her back on the plank.

Maklavir jumped forward.

The pirate closest to him, the one with the pistol, had glanced back at Kara’s predicament with a grin. At Maklavir’s sudden movement he snapped his head back around.

Maklavir grabbed his pistol arm and bent it upwards. Then, quick as a wink, he twisted the pistol out of the pirate’s grip.

“Hey!’ Petranus roared. He dropped Kara and reached for his cutlass.

Maklavir slammed the butt of the wheelock pistol into the unarmed pirate’s head and knocked him flat to the deck. He whirled around and pointed the pistol directly at Sadira.

There was a flurry of shouts from the pirates. Pistols and swords flashed out into hands.

Maklavir circled around Sadira, keeping his pistol pointing squarely at her head. “I swear by all that is holy,” he said, “I’ll kill you if you throw her overboard.”

Sadira dropped her rapier to the deck. She lifted her hands with a smile. “You would shoot an unarmed woman, Maklavir? Not very gentlemanly.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t waste too many manners on a criminal and a murderer,” Maklavir said between his teeth. He glanced back at the pirates.

A line of black pistol and musket barrels pointed directly at him.

Maklavir swallowed. He waved the pistol at Sadira. “Tell them to let Kara go.”

“And then what?” Sadira gave a little laugh. “Supposing you
do
shoot me, Maklavir, what then?” She looked back at Petranus and the other pirates. “My men here will kill you where you stand.”

Maklavir lifted his head. “That being true, I would still take you with me.”

Sadira sighed deeply. She spread her delicate hands. “Alright, Maklavir. You have my full attention.”

“There’s no need to kill her,” Maklavir said. His eyes danced back and forth between Sadira and the other pirates, who were starting to edge closer. “We can make a deal. We can all still win here.”

“Or you’ll shoot me?” Sadira asked with a smile. “I’ve seen your eyes, Maklavir. You’re not a killer.”

Maklavir lowered his pistol. “You’re right. I’m not.” He glanced back at Kara, then at Sadira. “I’m a diplomat. A negotiator. This is a simple arrangement. You want profit. I want Kara to live.” Maklavir tossed the loaded gun onto the deck. “I’ll go with you, sign whatever letter you want.” He nodded towards Kara. “Just as soon as I know she’s safe.”

“Captain,” Petranus growled. “Don’t listen to this fop.” He grabbed Kara by the arm. “Just give me the word and—”

Sadira lifted a hand. Her eyes were on Maklavir, her face busy with thought. “You are asking us to abandon the code of the sea? To ignore the law by which we live?”

Maklavir rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. With due respect, Captain, you’re a bunch of bloody
pirates
.”

The men behind Maklavir stiffened. There was an undercurrent of angry mutterings.

Sadira looked hard at Maklavir for a long moment. Then she threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, Maklavir. I really do like you. Such courage. Such
daring
.”

Maklavir kept his face implacable. “Do we have a deal?”

Sadira sheathed her rapier. “We have a deal. I give you my word of honor. We will let your love and the rest of these miserable swine go. You will remain with us and write the ransom letter to your government.” She spat into her palm and stuck out her hand.

Maklavir raised a questioning eyebrow. “Your word of honor?”

Sadira’s eyes twinkled.”Well, as you so adroitly pointed out, I
am
a pirate.”

“I suppose it will have to do,” Maklavir said under his breath. He spat into his own palm, then grasped Sadira’s hand.

“There,” Sadira said as they finished shaking. “Now it is sealed.” She glanced disdainfully over the crew of the merchant ship. “Say your goodbyes, Maklavir. You have five minutes.”

She turned and walked down the deck.

Maklavir turned immediately. “Untie her,” he ordered the pirate closest to Kara.

The man gave a menacing look, but untied the ropes that bound Kara’s hands.

“Maklavir—” Kara said in a half-whisper. She moved towards him, glancing back at the pirates that were transporting chests and other valuables to their ship. “How could you—?”