Part III continued
"The Dreadful Wale"
Chapter 28
Meagan didn't flinch. "I told you. Business dealings."
I watched her take another long drag from the pipe, her dark eyes lidded. She looked dead in the eyes, like I'd struck a nerve that had long since gone numb.
I moved around the table to stand in front of her, crossing my arms over my chest. I had no intention of giving up.
"What kind of business?"
The Captain adjusted her weight, balancing at the edge of the table with her leg hoisted up on a stool. She leaned over her raised knee, taking the pipe from her lips and looking up at me.
It was the most honest look she had ever given me. Her dark eyes were bleak. Empty.
"The kind that ends in betrayal. And loss." She slid her eyes away. "I made a pact with Delilah that never should have happened. A long… long time ago."
I glared at the Captain, but I felt my anger recede beneath the desolation I saw in her eyes. I hated her for almost getting Rosemary killed, and I knew she was hiding something, but as I studied her face, I realized I couldn't push her too far. She had already gone over the edge.
She was dead… lying somewhere at the bottom of the deepest, darkest pit.
"What did you do?" I whispered even knowing she wouldn't tell me. She was a closed door.
I saw Corvo out of the corner of my eye. He was wiping his mouth with a napkin. He shoved away his bowl and rose from the table.
It was then I saw her flinch.
Barely a muscle, but the faint lines at the corner of her eyes twitched. Meagan was afraid of Corvo.
Was it his rat eyes? Or something in her past? My father didn't know her, and yet… did she know him?
"Lady Emily," she said, somehow still projecting calm. "Any connection I once had with Delilah is gone. It's of no use to us now. We don't break her through me." She pointed at the blackboard with her pipe. "We break her through that. One ally at a time. One day at a time."
Her eyes drifted. "That's what Anton used to say."
Corvo tilted his head, edging closer. He said, "Yet Sokolov's not here––very… very strange."
I glanced at him, surprised at the catch in his voice. His rat eyes glittered, focused on the Captain as she took another drag from her pipe. Her hand shook.
"Tell me, Captain," he said. "How is it the Crown Killer kidnapped Anton Sokolov and yet did nothing to you? Not even a––ah––" He cleared his throat, coughing once. "A scratch?"
The Captain blew out smoke, eyeing Corvo uneasily.
"It took Anton through the hatch above his room," she said quietly. "I was looking down from the bridge when it happened…" She clenched her jaw. "Look, all I saw was a shadow. A hooded figure. It moved fast."
"A fast shad––"
He coughed again. I stared at my father, watching his throat bob as he swallowed, and noticed with alarm that he was suddenly very pale.
"Father?" I cried out in sudden urgency, reaching for his arm. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," he said, but his breathing was fast and sweat shone on his brow. "I'm… more… I'm fi––"
He stopped, suddenly gasping and leaning heavily towards the Captain. She jerked backwards, her hands knocking over the glass whiskey tumblers on the table. Two chimed together, a high-pitched ringing sound that set my skin on fire. Corvo fell over the Captain, barely holding himself above her as her back hit the table in a jarring thump, his arms braced against the wood on either side of her. Trapping her.
He choked, coughed over her, coughed even harder, but finally brought his head up, gulping for air. The Captain was frozen beneath him, her mouth slightly open, the fallen pipe resting on her chest, rising and falling with each rapid breath. She was terrified.
"What's wrong?" I demanded, my nerves frayed as I tried thumping his back. "What in the Void are you choking on?"
"Nothing," he gasped, finding his voice in shocking clarity.
He suddenly seemed fine. And not just fine, perfectly in control. I fell back, confused, as he braced his weight on one arm, the other hand flipping out his sword in one seamless motion, the metal slicing in a silver blur. He held the deadly edge against Meagan's throat.
"Just choking on the Captain's bullshit," he said.
My mouth fell open. "What the…"
"Don't you see it, Emily," he rumbled like dark thunder as the Captain did nothing but stare at Corvo with eyes a hundred miles deep. "She wants us to believe she's just a sea captain… A smuggler… An unlikely spy for the Crown." He snorted in amusement, the blade at her throat. "Is that what you are, Foster? An old man's friend?"
He laughed. There was nothing funny about the look in his eyes.
"Get off of her!" I screamed. For Void's sake, I didn't want Corvo to kill her!
If I could just keep Corvo's hands clean, perhaps I could break the madness in his eyes…
Corvo twisted the blade, bringing the point to her eye. Just the one. He held it so close that if the Captain didn't hold her breath, the sharpened tip would pierce right through her retina. He could gouge out her eyeball in a heartbeat.
He whispered into the frozen space between them, "My naïve daughter is willing to wait, to see if she can break down your walls and find the truth beneath, but me? I have no such patience. What are you hiding? Shall I pluck it out of you?"
"Father!"
"Don't look at her. Look at me," Corvo said, the point of his blade unwavering. "Answer me, Meagan. You have no escape."
"All I have is this ship," the Captain hissed between clenched teeth, a remarkable calm suffusing her features. "I left my old life behind years ago… but if I have to pay for that right here, right now"––she sucked in her breath––"so be it."
"Stop this," I croaked.
But Corvo ignored me. "Your right eye, Meagan. Or would you prefer––"
The Mark of the Outsider burned as I snagged my arcane tether around Corvo's folding sword. Purple tendrils wrapped around the metal, flinging it towards me in the blink of an eye. I caught it, the hilt slapping with a satisfying leathery sound against my palm. Whispery black tendrils dissipated like smoke above fire, the magic spent.
His hand emptied, Corvo turned his head to look at me, his lips curling in scorn. "Are you an idiot?"
I winced––that hurt––but I stiffened my lip and gestured with my chin towards the Captain. "She already knew I had the Mark." I flipped his folding sword, tucking it away at my belt and gave him my Empress face. "Let her up, Father, or I'll use my powers on you."
In the Void, the Outsider had personally shown me how to wrap Far Reach around a body, flinging it towards me. I hated the idea of using it against Corvo (as if it'd be degrading somehow), but I would if he didn't back down.
Murder for breakfast, torture for lunch! Was this how it was going to be? A constant struggle, day by day, hour by hour, just to keep his hands clean?
"Mmhm," Corvo hummed with a faint laugh. He uncurled from the Captain, her body flat against the table with her knees slightly bent. Like a rat playing dead. He picked up the pipe from her chest and slipped it back between her loose lips. He smiled cruelly at her. "Just like her mother, isn't she? Too stubborn for her own good."
I sighed in relief as he backed away. The Captain didn't look as relieved. She curled into a sitting position and bounced shakily to her feet, shooting me a grim look.
"Go," I told her.
Meagan muttered, rubbing her right eye, "I'll be on the bridge."
As she made a quick exit, I glared at Corvo and patted his sword at my belt. "I'm keeping this for now."
The smile hadn't left his face. "If you like."
The sound of the Captain's footsteps had gone up, but now I heard heavier footsteps coming down. Dougal banged through the double doors. "Your Highness! Ships spotted on the horizon. Come quick!"
My heart seized up. "The Jessamine? Did they find us?"
I knew it was just a matter of time! The flagship was built for speed. Nothing could outrun her.
"I can't tell. Too far, 'Highness."
I hurried after Dougal, my boots pounding against the floor as we raced up the stairwell. My father was not far behind, a quiet footfall. He never made much sound, even running. He was always like a breathing shadow.
Blue sky flashed overhead. Brightness and wind rushed into my ears, hitting me like an avalanche as we left behind the darker, quieter interior. I squinted, raising my hand to shield my eyes.
Captain Foster was already on the main deck, evidently switching plans. We joined her at the rail at the stern of the ship.
We were sailing south at a quick clip, the waves choppy in the ship's wake as we made a beeline for Karnaca. At least that's what I thought. Earlier, the Captain had made it sound like she was willing to veer off course if we were forced to evade capture, but as yet there'd been no sign of the Jessamine, nor any sign of pursuit––until now.
The horizon was lonely, just water meeting sky in all directions––except to the north, a dark necklace like black pearls stretching towards us.
I counted four ships.
Meagan handed me a long-tubed eyepiece, a coppery contraption that Anton had no doubt invented in his sleep. I peered through the glass, amazed by the incredible magnification. The ships were so far and yet I could make out their flags, briskly flapping in the wind.
"They're flying Morley colors," I announced, praying that was a good sign.
"And yours," the Captain said beside me. "The House of Kaldwin." Golden swans over blue waters. I saw it, and my heart leapt with joy.
I passed around the eyepiece. Corvo looked, but said nothing, his rat eyes narrowing in suspicion. At Dougal's turn, he whooped in excitement. "Your Highness, I recognize one of the ships. That one on the left! It's the Churner! My wife!"
"Your wife's a ship?" Corvo cracked.
"She's on the ship," I corrected, annoyed. I turned to Dougal. "She's the galley chef, right?" He had mentioned her when we'd been moored on the smugglers' barge outside the Black Pony Pub.
A smile beamed from Dougal's face. "Aye." He sighed in happiness and relief. "Eileen made it out, thank the gods. I sent them downriver, but I feared…"
He leaned against the rail, gripping it with two hands squeezing tight, his face growing pale.
I gently touched his back. "She made it, Dougal."
Many ships hadn't. The Jessamine had destroyed dozens of pirate ships during our escape, shattering them into fiery pieces in thunderous whale oil explosions.
"How'd they find us?" Corvo asked, not sharing Dougal's excitement.
Dougal shrugged.
"I don't know either, but I'm maneuvering to intercept," the Captain said, jogging away towards the bridge.
Dougal held unto the eyepiece, frequently checking through the lenses as if the mere act of looking would bring his wife closer. But the four ships were aways; I estimated we had a good half hour before we were within shouting distance.
The Dreadful Wale began to slow and turn, the Captain bringing us about. Corvo tugged on my arm, moving me further down the rail, away from Dougal. I was angry at him, but every time I caught his rat eyes looking down at me, those pitch-black pupils surrounded by bloodshot veins, I felt my heart teeter at the edge of rage––and love. I wanted to save him.
And I wanted to hurt Delilah for putting him through this, for warping his soul into a monster.
"I'm sorry," he said, the wind carrying his murmur. "I shouldn't have called you an idiot."
For a moment I couldn't speak, not expecting an apology. I squeezed his hand where it rested on the rail.
"I forgive you."
I forgive you for everything, I thought. It's not really you. This––what I saw––it was a nightmare trapped in a man's body.
He looked out over the waves.
"Never use your powers lightly, Emily. What you did back there…" He shook his head. "You're connected to the Void, now, and every time you tap into it, the Void takes a little from you in return. You don't feel it now, but you will."
"I'm not using my powers lightly," I said defensively. I prevented bloodshed.
"And don't over-rely on your magic. Remember what I taught you about stealth and––"
"Are you serious?" We had trained together for years. He knew exactly what I was capable of.
An impossible grin lit his face. His dark hair blew in the wind, partially covering his face as he pointedly looked down at my waist. Confused, I, too, looked down and… Sigh. Discovered the folding sword missing from my belt.
"Did you––"
He held his coat lapel to the side, showing me the hilt of his sword, safely where it apparently belonged.
I smiled at him. In that moment, it almost felt like the world was right again and he was the father I knew and loved, the father that had crossed blades with me down at the abandoned waterfront, shouting at me to keep my guard up.
I crossed my arms. "When?"
"The stairs. A stampede of wild horses could have run by and you wouldn't have noticed."
I shook my head, grinning. "I thought we were under attack." Then more serious, "Delilah took the Jessamine, Father. She stole my flagship."
I watched the waves, remembering the Void and Delilah's haunting voice: 'Little sparrow, how far you have flown… Do you really think you can escape Dunwall? Escape me?'
I shuddered. "She's looking for us." I met his eyes. "She's going to find us."
Corvo nodded at the approaching ships. "And them? You trust Morley not to betray our location?"
He's thinking of the Morley Insurrection, I realized. Could we trust our northern neighbors?
"Delilah massacred everyone in that throne room, including Prince Finbar, the Queen of Morley's own son and heir. She'll help us."
"If the Queen knows," Corvo warned. "It's only been one day, Emily. She probably doesn't know about the coup yet, or she's been lied to and has been turned against us."
"I know. That's why I must send word as soon as possible. These ships… it's a boon, Father. For once, the winds are shifting in our favor. I will write to the Queen and tell her what has happened. I have the Prince's ring by way of proof."
We said nothing more. Together we watched the four ships approach, closer and closer. Dougal disappeared below deck, to inform the Princess, I assumed. The Captain in her bridge sounded the ship's horn, a long wailing pitch that eerily matched the ship's name. A dreadful wail, indeed.
Thinking of the Captain, I reluctantly broke the comfortable silence between us. "Father… why did you try to take her eye?"
He slowly blinked, seemingly mesmerized by the water and the waves.
I spoke louder like he hadn't heard me, though I stood right next to him. "Father. You once told me torture never works. So why did you––"
"It doesn't," he said softly; distracted, not looking at me. "Mostly on people like her. Torture won't break her because she's already broken. You saw it, didn't you?"
I swallowed hard, my throat going dry. "Then why?"
"To protect you."
He faced me, then. His face was soft, but his eyes were pits of death. "I can't prove she's lying about who she really is," he said, "but I can feel it. She's dangerous."
Like you, I thought. I smiled sadly and tousled his hair, sweeping his bangs over his forehead to shadow his eyes. "Don't scare our new friends."
"Look who's talking. Your hair looks like a sparrow's nest." He snorted at my vain attempt to smooth it out.
I scowled. "You still haven't answered my question. Not really."
He sighed. "I wasn't trying to torture the Captain."
"Oh? Could've fooled me."
"I know what I'm doing, Em. I was digging."
"For what?"
"She's afraid of me. She knows me. Somehow, someway, she knows me."
I shrugged, feeling uneasy. "Sokolov. He must have told her about you."
He shook his head. "It's more than that. I feel it. When I find out what she's hiding, she's going to regret the day she ever pulled us from the river."
The ships had arrived, the largest of the Morley vessels pulling alongside the Dreadful Wale. We crowded at the rail, the Captain and Dougal joining us in greeting the newcomers.
Lord Corvo stood formally at my side, the Royal Protector once more.
"Ho!" a sailor shouted. "Have you the Imperial Majesty safely aboard? Has she survived the treacherous coup?!"
"That she has!" I shouted back, a smile breaking over my face as a dozen sailors formed a line, formally bowing and standing at attention. A few struggled with a long gangplank, flopping it between our ships. A noble procession marched across, a man in a resplendent purple suit at the fore.
His smile reached ear to ear as he came to stand before me. He bowed his head, taking my proffered hand and kissing my signet ring.
Sunlight glinted off his dark red hair, swept gracefully across his forehead.
"Your Majesty," he said, "I hear I've been brutally massacred in your throne room."
"Prince Finbar…"
I somehow managed to breath his name, not believing it. I remembered cutting off his finger. The middle finger right above the knuckle to be exact. Void and stars! No wonder Rosemary's spell had failed, I thought. We didn't have the ring of a bloody Prince!
"How did…"
"A body double, of course. You don't have one?" He bowed respectfully in Corvo's direction. "Lord Protector. I am immensely pleased to find you alive as well."
"How did you find us?" Corvo asked––in not the most welcoming voice. If the Prince noticed my father's eyes were a bit off, he did not show it.
The Prince smiled sheepishly. "Ah, of course. We have a genius to thank for that." He gestured impatiently towards his ship. "Shall we? We have much to discuss and I'm repeatedly told"––his purple eyes flared in annoyance––"that we don't have much time."
The Prince stood aside, revealing none other than Mister Fletcher, the master architect of the Jessamine. He was still wringing that brown ascot cap in his hands, looking so anxious I thought he might faint.
"Your Majesty," he stammered. "The Jessamine is c-coming."
