are what we shall deliver in abundance, even if we have to tag our own catch.” He placed a hand over his belly, laughing. “But don’t think for a moment our good lord is such an improbable imbecile that he has not seen through the ruse in all these years we’ve been practicing on him. Our Lord Viceroy is nobody’s fool. But being nobody’s fool probably he encourages this kind of behavior, if only to snuff out the last lingering fires of his nemesis, and putting the fear of justice into his would-be followers. Or maybe he gets a tax break from the capital for all the Owls he’s rounded up and dumped into a river. Who can say, really?”
There were muted murmurs of agreement all around.
The captain, seeing Bailey’s crestfallen expression, laid a comforting, sympathetic hand on his shoulder. Leaning in close he whispered conspiratorially, “Oh but I wouldn’t worry, my lord, for we do not intend to take all the credit for this bust. It’s yours and we wouldn’t think of it. Only perhaps we might get a mention in your reports to your masters at Pegging for our troubles, our assistance in a perilous hour if not an outright rescue, and you’ll find us all properly grateful. I think it’s not too much to ask, given what we have delivered to you.”
“And just what is it you have supposedly given me, captain?”
Breakerfast provided the answer in place of the lancer commander, in a voice which made plain his excitement for all to hear: “My lord, you’ve just gotten yourself a Lynchman’s Owl!”