* * * *
The next morning someone knocked on Gerard’s door very early. Reluctantly, he left his warm nest, composed of three parts blankets and one part Thessalyn, and answered the door. It was one of the ship’s boys. “The admiral wants to see you, sir. He says to bring the map. He said you would know what that means.”
Gerard was momentarily lost. Then he remembered the map on the wall of the teahouse. One of the first things he’d done when he got back to his cabin was draw the outline of the island as he remembered it. “I’ll be there in a moment,” he said and closed the door to dress.
Thessalyn stirred in the bed. “What’s happening, Gerard?”
Gerard hopped around for a moment in one pant leg. “Apparently, Silveo’s speaking to me again. I think you fixed him.”
Thessalyn giggled into a pillow. “Oh, good. The price is chocolate.”
Gerard smiled. He had a hard time thoroughly hating anyone who was kind to his wife. He wondered if Silveo knew that. Probably. Nearly everything Silveo did seemed to involve several layers of intent.
Gerard had never been in Silveo’s cabin, only the outer office, where he’d been berated several times as a watch master. He knew from others’ accounts that the inner office was also a library, but he was unprepared when he entered to find floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Like all ship libraries, they had cabinet doors that could be closed during rough weather. Several chests stood along the walls, overflowing with scrolls and loose-leaf documents. Several books were open on the floor. Through the far door, Gerard could see that the same clutter continued into the bedchamber beyond.
A large map table took up one side of the inner office. It had obviously been intended for a shelt of Gerard’s height. Silveo was sitting on it, his back against the wall, one knee drawn up, and a snowstorm of maps strewn around him. He was wearing a sailcloth tunic and britches so ordinary that Gerard might not have recognized him at a distance.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
Silveo didn’t look up from the chart he was studying. “Did you draw that map from the wall of the teahouse?”
For answer, Gerard came over and laid it down. Silveo rocked forward and crouched over the paper. Then he slapped another down beside it. “There’s mine. Looks about the same.”
Gerard nodded. Silveo had actually caught more of the details of the coastline. “I was talking to Farell last night,” Gerard said carefully. “We’re not heading for Lecklock.”
“No.” Silveo looked up and grinned. “We’re headed for Mance. I think I found the island.”
He had, more accurately, found three islands—all in the vicinity of Mance—that bore a remarkable resemblance to the one on the wall of the teahouse. With reference to Gerard’s drawing, they were able to eliminate two of the islands with fair certainty, leaving a single candidate. It was Mance-94, a small numerary on the outer side of Wefrivain’s crescent.
“It’s basically just a volcano and a cove,” said Silveo. “The cove might have become a grishnard harbor, in spite of the island’s small size, except that it’s an outer island, and the cove faces directly into the open sea. It’s too isolated to make a convenient port and too exposed. It would make a good harbor for hiding ships at the right times of year, though.”
Gerard frowned. “It could be a trap.”
Silveo gave him a look, making it clear he’d said something very stupid. “Of course it’s a trap! The Resistance aren’t such fools as to leave maps lying around, not even obscure ones. But it’s still a bold move for them, a risky move. Any trap they construct must be in a place where they have resources. They are exposing themselves, and their trap can backfire. I intend to see that it does.”
“I don’t want to bring Thess into a fight,” said Gerard. “Can we stop somewhere and put her off?”
Silveo sat back. “I’m stopping on Mance to send a message for Arundel to join us with the Sea Feather. The Dark Wind is too slow, but the Sea Feather can catch us up. Thessalyn should have friends on Mance. She went to school there, didn’t she?”
Gerard nodded. “She’ll probably be excited about it.”
Silveo looked pleased. “We’ll pick her up on the way back. I’m also putting all your Police ashore. No one knows yet where we’re going, and I don’t want the spy in your organization to spread it far and wide.”
Gerard frowned. “My Police—”
“Are infected,” cut in Silveo. “If I were you, Holovar, I’d have everyone of them executed. Make up a charge. Incompetence—you wouldn’t even have to make that up! At the very least, I’d execute all those who’ve been in the Police for more than two years. Then you’d have the weed out by the root.”
He flicked his tail at Gerard’s grimace. “Of course, this is you we’re talking about, so you won’t do the smart thing because it’s too sticky. I suppose you could retire them all with full pension. Then your traitor will be running loose to do more mischief, but at least he’s not hiding in your closet.”
Gerard thought about that. While he was thinking, Silveo went back to sorting maps and replacing them on shelves or in chests. He had an enormous collection, even for an admiral of the Sea Watch, and he seemed to have looked through every single one. He had his back to Gerard when he said, “I hope you killed that little foxling.”
Gerard’s head snapped up. “I certainly did not!”
Silveo clicked his tongue. “What did I tell you about acts of mercy, Gerard?”
Gerard was momentarily stunned. He has never called me that. “Well, they seem to have earned me a first name.”
Silveo glanced around at him with an expression of irritation. “There are two Holovars on this ship. Speaking of which—” He clambered up one of the bookshelves, pulled out a volume and tossed it to Gerard. “Does she have that one?”
Gerard stared at the book. It was a beautifully copied and illustrated collection of old legends and ballads. Such a book might have easily cost a quarter of his year’s wages for a watch master. The stories were exactly the sort of thing Thessalyn loved to use as raw material for songs.
Silveo seemed to misunderstand Gerard’s expression. “I do realize that someone has to read it to her, and maybe she already has one like it.”
Gerard found his voice. “No, no, my father made her leave her little collection on Holovarus. He said that because he paid for her schooling—” Gerard could feel the old anger welling up in his chest and didn’t finish the sentence.
Silveo hopped down from the bookcase. “There’s a tin of chocolate on the desk in my outer office.”
Gerard crouched down to look at Silveo squarely. “Thank you.” Thank you for not holding Alsair against me. Thank you for being kind to my wife.
Silveo’s lip curled. “It’s for her, not you.”
But it’s the same thing, thought Gerard. When she’s happy, I’m happy. “Nevertheless, thank you.”
Silveo turned away again. “If you can think of anything else she’d rather have…”
Well, she’s fairly fond of me in one piece. “She will be delighted with this,” said Gerard. “She will probably come over here herself and thank you.” He stood. “Where did you get all these books?”
He half expected Silveo to reply with an insult, but instead Silveo said, “About half of them from Resistance hideouts. Gwain or Flag or whatever his name is likes to read. Every trail I’ve ever followed of his has led to books. Of the rest, I inherited about a quarter. The other quarter—” he shrugged. “You’ve got to do something with your wages.”
Gerard was walking around looking at titles. No wonder you knew about the name Flag. You probably read it in the same book Gwain did. The titles covered every conceivable topic. Quite a few were in the phonetic, several even in hunti. “Do you read hunti?” asked Gerard.
“No, but apparently Gwain does. I’ve taught myself a little.”
“You’ve taught yourself a lot. When you learned to read, you made up for lost time.”
&
nbsp; “No more than you when you learned to think,” snapped Silveo.
Gerard turned to look at him. “I didn’t mean that as an insu—”
“You never do. Go on; take that to Thessalyn.”