Song of the Current (Song of the Current #1)

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re seeking?” Ma poured herself a glass.

“Our quarry is a wherry. Called Cormorant.”

I rocked back on my heels.

Ma didn’t react. Didn’t even blink. I shook my head in awe. I was seeing why she was the Bollards’ best negotiator. So the man on the toll boat was right. The Black Dogs did know Cormorant’s name—not just Victorianos, but this other ship, this Alektor. And now Ma, too, knew they were looking for us.

“There are thirty wherries tied up at the docks,” Ma said. “Do you plan to set fire to them as well? Because I can tell you that if you do, you will never have the help of the Bollards.” She sat back in her chair. To someone who wasn’t paying attention, she might have seemed relaxed, but she was like a cat debating the right moment to pounce. “Philemon, is it? Do you mind if we talk plainly?”

“I love plain talk,” he said with a leer. I almost felt sorry for him.

“Some of those wherries you put to the torch at Hespera’s Watch were Bollard ships.”

“Now, t’weren’t me done that. It were Melanos. He’s young and he overdoes things.”

“Nevertheless.” Ma leaned closer. The man Philemon grinned, thinking she flirted, but I knew she was moving in for the kill.

“If we assist you in locating this wherry, this Cormorant,” she said, “naturally any fees we are paid would be in addition to the restitution the Black Dogs will already be paying Bollard Company for the destruction of its property. I believe it was four ships sunk, which brings the amount you owe to a quarter million.” She smiled, running her finger along the curved handle of the decanter. “Pending a ruling by the assessor, of course. And so, how much in addition to that sum were you looking to pay us for our assistance?” She tilted the carafe in his direction. “More wine?”

Philemon blinked.

I crept away from the knothole, my head buzzing with thoughts. So some of the sunken wherries were Bollard owned. Well, if anyone could get money off the Black Dogs, it would be Ma. She could squeeze coin out of a rock.

I suspected she was just stalling Philemon. She had no intention of helping him with his search—not when she knew Cormorant was right here. As soon as Ma got out of this meeting, I was in for a very firm interrogation.

Carefully I closed the door to the servants’ passage, listening for the soft click of the latch. I dared not stay another minute in Bollard House. I couldn’t outlast a questioning by my mother. She’d find out everything. I had to sneak upstairs, change back into my clothes, and escape at once.

I almost made it to the staircase before my uncle’s voice in the entry halted me. I dove around the corner, flattening myself against the wall.

Another visitor had come late to Bollard House. One I knew all too well.





CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

Markos wore a coat I’d never seen before. Dark blue with gold trim, it cut away at the waist and fell in a set of long tails to his knees. A row of shiny buckles marched down his chest.

“Current carry you on this fine evening, sir.” He snapped his feet together and bowed.

With a small wave to dismiss the butler, Uncle Bolaji backed into the hall to allow Markos entry. “Yes, yes. I bid you welcome to Bollard House.”

“My name is Tarquin Meridios.” He stepped in from the misty drizzle, drawing himself up to his full height and removing Pa’s oilskin hat. His hair rippled back in crisp waves from his forehead. “I have the honor of being a courier for the Akhaian Consulate. I heard this was the house to come to. For you see, I have need of a ship posthaste.”

“Indeed I may be able to find passage for you on one of our ships,” my uncle said. “But why did you not come to our offices? We have premises in Broad Street, much closer to the docks.”

“Alas, due to my circumstances I have come late to Siscema. For that I make apology, as well as for my disarray.”

Markos gestured to his clothes. I sniffed at the suggestion that there was anything wrong with the way he was dressed. He still wore Pa’s shirt and trousers, but that jacket was finer than anything we had aboard Cormorant. I saw Uncle Bolaji glance at it, clearly marking the quality.

“I was to bring a set of documents to my colleagues in the city of Valonikos,” Markos said. “By a series of misadventures, including but not limited to the theft of a fine horse by a band of brigands, I was forced to barter passage on a local wherry. But now I have need of greater speed.”

His lip twitched when he got to the part about the brigands. He was enjoying this. He would’ve been having a lot less fun if he knew one of the Black Dogs was sitting on the other side of the door, not twenty feet away.

“Your coming at this hour is unfortunate, for our representative is currently meeting with another client. In fact, I was just about to join them.” Uncle Bolaji scratched his head. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind waiting in the hall until we’re through with the other business?”

“That would be more than adequate,” Markos said. “You have my thanks.”

I marveled at how adeptly he’d slipped back into formal speech. When we first met, I’d thought he was hopelessly stiff. But now I realized his manners were like a costume that he could put on or take off—an ability that certainly had its advantages.

“Unless …” My uncle paused. “Would you like to join the family at dinner?”

I couldn’t let him stay here, where Philemon might spot him. I edged out from around the corner.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ve already—” Markos glanced up and saw me. I shook my head vigorously, and his voice trailed off into an awkward cough. “That is …”

I swept in, skirts swishing around my legs. “I will take him into the dining room, Uncle, if you want to go in there with Ma.”

I seized Markos’s arm. He immediately lifted it, as town men do when they escort a lady. I set my other hand on his jacket sleeve and tried my best to simper up at him. I don’t think I succeeded, because he swallowed down a laugh and stared hard at the floorboards.

“Caro.” My uncle raised his eyebrows. “I thought you were at dinner.”

“I had to fetch something,” I lied. “Anyhow I reckon he’d like to sit with folk his own age. Wouldn’t you?”

Markos looked back and forth between the two of us.

“Only till I get back.” Uncle Bolaji glanced at the door to the Blue Room. “For I would like to press him for news of Akhaia. If you don’t mind, young man. We’ve heard only rumors.”

“I can tell you what I know,” Markos said, “although it won’t be much, I’m afraid. I’ve not been back to Akhaia for weeks. But I too have heard grave news.”

“Well, then. You must join me at my table upon my return. For now I shall entrust you to the girls and be on my way.” He smiled. “I’m sure no young fellow would mind that, eh?” He disappeared into the Blue Room, leaving us alone in the hall.

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