The Guild of the Cowry Catchers, Book 1: Embers, Deluxe Illustrated Edition (6 page)

The sixth was a shavier faun with shifty eyes
and twitching fingers. Gerard disliked him at once, but the faun
clearly had no intention of dying. “What will you give me for what
I know?” he asked as soon as they were alone.

Gerard offered him the same thing he’d
offered the others. The faun shook his head. “That’s not good
enough. The Resistance will kill me if your own shelts don’t.”

Gerard was surprised. “If you tell me what
you know, my shelts, at least, will not kill you.”

The faun looked at him narrowly. “You’re new
at this.”

You’re the first to notice.
“You think
so?”

“Let me tell you something you may not know
about the Police, Captain. They
never
let anyone go.
Accidents happen to shelts they release.”

Gerard decided to try a new tack. “You’re
right. I am new. I do things differently.”

The faun looked almost sorry for him. “You
may want to, but you won’t. The Police are controlled by more
powerful forces than you. Now, I repeat: I want protection.”

Gerard thought for a moment. “I will arm you
before I release you, and I will give you sufficient cowries to buy
passage off Lecklock.”

The faun looked surprised.

He wasn’t expecting me to acquiesce so
quickly or so completely,
thought Gerard.
I’ve already given
more than he had any right to expect.

“I want an armed escort,” shot the faun. “I
want a signed document from you.”

Gerard shook his head.

The prisoner argued weakly for a little
longer, but it was already clear that he intended to talk. “We both
know I’m not going to tell you my real name,” he said at last, “so
why bother making one up? I’m a smuggler. I have many clients, but
the Resistance was never one of them until recently. They wanted me
to transport certain materials to and from Sern and Haplag.”

“Materials?” echoed Gerard.

The smuggler shrugged. “Passengers,
sometimes, but also things in boxes. I never knew what they were. I
never asked. I never went to the Great Islands, just the smaller
holdings, mostly numeraries.”

Gerard nodded. Tiny islands with no
appreciable grishnard population sometimes had no names, only
numbers. They were called numeraries. “So far, you’re not telling
me anything worth the price I’m paying.”

The smuggler held up a hand. “It’s true that
I don’t know where Sky Town is or even if it exists. I don’t have a
list of names to give you or a secret code or maps. However, I do
have one name, and it’s an important one: Gwain.”

Gerard leaned forward.
At the center of
the web.

The smuggler grinned. “I see you’ve heard of
him.”

“Perhaps,” said Gerard. “Continue.”

“I don’t know whether he’s their leader,”
said the faun, “but I think he might be. I transported him once. I
saw him.”

Gerard looked skeptical. “The Resistance is
secretive. Why should I imagine they introduced you to this
person?”
Trustworthy individual that you so obviously
are.

“Oh, they didn’t introduce us,” said the
smuggler. “I don’t think I was intended to see him, but the passage
was rough and longer than expected. He came on deck rather sick,
and I got a look at him. He’s a shavier faun about my height with
light brown hair, brownish eyes, and gray-blue feathers.”

Gerard shrugged. “That description would fit
any number of fauns in Wefrivain.”

The smuggler smiled like a gambler playing
his trump. “But Gwain is supposed to be half grishnard.”

Gerard’s eyes widened. Normally, matings
between panauns (shelts with paws) and fauns (shelts with hooves)
produced no offspring. Some claimed that very rarely a child could
result, but Gerard had never seen one.

“Half grishnard,” repeated the smuggler, “and
I believe it. He has dewclaws above his hooves. I saw them, and
that’s how I know he was Gwain.”

Chapter 6.
Mystique

The relationship between the Temple Sea Watch
and the Temple Police is ambiguous. Traditionally, the leader of
Police is ranked as captain, so that the admiral of the Sea Watch
(and his lieutenants, for that matter) outrank him. This reflects
the importance of the sea in the politics of Wefrivain. However,
the Police are the administrators of the Priestess’s will on land,
and they receive their orders directly from her.

—Gwain,
The Truth About Wyverns

Gerard left the Temple complex feeling bleak
and vaguely dirty. He’d spent the day questioning and executing
shelts whose courage he could not help but admire.
More than any
shelt I’ve met in the Sea Watch or Police.

He was grateful when Alsair swooped into the
street in front of him. “I need to ride,” he said, without so much
as a greeting.

“Where?” asked Alsair.

“Anywhere.” Soon they were climbing,
climbing—up over the dome of the Temple, over the streets and
markets of Dragon’s Eye. Lecklock was the smallest of the Great
Islands, and Alsair climbed rapidly to a point where they could see
half the island.

There in the harbor stood the three tall
ships of the Sea Watch—the
Fang,
the
Dark Wind,
and
the
Sea Feather.
The
Fang
was Silveo’s flagship and
the place where he lived, even when he was not on assignment.
Gerard had heard that when Silveo took over the Sea Watch eight
years ago, he’d wanted to gild the entire ship silver.
Vain
fool.
Gerard could not think of a more unfortunate color for a
ship chasing a prize. Apparently, even Silveo’s supporters thought
so, and he’d been persuaded to paint the ship scarlet and gold
instead.

Gerard had to admit that no amount of gaudy
paint could hide the beauty of the vessel—an elegant three-masted
ship with four decks and a bronze wyvern figurehead, gleaming with
gold leaf. Like many ships in Wefrivain, she had a slave deck with
rowers.

She had been Gerard’s home on and off for the
last year. However, he’d learned today from Marlo Snale that he had
a house in town—the traditional residence of the captain of Police.
Marlo had been careful to add that the last three captains had
chosen to purchase their own lodgings, and the house had not seen
use in some years. Gerard knew the last three captains had been
younger sons of wealthy families. He suspected the house was a
humble affair, but it would get Thessalyn out of the inns, where
she was continually badgered for performances. It would give Alsair
a safe place to sleep. Silveo had a low tolerance for griffins
aboard ship. The nest box where he’d put Alsair doubled as a
storage room and was so crammed with boxes that Gerard feared a
crate might fall on Alsair during rough weather. The house would
also mean that Gerard would never again be a permanent resident of
Silveo’s flagship, a prospect that lightened his spirits
considerably. He told Alsair all this as they flew, as well as the
story of the traitorous smuggler and the frightened gazumelle
youngster.

Alsair listened with uncharacteristic
silence. When Gerard finished, he laughed. “So that’s what really
happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you’ll never believe what they’re saying
about you in the streets. The local griffins are all gossiping
about it, and half of them heard it from their masters.”

Gerard could feel his tufted ears prickling.
“Heard what?”

Alsair imitated a fluting girl’s voice. “That
new Captain of Police is a terror! They say he took a pirate ship
single-handedly and—”

“Single-handedly?” interrupted Gerard. “I had
six capable—”

“He hacked the pirate captain to pieces and
took his tail as a trophy.”

“Took his—?”

“It gets better. Last night you killed half
the prisoners in a rage as soon as the Priestess put them into your
custody. The cell was blood from floor to ceiling.”

“That sounds like a Silveo rumor,” growled
Gerard. The accusation that he’d killed the prisoners because he’d
lost his temper, not as a calculated move, irked him.

Alsair was choking on giggles. “
Then
you cooked them up and fed them to their hungry comrades as bribes
the next morning.”

“
What?!”

“You so enjoy your new job that you wouldn’t
even let the other Police help you question and kill them.
Prisoners went into your office alive, and one by one the bodies
came out. You had their tails made into a wreath and mounted the
heads on your wall.”

Gerard was momentarily speechless.

“They say you’re a prince with a dark and
tragic past.”

“Well, that, at least, is true—”

“They say you committed some terrible crime,
for which you can never go home. The ladies are all cooing about
you—tall, dark, and oh so dangerous.”

Gerard could not understand how any lady
could both believe these stories
and
find him attractive.
“Are they all mad?”
Alsair shrugged. “I think it’s the mystique of the Police combined
with your own that’s prompting the rumors.”

“I don’t have a mystique,” said Gerard. “I’m
very non-mysterious.”

“Oh, but you do, master of mine. You don’t
know it, but you do. It makes shelts either love or hate you.”

Gerard couldn’t argue that. His fellow
sailors had liked him well enough to elect him their watch master.
They were the only thing he would miss about the
Fang.
“I
suppose the gossips can think whatever they like as long as they
respect me. A little fear won’t hurt.” He sighed. The sun was
setting, he was tired, and he had one more chore this evening.

“I want to get something to eat, and then we
need to pay a visit to the
Sea Feather.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to talk to Lieutenant
Arundel. He was the Captain of Police four years ago. As far as I
can tell, he’s the only one in the last ten years who’s left the
Police alive.”

Chapter 7. Insult and
Injury

The Temple Sea Watch is about a thousand
strong. They are led by an admiral who is appointed by the High
Priestess. The admiral, in turn, appoints lieutenants, which have
numbered from two to a dozen in the past, and often command their
own ships. These lieutenants each appoint captains of hundreds.
Captains have ten officers called watch masters, each commanding
ten shelts. Watch masters are elected by the sailors
themselves.

—Gwain,
The Truth about Wyverns

By the time Gerard and Alsair swooped down on
the deck of the
Sea Feather,
it was dark, and torches were
burning on deck. Gerard was relieved to learn that Silveo was not
there. He found Arundel in his cabin, dictating to a secretary. The
lieutenant, it seemed, had heard of Gerard’s promotion. He sent his
secretary out of the room as Gerard began to speak. “I trust you
are enjoying your time in port, sir?” Alsair came in and lay down
along the back wall.

“In my own fashion,” said Arundel. He had a
toneless pattern of speech and one of the most expressionless faces
Gerard had ever seen.

Gerard’s tail twitched involuntarily. Arundel
was the only one of Silveo’s lieutenants who made him uneasy. He
was the quietest of the group—a black-furred grishnard with hair as
dark as Gerard’s own and eyes as yellow as any hawk’s. For a time,
Gerard had thought him the most honest and humane of the
group…until Gerard stumbled upon Arundel with a female shavier
pirate whom he was supposed to have executed. The memory still made
Gerard a little sick.

“What can I do for you?” asked Arundel, his
spider-like fingers flickering over the papers on his desk.

Gerard forced his tail to stop twitching. “I
understand that you were once Captain of Police. I have been
recently appointed to that role, and I’d like to ask you some
questions.”

Arundel watched him impassively.

Gerard plunged on. “Were you able to learn
anything about Sky Town? Do you believe it exists?”

Arundel sat back. “It existed. I found Sky
Town—a pitiful tree fort on Haplag-34, full of ragged fauns with
old weapons and older leaders. We burned the whole island. I’m told
it’s still bare.”

Gerard was confused. “The Priestess seems to
think Sky Town still exists.”

Arundel nodded. “I’m sure it does, but it’s
just a name—a banner for Resistance pirates and their sympathizers
to rally around. They tell each other that they have clever leaders
operating out of some un-findable hideaway called Sky Town.
Undoubtedly, the Resistance does have leaders, but, like the place
itself, those leaders are periodically killed. The names are passed
on to give the illusion of permanence and invincibility. Sky Town
is more an idea than a place.”

Gerard thought about that. “What about Gwain?
Montpir mentioned him in his papers.”

Arundel’s emotionless face twitched. “A name
that gets passed around. There have been many Gwains.”

“One of the prisoners said he’s distinctive,”
said Gerard. “Gwain is supposed to be half grishnard. He looks like
a shavier with dewclaws. The prisoner saw him. How many such shelts
can there be?”

“Your prisoner lied to you,” said Arundel.
“Or perhaps he was tricked.”

“It’s possible,” agreed Gerard.
But I
don’t believe it. I don’t think you do, either.
“Montpir also
scribbled the word ‘misnomer’ on a sheet of paper headed ‘Sky
Town.’ One of my prisoners talked about being taken by the pirates
down an incredibly long tunnel from Maijha Minor to a beach he
didn’t recognize. Could it be that Sky Town is actually underground
with the name intended to mislead?”

Arundel shrugged. “As I said, the name means
nothing. I’m sure the original Sky Town was a tree village.
However, the Resistance could easily be operating out of an
underground fort these days. They may even have no central location
anymore. Sky Town is just an idea, Captain.”