Part 29 (1/2)

'Bound for the Royal Jackelian Zoological Society, sir,' said the commodore.

'By way of Pericur, I understand.'

'You are very well informed, Mister Walsingham.'

'Our people aren't going to be very popular in Pericur right now, captain. Are you sure you know your friends from your enemies? I foresee trouble.'

'Their war was with the blessed Jagonese, not the Kingdom of Jackals. And I bear trading papers with the seal of the archd.u.c.h.ess herself that's still good for something.'

'So it was,' said the man. 'And so you do.'

Commodore Black watched his sailors taking on board the coffin containing Chalph urs Chalph's body.

'That being the case, captain...' The man produced a wax-sealed pouch. 'Some papers for our emba.s.sy in the Pericurian capital. They'll pay you very well upon delivery.'

'I dare say so,' said the commodore. 'The crown is always good for it.'

The official sniffed in agreement. 'Did you have a good war, captain?'

'There's no such thing, sir,' said the commodore, 'and anyone who tells you different is trying to get you to vote for them.'

'Oh, I don't know. With everything considered, I would say matters have worked themselves out rather neatly.'

'Is that all, Mister Walsingham?' asked the commodore, irritated.

'For now,' said the man, sitting down on a crate. He glanced back up as he noticed the piqued look playing across the old u-boat man's face. 'Oh, I do apologize, pay me no heed. I'm rather hoping for a boat to come in.'

'You're hoping against experience then, lad,' said the commodore. 'You had better s.h.i.+p out with us. There will be nothing coming in from the continent or the colonies, and any craft from Pericur will be met by a sh.e.l.l whistling down around their ears for the next decade.'

'Well, as long as you are able to sit and wait a while patiently, you never can tell what's going to come along,' smiled the grey little official. 'Something bound for Ca.s.sarabia, perhaps?'

Commodore Black snorted. 'And you think Pericur Pericur will be full of trouble? The caliph's wicked welcome would make the greeting of the archd.u.c.h.ess look like a spot of mortal tea with your grandmother. will be full of trouble? The caliph's wicked welcome would make the greeting of the archd.u.c.h.ess look like a spot of mortal tea with your grandmother.

Jared Black stopped. The cart with Ortin urs Ortin's coffin had arrived along with Hannah, the ex-parson of Hundred Locks and his brutish old steamer. Thank Lord Tridentscale's beard, that was it then. They would soon be underway and he would be well shot of the wicked land of Jago forever. A quick trip over to Pericur, another journey down the coast to the colonies to drop off Hannah for her seminary training, and then home across the sea to the Kingdom, the blessed Kingdom of Jackals. Green fields and brown ales and a warm log fire burning in the hearth of his rooms at Tock House. Yes, that would be something to look forward to.

The emba.s.sy official pointed to the ornate crest of a solitary tree on the side of the coffin. 'Repatriating the bodies of the enemy, captain?'

'No, lad,' said the commodore. 'Just a friend.'

Jared Black walked over to help with the amba.s.sador's coffin and within ten minutes he had totally forgotten about the nondescript man.

Everyone forgot about the man. He had that kind of face, those kinds of clothes.

The Purity Queen Purity Queen was away with the tide and cutting through the steaming boils veining the Fire Sea by the time a Jackelian merchantman surfaced outside the coral line, heading for the island and its sole paying pa.s.senger. was away with the tide and cutting through the steaming boils veining the Fire Sea by the time a Jackelian merchantman surfaced outside the coral line, heading for the island and its sole paying pa.s.senger.

The pa.s.senger waiting ever so patiently.

SIX MONTHS LATER.

'Next time,' called Boxiron, pus.h.i.+ng open the doors to the ma.s.sive ballroom, 'might we not restrict the scope of our detections to Jackelian soil?'

Jethro checked behind him to make sure the loyal family retainer was running to safety with the escaped young n.o.bleman through the G.o.d-emperor of Kikkosico's palace gardens.

'Splendid advice, old steamer. Do remind me again if we live to accept another case.'

They pushed through the crowd of brilliantly clothed courtiers all the men resplendent in officers' uniforms, the women in long, flowing gowns and Jethro jabbed a finger towards the peac.o.c.k-uniformed boy being led up the red carpet before the G.o.d-emperor's throne. 'That is not the Don de Souza!' Jethro yelled. 'Good people, that is an impostor, and he carries an a.s.sa.s.sin's toxin-gun concealed in his cane!'