absent assassin 23

 bad night, and then a cat scratch on the sole of my foot when Ace mistook my foot for a stoat he was chasing.  Stupid like I went into shock.

Chapter 23

 

Having eaten, Quester felt that he was more sanguine about getting back to the Buckyhare ship. The ‘Righteous Indignation’ had come closer to drop them, and would be out of sight of the shore, sitting almost on the waves a good four miles out, half an hour’s brisk row for someone who knew what he was doing. He squinted at the bright sky.

Was there a dot in it? Had Martellus put up an observation balloon?

It could not hurt to signal. Any pirate in that direction would have encountered Martellus, and would be unlikely to have survived it.

Quester got out the small mirror he carried for the purpose, angling it to catch the sun, now on his left, and flashed.

Dah-dah-dit-dah, he sent three times, three Q’s, his call sign.  Dit-dit-dit-dit, dit-dah, dit-dit-dit-dah, dit; dit-dah-dah-dit.  Dit-dit-dah-dah-dah; dit-dit-dit-dit, dah-dah-dah, dit-dit-dah, dit-dah-dit, dit-dit-dit. Dit-dit-dit-dah, dah-dah-dah-dit-dah.

Have P. two hours. V. Q.

Martellus would read that to look for him in two hours at the rendezvous with a captive, V for victory, mission success.

It was unnecessary to say that the hussars might be let loose upon the pirate stronghold. They would be there almost as soon as Quester reached the rendezvous.

Quester took off the sandals he was wearing as a peasant to enjoy the feel of the sand beneath his feet. Kiliana was paddling.

It was improper and undignified....

Quester joined her, laughing as she squealed when a fish nibbled at her toes.

“Oh, what a nice day off,” said Kiliana. “Are you going in with the hussars?”

“No; I’ll let them get on with it the way they do best,” said Quester. “I expect Martellus will let us watch from a safe distance, though.”

“Oh, good,” said Kiliana. “What about the townsfolk?”

“If they shut themselves in their houses and don’t join in, the hussars will likely ignore them; it’s the pirates they want to smash,” said Quester. “Although the townsfolk are probably complicit in smuggling and giving succour to pirates, they have little choice, and the Araklion forces should be capable of dealing with smuggling once they’ve been shaken up.”

Kiliana sniggered.

“Brother Goscuin has a lovely loud parade-ground voice,” she said.

Quester grinned. “Those chocolate soldiers deserve every minute of it,” he said, with feeling.

“Be fair; if they’d been any good, you’d be dead,” said Kiliana, shuddering.

“That’s as maybe; right is right,” said Quester. “I drill better than those buffoons, and I am not of military bent.”

“The cooks and hookers drill better than that lot,” said Kiliana. “How long have we got to holiday?”

“Another half an hour,” said Quester. “But we can collect some crabs as the tide starts to go down; there should be some rock pools. I have no doubt Lucius will be happy to have dressed crab for dinner.”

Kiliana giggled.

“I know it means removing the poison sac, getting the meat out, and putting it all back mixed with a garnish into the shell, but I always picture a crab in a slinky evening gown,” she said.

“The language has its amusing moments,” admitted Quester.  “We need to give our prisoner a drink as well. And make sure he doesn’t have too much; we’re down to our last bottle, and I’ll need half a bottle to row.”

“Well, if need be, he can go without,” said Kiliana. “I doubt he’d be too careful of your wellbeing if the situation was reversed.”

“Probably not,” said Quester. “We’ve lost the opportunity of getting much from him from capture shock but then, I suspect we have pretty much everything we need. Did you notice if any of the pirates were mutants?”

“Yes, there were some,” said Kiliana. “Some of them were startling to look at; but it’s not that far as the airship flies to the site of the great meltdown, is it?

“Not far at all,” said Quester. “Well, we can leave it to our large friends; it’s what they live for, and what they are good at. And the more they slaughter, the fewer I have to execute.”

“If I was a pirate, I’d rather die in battle than risk being put to the question,” said Kiliana.

“Yes, and they know it’s a possibility,” said Quester. “Well! Let us fill the bag now empty of provisions with crabs and then let us put the holiday behind us and move out.”

Kiliana giggled a lot in collecting crabs, and then they must get ready to go.

Quester went with Kiliana to give Poltronis a drink, not wanting to risk the man’s strength somehow overcoming his slight companion. Poltronis was certainly ready for a drink, and swallowed greedily as much as he was allowed.

“I hadn’t finished,” he said.

“Yes, you had; it’s rationed,” said Kiliana. “Shut up, Poltronis and pray very hard to the God-Hero; he might just save your soul.”

“A fig for that figment of your childish imagination,” sneered Poltronis. “There is no God-Hero, nor any other kind of deity. Such things are for children.”

“Well, we already knew you were a heretic,” said Quester. “Confessing makes things easier. If you make a full breast of your sins in front of the twenty-one, I may not even have to torture you. And it’s so hard on the robes, but I’m expected to dress for the occasion.”

Fear entered the Patrician’s eyes for the first time, and the acrid scent of fear made Quester’s nostrils twitch.

Left to contemplate exactly what was going to happen would perhaps finally break the bombastic fool.

Quester gagged him again in the meantime, and he and Kiliana carried their bundled captive down to where the water was receding. The boat sat above the level of the receding tide, the water having drained out of the bung hole as the tide went down.

Quester lifted the bow, pointed out to sea, to drain any water left, untying the painter. They lifted their prisoner in, and pushed the little skiff down the increasing beach.

“I wonder if Martellus will have room for her,” said Quester, wistfully. “She dances over the waves like a sea nymph.”

“Funnily enough, that’s what’s carved on the back end,” said Kiliana.

“Stern; the name is carved on the transom at the stern,” said Quester. “Well, plainly the proper owner has similar thoughts to me, but I can’t give it back, and as it’s probably used for smuggling, I am disinclined to do so.”

“That,” said Kiliana, “Is what you call a casuistry.”

“Yes,” said Quester. “I want her.”

Kiliana laughed.

“And it’s not as if you go around requisitioning much,” she said. “Will you leave her with your father?”

“Yes, I think so,” said Quester. “If Lucius will carry her for me.

They pushed out to sea. The retreating tide helped to carry the skiff at a good speed.

“Look!” said Kiliana. “That’s the ‘Sabre of Sarmatia’ on the horizon, and the ‘Righteous indignation quite dwarfed by her.”

“Even the largest of mercantile vessels is dwarfed by a warship,” said Quester. “Of course, big surface ships carry goods which have less need for speed; but the Buckyhares carry the high value goods which are perishable.”

“As well as high end goods which are less perishable,” said Kiliana.

“Yes, and a Buckyhare stole the secret of how to make silkworms spin spider silk, too,” said Quester. “We’ll soon be there; and though I can see pursuit from the shore – they must have been watching out to sea – we will get to safety long before they reach us.”

“And what Lord Martellus calls ‘a whiff of grapeshot’ to keep them back,” said Kiliana. “Well, back to the real world.”

“You could stay here, I am sure, as a guest of Elena’s and be courted by some nice young patrician, and go sailing, paddling, and have days off more often than a Justiciar’s assistant could, you know,” said Quester.

“Oh, but there’s no choice,” said Kiliana.

Quester felt something in his chest lurch.

He had grown used to having her around, pert brat though she undoubtedly was.

Well, he must make up his mind to accept it. A pity, she was exceptionally shrewd... and she stopped him from falling into black moods.

“I... I hope you will find someone pleasant,” he said.

“Leo, don’t be silly. There’s no choice because I don’t want to be some Patrician’s ornament. I can help you and I want to. The days off may be rare, but that makes them more valuable. You didn’t think I would leave you, did you?”

“Yes?”

“Oh, Leo! Don’t be silly. You need me,” said Kiliana.

And Quester admitted that he did need her.

Quite in what capacity he was as yet unsure; but she lifted his mood, she had good insights, and they made a good team.

 

oOoOo

 

“Hello, what has the tide brought us? Flotsam, Jetsam, and.... detritus,” said Lucius Martellus cheerfully, indicating Quester, Kiliana, and their prisoner.

“Well, you old pirate, if you feel like that, you might not want me to bribe you with crabs in order to hoist onboard a most remarkable little skiff,” said Quester.

Lucius twitched an eyebrow.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“I’ve been eating bream which were swimming half an hour before I cooked them, I am looking forward to dressed crab, I’ve been sailing the most delightful little craft and walking barefoot in sand,” said Quester. “Sometimes one loses sight of the simple pleasures of life.”

“Well, I’m damned,” said Lucius.  “You’re right; and I must have days like that with Elena. They got back safely, by the way; I assume you wondered.”

“Nicos does not seem a boy to overestimate his abilities, and your lady is a strong minded lady,” said Quester. “I did not doubt that they would return safely; but the confirmation is welcome.”

“Sometimes you are such a cold fish, and then you grin like a schoolboy over paddling,” laughed Lucius. “I’ll stow your skiff for you; are you transferring to the ‘Sabre of Sarmatia’ to oversee them finish off the pirates?”

“I... yes, I think so,” said Quester. “They can better imprison my prisoner. And the boy as well, we can stay together, and leave you alone with your lady.”

 

This was quickly accomplished, and Quester found himself embraced warmly by Burdock.

“I was worried, me lud, what you was getting up to without me, an’ only that girl to look after you,” said Burdock severely.

“Oh, we managed,” said Quester, with an austere smile. He shot a look at Kiliana which she could only describe as ‘impish.’ “Though I do need something I’ve been missing.”

Burdock gave a beatific smile and turned to a small side table, and presented Quester with a big mug of coffee.

“And that was what I was missing,” said Quester. “Thank you, Burdock.”

Eusebius and Lukas were armoured, holding their helmets.

“Will you pray with us, for the success of our mission?” asked Eusebius. “Your prayers are always so profound.”

Quester crossed his thumbs to make the imperial eagle sacred to the Blessed Abe, palms in as a personal prayer with friends, not as blessing a congregation.

“Blessed God-Hero, hear our prayers, spoken aloud, and in the secret depths of our hearts. May this mission against the depredations of piracy be fully successful in breaking their power to make the lives of others miserable. May the evildoers who are truly guilty of callous acts meet their just reward, and protect those who are unaware of the great evil with which they associate. Protect our brothers and lend them strength and determination to do all that is needed. In your name.”

“In your name,” they echoed. And then they put on their helmets, and Quester marvelled again at how big, how intimidating they were. Eusebius held out a great gauntleted hand clenched, and Quester clenched his to touch knuckles in a gesture as old as mankind.

And then they were joining their brothers with jetpacks as the imperial warship screamed through the sky at speeds zeppelins were never designed to achieve, powered by the Brothers Telekinetic, as they slammed into the sky over the pirate port before the pirates had really recognised that they were coming.  Quester and his assistants stood at the main viewing window of the big gondola, watching the Winged Hussars earn their title as they streamed down from above.

“The guns are made to fire down,” said Kiliana. “They can’t shoot at our brothers until they are level, and by then, it’s almost too late.”

“Some of them are heading for the pirate zeppelins to puncture the gas bags, to prevent them escaping, and to bring them down,” said Quester.

It was a foregone conclusion; there may have been thousands of pirates, but the grim, methodical harbingers of death winnowed through them like a summer storm through a crop of grain, flattening all opposition.

The brothers drew up in a formation of solid red.

“They have secured the town,” said Quester. “I should go down to make formal declaration as a Justiciar. Killiana, call me a rotodyne.”

Kiliana beamed at him.

“Yes, my lord. You’re a rotodyne, my lord.”