“I see,” the vice admiral said over the mutters of the rest of the captains. “But the ring has been smashed, the rebellion put down.”
“Yes, sir,” Suiden said.
“Commander Loel is dead, Teram is awaiting execution, and Slevoic is an outlaw on the run.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The House of Dru is dissolved by order of the king.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But nobody knows where Gherat is.”
“No, sir.” Suiden frowned. “We saw ships leaving from the sea escape of the palace compound the day of the rebellion.” His frown deepened. “We thought it was the rebels from the Royal Garrison, but when we did a reckoning of the traitors and those loyal, just about everyone was accounted for. The ships could’ve been Lord Gherat fleeing.” The captain sighed. “Or not.”
“Gherat a-sea!” Havram frowned back at Suiden. “How’s His Majesty taking this?”
“He is still king, sir.”
Havram’s smile broke out. “Aye, and so he is.” He glanced over at Laurel. “How will the Border respond, Ambassador Laurel, when the fleet sails into one of its harbors with a ship brimming with the cadavers of its citizens?”
“It will extend a gracious welcome, honored admiral.”
“Hmmph.” Havram touched the pouch, staring down at it. Then he looked up again. “Well, I suppose I should read the dispatches.” There was a knock at the door and it opened, showing the cook standing there with several loaded carts. “But in the meantime, we will sup together.”
The meals I’d had so far on the Dauntless were lessons in hellish eating. Salt pork and a sea biscuit didn’t go very far, especially since I wasn’t about to eat the pork. Having to knock weevils out of the biscuits didn’t help either. There were provisions set aside for me: wheels of cheese, pickled fish, dried peas, corn and rice, oats for porridge, nuts and dried fruit. But it was all locked in the galley pantry and at each meal Das the cook would wonder in a very loud voice why I couldn’t eat normal food like a God-fearing man. (I told him back that if he fixed normal food like a God-fearing cook, I’d happily eat whatever he’d serve me.) I was looking forward to a meal without contention and bugs.
While the table was being set up, Havram retreated to a corner and split open the dispatches. The rest made laborious conversation, the seamen not too sure about Trooper Basel, Laurel Faena, Captain Suiden, and me, in that order. I figured my best bet was to lie low, so I remained quiet as plates, napkins, silverware, glasses, bottles of wine, and finally covered platters, serving bowls and tureens were tenderly placed on the table. Aromas started to waft through the cabin and there were appreciative sniffs, some going even so far as to smile. But I thought, oh, hell. Dinner was going to be like being thirsty in the middle of the ocean and not having a drop to drink.
The cook lifted the cover off the biggest platter, revealing a large roast, and Uncle Havram came back to the table rubbing his hands together. “Splendid!” He beamed at his guests. “It’s fresh. We slaughtered a cow today.”
He sat down and the cook, with ceremony, handed him the carving knife and fork, then stood back, his hands folded before him. Havram jabbed the fork into the roast and juices ran down the side. “Ah, our cook has done me proud, gracious sirs.” He took the knife and began cutting, the slice peeling away from the rest of the roast easily, revealing a slightly pink interior running with more juices, and the smell of roast beef filled the cabin. “Perfect,” Havram said. “Excellent job, man!” The cook bowed, but, as the guests broke out in applause, I thrust my chair back, bolting from the cabin. I made the railing just in time to discover that sea biscuits didn’t taste any better coming up than they did going down.
I had finished heaving when I heard someone coming up behind me. At first I wasn’t going to look; then I figured I had damn well better, with everything that had happened. But it was Uncle Havram. I dragged myself to attention and waited.
“Are you all right, lad?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s just that”—I gave a faint smile—“I don’t eat meat.”
His eyes twinkled at me. “The carving was a little much for you, eh?”
I swallowed hard, tasting bile. “Uh, yes, sir.”
“Well, your captain is having the cook put together a plate for you,” Havram said as he went to lean on the rail. He glanced down and moved over some, avoiding where I’d been sick. He was silent as a sailor came up and sluiced the area with water, saluted and left. As he stared out over the sea with clasped hands, all of a sudden he looked like my da, and a lump caught in my throat. “I’ve scanned the dispatches,” he said, abrupt. “They say that Maceal was involved in this smuggling.”
It wasn’t a question but I answered it anyway. “Yes, sir. Among others of the king’s Court.”
The vice admiral grunted and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Nodcock.”
“Though it appears that he wasn’t a part of the attempted overthrow of King Jusson,” I said, offering him a sop.
Havram nodded, accepting it. “You were there—tell me what happened, lad.”
“It’s just as Captain Suiden said, sir. Lord Gherat was the head of the smuggling ring. Lord Chause—” Havram shot me a hard stare at my use of his brother’s formal title.
My mouth quirked. “He wasn’t too impressed with me, sir.” I shrugged off Lord Chause’s disdain. “Anyway, he supplied boats to bring the contraband down the Banson, and then stored it in his warehouses until they sold it.”
“’His’? You mean he used the family warehouses?” Havram asked, stunned.
“Yes, sir. He received a cut of the profits.”
“Nodcock is a disease and my brother’s caught it! What did the king do?” He frowned, worried. “Is Maceal imprisoned? Are our properties seized?”
“As far as I know, sir, no. King Jusson offered Lord Chause clemency for cooperation. Though I’m sure he will be heavily fined and all profits from the smuggling will be forfeit.”
Tension ran out of the vice admiral’s shoulders. “I see.” He sighed. “Though I’d be surprised if the king finds anything.” This time his mouth quirked. “My brother is very handy with a set of books.”
“The king threatened him with royal auditors.”
Havram snapped around to look at me, surprised laughter on his face. “That must have scared the hell out of Maceal. He loves his silver.”
I remembered Lord Chause’s look of horror. “He wasn’t too happy, sir.”
“I bet.” Havram, smiling, looked back over the water, the wind ruffling his hair. After a moment he shook his head. “Dru is dissolved,” he said in a wondering tone. He shot me a glance. “Is His Majesty going to dissolve Flavan also?”
“I don’t know, sir. Though it may not matter whether or not he does, as Lord Gherat apparently has Lord Teram’s wife and children as hostages.”
“He does?” Havram stood upright, his blue eyes staring at me in astonishment. “By the Briny’s beard, why—”
The door to the cabin opened and the cook stepped out carrying a covered plate and a wine glass, but stopped as he met the vice admiral’s frown. “Uh, I brought the lieutenant his food, sir.”
Havram sighed and nodded. He then turned back to me. “We will talk later about this, Rabbit. In the meantime, stay out here and enjoy your dinner. I will be sure to have someone fetch you for the dessert.”
“Yes, sir.” I barely waited for the vice admiral to turn his back before I had the napkin off the plate, checking over the mashed potatoes, carrots, baked apple, and soft roll.
“There’s no meat in any of these, Lieutenant,” the cook said as he produced another napkin and shook it out before he laid it across my lap. He waited as I ate a forkful of potatoes.