The carriages had room for up to four riders and were the fastest way to travel overland from one point to another. The carriages stopped at posts along the way to change wyverns and deliver the mail. Mindful of the need for speeding the post on its way, the changing of the wyverns was accomplished with such rapidity that passengers were permitted to get out only to stretch their legs before the whip cracked and they were off again. Since the carriages were noted more for speed than for comfort, those passengers who took the post chaise generally did so because they needed to be somewhere in a hurry.
Harrington arrived in Westfirth two days ahead of the Cloud Hopper. He took up residence in an inn and did as Sir Henry had taught him. He enjoyed the pleasures of Westfirth. Harrington frequented taverns and gambling dens, strolled along the docks, walked about the shops. He mingled with the crowds in the park and took a stroll to view the wondrous new cathedral, which was being built on the old church grounds. He bought a bunch of clover from a pretty flower vendor. He walked through an old cemetery and read the names on the tombs. Everywhere he went, Harrington struck up conversations, bought drinks for the patrons, surrounded himself with people.
And everywhere Harrington went, either Dubois or his agents were right behind him, waiting for Harrington to meet with Sir Henry. Dubois knew Sir Henry by sight, of course, but Henry Wallace was a consummate actor who changed identity as often as another man changed his stockings. Wallace would never allow himself to be spotted on the street.
“These places are too public for the two to meet. Harrington is letting Sir Henry know he’s in town,” Dubois told his agents. “He’s setting up the rendezvous.”
Dubois had followed Harrington from Evreux in his own carriage, making certain he kept on the trail of his quarry by asking at every stop if they had seen a man matching Harrington’s description and, if so, what route he had taken. Dubois had arrived in Westfirth the same time as Harrington, tracked him to his inn, and then arranged with his most trusted agents to keep an eye on him around the clock while Dubois made a fast trip up the coast to visit the site of the massacre at the Abbey of Saint Agnes to speak to Father Jacob Northrup. When Dubois returned, he took the day shift himself.
Dubois believed he now knew why Henry Wallace had risked his neck traveling to Rosia. Dubois had received a letter from the grand bishop relating the disappearance of a journeyman armorer named Pietro Alcazar, a journeyman rumored to have been working to develop steel infused with the power of the Breath. The day after the journeyman had not shown up for work, the Master Armorer had paid a hurried visit to the Countess de Marjolaine. She had subsequently summoned her son, Stephano de Guichen, who was known to be involved in many of her intrigues. Stephano had gone to Alcazar’s lodgings and had been seen by James Harrington. Some hours later, Stephano and his friend, Rodrigo de Villeneuve had been lured into a duel by Harrington in the guise of Sir Richard Piefer. Dubois arrived at the same conclusion as had his counterpart in spy craft, the Countess de Marjolaine: Sir Henry Wallace had come to Rosia to abduct Alcazar.
Dubois did find it odd that Sir Henry had not yet left Westfirth with his prize. Why was Wallace still on Rosian soil? He must know that the hounds were on his trail and that every moment he remained brought him closer to the executioner. There were times when Dubois told himself that Sir Henry must have left. But, if that were true, why was James Harrington in Westfirth?
“No, no, never doubt your instincts,” Dubois told himself as he sat reading his mail in a park next door to the inn where Harrington was staying. “The pieces fit. Sir Henry is here in Westfirth. He has Alcazar. And sooner or later James Harrington will lead me to him.”
Unless the Countess’ son finds Wallace first. Stephano de Guichen and his friends were traveling to Westfirth. The murder of the poor pawn, Valazquez, had been hushed up: a tragic accident while loading a pistol… The Countess de Marjolaine had attended the funeral… The family was grateful for her support… Most grateful… No mention of Monsieur de Villeneuve or Captain de Guichen.
Dubois had abducted Benoit, de Guichen’s family retainer, then searched the captain’s house. He had discovered from Rodrigo’s accounts that the countess had paid all of her son’s debts. Clearly, she had hired him to find and recover Alcazar. Benoit had claimed to know nothing about anything. He wouldn’t even admit to the fact that he worked for Captain de Guichen. Dubois had set the old man loose and then had him followed. He had been interested to hear that Benoit had gone immediately to the palace and then disappeared.
Dubois sat in the park, reading a letter he’d received that morning from the grand bishop, all the while keeping a watch out for James Harrington. The letter informed Dubois that he was to listen for any strange rumors in connection with the tragic murder of the nuns of Saint Agnes.
Particularly any rumor of demonic influence, the grand bishop had written in his own hand.
“Well, well, well. Demonic influence!” Dubois shook his head. Having visited the site of the killings, he could well imagine that Hell in some form had taken part.
Father Jacob of the Arcanum is on the scene, the grand bishop wrote in conclusion. Everyone involved will be placed under Seal.
The bishop can rest easy then, Dubois thought to himself. No word will leak out. The Arcanum could be trusted to see to it that all were silenced. Strange, though, that the deaths of these nuns under such mysterious circumstances should happen while Sir Henry Wallace was on Rosian soil. Once again, Dubois tried every way he could to fit that particular piece into his puzzle, but Henry was the wrong shape and size. As much as Dubois wanted to think that Sir Henry was acting under “demonic influence,” he, like Father Jacob, could not see how the Freyan spy master was involved.
Dubois folded the letter and thrust it in his inner pocket. He sat in the park, listening to the twitter of the birds, eavesdropping on conversations, throwing crumbs to the squirrels, and watching and waiting for Harrington to leave his inn.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ghosts are said to haunt the places they once loved so much they are unable to leave. If that is true, Westfirth is filled with ghosts from her past. Westfirth was the last Freyan city on Rosian soil to be conquered by her enemies at the end of the Black Fire War. The ghosts of the dead still walk the streets. The stone in the Old Fort still bears the scars. The city and people of Westfirth still remember and will always remember. The ghosts make it impossible to bring these people to God.
– Father Roger Lousea, Former Archbishop of Westfirth, in his letter of resignation to Grand Bishop Montagne
THE CLOUD HOPPERSAILED INTO WESTFIRTH with the Retribution in tow behind. As they entered the harbor, Stephano pointed out the famous landmark known as the Dragon Bastion, a fortress built on top of a mountain peak by the dragons of the Dragon Brigade. The Bastion had been occupied by the Brigade during the glory days when the dragons and their riders had guarded the city of Westfirth and its important harbor. Stephano stood at the rail, gazing at the walls of the abandoned Bastion, a place no one ever visited now, due to the long and arduous climb required to reach it. He pointed out its features.
“For the tenth time,” Rodrigo remarked.