But though Rodrigo was now engaged in his endeavor (much to the annoyance of Dag), Stephano noted that his friend did not appear to be enjoying himself as before. At times, a somber, reflective expression would come across Rodrigo’s face. He would gaze abstractly at nothing for long moments until someone would say something to divert his attention and then he would flash the same cheerful, careless smile.
Stephano mentioned his worry to Miri.
“Rigo’s like that cat,” she said, indicating the good Doctor. “He always lands on his feet. Remember, Stephano, he’s been through a lot. He had to stop that demon from hurting Gythe and he did a damn fine job.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Stephano. “For the first time in his life, Rigo is a hero.”
But when Stephano tried to praise him, Rodrigo passed off the incident by saying that he hadn’t done all that much.
“I merely gave the fiend a jolt,” Rodrigo had said.
Stephano let it go. But he still couldn’t help wondering what was wrong with his friend.
Gythe put her hand over her heart and then pointed at Rodrigo, who, at that moment, was reeling in a man’s curly wig.
Stephano understood her gesture. “He saved you from the demon. Don’t tell him how wonderful he is. He’s already insufferable enough. Which reminds me, do you have any idea why the demon would have come after you?”
Gythe turned to Brother Barnaby, asking him with a gesture to explain.
“I am not sure, but perhaps because she was singing the magic,” Brother Barnaby said. “None of you realized it. You thought she was singing nonsense songs from her childhood. On some level, she thought that herself, but deep down she knew what she was doing. She used her songs to try to keep the magical protection spells from failing as the demons bombarded it with the green fire.”
“How do you know this?” Stephano asked, skeptical.
“The demons spoke to me, as well,” Brother Barnaby replied. “I did not answer them because I couldn’t. But Father Jacob theorizes that with her singing, Gythe was able to speak to the demons.”
“What did they say to you?” Stephano asked Gythe.
She looked frightened and wrapped her hands tightly around Brother Barnaby’s arm and drew nearer to him. He placed his hand over hers and patted her soothingly.
“She doesn’t remember what they said.”
Or it was so horrible she chooses to not to remember, Stephano thought. He was sorry he’d asked.
“I had to go a long way to find her,” Brother Barnaby added in a soft, low tone.
Gythe gave him a wavering smile. She still bore traces of tears on her face; her clothes were stained, her hair wildly disheveled, falling over her face. Her blue eyes were soft and glistening, their gaze never straying long from the monk. Gythe touched her hand to Stephano’s mouth, indicating that the conversation was at an end. Tugging Brother Barnaby with her, she drew him over to where Rodrigo was throwing his line over the rail. He smiled at her.
“Glad to see you up and about, my dear.”
In answer, she took Rodrigo’s hand in hers, turned his hand palm up, and, using the tip of her finger, drew something in his palm. Then she closed his fingers over it and smiled and, bringing Brother Barnaby with her, went to the forecastle to join her sister.
Rodrigo blew her a kiss and went back to his fishing.
“She gave him a Trundler good luck charm,” Father Jacob said, coming up behind Stephano. “Your friend is greatly honored. The Trundlers do not bestow such charms lightly.”
“I would have said before now that Rigo was the last person to need a lucky charm,” said Stephano. “He’s always been Fortune’s favorite. Lately, though it seems Fortune’s turned against him.”
“On the contrary,” said Father Jacob dryly. “He’s extremely fortunate I am not taking him back to the Black Citadel. Not as a prisoner,” he added, seeing Stephano’s alarm. “I have been trying to persuade him to become one of us. He’s quite brilliant, your friend. Too brilliant for his own good.”
Stephano didn’t like that comment. He took it to be a veiled threat. He didn’t understand what any of this was about; he was in the deeps, way over his head when it came to magic. He was thankful beyond words that the priest was leaving the boat and he prayed to God and all the saints that he and Father Jacob would never meet again.
“You’d be wasting your time, Father. Rigo refuses to wear black. He says it makes his complexion look sallow.”
Father Jacob smiled, but the smile was inward, thoughtful, knowing, and it made Stephano uncomfortable. He quickly changed the subject. “I want to thank you, Father, for bringing Brother Barnaby to help Gythe-”
“God brought Brother Barnaby,” said Father Jacob, his smile warming. “I merely provided the means of transportation.”
He stood regarding the three of them. Miri was explaining the workings of the helm, to Brother Barnaby, who was asking questions and telling her about the helm aboard Retribution. Gythe had let go of his hand, but she had hold of a fold of the monk’s sleeve. She did not take her eyes from his face.
“He went into her darkness to find her,” said Father Jacob quietly. “He fought her demons and brought her safely home.”
“And now it’s time Brother Barnaby went safely home,” said Stephano, not sure he liked what he was seeing.
He turned to Father Jacob and held out his hand.
“Father Jacob, it has been a-” Stephano started to say “pleasure” but couldn’t quite get that word out. “It’s been interesting meeting you.”
Father Jacob shook hands. “I do not need to remind you, Captain, that you and your friends are under Seal.”
Stephano started to end the handshake, but Father Jacob placed his other hand over Stephano’s and held him fast.
“We will, please God, be leaving for the Arcanum soon. I value your judgment, Captain de Guichen. I value it highly. If you hear of anything you think I should know, seek me at once. Come to me day or night, either here in Westfirth or in the Black Citadel of the Arcanum. I will give orders that you are always to have access to me.”
Stephano was startled by the priest’s words and his earnest tone. Stephano did not know how to respond, especially since he had just been thinking he would be glad to see the back of this priest.
“Thank you, Father,” said Stephano, trying unsuccessfully to withdraw his hand. Father Jacob had a very strong grip. “But I doubt if I would ever come across anything of interest to the Church.”
Instead of letting him go, Father Jacob tightened his grasp. He drew near to Stephano and said in soft tones, “What you saw at the abbey, Captain, has nothing to do with the Church, nothing to do with bishops and kings, princes and politics. I believe it has everything to do with the survival of all we hold dear.”
His gaze shifted to Miri and Gythe and Brother Barnaby, to Rodrigo and his fishing line, to Dag and Sir Ander and Master Albert, who were conferring on board the yacht.
Stephano was startled and uneasy. There was no doubting the priest’s sincerity or the ominous import of his words.
“I’m not sure I understand, Father,” said Stephano, troubled.
“I hope you never do,” said Father Jacob. “God bless and keep you, Captain.”
Father Jacob let go of Stephano’s hand after a bone-crushing shake that left his fingers tingling. Calling out to Sir Ander to join him, he went to the forecastle to say good-bye to Miri and Gythe and retrieve Brother Barnaby.
The shipyard was located close to the docks. The yard was surrounded by warehouses, and there were a number of taverns on the Rim that catered to the dockworkers, stevedores, crafters, and sailors; many of whom had come loitering over, ale mugs in hand, to observe the yacht and freely speculate about what had happened to it. Men in the shipyard and Master Albert were shouting back and forth; the men telling him to drop lines so that they could guide the ship into the yard and bring her down without harm. He and Dag were uncoiling lengths of rope, getting ready to toss down the lines.