Stephano had nothing to do and he was thinking that a mug of cold ale sounded very good right about now when he heard a voice from the ground shout out his name. He looked over the side and saw Benoit come dashing out of one of the taverns, waving his cane in the air in one hand and what appeared to be a letter in the other.
Stephano’s first thought was that this sudden appearance of the faithful family retainer who was supposed to be hundreds of mile away, comfortably settled in front of the family fireplace, couldn’t be good. His second and even more alarming thought was that Sir Ander knew Benoit. The Knight Protector would recognize him, want to be reunited with an old friend, and introduce Benoit to Father Jacob.
So far, Stephano had managed to avoid any mention about the job they were doing for his mother. To give him credit, Father Jacob had not asked what two gentlemen were doing aboard a Trundler houseboat, but Stephano knew the priest was curious. Father Jacob was the sort to be curious about everything and would probe and prod until he found the answer, if for no other reason than to satisfy himself. Benoit was loyal and trustworthy, but he had always been fond of Sir Ander; God only knew what the old man might decide to tell him.
Rodrigo had also spotted Benoit. He was staring down, openmouthed, and appeared just about ready to call out a greeting. Stephano ran across the deck to collar his friend.
“Shut up,” Stephano hissed in Rodrigo’s ear. “Not a word! I’ll go see what’s up. You get rid of that goddamn priest!”
Rodrigo glanced over his shoulder to see Father Jacob chatting with Gythe and Miri.
“Will do,” Rodrigo said and hurried off.
Stephano looked over the rail. Master Albert and Dag had thrown down the lines. Men below had hold of them. Retribution was starting to sink. Sir Ander was just now starting to release the tow rope.
Stephano vaulted over the rail of the Cloud Hopper and landed in the driver’s compartment of the Retribution. He dashed past Dag, who stared at him in astonishment.
“No time to explain!” Stephano shot out of the corner of his mouth. “You never saw me.”
Dag nodded coolly, not in the least surprised that some new crisis had arisen, and went back to work. Stephano hopped down onto one of the wings and leaped to the ground below. The shipyard workers gave him some startled glances, but they were too busy trying to bring the Retribution down to pay attention to some mad fellow jumping off a boat. Benoit had been watching his progress and was following him on the ground, waving the letter in his hand.
Stephano caught up with him.
“Oh, Master Stephano, I’m so glad to find you,” cried Benoit, nearly weeping with relief. “I’ve been waiting and waiting-”
“Not here!” Stephano snapped and he seized hold of Benoit, almost lifting the old man off his feet, and hustled him into the nearest tavern. Benoit kept trying to talk and Stephano kept shushing him. The tavern had a few customers who glanced at Stephano and his companion without much interest and went back to their mugs and conversations. Dockyard taverns, unlike neighborhood taverns, were accustomed to strangers.
Stephano escorted Benoit toward a table in the back, away from any windows, and sat down in a shadowy corner. He caught the eye of the barkeep, held up two fingers, indicating they wanted two mugs of ale, and ordered Benoit to keep quiet until the ale was delivered and paid for.
“What are you doing here?” Stephano demanded, once they were alone. “What’s happened?”
“I was kidnapped, sir, the house was ransacked, and I have an urgent letter from your mother.”
“Good God!” said Stephano.
He had picked up his ale, but now he set it down untasted. He gazed gloomily at the letter, not eager to read it, certain that it meant trouble. There was no help for it. He picked it up, broke open the seal.
Benoit was indignant. “Didn’t you hear me say that I was kidnapped, sir? It was quite harrowing, I assure you.”
Stephano continued reading. “You appear to have survived.”
“Well, yes, that’s true, sir, but-”
“Who snatched you?”
“I couldn’t tell, sir,” said Benoit. “They dropped a gunnysack over my head.”
“What did they want?”
“A man asked me about your dealings with the countess.”
“What did you say?”
“That I was not in your confidence, sir.”
Stephano looked up from his letter. “Did they beat you, pull out your fingernails, and tie you to the rack?”
“I’m glad you find this funny, sir,” said Benoit stiffly. “As it turned out, the man made me sit in an extremely uncomfortable chair. I lost all feeling in my lower extremities.”
Stephano hid his smile. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt. What happened after you told them you didn’t know anything?”
“They put the sack over my head again and drove me back to the house. I found that in my absence someone had broken in. The place was a mess, sir. Furniture upended, books pulled off the shelves, Master Rodrigo’s undergarments strewn about-”
“I don’t want to hear about Rigo’s undergarments,” said Stephano. “Was anything stolen?”
“Not that I could tell, sir, but I didn’t have much time to look. I had only been home a short while, when I received an urgent summons from the palace. When I arrived, I was given this note and told to board a private vessel that I would find waiting for me. The vessel brought me here. I went to the Trundler village where you usually dock, but you weren’t there. I asked about, but the Trundlers claimed they hadn’t seen any sign of the Cloud Hopper. I heard from some sailors that there had been terrible storms in the Breath the last few days and, figuring you might have been delayed, I came here to wait.”
“You did well, old man,” said Stephano absently, his thoughts on the note.
“Thank you, sir. I assume I will be recompensed for the ale I was forced to buy during the last two days.”
Stephano looked up from his reading and raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“I had to have some explanation for why I was loitering about, sir,” said Benoit.
“I see. What happened to the money I’m certain my mother gave you to cover your expenses?” Stephano asked.
“Your honored mother was kind enough to provide me with money for my travels. But there is a matter of my food and lodging, sir,” said Benoit with dignity. “In addition I was forced to buy several rounds of drinks before I could induce the sailors to speak with me. Then there was the pain I suffered during my kidnapping. Did I tell you how I lost all feeling in my extremities? Then the mental distress when I feared you might be lost in the Breath and finally the joyful shock of discovering you were alive-”
Stephano grinned. “Yeah, you were in raptures. All right, you old rascal. Give your bill to Rigo.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. If you’re not going to drink your ale, sir-”
Stephano waved his hand and Benoit, who had already downed his, drank his master’s. Stephano ordered another round for both of them and, after the ale had been delivered, he read the letter again. Judging by the handwriting, the note had been written in haste and was short and to the point.
My son,
I trust you are in good health. Regarding that lost shipment of brandywine you were good enough to offer to try to locate for me, I have received information that it has arrived in Westfirth and is in the hands of a most notorious and dangerous band of smugglers. The shipment is of immense worth, though not at the cost of your life. I would urge you to abandon the search, but I know your brave and adventurous spirit and I fear you would ignore my wishes. If you insist on proceeding, please do so with extreme caution.
Stephano grimaced and shook his head. How like his mother. Warning him of the risk inherent in continuing the search for Alcazar and yet reminding him of the vital importance of locating the missing journeyman. Urging him to abandon his pursuit of information regarding the kidnappers and advising him to use caution when pursuing them. Telling him about the danger and not giving him the slightest hint what that danger might be.