“Miss Grigsby, I would ask that you return to your cabin.”
The voice, so close to their ears, startled them both. Sirki was watching the pier. “A spyglass might be in use,” he said. “We wish no one to inquire about the red-haired girl.” He took Berry’s elbow. “Come below, please.”
“What?” She resisted his pull, showing remarkable strength. In truth, her heart had leaped to her throat and she could hardly speak. She looked to Matthew for aid, and when she spoke again she forced the words out one by one: “Why do I have to go to my cabin?”
“A moment,” Matthew said to Sirki, and the East Indian giant withdrew his hand and also his presence by a few paces. Matthew stared intensely into Berry’s eyes. “Listen to me,” he said quietly, even as the gulls croaked and called above. “You can’t be seen by anyone on the island. Nor can Zed. Sirki’s going to take you somewhere for…safekeeping,” he decided to say. “It won’t be a cell. Will it?” He darted a glance at Sirki, long enough for the giant to shake his turbanned head. Then back to Berry’s eyes again. He saw fear in them, and the wet beginnings of tears. “Listen.” He took both her hands. “In this case, I agree with Sirki. I don’t want you or Zed to be seen by any of the…the creatures I’m going to meet. I want you out of the way.” She started to protest, but a finger went to her lips. “No,” he said. “Don’t speak. When this is done, we’ll go home. All of us, safe and sound. But for that to happen, you’re going to have to trust me to do my job.”
“I can help you,” she said, with a note of pleading.
“No you cannot. Not in the way you wish. You can really help me by going with Sirki to your cabin, and waiting there until he summons you to leave the ship. Also by controlling Zed, if you can. Let him know that he needs to lie low for a time. Both of you do. Sirki!” Matthew’s voice was harsher than he’d intended, but it caused the giant to step forward with something like obedience. “Where will they be taken? Tell me now, and tell me the truth.”
“Of course. They will be taken to the village of Templeton on the east side of the island. Many people live there, but none who will be a danger to your friends. Miss Grigsby and the Ga will be afforded quarters at the Templeton Inn, run by a very efficient Scotsman who knows to ask no questions. The inn is used primarily for the professor’s guests, when not invited to the castle. And I can tell you that the innkeeper’s wife is a very excellent cook.” He paused for a few seconds before continuing. “I will say also that two guards will always be present, and if Miss Grigsby and the Ga desire to walk about the village they will never walk alone. Is that truth enough for you?”
“Sufficient,” came the curt answer. Matthew was in no mood for niceties; this subject was disagreeable to him to an extreme, yet he knew how necessary—and unavoidable—was the outcome. “You have to go,” he told Berry.
“Now,” Sirki added, with a glance at the oncoming wharf. Captain Falco had given the order to drop sails, and weighted ropes had been thrown over the sides to reduce their speed into the cove.
Berry realized she had no choice. Ordinarily this would have made her temper flare, but she knew that to let herself be angry here was pointless. Matthew was doing what he needed to do, and indeed she had to trust him. She nodded. “All right.” She was still holding one of Matthew’s hands, and this she released. She turned away from him without another word, and Sirki followed her across the deck to the stairway down.
Matthew started to call It won’t be for long after her, but he didn’t wish to lie so he kept his mouth closed. He had no idea how long it might be. Several days? Weeks? A month or more? He dreaded to think, therefore he shut away all thoughts to that regard.
The Nightflyer’s speed had slowed dramatically, and the brigantine was now mostly drifting. The ship’s course was met by four longboats that had set off from the wharf. Ropes were thrown from ship to boats, and now the crews on the smaller craft had the work of rowing the Nightflyer in the rest of the way and securing Captain Falco’s vessel to her mooring bollards. Falco strode forward to the bow and nearly rode the sprit in his intense watch over the task at hand. He gave a few commands which were relayed to the seaman at the wheel, but otherwise he was silent.
So it was done within another twenty minutes, the ship being moored to the wharf and the longboats withdrawing. Matthew noted Jonathan Gentry and Aria Chillany on deck, dressed in their finest for the landing. A couple of unfortunate and weary-looking sailors had been impressed to carry their luggage. Matthew also saw Croydon and Squibbs wandering about, but they cared not to cast a glance in Matthew’s direction and that likewise was fine with him.
The gangplank was lowered. “All ashore!” came a sea-fevered cry, yet there was no rush for the crew to leave the ship for there was still work to be done before the Nightflyer could be considered well-and-truly arrived. Falco stood on the poop deck, casting a long shadow. Matthew saw that the two black coaches waiting at the head of the wharf was manned by two drivers, and looked to be a type he knew to be called a berline, enclosed with room for four passengers, the driver sitting on a forward perch. But atop one of the coaches sat a pair of men in gray suits. They both had bright shocks of orange hair, and were sunning themselves as they presumably waited for the Nightflyer’s passengers to disembark. The lithe figure of a young woman with short-trimmed blonde hair stood in a casual attitude beside the second coach. She was a sight to behold and would have caused jaws to drop in New York, for she was wearing a man’s brown breeches, high-topped brown boots, and a deep purple waistcoat over a cream-colored blouse.
Whoever they were, Matthew reasoned they had come to see Nathan Spade set foot on Pendulum Island. Either that, or the amusements on Pendulum were so lacking they had little else to do.
“Are you ready?”
Matthew looked to his left, into the sapphire-blue eyes of Aria Chillany. Gentry stood a few feet behind her. His eyes were bloodshot. He wore a stupid smile directed at no one. Though the Nightflyer had docked, the doctor was still flying. Matthew wondered if Gentry’s proclivity for his potions had to do with the fact that he would soon be hearing his master’s voice, and this paragon of handsome charm was unnerved by that oncoming certainty. In any event, Gentry was skunked.
“I’m ready,” Matthew managed to answer.
“You know your subject, then?” Her mouth was very close to his.
“I said I’m ready.” Spoken with fortitude, but little surety.
“Your luggage is here.” She motioned toward a seaman who stood nearby shouldering a brown canvas bag. Matthew had been given it this morning, and had dutifully packed away his belongings. “You should be first off the ship. I’ll follow along.”
He nodded. It was time for the grand entrance, and this particular—and peculiar—play to commence. He crossed the deck to the gangplank, gave a glance at the two men and the woman who watched the wharf, and then he puffed out his chest and determined to put a little strut in his stride, as befitting a big cock-of-the-walk.