The Huntsman's Amulet (27 page)

Chapter 39

The Deal

L
ate the following evening,
the
Spirit of Brixen
sailed into Caytown Roads and anchored a short distance from the
Typhon
. Soren went across to it shortly after it arrived. He sat drinking tea and chatting with the Admiral’s flag lieutenant who had commanded her from where she had been waiting for a little over an hour. He reckoned that was roughly the time it would take to make a full inspection of the cargo had he any interest in so doing, and went back to the
Typhon
in the jolly boat.

There was another day to go until dal Camperey would have arranged his finances and there was little to do other than wait, time which was spent drilling the crew in close quarters fighting. It might have looked odd to someone watching from the shore, but Soren wanted to send a clear message that anyone trying to seize either the
Typhon
or the
Spirit of Brixen
would have a very hard fight on their hands.

A small boat rowed out from the quay in the
Typhon’s
direction. When it arrived, its crew delivered a note from Commissary Harris saying they were ready to proceed. Varrisher had gone ashore earlier with the intention of keeping an eye on everything. After Harris’s threatening talk, Soren wanted to be sure that he wasn’t walking into a trap.

With the Resident Commissioner of the island involved in the deal — and with so much money involved — there was no reason for him not to simply throw Soren into jail, seize the
Spirit of Brixen
, take its cargo and save himself thirteen and a half thousand crowns. Soren hoped the presence of a large crew on the
Typhon
and their constant, visible training on deck would dissuade dal Camperey from considering this option. It would attract a great deal of attention and would be costly in terms of lives. The message Soren had wanted to send was that it would be far easier to see the deal through in good faith and make a big profit, rather than cause a big fuss and risk everything.

Soren went ashore and walked straight to
The Drunken Rover
, arriving earlier than arranged. The barman recognised him and waved him on toward the back room where the previous meeting took place. Once there, he sat and waited.

The Commissary and the older of the two unnamed men, the one assumed to be dal Camperey, arrived together and after a cursory greeting they sat at the table opposite Soren. Dal Camperey held a leather folder that he placed on the table.

‘I sent my men out to the Spirit to inspect her cargo a little while ago, as we agreed. They’ll send word here once they’ve completed the task, which I don’t expect to take much longer,’ dal Camperey said. ‘As soon as they’ve confirmed that there are the correct number of filled casks on board, I’ll give you the draft and our business will be all but concluded. There’ll certainly be no need for us to meet again. I’ll remind you of your agreement not to return to Caytown once this deal is finished.’

‘I haven’t forgotten,’ Soren said. He reckoned that he would have been arrested by now if dal Camperey was intending to seize the Spirit. That was one danger he no longer needed to worry about.

‘Yes, well, my men plan to move the Spirit into the Deep Pool tonight under cover of darkness and begin unloading her. I hope to have this finished by daybreak and she’ll be available to you again then,’ dal Camperey said. ‘Should you find her surplus to your requirements, Commissary Harris will be more than happy to put you in contact with a ship broker who’ll be able to offer you a fair price with very few questions attached.’

‘That’s very kind of you, but I was hoping to use her to bring a shipment of spices back north with me. With the funds from this deal, I should be able to fill her near to capacity and double my money.’

‘Very enterprising of you,’ dal Camperey said.

There was a knock at the door and the younger of the unnamed men from the previous occasion, the one Varrisher had said was the Resident Commissioner’s secretary, entered. He walked over to dal Camperey and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. Dal Camperey listened and nodded several times. Soren felt his tension increase. If something was going to go wrong, now was the most likely time for it to happen.

‘Excellent,’ dal Camperey said.

Soren breathed a sigh of relief with as much discretion as he could muster.

‘My men put the count at four thousand five hundred and twenty-eight casks. It’s rare that I do business with one who under-sells his cargo. I think you are better off returning to the spice trade after all. You’re too honest by far.’

‘Perhaps, but the casks are of little use to me sitting in the hold of the
Spirit of Brixen
. I’ve had to come a very long way to find a buyer,’ Soren said.

‘To the final point of our dealings then,’ dal Camperey said, opening the leather folder in front of him. He spun it around and pushed it across the table to Soren. ‘I trust you will find that this is in order. A bank draft for the sum of thirteen thousand, five hundred crowns made out in favour of the bearer. I presumed that you would appreciate names being left absent. It shouldn’t present a problem if you intend to draw the credit here in Caytown in order to buy spices. Otherwise I would recommend you call at the bank to have the draft amended to your name.’

Soren forced a smile to cover his disappointment. It would have been better if dal Camperey’s name was on the draft. As the Admiral had indicated, he was very careful about keeping his tracks covered. However, there was no way he could have secured a draft for such a large sum without taking out a loan from Austorgas’. There would be plenty of paper for the Admiral to chase, hopefully leading him to dal Camperey. It wasn’t Soren’s problem; he had played his part.

The draft was made out in the correct amount and although Soren had never seen one before, the writing was extremely detailed and elaborate, the paper thick and of high quality. There was no reason to suspect it as being anything other than the genuine article. Nonetheless, it would have looked suspicious to not require further validation.

‘Everything seems to be in order, pending my final requirement of course,’ Soren said.

‘Burgess Austorga is waiting outside to validate the draft, as you requested,’ dal Camperey said. ‘If it pleases you, I shall have my associate show him in.’

‘By all means,’ Soren said.

The younger unnamed man left the room and returned a moment later with Burgess Austorga, the same man that Soren had met the day he had first called at the bank.

‘Burgess Austorga — as we discussed, if you would be so good as to confirm the authenticity of the draft on the table,’ dal Camperey said, gesturing to the page on the table in front of Soren.

Austorga leaned forward and scrutinised the document, making a show of examining several features in particular. ‘Yes, this is the draft that I authorised this morning. Austorgas’ Bank will stand by it.’

‘Does this meet with your satisfaction?’ dal Camperey said.

‘It does,’ Soren said.

‘Thank you, Burgess Austorga. That is everything we require,’ dal Camperey said.

Austorga nodded to Soren and left.

‘That concludes our business,’ dal Camperey said. ‘Your ship will be ready for you at daybreak. You may collect her from the Deep Pool. I’m glad our transaction has passed so smoothly, and bid you farewell. Once again, I would be obliged if you remained here a few minutes before leaving.’ He and Commissary Harris, who had been glaring at Soren suspiciously for the duration of the meeting, stood and left the room.

Soren leaned back in his chair and relaxed. The whole thing had gone off smoothly, and hopefully now they would be able to get their hands on Blasco, who through the intervention of the Admiral was still languishing in prison, rather than in a cage on Headsman’s Rock.

He took a look at the draft. Thirteen and a half thousand crowns was a huge sum of money, and in its current form the draft could be cashed by anyone.

He placed it back in the leather folder and stood.

Chapter 40

A Warm Reception

T
he first thing that
struck Soren when he left the room was the racket of a commotion outside on the street. Harris, dal Camperey and the secretary were standing near to the door. The noise outside was unmistakably that of a fight.

‘What’s going on? What’s wrong?’ Soren said.

Harris looked back at him, his face showing a mixture of fear and anger. ‘You know bloody well what’s going on,’ he said. ‘You set this whole thing up!’

‘I don’t know what in hells you’re talking about,’ Soren said.

Dal Camperey turned and gave him an enquiring look before speaking.

‘When we went outside a naval officer with a shore party tried to arrest us. Do you know anything about this?’

Had the question been phrased differently, the answer might have been yes, but as it was, Soren had no idea that the Admiral had planned on arresting dal Camperey after the meeting.

‘No, not a thing,’ Soren said. ‘Who’s fighting them?’

‘I took the precaution of hiring some men. With so much money involved, I wanted to be cautious. I expect they’ll have dealt with the sailors before too much longer. Until then I recommend that we remain here.’

‘And if your men don’t win?’ Soren let the question hang in the air for a moment. ‘I think I’ll take my chances.’

He made his way to the door and drew his sword. He nodded to dal Camperey and smiled at Harris who continued to glare at him.

He opened the door and stepped outside. There was a pitched battle going on between a dozen men outside. There were already several bodies on the ground, one of which had a crossbow quarrel embedded in his chest. Soren looked up to the roof and saw two shapes moving around. No sooner than Soren looked, one of them took what was clearly an unintentional plunge to the ground, three stories below. Soren flinched as the man hit the street with a sickening sound that was a blend of a thud, crunch and squelch. The result seemed most likely to be death and there were certainly no signs of movement.

There was another shape on the roof now, taking the place of the man who had fallen. He was taking a sword to the other shape up there, and as Soren’s eyes adjusted to the darkness after the bright interior of the tavern, he could just about make out Varrisher. He must have gone up there when he realised trouble was brewing.

The fight was not going well for the naval Lieutenant or his men. Two had been killed by the crossbowmen while the others were now pressed back against the buildings on the opposite side of the street. It seemed that the Admiral had over-calculated his hand when deciding to try and arrest dal Camperey at that moment. As it was, the Lieutenant and his men would be killed and, tipped off, dal Camperey would make sure any trace of this deal was erased — or possibly flee. Either way, the Admiral’s chances of success would be significantly reduced.

Soren grabbed the first man he came to and dragged him back from the melee. The man didn’t realise what was happening at first. When he caught sight of Soren’s face he realised that something was amiss. Soren smashed down hard on the man’s temple with the pommel of his sword. The man dropped like a sack of rocks, allowing Soren to join the fight.

Soren recognised the Lieutenant from the Admiral’s flagship. He had two men remaining at his side, and the others were slumped on the ground. There were four of dal Camperey’s men left. The first thing that struck Soren was that they fought well and that one of them showed the hallmarks of being a banneret.

The Lieutenant was struggling to fight off two of the men. He parried one strike but didn’t react to a slash by the second assailant. Soren knew what was about to happen and moved forward. Without thinking about it, the world around him illuminated with the ethereal blue glow of the Fount. The attack began to slow as Soren reached forward with his own sword. He realised that he was drawing on the Fount as he both wanted and needed it for the first time, but with no conscious effort.

He struggled to not give it too much thought as he parried the strike aimed at the Lieutenant. It was the closest he had ever gotten to the type of control that Berengarius had spoken of, and it was hard not to be excited by the fact.

Soren pulled the Lieutenant’s attacker back by the shoulder and ran him through before he had a chance to react. He shoved the body back toward where the first had fallen and as he twisted he felt woozy. The blue glow flashed bright, blindingly so, as he turned his attention back to the remaining two. He was hit by a wave of nausea and realised what was happening.

He slashed wildly at the closest man as he turned his focus to shutting out the Fount. He may have finally developed the ability to draw from it with no effort, but controlling the flow was still beyond him. He stumbled backward, dazed by the bright flash of light as he fought to maintain control over the energy that threatened to force its way into his body. He focussed all of his concentration on shutting it out, oblivious to everything that was going on around him.

‘Are you all right?’

Varrisher’s voice was close, but Soren wasn’t sure where it was coming from.

‘I think so,’ Soren said. He felt a hand on his shoulder, but he was still unsteady on his feet. ‘You?’

‘Fine. There were only two of them on the roof. Not too much trouble. You turned the tide down here before you started to look dazed. Did you catch a bang on the head?’

‘Must have,’ Soren said. The lie was far easier than explaining the truth. He still couldn’t see very well, and Varrisher’s face was a blur even though he was right next to Soren. ‘I’m starting to feel better now though. The Lieutenant and his men?’

‘Over there. Safe. They captured the last of the men that attacked them. I don’t think they were expecting that much resistance. As the Admiral said, dal Camperey seems to be a very cautious man. More cautious than they gave him credit for.’

Gradually Soren’s awareness of what was going on around him returned. His vision started to clear and he was relieved to notice that the Fount’s blue glow had disappeared. All of his limbs felt heavy and his eyelids threatened to remain shut each time he blinked.

The Lieutenant and his two remaining sailors had the surviving attacker pinned against the wall. One of the sailors punched him in the stomach.

‘Where has the Resident Commissioner gone?’ the Lieutenant said.

‘You know I’m not going to tell you that,’ the man said.

‘I’ll ask you one last time.’

‘Fuck yourself.’

Soren walked over. ‘Who are you?’

‘None of your fucking business.’

‘You know how to use a sword. If you’re a banneret you’ve my word as a brother banneret that I won’t let these men kill you.’

The man mulled things over for a moment. ‘Banneret Narset.’ There was reluctance in his voice, but he knew he was defeated and no man welcomed the death he was about to receive.

‘I’m Banneret Soren, and you have my word you’ll be treated fairly. Now, where’s the Resident Commissioner?’

Narset looked at the Lieutenant resentfully before spitting a mouthful of blood onto the street. ‘He was inside last I knew of it. If he isn’t there now, I can’t help you.’

The sailor punched him in the stomach again. Narset gasped and struggled for breath.

‘No more of that,’ Soren shouted.

The sailor nodded and stepped back.

‘I take it he wasn’t in there?’ Soren said to the Lieutenant.

The Lieutenant shook his head.

‘Well then, it seems he’s gotten away,’ Soren said. ‘But we’ve fulfilled our part of the bargain, so it really isn’t our problem any more.’

‘You have the bank draft?’ the Lieutenant said.

‘Yes, I have it here.’ Soren took the leather folder out of his doublet. He showed it to the Lieutenant before putting it back. ‘I’ll deliver it myself if that’s all right.’

‘Fine. No need for us to go after dal Camperey now,’ the Lieutenant said. ‘The Admiral feels the draft will be enough to trace the Resident Commissioner’s involvement. The island isn’t large; we’ll find him quickly enough.’

‘Good evening gentlemen,’ the Admiral said, as he walked into his stateroom and took his seat behind the desk. ‘You’ll be glad to hear, I am sure, that my men have secured Resident Commissioner dal Camperey. He was fishing bags of gold coins out of an ornamental pond in the gardens of Commission House. His getaway money it seems. My men finished the job for him, nearly a thousand crowns all told. On the subject of money, I believe you have the bank draft,’ he said, directing the statement to Soren.

‘Yes,’ Soren said.

‘If you wouldn’t mind.’ The Admiral held out his hand.

Soren took the leather folder from his doublet and handed it over.

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘This is the key piece of evidence against the Resident Commissioner. This is enough for me to justify making out a crown warrant. Burgess Austorga has agreed that he will verify what funds were used as security for the draft, and also the name of the individual standing surety for it. If the answers to those questions are crown funds and Canning dal Camperey, as I believe will be the case, I have all I need to arrest him. By the time any of his friends at home, if he has any left after all of this comes out, find out about it, he will have long since departed this world.

‘All that remains is for me to fulfil my part of our agreement. This warrant will secure the release of your man from gaol.’ He slid a sealed piece of paper across his desk to Varrisher. ‘The officer there is expecting you. Finally, Captain Varrisher, I wanted to say that I’m sorry for our difference of opinion in the past; it was not maliciously intended. My motivations were entirely based on what I felt was dictated by my duty. Humberland didn’t have the resources to protect her own interests and aid Ruripathia at the same time. No one could have foretold the… comprehensive defeat your country suffered.’

Varrisher nodded, but said nothing and remained expressionless.