Master of Myth (The Antigone's Wrath Series Book 1) (13 page)

Rachel laughed. “You think me such a cruel mistress?” With a spin she struck at him, and he easily parried the blow. “You cut me to the quick with such harsh words, Monsieur DuSalle.”

The sound of steel on steel echoed through the air as he met her cutlass with his own. She would greatly enjoy their dance this evening.

At the sounds of fighting, Silas took the last of the stairs two at a time. When he saw the crowd gathered on the open deck, his progress came to an abrupt halt. There was movement in the center somewhere, but he couldn’t make out what was happening. The mast nearest him had a crate conveniently placed behind it and he clambered onto it, finally able to see above the mass of bodies.

Her hair caught the fading light of sunset in bright bursts that stopped his pulse. He watched her dancing like a flame as she whirled about. He paid no heed to Danton, her opponent. Rachel’s every movement captivated him. The flush of her skin and her heavy breaths were so reminiscent of their night together, he could think of little else. She was an incredibly skilled fighter, that much was obvious. When he could manage to direct his eye elsewhere, he noticed that Danton had barely broken a sweat and seemed to be putting forth little effort into defending her attacks.

“Absurd!” the master-at-arms scoffed. “Has it been so long between lessons that your skills have reverted to little above an initiate’s?”

At this, Rachel dropped back, her strikes intensifying. Finally, Danton appeared challenged. He switched from defending to attacking seamlessly, though Silas couldn’t make out exactly what changed. He had no head for the intricacies of swordplay, but watched in fascination nevertheless. These two seemed almost evenly matched. After a while, he thought he could feel the rhythm of the contest.

That was when he saw it.

It was sudden, but he knew it immediately. The flash of something metal glinted from Rachel’s chest. During the fight, the thing worked its way out of her shirt and now bounced around recklessly on a chain around her neck. It was red and ring shaped, but it pulsed with its own energy. Silas longed for a closer look, but could find no vantage point that might grant him a better view without resulting in him losing an eye or appendage.

Rachel slashed a great arc through the air and Danton barely blocked it. She continued her attacks, gaining momentum by the second. Feigning a high cut, she dropped to the floor and slashed the blade in front of her. The collective gasp told Silas she hit her mark precisely, yet something felt off about the victory.

She looked up to Danton, where he remained frozen in his last stance, his blade just below her elbow, a mere inch from her skin. He was smiling in satisfaction.

Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when a lock of hair fell from the side of her face, landing softly on the deck. So, he managed to strike a final blow after all. Silas looked from one opponent to the other, now seeing the slice across the fabric of Danton’s shirt.
Touché
. They had tied.

A cheer went up over the crowd and Rachel stood, smiling smugly.

“
Tres bien
.” Danton nodded. “But now you owe me replacements for these.” He made a gesture at his torn clothing.

She stuck the tip of the sword on the floor and placed her other hand on her hip. “Sorry about that. Occupational hazard I’m afraid. But what of my hair? I’ve spent years training it to be just so. You’ve gone and ruined all my hard work.”

Danton laughed as the crowd dispersed, “An occupational hazard as well,
Madame le
Capitain
. Perhaps this is why men do better in such roles. Not quite the concern with their appearance.”

“Oh, you are the laugh riot, Monsieur DuSalle.” She threw her hair back over her shoulder. “I like to think of my good looks as a strength, rather than a weakness.”

Rachel approached Danton. “Come then, and let us celebrate my victory. I’ve a wonderful scotch I’ve been saving just for this occasion.” She slapped him on the back and they turned to go.

“Victory?” Danton scoffed. “
Madame
, at best it was a tie.”

She grinned back at him. “Considering my opponent, I think of it as a victory.”

Rachel stopped when her eyes rested on Silas. Her left hand flew to chest. He had been studying the thing she wore around her neck, and he could tell she was unnerved. She must have forgotten she was wearing it.

Instead of looking angry or concerned, she smiled nonchalantly and continued conversing with her blade master while securing the item back under her clothing. When they passed, she didn’t meet Silas’s gaze.

There was no doubt in his mind now. She had it. He didn’t know how she came by it, or why she had it, but there it was, dangling on a chain around her neck. When she came close enough to him after the fight, he saw it clearly. The piece she wore as a pendant was most definitely the same as the sketch in the book. Did she know what it was? Dare he ask? After all, if he broached the subject and she asked how he knew about it, showing her a book with
that
symbol emblazoned on its cover would not cast him in a favorable light. Being that she was a woman, and a fiercely independent one at that, he doubted she was part of the Brotherhood, but as widely traveled as she was, she most likely knew of them. This was a very tricky situation and he was not entirely sure he was equipped to handle it in a way that would keep him from being tossed overboard… or worse.

Regardless of any of this, he would have to try. Rachel, if not completely so, was mostly reasonable. He couldn’t match her in physical combat, but if he could persuade her to at least listen to his side of the story, perhaps he stood a chance. The problem was that the woman wanted nothing to do with him. He would have to think of another way to speak to her. Maybe one of her closer companions could help him.

Danton was part of that tightly knit group, but he had a serious distaste for Silas. That puzzled him, as he had no idea what he’d done to earn the man’s ire. As far as he could gather, Rachel’s only other confidante aboard the ship was Miss Singh, the first mate. She seemed very keen on helping him, so it was possible she’d at least hear him out.

All of this would require some advance planning on his part. First, he would have to catch Iris alone. Second, he would have to figure out what to tell her that wouldn’t get him mortally wounded or thrown in the brig. Third, he would have to decide whether or not showing her the book was safe. If she recognized the symbol, which he was certain she would, given her obvious intrigue with magical objects, would she act before he could explain? What little he knew of her told him she wouldn’t.

“May I join you?” The throaty alto tones of Iris’s voice nearly caused him to fall over the side of the ship.

“I, erm, no… That is, yes, by all means.” His tongue tripped over the words as he bowed lightly in greeting.

She gave him an enigmatic smile. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, Mr. Jensen. My apologies.”

He stared at her blankly. “Disturb me? Heavens, no. I was just lost in thought. Didn’t hear you sneaking up on me.”

“I do have that effect on people. I daresay you’ll get used to it, much as Monsieur DuSalle and the captain have done.”

This seemed like an excellent time to test the waters of that particular subject. “So you’ve been with Captain Sterling for quite some time then?”

Iris gazed out across the water, the fog of reminiscence glazing her eyes briefly. “I met her many years ago, well before she became captain of this vessel. She was not too different then than she is now, if that’s what you mean to ask.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “No, I doubt that someone as stubborn as her would change much over the years. I’m more curious about your role, however. You seem quite her opposite.”

“This is true in some ways, not so much in others,” she mused. “We have an unspoken understanding between the two of us. In all things, we attempt to balance the actions of the other. I temper her with patience, she tempers me with action.”

“Interesting. And Monsieur DuSalle, where does he fit in to the equation?”

“Danton is his own man, much as you are. The captain likes to surround herself with those she can learn from. It didn’t surprise me to learn she had already taken to you… so to speak. Your talents are ones she has not mastered yet. If she seems unwilling to speak with you, don’t be discouraged. A new project has taken root in her mind, and I think she’ll seek you out before long. You saw a bit of how she vents her frustrations this evening. She’s having difficultly making progress with whatever it is she’s working on.”

Silas shifted uncomfortably at this news. “She takes out her frustrations by slashing and stabbing?”

Iris laughed softly. “Don’t be concerned. What I meant was she prefers a physical release when she has a problem she cannot solve internally. Sparring with Danton is one of her favorite pastimes. She held him to a draw tonight, and that has never happened before.”

“And this has something to do with whatever it is she’s trying to work out in her head?”

“Partially.” She shrugged. “I think she’s tense over our current circumstances. She doesn’t deal well with uncomfortable situations… even ones of her own making.”

Silas sighed. “Perhaps it would have been best if I’d just taken the train.”

“And what would that have accomplished, Mr. Jensen?” Iris turned and looked at him sternly. “It seems fate has determined that, one way or another, you are bound for Singapore, and this journey must involve us as well. Taking the train would not only have been more dangerous, but would have served to delay the inevitable.”

“Fate, is it then?” he said as he leaned against the railing. “I hadn’t thought to put so much stock in it. After the past few days, however, I am inclined to agree with you. But what is it that Fate would have us do with this odd partnership?”

“I’m of the opinion that you might already have some insight into this, Mr. Jensen.”

Her comment stunned him. “Me? What would make you say that?”

“You’re a poor liar. Do you think I didn’t see your reaction when you saw the item the captain has taken to wearing about her neck?”

His jaw flopped open. It seemed he wouldn’t be afforded the time to plan an explanation of the book and how he came by it.

“You were correct in thinking that she would not speak with you about it yet.”

“How… How could you know my thoughts?” Who was this woman anyway?

Iris laughed again. “No, Mr. Jensen, I cannot read your mind, but you make it very easy to work such things out by what’s written on your face. You should really make an effort to guard yourself more, although I think your honesty is one of your best qualities.”

Silas could think of nothing to say. Should he simply admit to everything now?

“So now you tell me how it is you recognize the item in question.”

This was moving too fast. He was very off-balance and wasn’t at all sure how to proceed. “I think… it would be easier if I show you, but I must preface the revelation with the fact that I have no voluntary arrangement with whom you are sure to associate me with afterword.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I understand this preface.”

Silas made a quick decision. “I’ve only seen a sketch of my commission, I don’t know its function. I hope that the information I plan to obtain in Singapore will tell me more.”

“So, this book you have, the sketch is contained within its pages?”

“Yes.”

“Danton asked you about this before, and you refused to show him. Will you show me now?” Iris’s gaze didn’t stray from his eyes. “I won’t take the information elsewhere without your permission.”

Silas realized he had little choice now. If he refused to show her the book, she could simply have it removed from his quarters. Not only would she find it anyway, but it would make him look guilty if he withheld it. “Follow me,” he whispered.

Her eyes felt like white-hot daggers burning into his back as he led her through the interior of the ship to his cabin. When they reached the door, he unlocked it and stepped inside. “Would you trust me not to harm you if I asked you to come in?”

Iris laughed. “Ah, Mr. Jensen, I doubt you are capable of harming me.”

He huffed, indignant. “I’m not without my own defenses.”

“Defenses, maybe, but I doubt you’re any match for my prowess, however. Eddie and the captain are not the only ones who take lessons from Danton.”

With that, he opened the door fully and admitted her. He snicked the lock and went over to his bag. “I’m afraid I was able to get away with one lie, Ms. Singh. When Monsieur DuSalle asked to see the book, I told him I didn’t have it with me. It was, in fact, mere feet from us at the time.”
 

Silas removed the large leather tome from his satchel, taking great care with it. He winced as the light from the lamp glinted off of the silver symbol on the cover. “I think you’ll understand why I’m hesitant to show this to anyone.” He turned the book to face her.

Iris gasped as she caught sight of the Brotherhood’s emblem. “You were wise to keep it from Danton. He would have slit your throat on the spot.”

Silas choked at the comment and resisted the urge to bring his hand to his neck. “It doesn’t mean what he would think it did. I am not one of their… members.” He hoped his loathing of the Brotherhood was obvious enough.

“I’m inclined to believe you.” She nodded and held out her hands to receive the book. “May I?” He handed it over, a bit more at ease. “How is it you came to have this?”

Silas sunk to sit on one of the beds. “As I told you, I take commissions to build things. Some of these commissions contain parts that have magical properties. In this, I consider myself somewhat of an expert. I cannot create these special parts, but I’ve become very skilled in implementing them for practical purposes. That… organization… has approached me more than once with an offer of membership, which I have been able to avoid by claiming I work for anyone capable of payment and didn’t wish to change my practices. I suppose it was only a matter of time before they worked out how to use this to their advantage.”