Vampirates 6: Immortal War (40 page)

Commodore Black shrugged. “We’re in the midst of the most extreme theater of war either of us will live to see, Commodore Li. Things move darn fast within such a scenario.”

“I understand that,” Cheng Li said with exaggerated patience. “Even so, there are certain protocols that must be observed…”

As Cheng Li and Ahab Black locked horns, Connor’s attention drifted. His eyes glanced up at the picture of Chang Ko Li above the captain’s desk. Connor had seen the imposing portrait many times before. Now it seemed different somehow—as if the dead captain were watching these petty human matters with amusement. In the
greater scheme of things, what did it matter whether Connor said yes or no to being a captain? What did it matter if a protocol or two were broken? There were bigger forces at work, and, Connor was coming to see, he had no real chance of fighting them, no way of stemming the inevitable tide. He could almost imagine Chang Ko Li nodding approvingly at him.

“Aha!” he heard Cheng Li say. “So
that’s
what this is really about. The money Connor inherited from Molucco!”

“My inheritance?” Connor brought his focus back to the conference table.

Cheng Li’s almond eyes were sharp with indignation. “Did you miss that, Connor? It appears that the Federation will be only too happy to grant you a captaincy, but there’s a hefty price tag attached.”

Connor sat back in his seat. “What is the price?” he asked.

Ahab Black took a pen and envelope from his jacket pocket. He scribbled a figure on the envelope and slid it across the table, past Cheng Li’s eager eyes, toward Connor. “That should seal the deal,” Black said.

Connor reached for the envelope and raised his eyes.

“That’s a
lot
of money!”

Lola and Holly watched as Nathalie set out twenty-two cards on the highly polished coffee table. Lola recalled
that the hand-painted cards were an antique set passed down through many generations of Nathalie’s aristocratic line.

“How about we play sevens, tonight?” Nathalie suggested.

Lola nodded in ready agreement.

“Turn your first card, Captain,” Nathalie said.

Lola’s bejeweled hand hovered over the table, hesitated for a moment, then settled on one of the cards and turned it over. The others leaned in to see her choice. The card depicted a compass rose.

“The Four Cardinals,” Nathalie announced. “An auspicious place to start.”

“Who
are
the Four Cardinals?” Holly asked.

Nathalie smiled at her comrade’s gaucheness. “Not
who
, dear, but
what
. The four cardinals are the main points on the compass—North, East, South, and West.” As she spoke, her finger tapped the card. “Then you have the four ordinals—Northeast, Southeast, Southwest, and Northwest.”

“I see,” Holly said. “So, what does it mean?”

“The Four Cardinals,” Lola said, “represent the expansion of our forces. Once we seize
The Nocturne
, we are poised to lock down the southern quadrant. Then we can move on to gain dominion over the rest of the oceans—North, East, and West.”

Nathalie nodded, smiling. “An excellent interpretation, Captain. Why don’t you turn your next card?”

Lola was more decisive this time, flipping up a card that showed a ship disappearing under the waves.

“Always an intriguing choice,” Nathalie said. “This one is called the Vanishing Angle,” she explained to Holly. “In maritime terms, it’s the maximum angle at which a boat can heel but still right itself.”

As Holly nodded, Lola began to interpret the card. “This card marks the point where everything hangs in the balance. It’s a reflection of where we stand in the war.”

Nathalie nodded, ruminatively, as Lola continued. “As you say, the vanishing angle is the furthest point from which a ship can still heel. It means that we are pushing the Alliance right to its limit.”

“But,” Holly interjected, “they can still recover? Is that the meaning of the card?”

Lola’s eyes met Holly’s. “The cards are warning me that we still have a real fight on our hands. We will, of course, win, but we must not underestimate our enemy. We need to push them to the very limit and then push just that little bit harder.” Her eyes sparkled in the light of the many perfumed candles lit about her cabin. “I believe that the cards might be telling us what’s going to happen this very night. Tonight Sidorio and the others will take
The Nocturne
, shame and silence Obsidian Darke, and tip the Alliance into disarray.”

“Will Johnny be okay?” Holly inquired anxiously.

Lola shrugged. “The Cowboy’s a resourceful chap, but,
after what happened on
The Diablo
, who can say? You can always do your own reading after mine. Perhaps the cards will give you an answer.”

Not fully reassured, Holly sat back and sipped her drink.

“Turn another card!” Nathalie, enjoying herself, prompted Lola. “Ah! Very good. The Nautical Dawn
or
the Nautical Dusk.”

“Which is it?” Holly inquired, her attention returning to the game once more.

“It’s a double card,” Nathalie said, her finger tapping the card, which was indeed split across the diagonal. It bore two almost identical images. Both showed a sky, suffused with golden light, but no visible sun or moon. On one half there was an addition of the silhouette of a bird flying across the right corner. “The import of this card depends on which end is turned toward the reader,” Nathalie explained. “On this occasion, the bird is flying toward the captain. That means it’s the Nautical Dawn.”

“The point about the nautical dawn, as opposed to the civil dawn,” Lola said, “is that the sun is still below the horizon. The light has yet to rise to spoil another night. Instead, there is a powerful golden glow, just as you see depicted here. It’s dark enough for those of us averse to light to move about in, but light enough to see the horizon.” She paused, taking a moment to reflect. “This card has two possible meanings to me. Firstly, it could quite
literally mean that the decisive moment will come during the cusp between night and day.” She paused again. “But I think it may also have a more general meaning—that everything we want, everything we’ve been fighting for, is finally coming into view.”

“Yes,” Nathalie agreed. “That was my interpretation, too.” She turned to Holly. “Do you see how the story flows from one card to the next? You can’t read them in isolation.”

Holly nodded as Lola, unprompted, turned her next card. It bore a picture of a jaunty sailor. Seeing this, Holly smiled. “He’s a jolly fellow!”

Nathalie’s expression was more somber. “Not exactly,” she said. “He might look that way, but his appearance is deceptive.”

“How come?” Holly asked.

Lola answered the question. “It’s Jack Tar the Mariner,” she said. “Otherwise known as the Death card.”

“Death!” Holly exclaimed, then asked, “Mortal death or immortal oblivion?” Lola and Nathalie exchanged a private glance. They had no doubt their comrade was thinking once again of Johnny.

“It all depends,” Nathalie said, “on what card the captain turns next.”

“Or
cards
,” Lola reminded her. “Jack Tar affects all the people cards turned after him until another theme card, like the Vanishing Angle, interrupts his progress.”

“Hadn’t you better turn the next card, then?” Holly said.

Lola nodded, reaching out and considering her choice. Just then, there was a cry from the nursery. Lola hesitated, waiting to see if the cry was a one-off. It came again.

“It’s Hunter,” she said. “Perhaps his colic woke him up. I’d better go to him before he gets worse, or wakes up Evil. That’s the hazard with twins!”

Staring pensively at the cards, she rose from her seat and walked toward the nursery.

Nathalie took the opportunity to reach for the decanter and refresh all their glasses. Setting down the decanter once more, she returned to the chaise. Before she took her own seat, she squeezed Holly’s shoulder. “This is about to get interesting,” she said.

“It’s too much money,” Cheng Li said. “And Connor shouldn’t have to buy his captaincy. He’s one of the most prodigiously talented pirates of this, or any, generation. He’ll soon earn the right to be a captain all on his own.” She turned to Connor. “My best advice is to wait this out. You don’t need to do anything in a rush.”

“I’m afraid I disagree,” Commodore Black said. “We’re running out of time and we’re running out of money. If, as you suggest, Connor sits back and waits this out, there
may not
be
a Pirate Federation still in existence by the time he’s done waiting.” His eyes were severe. “There may, however, be a Vampirate Federation, if that’s of interest to you.”

“Well,” said Cheng Li, “that’s an awful lot of pressure to pile on a young pirate’s shoulders.”

“Understood,” said Commodore Black. “And I wouldn’t be doing so if we had any other viable options.” His voice became more human suddenly. “Connor, I’m not going to dress this up in pretty ribbons: Man to man—we really need your help here.”

“I’ll do it,” Connor said.

“You will?” Cheng Li was indignant.

“You will?” Black seemed as surprised as he was delighted.

“Sure,” Connor said, rising to his feet. “I always had a dream to be a captain. I just didn’t figure the opportunity would come around so soon.” He grinned at Ahab Black. “But, hey, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.”

“Connor, wait!” Cheng Li said. “I don’t think you’ve thought this through. You haven’t had time. You’re about to give away more than half your inheritance. Molucco left that money for
you
.”

Connor shrugged. “I know that, but it’s way more than I could ever use,” he said. “I had nothing when I was taken in by Molucco. It’s the pirates who made me what I am today.”

“Yes,” Cheng Li said. “It’s your friendships with pirates
like Molucco and Cate, Bart, and me. That doesn’t mean you owe a fortune to the Federation.”

“Perhaps not,” Connor said. “But this war has already claimed the lives of Molucco Wrathe and his brother Porfirio. It’s claimed Bart Pearce and John Kuo and hundreds, if not thousands, of others besides. We have to put a stop to this right now. We need to make safe the oceans for the future. I can’t think of a better use for Molucco’s money than that, can you?”

Cheng Li was, uncharacteristically, silent. He thought he knew what she was thinking—what she would have said to him were Ahab Black not with them in this room.
Connor, you’re a dhampir, you’re immortal. You’re going to need that money!
But he knew better than that. He’d had a glimpse of his own death. And it didn’t terrify him half as much as the thought of losing this terrible war. If he had to die to bring about peace, so be it. He’d be joining the ranks of his dear friends and respected comrades. He’d have played his part in pirate history in a greater way than he could ever have imagined.

“Is there something you’d like me to sign?” he asked Commodore Black.

“Absolutely,” said Black, sliding a contract across the table, along with his fountain pen.

Connor took Black’s pen and, after a cursory glance over the text, signed his signature with a flourish.

“Excellent!” Ahab Black said, taking back the contract, folding it, and stowing it away safely in his pocket. “Okay,
Tempest, well, it’s customary for you to kneel at this point…”