The Red Wolf Conspiracy by Robert V S Redick Read Free Book Online Page B

formal loyalty to the Ametrine Throne. Her family had always married power, both within the Imperium and without: Lapadolma herself was the widow of the Bishwa Egalguk, monarch of the Isle of Fulne.
    The Yeligs owned dozens of ships, but the
Chathrand
was their great glory. No other vessel could carry a third what she did on a trading voyage, nor earn a third the gold. And no other Family managed, under the very nose of the Emperor, to keep so much of that gold for itself. The culprit was tradition: to the Emperor's long fury, a belief held that the day
Chathrand
left port in the hands of another owner would be the day she sank. Nonsense, probably. But not even His Supremacy could risk disaster on such a monstrous scale.
    Of course tradition—and nearly everything else—was about to change …
    From her cloud of rancid smoke, the old woman chuckled. “Nabbed!” she said. “If there's anyone nabbed it was you, Captain.”
    Rose shot her a dark look. The cat purred against his leg.
    “You didn't want this commission,” she said flatly. “You didn'twant another turn behind the wheel of the
Chathrand
. Why not, when they pay you so handsomely?”
    “I was bespoken.”
    “Only by a wish to hide. You led the Emperor on a yearlong chase, island to island, port to port. And you almost escaped—”
    “Still a blary witch.” Rose glared at her. “Still a trickster and a spy.”
    “You almost escaped,” Oggosk repeated. “The Flikkermen caught you last night, with a ticket for an inland coach. Inland! Why, Captain, that'd be the first time in your life!”
    “Oggosk,” he growled, “be silent.”
    Her eyes remained fixed on him. “A secret commission, too. Sorrophran is like a hive of ants, everyone knowing the captain will be named this morning, everyone guessing wrong. Above all they wonder why
Chathrand
spent three months in this kennel of a town, and not mighty Etherhorde across the bay. Will you tell them, Captain Rose? Will you tell how certain powerful men in the capital might have grown suspicious at, say, the twelve months' provisions being laid in our hold, for a voyage of three? It would be difficult to explain—above all to the Yeligs. Suppose you gave them the truth: that His Supremacy's astrologers have convinced old Magad that this is the hour of his destiny, the moment that will see him crushed—or raised above all princes that ever were or will be.
Naya
, has it ever been different? A man will leap into a furnace if you tell him it's the way to power over others. It's a madness and a wonder that we let you rule. But the greatest wonder is the threat.”
    Rose's head jerked up, and Oggosk cackled.
    “Ehe! The threat! What did they use on you, Captain? What drives Nilus Rotheby Rose to set sail when he hasn't the mind?”
    Captain Rose's face was scarlet, but his voice when it came was low and venomous. “You will recall, Lady Oggosk, that we shall soon be weighing anchor. And you will recall further how very few compulsions indeed this captain tolerates at sea.”
    The old woman dropped her eyes and shrank into her corner. For several moments they lurched along in silence. Then with a sudden
“Whoh!”
the driver pulled the horses up, bounded from his seat and flung open the door.
    A black man stood framed in the doorway, clearly ready to enter the coach. He wore a dark vest over a white silk shirt, and most incongruously, a round woolen hat such as Templar monks donnedfor traveling. In one hand he held a parchment case, in the other a black bag with two rough wooden handles. The bag was old and worn and filled nearly to bursting. The man bowed courteously to Oggosk, then to Rose.
    “Who in the nine fiery pits are you?”
bellowed Rose, his nerves breaking at last.
    “Bolutu, my name is Bolutu.” The man had a precise voice and an unfamiliar accent. He appeared quite unaffected by Rose's outburst, which irked the captain further.
    “Get along, you've no business here.”
    The stranger cocked