plans, remember? Faith is a little hard to give once youâve been caught out as many times as I have.â
âWell, this is
not
Corneliusâs plan⦠this is
Destineâs
plan,â said she. âThe key to telling a believable lie is to cloak it in the truth as much as you can. To bolster our disguise I shall pretend to be a member of the Hades Consortiumâs higher echelons, and you,â the fortune-teller sized the massive strongman up and down and then back up again, âyou shall be my bodyguard, an area of familiarity for you.â Destine took a deep breath and nodded firmly, steeling her nerves. âAnd so⦠we begin.â
âI never thought Iâd see the day when I missed Corneliusâs plans,â mumbled Prometheus under his breath.
âYou there!â called Destine to the nearest seaman that she found as they walked up the gangplank onto the shipâs deck. âWhat is your name, boy?â
âWatkins, maâam,â was his reply.
Destine nodded. â
Très bon
. Seaman Watkins, kindly escort me to your captain.â
âSure, maâam. But whoâreâ?â
âDo not dawdle, boy!â snapped Destine. âWe are in a hurry!â
Within five minutes, Destineâs company of three were led to the captainâs cabin, a room with a blanket of must and alcohol clinging to every inch of the damp wooden beams. Once Prometheus had flopped Renardâs body onto a long wooden bench in the corner, he towered at Destineâs back. The captain was a surly sort, with his boots up on the table.
âSlater,â he said, by way of an introduction. âWe ainât had the pleasure, Mrsâ¦â
â
Madame
, if you do not mind,â said Destine.
âFair enoughâ¦
Madame
.â The captain pulled a knife from inside his waistcoat and thrust it into the table, watching it sway from one side to the next like a metronome. âYouâve got about ten seconds to tell me who you are before I chuck you in the drink.â
âDo not take that tone with me, Captain, lest you wish my bodyguard to remove your insolent tongue!â snapped Destine, distinctly out of character yet one that strangely suited her. âYou are speaking to a member of the Hades Consortiumâs inner stratum, so show some respect! My wounded companion here goes by the name of Renard â perhaps you have heard of him?â
Captain Slaterâs face dropped. âMy orders were to take some bloke named Renard to Italy.â
âIndeed,â said Destine. âBut he has been badly wounded and he must receive urgent medical attention at the Hive or he will be lost to us. And our mutual employers would be most upset about that, hmm?â
âWhatâs wrong with the local quacks?â asked the captain.
âDiscretion is paramount in our organisation, Captain Slater, surely you know that,â replied Destine. âOnly the surgeons of the Hades Consortium can save him.â
âThat may be, but I donât have passage orders for you, nor yourâ¦â Slater squinted at Prometheus, â... whatever
he
is. On whose say-so am I supposed to take you?â
âYou are familiar with Baron Remus?â tested Destine.
Captain Slater nodded, his face rather pale.
âHe has personally ordered Renard to be taken to Rome and that is exactly what you shall do, Captain, or Remus will hear of it,â said Destine, each word rising in tone and volume. âIs that completely understood?â
âY-yes, maâam⦠sorry, maâam. Iâll issue the order to cast off right away!â
â
Bon!
â said Destine, fighting the urge to take pleasure from the moment, but she could not resist allowing the feeling to wash over her. Is this how Cornelius always felt? If so, it was intoxicating in the extreme. âWe require quarters and seclusion for the duration of our voyage. Order your