They just don’t understand what we’re about, people like us. They’re afraid of the unknown. And those blasted Awakeners don’t help, shooting their mouths off about Allsoul this and daemonism that, riling up the common folk. Why do you think I’m brown-nosing up to the local judge, eh? So I’ve got a fighting chance if anyone discovers what I’ve got hidden under my house!’
Plome had reddened during his tirade, and he had to take a few breaths and mop his brow when he was done. ‘Speaking of which, he could be here any minute. What can I help you with?’
‘I need supplies,’ Crake said. ‘I need to get back into the Art, and I don’t have any of the equipment.’
‘It’s practising the Art that got you into this pickle in the first place,’ Plome pointed out.
‘I’m a daemonist, Plome,’ Crake said. ‘It’s what I am. Without that, I’m just another shiftless rich boy, good for nothing.’ He gave a sad, resigned smile. ‘Once you’ve touched the other side, you can’t ever go back.’ A sudden, unexpected surge of tears surprised him. He fought them down, but Plome saw his eyes moisten and looked away. ‘A man should . . . a man should get back on a horse if it throws him.’
‘What happened to you?’ Plome asked, getting worried now.
‘The less you know, the better,’ he said. ‘For your own good. I don’t want you involved.’
‘I see,’ said Plome, uncertainly. ‘Well, you can’t go to your usual suppliers. The Shacklemores will have them staked out.’ He hurried over to a desk, snatched up a sheet of paper that was lying there, and scribbled down several addresses. ‘These are all trustworthy,’ he said, handing Crake the paper.
Crake ran his eye over the addresses. All in major cities, dotted around Vardia. Well, if he couldn’t persuade Frey to visit one of them, he could always take leave of the Ketty Jay and make his own way.
‘Thanks. You’re a good friend, Plome.’
‘Not at all. Our kind have to stick together in these benighted times.’
Crake folded the paper over, and saw that Plome had written it on the back of a handbill. He opened it out, and went grey.
‘Where did you get this?’
‘They’re posted all over. Whoever that is, they want him badly. Him and his crew.’
‘You don’t say,’ Crake murmured weakly.
‘You know, the Century Knights just turned up in town looking for him, if you can believe that!’ Plome enthused. ‘The Archduke’s personal elite!’ He whistled and pointed at the flyer. ‘He must have really messed up. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes when the Knights catch up with him!’
Crake stared at the handbill, as if he could simply will it out of existence.
WANTED FOR PIRACY AND MURDER, it said. LARGE REWARD.
Staring back at him was a picture of Frey.
Nine
A Matter Of Honour - Bree And Grudge - ‘One More Town We’re Not Coming Back To’ - Departure Is Delayed
Crake hurried through Tarlock Cove as fast as he dared. The streets were dark now, deepening towards true night, and stars clustered thickly overhead. The beam of the lighthouse swept across the town and out to sea. Crake walked with his collar up and his head down, his blond hair blowing restlessly in the salt wind, trying not to draw attention to himself.
Run, he told himself. Just run. You weren’t a part of it. They don’t even know you’re on the crew.
But run where? His assets had been seized, so he had only the money he’d taken when he fled, and there was little enough of that left. His only contact here was Plome, and the last thing Plome needed was to shelter a fugitive. He had his own secrets to keep. No, Crake wouldn’t implicate him in this matter. He’d deal with it on his own.
Run!
But he couldn’t. Because the only way he was going to stay ahead of the Shacklemore Agency was to keep on the move, and the only way he could do that was aboard the Ketty Jay.
And there was more, besides. It was a matter of honour. He didn’t
Plome had reddened during his tirade, and he had to take a few breaths and mop his brow when he was done. ‘Speaking of which, he could be here any minute. What can I help you with?’
‘I need supplies,’ Crake said. ‘I need to get back into the Art, and I don’t have any of the equipment.’
‘It’s practising the Art that got you into this pickle in the first place,’ Plome pointed out.
‘I’m a daemonist, Plome,’ Crake said. ‘It’s what I am. Without that, I’m just another shiftless rich boy, good for nothing.’ He gave a sad, resigned smile. ‘Once you’ve touched the other side, you can’t ever go back.’ A sudden, unexpected surge of tears surprised him. He fought them down, but Plome saw his eyes moisten and looked away. ‘A man should . . . a man should get back on a horse if it throws him.’
‘What happened to you?’ Plome asked, getting worried now.
‘The less you know, the better,’ he said. ‘For your own good. I don’t want you involved.’
‘I see,’ said Plome, uncertainly. ‘Well, you can’t go to your usual suppliers. The Shacklemores will have them staked out.’ He hurried over to a desk, snatched up a sheet of paper that was lying there, and scribbled down several addresses. ‘These are all trustworthy,’ he said, handing Crake the paper.
Crake ran his eye over the addresses. All in major cities, dotted around Vardia. Well, if he couldn’t persuade Frey to visit one of them, he could always take leave of the Ketty Jay and make his own way.
‘Thanks. You’re a good friend, Plome.’
‘Not at all. Our kind have to stick together in these benighted times.’
Crake folded the paper over, and saw that Plome had written it on the back of a handbill. He opened it out, and went grey.
‘Where did you get this?’
‘They’re posted all over. Whoever that is, they want him badly. Him and his crew.’
‘You don’t say,’ Crake murmured weakly.
‘You know, the Century Knights just turned up in town looking for him, if you can believe that!’ Plome enthused. ‘The Archduke’s personal elite!’ He whistled and pointed at the flyer. ‘He must have really messed up. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes when the Knights catch up with him!’
Crake stared at the handbill, as if he could simply will it out of existence.
WANTED FOR PIRACY AND MURDER, it said. LARGE REWARD.
Staring back at him was a picture of Frey.
Nine
A Matter Of Honour - Bree And Grudge - ‘One More Town We’re Not Coming Back To’ - Departure Is Delayed
Crake hurried through Tarlock Cove as fast as he dared. The streets were dark now, deepening towards true night, and stars clustered thickly overhead. The beam of the lighthouse swept across the town and out to sea. Crake walked with his collar up and his head down, his blond hair blowing restlessly in the salt wind, trying not to draw attention to himself.
Run, he told himself. Just run. You weren’t a part of it. They don’t even know you’re on the crew.
But run where? His assets had been seized, so he had only the money he’d taken when he fled, and there was little enough of that left. His only contact here was Plome, and the last thing Plome needed was to shelter a fugitive. He had his own secrets to keep. No, Crake wouldn’t implicate him in this matter. He’d deal with it on his own.
Run!
But he couldn’t. Because the only way he was going to stay ahead of the Shacklemore Agency was to keep on the move, and the only way he could do that was aboard the Ketty Jay.
And there was more, besides. It was a matter of honour. He didn’t
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