Retribution Falls - Chris Wooding [165]
“Goodbye, Trinica,” he said. And then she turned and ran down the corridor, and he watched her go until she was lost from sight.
BY THE TIME FREY returned to the courtyard, the battle had ended. Six of the militia had surrendered. The rest lay in various states of death and dismemberment on the floor, their blood turning the dust into red mulch. Of the Century Knights, Colden Grudge had suffered a superficial wound on his brow. He was covering the Duke and the surviving militia with his autocannon. There had been no opportunity to use it earlier, due to the close-quarters fighting, but he looked eager enough to be given the excuse now.
Kedmund Drave looked up as Frey appeared, alerted by the rousing cheer from the caged wagon where his crew was imprisoned. Frey had stashed the charts and compass he’d taken from Trinica, and his cutlass was jammed through his belt. He walked with a tired step.
“Didn’t expect to see you back,” Drave commented.
“Just eager to help out the Coalition,” Frey replied. “Call me a patriot.”
“Dracken?”
“She got away.”
“You think she might warn the others? Orkmund and his men?”
“I’ve made sure she can’t get to them. But we should move quickly. They won’t attack while there’s no one to give them a signal, but they’ll get wind of what’s happened here sooner or later.”
“Tell us where they are. We’ll deal with them.”
Frey laughed sardonically. “No. I’ll tell you what’ll happen. You assemble a strike force of Navy aircraft. I’ll lead them into Retribution Falls. Without me, you won’t know where you’re going.”
Drave stared at him, searching for signs of deceit. Frey wasn’t intimidated. Numbed by his recent torture and the shock of facing his own extinction, he’d become impenetrably calm again.
“I’ll need my craft and my crew,” said Frey. “And I’ll need my navigator back too. How did she find you, by the way?”
Samandra Bree had wandered over by this point. She tilted back her tricorn and smiled disarmingly. “Miss Kyte told us she’d made the acquaintance of a very important fellow called Air Marshal Barnery Vexford at a party at Scorchwood Heights. Best not to think about what she had to do to secure an audience with the Archduke’s representatives at such short notice. He’s quite a filthy old man.” She patted him on the shoulder. “You do have an admirably loyal crew, Captain.”
Frey could only imagine how loyal Jez had needed to be.
“Once they heard where you were, they sent us,” said Drave. He looked around himself at the dead lying on the ground. “By the Duke’s reaction, I’d say her story and yours have some truth in it.”
“I want pardons,” said Frey. “In writing.”
“You’ll get them,” said Drave. “When you’ve led us to Retribution Falls. Not before.” Frey opened his mouth to protest, but Drave held up one metal-gloved hand. “Pardons can be revoked. Makes no difference if you have a piece of paper or not. If you’re telling the truth, and you do what you say, then you’ll get what you want. But you double-cross me, and there’ll be no place in the world that’s safe for you.”
Frey met his gaze steadily. Threats couldn’t faze him now. “Then I suppose we’ll just have to trust each other, won’t we? Now get my men out of that cage.”
Chapter Thirty-six
THE RETURN TO ROOK’S BONEYARD—JEZ IS BROUGHT TO THE FOLD—THE DAEMONS BETWEEN HARKINS AND PINN—FREY TAKES A RISK
urning up ahead, Cap’n. Hold steady ’til you see it.”
Frey made a murmur of acknowledgment and Jez went back to her charts. The Ketty Jay slid on through the mists of Rook’s Boneyard.
Behind Frey, Crake consulted Dracken’s compass and warned them where the deadly floating mines were hiding in the murk. His voice was muffled by the mask he wore. Frey wore one too.
Jez didn’t. She’d given up pretending she needed to.
The cockpit was dim and stuffy, and sounds gave back strange echoes. Dew ran down the windglass, and the soft growl of the Ketty Jay’s thrusters filled up the silence. Jez sat in her chair at the navigator’s station,