The Black Lung Captain - Chris Wooding [81]
“Oh, good. I was just thinking how nice it was to meet you again. I’d hate to have to flee for my life.”
“And I’d hate to have to kill you. You seem a decent sort.”
Crake laughed nervously. “Might I ask what a representative of the Archduke is doing here, at a soirée thrown in support of the Awakeners?”
Samandra looked skyward. “Good question. I have to be the least popular girl in the room right now. The Archduke wants someone to remind them we’re watching. So here I am.” She nudged Frey. “You never answered my question. What do you think of the company?”
“I think they’re a bunch of pompous, stuffed-arse idiots and their conversation is boring as watching shit crust over.”
“And how long do you think they’d last in our world? Out there, where the rest of us live?”
Frey grinned. “Most of ’em would get killed in the first bar they walked into.”
“There you go. Now stop thinking they’re better than you, ’cause they ain’t. I mean, aren’t.” She rolled her eyes. “All them etiquette lessons. Waste of good shooting time.”
“I like the way you talk,” Crake murmured into his glass, but nobody heard him.
“Y’know, Samandra, you’re right,” said Frey. He was feeling considerably better. “Who do these rich folk think they are? They’re not better than me!” He looked at Crake, then down at the drink in his hand. “Stay sharp, remember?”
“Stop fretting, Cap’n,” Crake said. “It’s under control.”
Samandra slapped Frey on the shoulder. “Go out there and get ’em.”
Frey headed back to Amalicia and met her coming the other way, a look of urgency on her face.
“Where’ve you been?” she asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, she slipped her arm through his and motioned toward a pudgy man on the other side of the room, who looked rather lost. “That’s the Grand Oracle. Now’s our chance.” She propelled him toward their target. “Just smile a lot, and I’ll do the rest.”
The Grand Oracle didn’t look particularly grand to Frey. He was a balding, worried-looking man with weak eyes hidden behind a thick pair of spectacles. Frey had imagined him dressed in expensive robes, but instead he wore a long jacket of deep-blue velvet, parted down the middle by the thrust of his belly. The emblem of the Cipher was tattooed on his forehead, declaring his faith to everyone.
“Grand Oracle Pomfrey,” said Amalicia. “Please allow me to introduce my fiancé, Darian Frey.”
Frey winced inwardly. He’d heard that word many times over the last hour, but it still came as an unpleasant surprise, like being cudgeled by a mugger.
“Amalicia Thade!” exclaimed the Grand Oracle. “My, how you’ve grown!” He shook Frey’s hand. “You’re a fortunate man, sir. Congratulations to you both.” Then he turned to Amalicia and became grave. “Terrible about your father, my dear. He was a great friend to the Allsoul.”
“As I will be, Grand Oracle,” said Amalicia. “You know, of course, that I was in training to be a Speaker before tragedy called me away to fulfill my duty to my family.”
Frey raised an eyebrow. As he recalled, she’d been dragged kicking and screaming to that hermitage.
“Quite so, quite so,” said Pomfrey. “I do hope you can lend your influence against the Archduke and that poisonous wife of his. Do you know, they’re attempting to force us to shut down our operations in the cities? Planning regulations or some such rubbish. As if they didn’t know they’d be severely cutting our income by doing so.”
“Those of faith will simply travel to the countryside to seek the wisdom of the Allsoul,” Amalicia said, with the blithe confidence of someone who didn’t give a toss either way.
“I hope you’re right, child,” he said glumly. He looked at Frey. “And you, young man. What is it that you do?”
“I’m in merchandise,” he said. “Cargo.”
“Ah, you own a shipping line?”
“Indeed I do,” said Frey, accidentally putting on a posh accent as he did so. Amalicia kicked him in the ankle.
“And how are you finding the party?”
Frey leaned in, shielding his mouth with his hand in a parody of conspiracy. “To tell you the truth, Grand Oracle, I feel like the Ace of Skulls in a hand of