“For Fyremantle?” As much as the thought scared him, it caught his imagination, too. Capture a dragon … the idea had possibilities. He gathered up the plans and walked through the city hall, Notwen close on his heels.
“We’re going to the laboratory to build a boat,” Ulin called to Lucy as they hurried past the sheriff’s office. “Call me if Kethril wakes up.”
“Did that make sense to you?” Saorsha asked Lucy, watching the tall man and the short gnome trot out the door and down the road toward the docks.
Lucy thought for a moment and said, “Actually, I think it does. They want to have a boat ready to fetch the treasure-if it exists. At least it gives them something to do.”
The older woman put her hand on Lucy’s arm. “I just hope Kethril remembers his offer when he wakes up.”
“So do I.” Lucy sighed. “So do I.”
Later that afternoon, Challie and Cosmo came walking down the road together. Bridget was better, they reported. She was subdued and still fighting her disbelief, but since she had missed the wake the night before, she insisted on rising and fixing a meal-a feast from the length of the shopping list-of Pease’s favorite dishes. The work, Challie told Lucy, would do Bridget good.
“We’re helping her,” Cosmo said. “We have to go to the market.”
“Your father is still asleep,” Challie said, her disdain plain to hear.
“Good,” Lucy replied. “Ask Aylesworthy to invite the usual crowd. We’re going to work out a plan, even if I have to hang Kethril up by his thumbs to get some answers.”
The dwarf and the kender soon left to visit the market for Bridget, and Mayor Efrim, looking tired and strained, went home at Saorsha’s insistence, leaving the two women in the sheriff’s office. The half-ogres stood outside as usual, but the visitors had gone and the interior of the building was empty and quiet in the late afternoon. It was, Lucy decided, like the quiet before the storm.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
At sunset Ulin came to accompany the two women to Bridget’s dinner. For a while they walked without talking along the streets of Flotsam, all three lost in their own thoughts.
“How is your boat progressing?” Lucy asked when they were nearly to the Jetties.
Ulin chuckled in the twilight. “We’ve had to cobble much of it together on an old boat Notwen has, but we made some improvements in the paddle wheel and the cogs, and the engine is almost ready to be assembled.” He squeezed her and said, “I’m sorry, but it may mean we will have to work all night.”
“I understand, but when this is over-”
“When this is over-” and he leaned closed and whispered in her ear.
They were laughing together when they walked into the inn. A large group had already assembled in the common room, and the people clustered together, drinking the new spring ale and talking intently. They quickly made room for Lucy and her companions. Aylesworthy poured his best white wine into a pair of goblets for the sheriff and her escort, and Lucy and Ulin drank a toast to each other and then to the guests. Everyone took a seat at one of the many tables.
Kethril came in last. He looked surprisingly hale and energetic, back to his normal self, as if the drunken crack in his facade had never opened. With a flashing grin at the room, he took an empty chair beside Ulin.
Bridget had outdone herself for the feast with her best recipes and favorite dishes. There were platters of stuffed capons roasted to a golden brown, mountains of fluffy mashed potatoes delicately seasoned with herbs, spring peas fresh from the garden, freshly baked bread filled with pockets of melted cheese, bowls of preserves and candied fruits, and for the sweet, a marzipan cake filled with chopped almonds and a delicate white cake. Lucy and Ulin ate until they were stuffed. When the feast was over, they called Bridget from the kitchen and cheered for her, then everyone drank a toast to Pease. Bridget stood with tears running down her cheeks until the toast was over. Mopping her face with a handkerchief, she fled back to the kitchen.
Lucy stood and called for everyone’s attention. She looked over the faces she had come to know so well in such a short period of time, and she fervently hoped they could keep their minds open and their wits sharp. The city councilors were there, as well as Lysandros and some of the Vigilance Force. Notwen, Challie, and Cosmo sat close by. The blacksmith and other prominent kender and humans she had befriended were scattered around the room. It was time to get to work.
Aylesworthy wasted no time. “What about this treasure? Is Kethril going to give us that treasure he found?”
All eyes turned to the gambler. Under the scrutiny of so many people, Kethril could hardly say no and still remain in good health. He squirmed and looked at the ceiling as if beseeching divine guidance. He rubbed his aching temples. “That is the last time I drink that swill at your place,” he grumbled to Aylesworthy. The owner of the Jetties only glowered at him.
Kethril slowly climbed to his feet and faced his daughter. When he spoke, he talked directly to her as if there was no one else in the room. “You asked me yesterday why I stole the city’s money, and I told you I needed it for a venture. I did. The biggest heist this side of Sanction.” He pulled a small dagger from his belt, removed his outer robe, and began to cut a careful slit in the quilted front of his inner tunic. From the slit he withdrew a piece of oilcloth carefully wrapped around a piece of coarse paper. He unfolded the cloth and laid the paper out on the table. “This is the work of several years,” he said. “I have been tracking Fyremantle, learning his habits, and looking for his lairs. As far as I know he has three. I have found two of them-one even Malys does not know. The other is well hidden. I was looking for that when Ulin caught me.”
She looked at him without expression. “So what was the money for?”
“Spies to track the dragon, new clothes for my disguise, bribes, horses, equipment, and ah, to pay off a few gambling debts that were getting uncomfortable.”
“What do you propose we do?” Lucy asked.
He leaned forward, his hands flat on the table. “Steal the treasure from one of Fyremantle’s secret caves. A lot of it’s come from Flotsam anyway. You could pay Malys with that and blackmail Fyremantle into leaving the city alone-at least for a while. I will lead you to the treasure, if the city lets me go.”
His words hung in the silent room. All eyes turned back to Lucy to wait for her answer.
She studied her father for an uncomfortably long time, then she nodded. “It’s a deal.”
All at once she crossed her arms in a copy of her father’s stance, and a brilliant smile transformed her face.
Kethril looked slightly startled at the change in her features, then he matched her grin for grin.
Ulin, sitting at the table beside Lucy, recognized the resemblance in an instant. They were almost identical down to the wrinkles in the corners of the eyes-the way the full mouths spread open to reveal even, white teeth, the glint of humor and a light of mischief that burned like lights behind the color of the eyes. To Ulin it was remarkable. There was more of Kethril in his daughter than either one of them knew.
The entire gathering had sat silent through Kethril’s speech and listened with what Lucy assumed was stunned horror. But they surprised her. As soon as she accepted, a chorus of voices began talking, not to condemn the idea as she feared, but to offer ideas, advice, and suggestions.
“Where is this treasure you want us to steal?” Ulin asked when Kethril sat down.
“The closest cache is here”-the older man pointed to a spot on his map-“in the caves of an old volcano just north of Secar’s Point. It’s well camouflaged and only lightly guarded. We will not need many men, In fact, the fewer who know of this part of the plan, the better.” Like many people with no morals, Kethril did have certain standards. His map was detailed, well drawn, and accurate. His plans to infiltrate the lair of the dragon were careful, organized, and efficient.