Forty-Two Admiral Rosser

FORTY-TWO

Admiral Rosser

SAMUEL

H art drifted into the channel south of Renown, the foremost settlement of the Aeadine Anchorage. A long arc of islands directly between Aeadine and Mere, the Anchorage had been contested since before clans became nations and the advent of gunpowder. The islands were scattered with ruined castles and fortifications from every era, and not a few visible shipwrecks on the treacherous outer reefs—left as warning to Mereish aggressors.

Three fortresses, however, stood whole. Fort Renown dominated its namesake town with seven-pointed walls, each bastion armed with a battery of long guns. Identical fortresses could be glimpsed to the north and south extremes of the chain, irregular blocks on the horizon.

Walls laced strategic points in between, and two smaller batteries guarded the only ingress to Renown Harbor from the west. A great chain was suspended between these pentagonal bastions, the sullied glisten of barnacle-crusted steel glinting between the waves.

"A salute, Ms. Skarrow," I instructed as we made our approach. The shadows of the sails shifted, letting a beam of sunlight into my eyes. "And see our colors run up."

"Aye, sir."

As she strode away I removed my hat, just for a moment, to catch more of the sun. Warmth seeped into my wind-chilled skin, and shadows of sailors flitted across the smooth planks of the deck.

Mary situated herself beside me, and, for a moment, we stood quietly. I closed my eyes again, half to retrieve the peace of the sunlight and half to better consider the memory of her long legs cinched around my hips.

"We are doing the right thing," she told me, and my imaginings tempered as I recognized her anxiety. "I have my papers—the Navy cannot press me. I have Tane."

"And you have me," I reminded her.

She smiled and surveyed the towers ahead, but the smile was not as wholehearted as I wished.

Clearing my throat, I fit my tricorn back in place. With it my responsibilities washed back over me, but they were ballast instead of a burden.

Ms. Skarrow topped the forecastle stairs. "At your pleasure, Cap'n."

I gave a nod.

Skarrow turned and called calmly amidships, "Touch match!"

A single gun boomed out, a sound that reverberated down the quiet line of the islands.

I expected to meet with a challenge, to be left at anchor and signaled to send a longboat ashore. But mere minutes after our salute, a bone-deep rumble filled the air. The chain at the mouth of the harbor began to sink, and the eastern tower raised a welcoming flag.

Hart manifested as the ship crept across the chain. The massive spectral beast strode across the waves ahead of the vessel, guiding him into the calm, sheltered waters of Renown. The watchtowers fell away, a grating moan signaled the chain was being raised back into position, and Fort Renown filled our sight.

Four flags flew high from the central keep. One was the Aeadine flag with its bloody crown, the second the golden pennant of the South Fleet and another the flag of the Anchorage itself: a castle on an island, nestled between two uncradled cannons.

It was the last flag, however, that demanded my attention: a pennant of deep indigo. I turned sharply, surveying the ships in the harbor.

The massive first-rater Triumph lay at anchor among half a dozen other vessels, sails furled to leave only her colors to the wind: the war-pennant of the Aeadine North Fleet. The colors of Admiral John Rosser Howe, my uncle and the man who had rescued Ben and I from the Black Tide, twenty years ago.

Triumph had still been ashore last time I saw her, at the naval docks in Ismoathe. Her wooden ribs were now clad and painted a pristine white with bold blue gunports and rails. Her name was painted in equally regal blue across her stern, just facing us, and outlined with golden gilt. The glass of her stern windows was so fine and clear that I could see movement within. I could almost imagine my uncle at his desk, cool sunlight pouring across his ledgers and charts. But he would likely be at the fort.

"What ill fortune." Ben drew up to my other side and blew out his cheeks with childish displeasure.

"Is that Captain Irving's ship?" Mary asked, voice low with concern.

"No," Ben answered before I could. "Our uncle's, Admiral Rosser." His eyes slid to me. "When was the last time you spoke?"

"When I forfeited my commission." I could not pry my gaze from the massive vessel. Insecurities flickered through me, not least shame at the state of Hart . We had retitled him and begun to repaint his hull during the voyage, eager not to be blown apart by our own ships, but the task was not complete.

The admiral knows now. He knows it was not you with Ms. Irving , a voice whispered in the back of my mind—a calloused, selfish version of myself. It was Ben who would receive the full force of our uncle's censure, not I.

And from the shadows in my brother's eyes, he knew it too.

* * *

Admiral Rosser had aged little in the years since I had last seen him. The bloodline that had given Ben and I our strong jawlines had perhaps overextended with him, giving his clean-shaven profile the look of a spade. His head, I knew, was bald beneath a fine chestnut wig, scented with citrus, and his gold-buttoned, deep-indigo frock with its thick black collar and glistening pips carried the perpetual musk of cologne and cigars. His eyes were broad-set and dark-lashed, tempering the overall strength of his features and hinting at a subtle insight.

He surveyed us for a long moment as we entered the small, oakpaneled study, evidently making up his mind about something. Finally, once the door was closed, he shook his head. "My instinct is still to call you boys and offer you toffee. Sit, Captains Rosser."

For an opening salvo, that was much kinder than I had anticipated.

Ben gestured for me to take the only chair on the other side of the admiral's desk and pulled up a second, heavily upholstered with flourishes and waves for himself. It clattered a little too much, and Admiral Rosser's eyebrow crooked.

"Uncle," Ben said, sitting.

"Admiral," I intoned, giving a small bow before seating myself.

"Let me make several observations." Admiral Rosser laced his fingers together on the desk. "Last I heard, you, Benedict, had been drowned off the coast of Mere. And you, Samuel, had sailed south into Mereish waters in pursuit of a pirate on behalf of the Usti Crown. Am I to now understand that you… happened across one another, during that unsanctioned and entirely foolhardy venture?"

"Matters are a great deal more complex," I admitted. I had planned this conversation a dozen times since I saw the admiral's flag over the fort, but my chosen words suddenly felt inane. I had expected to begin with Ben and his downfall, not less personal matters. "The Usti remain a neutral party, Admiral, as I know you are well aware, and so my venture into Mereish waters is no concern of the Aeadine."

"Ah, yet you know how these matters are perceived," the admiral parried. "You are Aeadine, a former officer. Papers. Politics. Perception. Your ties to me. You have antagonized our greatest enemies in a time of active war, not to mention one of chaos—I speak of the high tides, which have been ravaging our coastlines. Many of the outer islands are submerged, did you note that? And four moons have been seen in the sky. Not only by Sooths, either."

"Yes, sir." I forged ahead, keeping my voice and expression relaxed. "And I have much to say on the matter. But as to how Ben and I came together, during my pursuit of the pirate I sensed my brother's presence and was able to rescue him. In the course of that venture, we uncovered many things, all of the utmost importance."

Ben picked up the narrative, briefly outlining the Mereish's advances in magecraft and the suppressive efforts of the Ess Noti. Then I spoke up again, revealing the reality of the Mereish Fleet's invasion and the upcoming Black Tides.

I did not, however, speak of Maren or Ms. Alamay. Ms. Alamay I had decided not to reveal of my own accord—another step, I hoped, towards earning her trust. But the Mereish man had come to me the night before we reached Renown and beseeched me not to reveal his presence aboard my ship, nor his skills for the time being.

"I would be prisoner again, this time of your people rather than mine," Mr. Maren had pointed out, and I could not contradict him.

He had, however, sent me with a stack of notes regarding his trade.

"Here is all we learned," I said, withdrawing the packet and sliding them across the desk. "However, I still have more to tell you."

My uncle raised his brows. "You have just informed me that we are on the brink of invasion and half the coastal villages will be swept away within a month. How can there be more?"

"Mereish Separatists claim that the Usti have been manipulating both the Mere and the Aeadine into continued conflict, thwarting attempts at peace, fabricating inciting incidents, and so forth. I cannot say whether I believe their claims. But they must be aired, regardless."

My uncle let out a long sigh and opened a desk drawer. He pulled out a cigar case and tossed it, open, on the desk with uncharacteristic carelessness.

"There have always been such claims," he said as he clipped the end off one, then two, then three, and passed them to each of us before he retrieved a candle and set it between us. "Conspiracies and hidden hands, knives in the dark and false colors. Why should I pay these rumors any mind?"

He lit his cigar, puffing slowly. Ben and I followed suit, and I took a deep inhale before I spoke again. "I do not know enough to make claims. I simply wanted to bring the information to your attention and leave it with your better judgement. These are matters that you, I presume, are more educated on than I."

A hint of amusement crinkled the admiral's eyes. "Your tact has always been admirable, Samuel, but that was heavy-handed. I can tell you little of what I know or suspect, even if I should know or suspect it. In fact, I must dissuade you from this topic entirely and encourage you to look to your own good in these troubled times."

I watched my uncle, trying to read between his words. "I see."

For a moment we sat in smoky, weighty silence. At length, I took the opportunity to broach another topic.

"I realize now that the truth of Ben's affair with Alice Irving is known." I did not look at Ben as I spoke, though out of the corner of my eye I saw him tilt his head back. Resigned, he exhaled a stream of smoke. "I am also aware that I misled the Admiralty in claiming his actions as my own, and that not all will be pleased with my foray into Mere. But I hope that, in light of our findings, the Admiralty will see our value. I intend to sail with the fleet against Mere. Benedict, despite his moral failings and the loss of his ship—I realize of course that under less pressing circumstances, an inquest may be warranted, however… He remains an officer of Her Majesty's Royal Navy and an invaluable asset."

I sensed my twin's focus snap to me, prying like needles under my skin.

Admiral Rosser huffed, seemingly uninterested in pursuing that particular conversation. "Noted. Now, tell me more of these Mereish observatories and their beliefs about these unprecedented tides."

I obliged and the interview began in earnest. My uncle queried and pried, testing the borders of our story and edging out concessions, new information, observations and facts. I spoke of the actions of the Ess Noti and the potency of their talismans, which I handed over at this time. My uncle took them in with narrowed eyes and a draconian exhale of smoke. I sensed a lack of surprise in his reaction, but any queries of my own were brushed aside.

At length, the admiral swept the pouch of talismans and magecrafted shot into his pocket. He tapped ash into a bowl in the center of the table and said, "I can make no promises as how any of this will be received, but I must urge the pair of you—and your crew, Samuel—to secrecy. Keep your heads low and your conduct clean."

"I always do," Benedict said, calm and guileless.

Our uncle gave him a quelling look. "Benedict. There will be an inquisition into the loss of your ship, though I doubt you will be barred from temporary action. So again, I repeat—keep your head low and your conduct clean. Remain with Samuel and wait for your summons to court. Though I dare say it will not be for some time, given we, apparently, face invasion."

"Of course." Ben leaned on one arm of his chair, casually brushing his lips with the end of his cigar. But I saw the fingers of his other hand shudder on the arm of his chair. A vision of our childhood came back to me in a flash—him holding freshly caned hands in his lap as we waited, together, on the bench outside our uncle's study. The weight of responsibility had haunted me then, and it did so again.

"I would invite you to my table this evening, but I need time to evaluate the reception of your arrival and your news," the admiral finished with the beginnings of a dismissal. "Irving is not here— in that we have found some grace. But again, I urge you. Keep your heads low and stay out of naval affairs."

I nodded and ashed my cigar, leaving the stub in the bowl. "Very good, sir."

"I am sorry I did it," Ben said unexpectedly.

The admiral's eyes fixed on my twin. I considered him too, searching him for a lie. Instead I found an intense defensiveness to his posture, a forced disregard. Ash from his cigar drifted onto the thick Ismani carpet.

"I should not have associated with Ms. Irving," Benedict added. "It was unsatisfying, and the complications far beyond what I anticipated."

"That is not the breed of regret that will sway those in power," our uncle stated. "You regret the repercussions, as always, not the wrongness of the act, nor letting your brother take the fall for your immorality."

"I have never failed at my duty," Ben returned stolidly. "And I will not. Give me a new ship, a ghisting and a Stormsinger, and I will prove my value tenfold."

"I do not doubt that," the admiral said. There was something about his eyes, perhaps regret or remembered gentleness, a recollection of our boyhood and his unexpected mantle of father. "But martial merit cannot redeem you from moral failings."

Redeem . With that word, I truly realized that the shame of the incident with Alice Irving had shifted from my shoulders. I was no longer the one in shadow, desperate to attach some good to my sullied name. Ben was the villain now, as he should have been all along.

But there was danger in that shift.

"Uncle," I said, eager to end the interview. "Thank you for interceding for us. We await your pleasure."

The admiral nodded. "I am glad to see the pair of you again, whole and well. You are… well?"

No one needed to clarify what he truly inquired about. I had an impulse to tell him of my continued degradation, of our looming cure. But mentioning a cure would open a door with Benedict I was not sure I had the ability to close.

"We are," I said, and Ben nodded, adding a surprisingly genuine curl of the lips.

"Good." The admiral cleared his throat. "I will send for you soon. Good day, my boys."