“Lamb was vain and bloodthirsty,” Chernock sniffed. “We are better off without him. He was a liability to the Heirs. We need trustworthy men. Yet,” he added, looking pointedly at Edgeworth, “for the first time in our long history, it seems we have a woman in our ranks. I would never presume to question you, Edgeworth, but is this wise? Women are so fragile and emotional. She could be set astray by her feminine sensibilities.”
“Don’t question her obedience to me. She’ll do exactly as she’s told. We’ve only to lead her like a child, keep her sheltered from unwanted influence.”
“And if she succeeds in her objective,” Chernock persisted, “will the Heirs begin adding women to our confraternity?”
“Of course not,” Edgeworth scoffed. “If she makes herself useful, and if this Source is recovered without too much interference from those damned Blades, then I will see her married as soon as we return to England. Yes, Fraser. If you impress me enough on this mission, I may reward you with her. You ought to control her better than Harcourt did.”
Fraser’s meaty face broke into a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth.”
“Those are numerous ‘ifs,’” Chernock pointed out. Fraser glared at him.
Edgeworth’s eyes were glacial. “But that’s why we have you, my dear sorcerer.”
“If the Blades do show themselves,” Chernock said with a funereal smile, “then I very much look forward to practicing some of my newer spells on them. There is one, taken from a Hopi shaman I captured, that is most delightful. Giant spiders, you know, with poisoned webs. Exceedingly nasty. Shall I demonstrate?” He lifted his bony hands, the ebony ring glittering like a huge beetle, as Edgeworth and Fraser took a step back.
“Later, perhaps,” Edgeworth said quickly. “You both must understand what this mission means to the Heirs, what is at stake, particularly now that we have the Primal Source. I wouldn’t have brought a woman, my own daughter, into it without good cause.” He turned to the captain, who was shouting orders to his men. “Captain, I want us to raise anchor within the hour. No excuses,” he snarled when the captain began to object. “I am not to be contradicted. We sail before five o’clock.” With that, Edgeworth stalked below deck, confident that he would be obeyed. No one ever said no to Joseph Edgeworth.
The cities of the world held unending fascination for Bennett. He’d been to many, more than most men could ever claim. The capitals of Europe, and beyond. Moscow. Cairo. Bombay. Peking. Each was a continually unfolding banquet of experience—and women. Yet, for all their exotic and cosmopolitan joys, Bennett never felt as much unfettered joy as he did when presented with the open road. In this case, the open sea.
Nikos Kallas proved himself a sure and able captain as he and his men sailed them away from Piraeus. They nimbly dodged other boats and ships, all coming in and out of the crowded harbor, and moved away from the coast that pushed eastward into Aegean. Cliffs and coastal towns shrank to dark, rocky forms as the impossible lapis blue of water grew and unfolded. Cape Sounion, and its hilltop temple dedicated to Poseidon, glided by as they moved out of the bay into the open sea. The waters were silken calm, and a soft breeze filled the sails, burnished gold by the rays of the sun setting to the west. Anywhere. The sea and the wind could take them anywhere. Limitless freedom. That’s why men went to sea again and again. But women, land-bound and earthly warm, brought them back.
It was a woman he followed now. She was on the Heirs’ steamship, speeding east. Thank Poseidon that Kallas was a skilled captain. He had to get to London Harcourt before the Heirs reached Delos. Bennett’s plan would never work if the Heirs made land before he could reach her.
He urged the caique on, willing it to cut through the waves like an arrow.
Athena had been born and raised in the city that shared her name, and so it took her a small measure of time to gain her sea legs. Bennett watched her walk toward him on deck with the careful precision of a drunkard fighting for balance. Her dusky-fair skin had paled once the caique had reached open water. She came to stand next to him, swaying, as he stood near the bowsprit at the fore.
“Gone a bit green,” he commented. “Like an unripe olive.”
Athena gave a wan smile. “Always with such flattery. What woman would be foolish enough to let you leave her?”
“You did,” Bennett pointed out amiably.
“I am better than most women.”
“True. Our captain might agree.”
Athena made a noise of dismissal, though it proved to be a bit of a challenge in her compromised state. “Nikos Kallas has made no secret of his dislike of refined, educated women. Which does not surprise me, given his low origins.”
Bennett raised his eyebrows, but decided to remain quiet on this point. Interesting, how this might develop, if they were all to share the same, not particularly large boat for the foreseeable future. Instead, he asked, “Feeling well enough for tonight’s adventure?”
“Absolutely,” she said at once. “Though,” she added, “I have never attempted a spell of such size before.”
“I’ve every confidence in you.”
“Kidnapping is new territory for me.”
“Don’t usually dabble in it, myself,” he admitted. “Not to worry, though. Blades have ‘spirited away’ people before. When a powerful Source is at stake.”
“And the fact that our intended abductee is, by your own admission, an exceptionally beautiful young woman has no influence on your decision,” Athena noted dryly.
Bennett flashed her a grin. “I’m hurt and offended you doubt the purity of my motives.”
“Where Bennett Day is concerned, there are no such things as pure motives. But Harcourt’s widow will learn, at some point, who you truly are.”
“I know,” he said flatly. If he had his way, he’d postpone that unpleasantness for as long as possible.
She drew an unsteady breath. “I am going to see if there is a spell for seasickness. I brought several books along for reference.”
What would Athena be without her books? “That’s what made your baggage so deuced heavy. Here I was thinking you’d been kind enough to pack a millstone. Should we need to grind wheat.”
Athena made a face at him, which wasn’t difficult, considering her infirm state, before picking her way back down below the deck. Kallas had ceded the helm to one of his men as he adjusted a sail. She forced herself to walk steadily past him, as genteel as if promenading the elegant Plateia Kolonaki square rather than the tilting deck of a humble cargo caique. Kallas pretended not to notice her, but Bennett saw with a smile the way the captain gnawed on the stem of his pipe once she had passed. Even on the supposed freedom of the sea, one couldn’t escape the eternal dance between men and women.
Kallas was a born mariner, that Bennett understood. The captain had kept pace with the Heirs’ sleek steamship, staying just out of sight so that none but the most eagle-eyed lookout might detect even a trace of the caique. Athena’s spell would—should—take care of the rest.
Bennett turned his face into the wind, watching as the cloak of dusk descended upon the sky and water. Soon, the stars would emerge. He hoped it wasn’t a bright night. They would need the shelter of darkness for the plan to run smoothly.
Maybe Athena was right. Bennett would probably be much less likely to abduct the Heirs’ linguistic expert if the linguist was a man, particularly a fat man. Hefting such bulk could prove difficult, and on cold nights, Bennett’s knees sometimes troubled him. But his interest in London Harcourt troubled him more. He wanted to believe that only her lovely face and slim body drew his attention. She was a woman exceedingly pleasant to look upon. Touching her, learning the secrets of her body with