“Thank you for your hospitality, Heinrich,” he said. “And your help in getting me here in time to save a long swim home.”
Heinrich laughed and leaned from his saddle to clasp Jeffrey Chosen-fashion, forearm-to-forearm with hands gripping beneath one another’s elbow. “An excuse to take my troops out of the field,” he said as he straightened. “I’m not the only one who appreciates a little rest and recreation.”
The Dubuk’s whistle blew its full three-note call. Heinrich kicked his horse forward so that its forehooves rested on the gangplank. The animal whickered nervously at the hollow sound. A sailor on the deck above shouted a curse.
“Go then, my friend,” Heinrich said. He smiled. “And tell the person who just spoke that if his tongue wags again, I will ride aboard and add it to my other trophies.”
Jeffrey started up before someone on shipboard said the wrong thing in trying to clear the gangplank. He knew Heinrich too well to take the threat as a joke.
Nor would I count on the fact he likes you making much difference in the way Heinrich carries out his duties, lad, Raj said. Nor should it, of course.
A middle-aged civilian and the Dubuk’s purser waited for Jeffrey at the head of the ramp. Their grim expressions faded to guarded question when they viewed the diplomatic passport he offered them.
Jeffrey tugged the sleeve of his Land uniform tunic. “I was in the wrong place when the fighting broke out,” he said in a low voice. “If you can help me find the sort of clothes human beings wear, I’d be more than grateful.”
“Jeffrey, my friend?” Heinrich called as he let his nervous horse step back. A hydraulic winch immediately began to haul the gangplank aboard. “When you have rested, come visit me again. These animals will be providing sport for years, no matter what the Council says!”
Jeffrey waved cheerfully, then moved away from the railing. If Heinrich could no longer see him, he was less likely to shout something that would put Jeffrey even more on the wrong side of an us-and-them divide with everyone else aboard the City of Dubuk. “Needs must when the Devil drives,” he murmured to the men beside him.
“You’re related to John Hosten, I believe, sir?” the civilian asked in a neutral voice.
his name is beemer, Center said. he is deputy director of the ministry’s research desk, though his cover is consular affairs.
“John’s my brother,” Jeffrey said thankfully. “Stepbrother, really, but we’re very close.”
Beemer nodded. “I’ll see about replacing your clothes, sir,” he said. To the purser he added, “Ferrington? I only need one of the rooms in my suite. I suggest we put Captain Farr in the other one. I know his brother.”
The purser still looked puzzled, but he shrugged and said, “Certainly, Mr. Beemer. Captain Farr? That’ll be Suite F on the Boat Deck. Would you like a steward to take your luggage there?”
The City of Dubuk blew a deep blast. The pair of tugboats on the vessel’s harbor side shrilled an answer. Their propellers churned water, taking up the slack in the hawsers binding them to the liner.
Jeffrey hefted his saddlebags with a wan smile. “Thank you, I think I’ll be able to manage on my own,” he said. “If you gentlemen don’t mind, I’ll watch the undocking from the bow.”
“Of course,” said Beemer equably. “I hope you’ll have time during the trip to chat with me about your recent experiences.”
“Whatever you’d care to do, captain,” the purser said. “So far as the crew of the City of Dubuk is concerned, this is an ordinary commercial voyage. We’re here to assist you.”
Jeffrey paused. “For a while there,” he said, “I didn’t think I’d ever see home alive.”
And that was the truth if he’d ever told it. He bowed to the two men and walked forward. The deck shivered with the vibration of the tugs’ engines.
Center? he asked. Did Dad think Eberdorf would attack the harbor while he was there?
There was no chance of that, lad, Raj said. Commander Eberdorf spent the past three years at a desk in the navy’s central offices in Oathtaking. She’s too politically savvy to start a second major war while the first one’s going on.