Abhorrent Practices - Book 1

Chapter 6.3 - Life and Death (Scene 3: Absent Friends)

"Perrick should have been back by now." Sandrine stared across the dark water at the cliffs looming high over the Jennie Seaholme. Each of the platforms which punctuated the zig-zag climb to the top was now marked by a tiny pin-prick of light, each a lantern indicating the platforms were still manned by the Braelish Constabulary.

"Probably still haggling over the price of sea biscuits," grinned Naylor. Sandrine frowned.

"Don't joke," she chided him. "He could be in trouble."

Naylor sighed. After her revelations in the main square of the Civic Palace, he'd anticipated a little awkwardness from Sandrine when she finally rejoined the ship, but the contract for Baroness Lenton had gone smoothly, and she'd returned surprisingly relaxed.

And then she'd learned that Perrick hadn't returned, and she'd tensed immediately, her agile mind quickly seeking information and evaluating strategies.

"We've received all the supplies from Hammot?"

"Yes ma'am." The first mate, Farrer, stood behind them, also staring at the dark shape of the cliffs and the shimmering black expanse of water beneath it. "Light a couple of cases of wine, but that's not unusual for one of Perrick's ... friends. We've more than enough to get us to the Rock."

Sandrine barely acknowledged the response. She heard it, processed it, and understood what it meant for their journey. Her mind, however, was already considering what to do about Perrick.

"We should never have left him alone with that woman," she muttered. "We knew she couldn't be trusted. We should have sent him with an escort."

In spite of himself, Naylor laughed at her remark, and she fixed him with an icy glare. Cavalier; that was the word she far too often found herself using to describe him. Why could he never treat anything seriously?

"Perrick was the escort!" he chuckled. "You can't send an escort for the escort."

Sandrine bristled. Naylor was right, she knew that, but doing nothing felt wrong. Leaving things to chance was not in her nature; she needed to be in control.

"They're both adults," said Naylor, winking. "They get to the inn, he shows her the room, there's a soft bed ..." Sandrine's face darkened, but Naylor couldn't resist continuing. "She's an attractive woman ..."

Sandrine glared, struggling to bite back on a sharp reply.

"Perrick's got more sense," was all she said.

Naylor's broad grin spread even wider.

"I'm just saying there's no need to worry," he said. "He'll be back by morning."

Sandrine shook her head. She needed to do something.

"What about her things?" she asked Farrer.

"All packed ma'am. We were planning to take them ashore first thing in the morning."

Sandrine chewed her lip. Was she worrying too much? The contract had gone according to plan, and Perrick knew they were planning to set sail early. Even so, doing nothing felt like a risk. An unnecessary risk.

"Signal the tender back," she said. "We'll ship her things over tonight and send a search party with them."

Naylor groaned inwardly. With Baroness Lenton's contract behind her and the Lord High Abbot's contract still weeks away, he'd been hoping Sandrine would take this opportunity to unwind. He nodded to Farrer to do as Sandrine bid, but the burly Maraneen didn't move.

"Already on its way, Captain." He pointed out over the starboard bow, and Naylor peered out into the darkness. The small boat was indeed already heading towards them. His sharp eyes identified Perrick seated in the rear of the boat and the two oarsmen straining to reach the Jennie as quickly as possible.