Lineage of Zeal, Book One: Rosemary

Chapter Six: Pride and Envy

Courtney closed the door to the captain's quarters, shutting out the murmurs of the crowd at his back. The room was full of navigational tools—maps covered in trade routes, sea charts, star charts, a sextant—but it lacked something important. The count he was following was nowhere to be seen.

As Courtney further examined the room, he noticed that it had a rather unbeautiful appearance about it. The charts were disheveled and strewn about as though the captain desired one in particular and it evaded his every effort. The sextant lay in a chair instead of on its stand on the table in the center of the room. Even the half-drawn curtains in the windows had strange creases in their folds that suggested something was amiss. This was not the appearance that a ship which had yet to sail its maiden voyage should have. Perhaps he was too late.

And then he heard a noise. It was difficult to perceive through the oohing and ahhing going on just outside, but Courtney believed he heard voices coming from below. He looked about the room once more, and then he spotted it; half-hidden under the upturned corner of the rug was a pull-ring for a trap door. That was the only exit from this room besides the door Courtney had entered. It was too early to assume, but perhaps the count had learned of the threat on his life and had hidden himself away. It was a possibility that Courtney had to trust in, because the count's absence troubled him.

After Courtney toed the rug aside, he unintentionally announced his presence with a shrill squeak emitted by the trap door's hinges. The voices fell silent and feet pattered away as the prince lowered himself rung by rung into the room below the captain's quarters. Once he made contact with the planked flooring, a jovial voice greeted him.

"Ah, my Prince. I see you've found my little hideaway. Quaint, isn't it?"

Count Jenvier approached Courtney with a broad grin, and then motioned for the prince to follow. The count led his guest to a room down the hall from the trap door closet. Inside, lanterns swayed rhythmically from their posts on the walls, and a solitary candle burned on a table set for two. The count motioned with a wave of his thick arm for Courtney to take a seat, and then seated himself.

"Now then, you desired to speak with me, my Prince?" the count said mirthfully. "I assure you, I've been paying my taxes, you've no need to worry about that!"

Courtney nodded as the count laughed at his own joke. This man was always so jolly, it was a shame his son wished him dead. It was a relief to know that he was still safe, however. The kingdom could do with more warm hearts in the nobility. But how long this warm heart would remain so, Courtney had no idea. He had to reveal the plot against the count's life before it could come to pass, but to do that, he would have to get a word in edgewise, to penetrate the count's bulwark of joviality.

"If you would excuse my intrusion," Courtney said.

"Speak your mind, my Prince, so long as it doesn't involve taxes," the count laughed.

"I heard voices while upstairs. Are you alone here? It is a matter of your safety."

"Voices? My safety?" The count pouted, and then waved a plump, sausage-like hand in the air as though shooing the idea from his person. "My Prince, your concern is flattering, but I assure you my safety should be the least of your worries. You must have heard one of my assistants. Speaking of, they brewed us some wonderful tea I've come to enjoy. I discovered it while trading in the south. Would you care to try some?"

The count poured a cup and offered it to Courtney before pouring a second for his own enjoyment. The prince accepted his cup out of courtesy, but he did not drink from it.

"My Prince," said the count, gesturing toward Courtney with the spout of the teapot, "is the tea not to your liking? Too hot, maybe?"

"Not at all," said Courtney, watching the steam rise from his cup.