Shadow Road: Book 1 of the Shadows Rising Trilogy

18. Trading Secrets

23rd of Uirra, Continued

I couldn't breathe. I stared up at him. The truth was on my tongue, but that last, stubborn shred of doubt still clung tight, and I wavered. I had already given away too much. If I said nothing about the papers, no one would know where they were even if they sat on them. What if that was the right thing to do? Almost unconsciously I started shaking my head.

Captain Arramy didn't erupt as I expected. He simply reached out and caught my chin in his sea-rough fingers to keep me from moving, then bent to look me in the eye. "Whoever is doing this, whatever this secret is, they want to keep it a secret. They want it to disappear," he whispered fiercely. "So if this thing, this secret never sees the light of day... they win. The only way they won't win is if you don't let them hide it."

He was making entirely too much sense. Whoever was after Father hadn't stopped after the Galvania went down. An awful thought occurred to me. What if they weren't just trying to get rid of the satchel, or me? What if they were trying to get rid of anyone who might be connected with it? That would include everyone who had been aboard the Galvania, and now the Ang. The Captain was right. Hiding that binder wasn't good enough. Destroying it wouldn't make any difference either if they were just going to kill us all no matter what.

Arramy let go of me. For a few seconds I sagged where I stood, defeated and numb. Then I turned and walked around him to NaVarre's swivel chair.

It was a simple matter of lifting the tufted velvet seat cushion up off its frame, and there it was, right where I had left it.

I had never hated an inanimate object before. It looked so normal, exactly like the hundreds of other business binders we used in the office, but the sight of this one sent ice churning through my middle. This one had ruined lives. It took several mental tries before I could make myself lean down to lift it out of the indentation in the seat. Without a word, I shoved a few of my father's things out of the way on the desk and placed the binder on the blotter, forcing my hands not to fling the cursed thing across the room.

Arramy observed all of this from beneath lowered brows, his arms crossed over his chest.

"This was hidden in my father's bag," I said quietly. "In a secret pocket." I steeled myself and flipped the cover open. "We were on the Galvania because we were going to the Colonies for a fresh start. That's what I thought. That's what Father said... There was a fire in our shipping office. It spread to our warehouse and the docks. Half the tenement district went up, and our townhouse... We lost everything. So when I first found this, I assumed my father had just salvaged these from the fire and kept them."

I ran my fingers over the tissue-thin pink-press safety slips, then down one of the thick cardpaper stubs of a merchant's copy docking receipt. "After the Galvania went down I took a better look. There isn't any way to connect it; at least, not that I've found. But it can't be as random as it seems. Father must have had all of this collected before the fire, because these," I pulled one of our shipping manifests a little to the side, "were kept in a cabinet that was destroyed. And these," I tapped a finger on the stiff blue paper of a tariff payment stub, "are several years apart. Why only these two out of all the hundreds in that rollafile?"

I shook my head. "After everything that has happened, first the fire, then the Galvania, now this, I can't help but think that there's something hidden in here. I just can't see what it is."

The cabin was so quiet we could hear the rumbling percussions of the Stryka's long guns echoing over the water - a grim reminder that the fight was still going on outside.

Arramy closed his eyes and lifted a hand, rubbing his right temple with his thumb as if to ease a headache. Then he ground his teeth again, opened his eyes, and moved to bend over the desk, examining the bundles of paper with all the appreciation one might show a dead puffadder. I watched his frown deepen as he removed one bundle, then another, perplexed by what he was looking at. His eyes widened when he got to the third shipping manifest.

"What in the blue..." he muttered, pulling the sheet out of its little packet to read the date at the bottom. Then he put the paper on the desk between us, eyeing me intently. "What do you know about this ship?"

I glanced at the 'Departing On' line. "The Persephyrre. We lost it..." I said, and almost had to sit down as I completed that thought aloud: "... to pirates."

He squinted at me. "That's what they told you? That it was lost?"

"Yes," I nodded slowly. "It was a government contract. We filed a loss-claim on it with the Collections Bureau. I did all the paperwork myself."

Arramy began shaking his head as I spoke, then added a piece of the puzzle I never even knew existed. "It wasn't lost. I retook it. Admiral Shoult had it impounded because I found a cache of weapons hidden in the cargo."

My brain skipped a cog. "An arms shipment?" I whispered, frowning, the full implications starting to unroll through my head. "So... my father was an arms dealer? For Bloody NaVarre? That's why they blew up the Galvania?... What if NaVarre blew up the Galvania..." I felt suddenly ill and grabbed at the back of NaVarre's chair.

Arramy didn't seem as horrified as I was. He studied the manifest, lost in thought while I kept going, conjuring an awful world in which my father was profiting from piracy, which was how he had been able to send me to school.

I had reached the conclusion that everything I had ever known was an absolute lie, and that I was an absolute idiot, when the Captain nodded and said, vaguely, "Perhaps... But High Command should have opened an inquest. They should have gone after the ship's captain at least. They didn't. They acted like it never happened."

He turned, pacing slowly toward the large bay windows. Then he wheeled and came back. "Did your father meet anyone in Porte De Darre?"

I blinked. His quick change in topic sent my thoughts scattering into fuzz for a second. "I don't -"

"Think!" he commanded.

"He couldn't have. We left as soon as we arrived," I stammered out.

"You're sure? You were with him the entire time?"

"Yes," I said, then actually thought about it and closed my eyes. "No. I went to the Post..." My eyes flew open. "But he couldn't have met someone. Not unless he met them in the Ticket Office. I was only gone for a few minutes."

Arramy swore under his breath, a fierce scowl drawing his brows together. He took a few steps toward the window, then turned to face me, still frowning. "Why did NaVarre bring you to his cabin?"

My heart skipped a beat, my face instantly heating. "Whatever the Doctor told you, it wasn't -"

"Answer the question."

"He wanted the binder," I said, remembering the look on NaVarre's face when he found the thing. "He knew what it was. Or at least he wasn't surprised by it."

Arramy leaned over and put his hands flat on the desk, his eyes narrowing. Then he straightened abruptly and walked over to the liquor cabinet.

I almost let out a slightly crazed, incredulous cackle when he found a shot glass and poured a finger of NaVarre's best rum into it. It was like watching that first conversation with NaVarre unfolding in reverse. I sobered. It really was a case of the opposites. Last time I had managed to hide the binder and keep my mouth shut. Now, I had spilled everything right out in the open. There wasn't going to be any way back from this.

A fresh lump of apprehension settled into my stomach.

The Captain stared through the bay window for a long moment, pensively surveying the sea, then tossed back the last of his drink. He set the shot glass down on the marble top of the liquor cabinet with a hard 'thunk.' "I need to talk to NaVarre," he announced. Then he went stalking out of the cabin.

I stood where he had left me, gazing dumbly at the empty space he had just occupied. It took a little too long to realize he was calling my name from the doorway to the quarterdeck.

"Miss Westerby... if you please..."

"Oh. You mean now," I blurted and hurried after him.

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