Michael Stackpole - At the Queen_s command

August 24, 1763

Tanner and Hound, Temperance

Temperance Bay, Mystria

"I do declare, Caleb, you spend more time here than might be advisable." Nathaniel Woods pulled a chair back from Caleb's table. Nathaniel sniffed the man's bowl of stew. "Cain't be the food here is good."

"The summer ale's getting sour, and the raspberry-wheat beer isn't ready yet." Caleb closed a book. Not being able to read, Nathaniel had no idea what it was, but it bore a strong resemblance to the book he'd seen Owen carrying. "I'd go home but my mother is still upset about your visit the other day."

"Well, I reckon I'd apologize but I'm thinking that won't help much."

Caleb shook his head. "She's not upset with you-not that she's forgiven you, nor is she likely to. It's Beth. She took the news about Captain Strake hard."

Nathaniel recalled the tears and the quavering quality of her voice. "Your sister, she's a smart woman. Strong, too. Got steel in her spine, like your ma. Owen set a store by her."

"I know." Caleb took a spoonful of the stew, looked at it, then let it subside into the slowly congealing mass. "I was short with Captain Strake, you see. My mother and sister are afraid that he's thinking my attitude is their attitude. Makes things uncomfortable."

"I think you'd be finding that Owen didn't take no dislike to you. He weren't the kind of man to get a hate on all easy like."

"I know, still." Caleb sighed. "You and Kamiskwa are going to look for him. I want to go."

The woodsman sat back. "You might want to be taking a second to think on that."

"I've thought long and hard about it. I shoot good and have my own musket. I know the woods and I'm strong."

Nathaniel nodded. "You're still a mite young."

"Older than you were when you first went out."

Nathaniel raised his hands. "No disputing that. And I ain't saying you couldn't do it. What I am saying is that you don't know what you're taking on."

Caleb frowned. "You made it pretty plain."

"Nope." Nathaniel stood, waved Caleb toward the door. The young man followed. Outside, Nathaniel pointed to the sky. "What do you see there?"

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Geese, down from New Tharyngia heading south. I can also spot moose, tanner, bears, jeopards, and rabbits. I'll hit if I shoot, too."

Nathaniel sighed. "And the calendar date today?"

"Feast day of St. Bartholomew, the twenty-fourth of August."

"And that tells you?"

Caleb stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"Winter's coming. Early and bad." Nathaniel pointed west. "More bear sign and jeopard sign-they're coming out of the mountains early. Look at any of the dogs around about. Winter coats coming in. Smart young man like you ought to round up some friends, go chop a store of firewood. I'm thinking it'll sell dear inside a six weeks."

"I can dress warmly."

"It ain't I doubt you, Caleb Frost. I'd be happy to have you with me. Kamiskwa feels the same way. Fact is, though, the Prince gets his say on this."

"You'll mention me to him?"

"I will that."Nathaniel slapped him on the back. "Now, I was wanting to ask you a favor…"

"Get away from him, Caleb, he's a traitor."

Nathaniel turned slowly toward the sound of the voice. "You're looking a mite thinner, I reckon, than when I seen you last."

Cotton Quince spat at his feet. "You betrayed me."

"That so?" Nathaniel watched the slender man's hands curl into fists. "I reckon you don't got no idea what you is jabbering about."

Caleb moved between the two of them. "I'd suggest, gentlemen, that the street is not the place for this discussion."

"Ain't no cause for no discussion at all." Nathaniel nodded toward Quince, lowering his voice. "This here boy was off to Hattersburg adding words to that book your father gave Captain Strake. He called your father's honor into question. Owen took exception. Makepeace Bone likewise. That about did for Mr. Quince in Hattersburg."

"That did for me everywhere. I was made a laughingstock."

Caleb's eyes tightened. "You called my father's honor into question?"

Quince glanced at the ground. "I didn't realize who had given Strake that book."

"Ask him if he was adding things to it."

"Well?"

Quince shifted his shoulders. "I'd made a remark in a couple other places. People liked it." He stabbed a finger at Nathaniel. "But he should have stopped his friends. And would have, but he is working for the Queen's coin. He isn't one of us."

"No, I ain't." Nathaniel shook his head, looking from one young man to the other. "I hain't got no idea what you are up to, beyond being pure idiots. Ideas like you have are fine for your debating societies, but only mean trouble out on the frontier. People out there ain't got no time for that nonsense."

"It's not nonsense."

"It is, Caleb, iffen your circumstances is poor." Nathaniel opened his arms. "I just tole you that winter is a-coming fast and will be bad. Early winter means poor harvest. Livestock won't have fodder. They die. Men have to eat seed. Ain't going to be good hunting. Them folks out there ain't gonna be caring if some woman an ocean away gives a fig about them. They'll be hungry and cold, and filling their minds with airy thoughts ain't going to solve their problems."

Quince snorted. "You'll be fed and warm on the Queen's coin."

"I reckon that what I choose to do with my money is my choice." Nathaniel folded his arms over his chest. "And I reckon you should leave me out of your scheming."

Quince looked from Nathaniel to Caleb and back, then shook his head. "Very well. Caleb, good day. As for you, Mr. Woods, rot in Hell."

Quince stormed off.

Caleb turned to Nathaniel. "Why did you lie about being one of us?"

Nathaniel looked him straight in the eye. "I ain't. Curiosity done got the better of me. I attended a meeting. Two. But that don't mean I throwed-in with your 'Sons of Freedom.' And there ain't no cause for someone like Quince to be even knowing I was ever there."

Caleb held his hands up. "I never told him. I barely know him to speak to. Seen him at meetings is all."

"I'm thinking I believe you on that." Nathaniel smiled. "As for Quince, I reckon he needs beating with a smart-stick. I don't reckon nobody makes one big enough."

Caleb grinned. "I'll let the right people know he has been editing A Continent's Calling."

"It was a pretty turn of phrase he used." Nathaniel nodded. "Might be he ought to be writing more than speaking."

The younger Frost nodded. "I'll mention that. Now you said you had a question for me? Back inside? I'll buy you a drink."

Nathaniel braced him on both shoulders. "Another time. Weren't terrible important."

"You'll ask the Prince about my going with you?"

"I shall. Tomorrow, maybe day after."

Caleb smiled. "You're back in town to escort the Princess to meet the Prince?"

"Could be." Nathaniel smiled. "My regards to your family, please."

"My pleasure."

The young man headed back into the Tanner and Hound. Nathaniel watched him go, then shivered. He'd wanted to ask if Zachariah Warren was still out of town, but now he was kind of hoping that he wasn't. A dust-up would suit Nathaniel just fine. If Warren wasn't in town, a Branch or a Cask might have to stand in.

He headed across Temperance toward the North End. On Generosity, where it curved toward the ocean, he came to Warren's Fine Wares. Wider and deeper than it was tall, the wooden building rose to three stories. The top two had rooms for rent and the taverns across the street did a lot of custom for the residents. The entire bottom floor consisted of an open room in which the various real goods had been arranged. Furniture mostly, with bolts of cloth, silver, and dinnerware in the back, it displayed the very best imported items from Norisle. Wide doors in the back allowed carts to load easily.