The Black Lung Captain - By Chris Wooding Page 0,75
I'm keen to hear all about Jadney and his exploits in the Navy. I hear he's become quite the young officer.'
'My little Jadney?' Lady Race cooed, as Crake led her off. 'Why, I'd be delighted!'
Frey wiped his face with the handkerchief and looked at Amalicia. 'He's good at this.'
'Pull yourself together,' Amalicia said through gritted teeth. 'What was that all about? Choking in public. Honestly! Can't you behave?'
'Fiance?' Frey asked. 'When were you going to tell me?'
'You wouldn't have got in the door otherwise. Now keep up. That's Chancellor Previn and his wife Marticia. We're going over there. Try to control yourself this time.'
The next hour was a particularly unpleasant one for Frey. It seemed that he met more people during that tortuous sixty minutes than he had in the preceding thirty-one years of his life, and none of them liked him. Somehow everything he said came out wrong. His attempts at wit fell flat. He did his best to follow what they were saying, but it all seemed so damned inconsequential. Marriages, scandals, investment opportunities. Who'd said what about who. Even the men gossiped like old women. Frey tried to come up with something intelligent to contribute, but all he got were blank stares or mildly condescending comments. Amalicia's fixed smile was beginning to crack and wobble at the edges, her patience wearing thinner with every blunder.
Eventually Frey had had enough. He excused himself as best he could and went to locate Crake.
He was surprised to find the daemonist in conversation with a familiar face, and an extremely attractive one at that. It was Samandra Bree, one of the Century Knights, the Archduke's elite hundred. She looked very different without her ever-present tricorn hat, her battered coat and twin shotguns. Instead, she was dressed in a sleek gown of red and black, her dark hair gathered in a ponytail.
'Darian Frey, I declare,' she said as he approached. 'We do meet in the strangest places. As I recall, last time I saw you, you had a noose round your neck.' She looked around the room. 'You've come up in the world.'
'I think I'd rather be hung at this point,' Frey said miserably.
'High society not treating you well?' Crake inquired.
'How do you talk to these people?' Frey asked in exasperation. 'It's like the moment I open my mouth, they're looking down on me.'
'Yes, they'll do that,' said Crake. 'The trick is not to try and engage them on their level. They'll spot a fake. Just be yourself.'
'It's not that easy.'
'Sure it is,' said Samandra. 'Tell me, what do you really think of 'em? Honestly, now.'
Frey gave her a suspicious look. 'You're not an aristocrat, are you?'
'Me? No. Daddy was a Militiaman. Wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but they plucked me out of training school when I eight and sent me to the Knight's Academy.'
'You don't seem out of place here, though.'
'Well, after they got done teaching me to put a bullet between someone's eyes at a hundred yards, they taught me a little etiquette. The Archduke likes some of his Knights to be the public face, you know? That's why my partner ain't here.' She put her hand to her mouth. 'Isn't here, I mean.'
'Colden Grudge?'
'Yeah. Poor Colden. Put him in a place like this and he'd auto-cannon half the room.'
'Now he sounds like the kind of feller I could get on with,' said Frey. 'Speaking of which, we're not still under sentence of death or anything, are we? Never did get to collect those pardons for that whole misunderstanding about the Archduke's son.'
Samandra waved it away. 'Drave took care of it. You're in the clear.'
'Oh, good. I was just thinking how nice it was to meet you again. I'd hate to have to flee for my life.'
'And I'd hate to have to kill you. You seem a decent sort.'
Crake laughed nervously. 'Might I ask what a representative of the Archduke is doing here, at a soiree thrown in support of the Awakeners?'
Samandra looked skyward. 'Good question. I have to be the least popular girl in the room right now. The Archduke wants someone here to remind them we're watching. So here I am.' She nudged Frey. 'You never answered my question. What do you think of the company here?'
'I think they're a bunch of pompous, stuffed-arse idiots and their conversation is boring as watching shit crust over.'
'And how long do you think they'd last in our world? Out there, where the rest of us live?'