Among Wolves. Nancy Wallace K.

for the celebration. Clouds had scudded across a brilliant blue sky and sailboats dotted the broad river.

      They were standing near the new fountain. His father had just finished addressing the crowd when a man suddenly darted forward, a knife in his hand. Andre, already a graduate assistant at the Académie, had grabbed Devin, shielding him with his own body. But the assassin had only targeted the Chancellor. From the protective folds of Andre’s jacket, Devin had heard a startled cry, a scuffle, and the dull thud of a body hitting the cobblestones.

      Afraid for his father, Devin had pulled away in time to see Marcus pinning the attacker to the ground. The abandoned knife skittered across the pavement. His father was safe and unhurt, thanks to Marcus’s quick action. Oddly enough, after all these years, two things still troubled Devin about the incident. The first was Andre’s selfless disregard for his own safety. The other was the haunting image of a single tear running down the cheek of Marcus’s prisoner as he lay prostrate on the cobblestones.

      Devin turned to look at Marcus sitting on the bunk across from him.

      “The day my father was attacked in Verde Park, why did the man cry when you caught him? Was he hurt or simply frustrated that he wasn’t successful?”

      Marcus stopped unpacking his belongings. On the table between them he had laid out two pistols, three knives, and a lethal looking coil of wire. He looked up at Devin.

      “I wouldn’t have thought you’d remember that. You were only a baby at the time.”

      “I was seven,” Devin corrected him.

      Marcus closed his satchel and shoved it under the bunk. He loosened the buttons on the neck of his shirt and lay down, his hands folded behind his head.

      “Your father was attacked by Emile Rousseau, a stone cutter from Sorrento. Emile had made three requests for sponsorship for his son, Phillippe. The boy was bright but not very strong physically. Emile felt he deserved to be educated. He was anxious that his son be removed from working in the stone quarries. Your father had a great many other things to deal with at the time. He had already sponsored a number of boys, and for one reason or another he postponed his decision about Emile’s son. About three months later, there was an accident at the quarry; Phillippe was crushed between two slabs when a cable broke. Emile blamed your father. He traveled for nine days on foot to reach the capital and kill him.”

      Devin found it difficult to breathe. “What happened to him?” he asked.

      Marcus extinguished the oil lamp on the table between them.

      “He was executed,” he answered. “Now get some sleep.”

       CHAPTER 7

       Snow in Ombria

      After breakfast, Gaspard spent the morning in the lounge dividing his time between Sophie Christophe and Josette Rousseau. For a few minutes, Devin attempted to be equally charming, but Marcus, who took his role of guardian angel very seriously, shadowed his every move, making normal conversation nearly impossible. At last, he sought the relative privacy of the deck, his bodyguard in tow.

      The day had dawned clear and cold. It seemed that the Marie Lisette had left spring behind them in Coreé. The trees along the visible shoreline were still bare and leafless. To the north, clouds clustered along the horizon, blue-black and stormy.

      “We’re in for a blow,” Marcus said darkly. “That storm is probably just south of Ombria now.”

      “Let me guess,” Devin teased, “your grandmother was a sailor, too.”

      Marcus didn’t crack a smile. “Sorrento is landlocked,” he retorted. “But, it doesn’t take a sailor to recognize bad weather. I don’t imagine we’ll get much sleep tonight.”

      Devin didn’t comment. He wondered if Marcus was aware that he had lain awake most of last night. Every footstep in the passageway had set his heart thumping. He’d always felt safe in Coreé. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t realized, especially after the incident at Verde Park, that his family would live under constant threat. But that threat had only touched him once, personally. His childhood had remained remarkably charmed and unblemished despite his father’s elevated position.

      He leaned forward on the rail and watched the churning water as it rushed by the prow.

      “Had it occurred to you that Dr. Rousseau might be related to Emile?” he asked, after a moment.

      “Dr. Rousseau lives in Treves. His family has resided there for several generations,” Marcus responded.

      “He told you that?”

      “No, the Captain did. I made it clear that, for security purposes, it was imperative I know more than just the obvious things about the others on board. Besides, any good Captain makes a practice of knowing his passengers, especially, when he is entrusted with carrying the son of the Chancellor Elite.”

      Devin rolled his eyes. He seemed doomed to drag his father’s title along with him, like an anchor around his neck. “Do you trust Captain Torrance?”

      “Your father booked your passage. He wouldn’t have chosen this particular ship had he any qualms about Captain Torrance’s loyalty or his skill.”

      Devin shrugged. He wished he could recapture yesterday’s thrill of excitement. Today, he felt jumpy and suspicious. He envied Gaspard’s carefree attitude. But now that he knew about both the political turmoil in Coreé and its potential threat to his father, they weighed on him. He thought again about his father’s abrupt reversal, the evening before he left, in allowing him to continue with his trip. Had his father wanted Devin out of the city for his own safety? Did he hope that, in fifteen months, the threat of revolution might have been averted or resolved? For the first time Devin truly considered booking his passage back to Coreé when they docked in Pireé.

      The wind drove them below deck by afternoon and true to Marcus’s prediction the storm hit by nightfall. The choppy water sent half the passengers, including Gaspard, to their cabins. Dr. Rousseau was kept busy tending seasick travelers for most of the evening. Devin had to admit that the heaving floors made him feel a little uneasy himself, but Marcus seemed completely unaffected.

      Devin hadn’t seen Henri LeBeau all day and was surprised when he came into the lounge after dinner. He crossed the floor and headed immediately to where Josette and Devin were seated talking in the corner of the room. Marcus detached himself from the wall and assumed a protective stance next to Devin. The room fell into expectant silence around them.

      LeBeau sketched a small bow. “I wondered if I might have a word with you, Monsieur Roché.”

      “By all means,” Devin said. “What’s on your mind?”

      “Could I speak with you alone?” LeBeau asked.

      “That’s not possible,” Marcus replied grimly.

      Josette rose to her feet and smiled at Devin. “Forgive me, monsieur, but I should be going.”

      Devin stood up, hoping to detain her. “Please stay a little longer. I’m certain this will only take a moment.”

      She lowered her lashes and shook her head. “I’ll try to come back later, monsieur, if I can. I need to check with my father and see if there is anything I can do to help him.”

      Devin watched her go with regret. With Gaspard sick in his cabin, he’d been free of any competition for Josette’s attention. Tomorrow, she would continue on with the Marie Lisette and he would begin his journey overland across Ombria. He turned in annoyance to LeBeau.

      “What is it that you wanted?”

      LeBeau cleared his throat. “I’d like to apologize. I drank too much wine before dinner