Excerpt from Landfalls by Naomi J. Williams, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Webber laughs. "That's because we gave him a knife in exchange for some fish and coconuts," he says. "That's what he's got in his ear. They all had these slits in one ear, the men of that island. Mourua slipped his knife right in like it had been made for the purpose." He suggests Monneron advise Don Inigo to take a supply of similar knives, as they had proved popular with all the islanders they met. "I can show you where to purchase them," he says.

Monneron turns to Webber. "You see? You are already helping me." He hopes he doesn't look as surprised as he feels.

Webber draws Monneron's attention to his collection of objects—a headdress, ornaments, carvings in wood and bone, Tahitian dresses. He remembers everything: the provenance of each item, the circumstances by which it came into his possession, the appearance and behavior of the natives there, what they were willing to trade, and for what. Monneron is amazed. If only he can keep himself in this man's company for the week, he thinks, his mission will be largely accomplished.

Their circumnavigation of the library complete, Webber opens the door leading back toward the parlor. On an impulse, Monneron says, "Do you still paint portraits, Mr. Webber?"

"My reputation is mostly in landscapes," Webber says, then watches Monneron's gaze travel around the room, taking in all the native faces. "Portraits of natives are really a kind of landscape painting too," he says. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm going away for so long—anything can happen—I thought—only if you have time, of course…" Monneron says, his discomfort entirely real.

"You want me to paint you?"

Monneron laughs, embarrassed. "It would be for my mother. But you must be busy."

"Not as busy as you this week."

Monneron's face warms. Indeed, he's just shared with this man a long list of tasks he has less than a week to complete; this request for a portrait must sound absurd and vain. "Perhaps something quick, just in pencil or pen," he says, "like one of these sketches from the voyage." He stops, abashed to think he's just characterized Webber's work as something one can simply dash off. He puts a hand to his forehead, aware that it's a nervous gesture people—women especially—find disarming.

Webber is smiling at him. "I'd be delighted to paint you."

Monneron laughs with relief. "I don't know how these things work," he says. "Is twenty-five guineas an appropriate fee?"

Webber shakes his head. "That's not necessary."

"It is necessary."

After some haggling, Webber reluctantly agrees to five guineas. He apologizes—he'd be happy to begin straightaway, but has engagements the rest of the day. Can Monneron return tomorrow?

"Come around three," Webber says. "The light is best in my studio then."

King's Ransom

Monneron has one more document on his person—a shopping list drawn up by Monsieur de Lapérouse himself. The minister had not been altogether pleased by it: "'English' does not mean 'better,'" he declared. "We have instrument makers in Paris!" But Lapérouse had insisted. "We bring no glory to France by traveling with inferior instruments made at home," he said. The minister relented, and now Monneron is on his way to the Fleet Street atelier of George Adams, Jr., to purchase several of the world's finest compasses.

Mr. Adams is a young man—not yet thirty-five, Monneron thinks—who inherited from his father both his business and his position as instrument maker to the king. Mr. Adams does not suffer from false modesty. Indeed, he doesn't suffer from modesty of any kind. He subjects Monneron to questioning as if to determine whether his new customer is worthy of his wares. "Inigo Alvarez?" he says with a sniff. "Never heard of him."

Excerpted from Landfalls by Naomi J Williams. Copyright © 2015 by Naomi J Williams. Excerpted by permission of Farrar, Straus & Giroux. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.