“I really must insist you go down below, my lady.”
I hadn't felt anything since I’d left the port at Arkuz, watching Father disappear into a point as we sailed away, and I didn't feel anything now. I stood up and tucked my book under my arm. The wind smelled of the ocean, not of rain, but I was aware of a flurry of activity in the masts overhead. Shouts of profanity and fear and protection charms.
“Fine,” I said.
I went down below. Father had arranged for a private cabin, the last gift he ever gave me. It was large enough that if I lay flat on my back my feet would touch one end and the top of my head the other, but right now it felt claustrophobic and dark despite the magic-cast lantern swinging in the corner. I pulled out my trunk and rifled through its belongings, looking for something that might work as a weapon. The closest I found was a decorative hairpin, a long silver spike topped with jeweled flowers. She had given it to me, a sign that she knew who I really was, a sign that she was officially in on the joke. Some joke, that got me kicked out of my homeland.
I shoved my trunk back into place, pulled down my cot, and stretched out on my back, holding the hairpin to my chest.
And waited.
The ship rocked along, as calm as always. Occasionally feet pounded overhead, and the lantern would flare and then sputter—magic working its way through the walls.
I wrapped my fingers more tightly around the hairpin, the jewels digging into my palm. I closed my eyes, whispered her name.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
And then:
A loud, cracking boom .
I sat up as the boat jerked and tilted. My head slammed against the wall. Spots of light flared everywhere. The hairpin clattered to the ground, and I cried out and launched myself at the floor, feeling around for it in the murky shadows. The lantern was almost completely depleted.
Another round of cannon fire. The ship didn't move this time. My fingers closed in on the pin, and I brought it up just as the lantern failed.
Footsteps: pounding, frantic. Men screaming. Pistol shots. I sat hyperventilating in the dark, holding onto the hairpin as if it were her hand.
Cannon fire reverberated up from the floorboards. But the boat didn't jerk and shudder. We weren't hit.
The door to my cabin flew open.
I screamed, cowered back on my cot. A man stood in the doorway, a magic-cast lantern in one hand and a sword in the other.
“Oh, shut up.” He stepped inside and kicked the door closed. With his sword, he knocked down the original lantern and hung his in its place. The light was different, greenish-blue instead of white.
I shoved myself up into the corner. “Take what you want!” I shouted, kicking at my trunk. “You can have it all!” That wasn't entirely true; I'd claw his eyes out before I let him have the hairpin.
He laughed. “That ain't why we're here.” The light in the lantern brightened momentarily, and I got my first good look at him: He was tall, bony, and Jokjani, although he wore a ragged Empire jacket. He paced around the cabin as he talked, his sword out, his hand on the butt of his pistol. “Just looking to take the boat. Old one don't meet with the captain's needs.”
The cannon fire had stopped.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“What?” The pirate stopped. “Kill you? No, not unless you do something stupid. Captain don't like killing non-Confederates. That's you, sweetheart.”
I'd read enough pirate stories to know what the Confederation was. I glared at him, which just made him laugh again.
“We'll drop you off first port we come to. Starlight Rock, most like. “
“Is that in the Empire?”
The pirate looked at me for a moment and then burst into laughter. “No, girl, it ain't in the Empire. Pirates' island, and not much there but starlight and rocks. Hence the name.” He gave a little flourish as he said that last part, but my body felt like it'd been emptied out. Some abandoned pirates' island was even worse than landing in
I hadn't felt anything since I’d left the port at Arkuz, watching Father disappear into a point as we sailed away, and I didn't feel anything now. I stood up and tucked my book under my arm. The wind smelled of the ocean, not of rain, but I was aware of a flurry of activity in the masts overhead. Shouts of profanity and fear and protection charms.
“Fine,” I said.
I went down below. Father had arranged for a private cabin, the last gift he ever gave me. It was large enough that if I lay flat on my back my feet would touch one end and the top of my head the other, but right now it felt claustrophobic and dark despite the magic-cast lantern swinging in the corner. I pulled out my trunk and rifled through its belongings, looking for something that might work as a weapon. The closest I found was a decorative hairpin, a long silver spike topped with jeweled flowers. She had given it to me, a sign that she knew who I really was, a sign that she was officially in on the joke. Some joke, that got me kicked out of my homeland.
I shoved my trunk back into place, pulled down my cot, and stretched out on my back, holding the hairpin to my chest.
And waited.
The ship rocked along, as calm as always. Occasionally feet pounded overhead, and the lantern would flare and then sputter—magic working its way through the walls.
I wrapped my fingers more tightly around the hairpin, the jewels digging into my palm. I closed my eyes, whispered her name.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
And then:
A loud, cracking boom .
I sat up as the boat jerked and tilted. My head slammed against the wall. Spots of light flared everywhere. The hairpin clattered to the ground, and I cried out and launched myself at the floor, feeling around for it in the murky shadows. The lantern was almost completely depleted.
Another round of cannon fire. The ship didn't move this time. My fingers closed in on the pin, and I brought it up just as the lantern failed.
Footsteps: pounding, frantic. Men screaming. Pistol shots. I sat hyperventilating in the dark, holding onto the hairpin as if it were her hand.
Cannon fire reverberated up from the floorboards. But the boat didn't jerk and shudder. We weren't hit.
The door to my cabin flew open.
I screamed, cowered back on my cot. A man stood in the doorway, a magic-cast lantern in one hand and a sword in the other.
“Oh, shut up.” He stepped inside and kicked the door closed. With his sword, he knocked down the original lantern and hung his in its place. The light was different, greenish-blue instead of white.
I shoved myself up into the corner. “Take what you want!” I shouted, kicking at my trunk. “You can have it all!” That wasn't entirely true; I'd claw his eyes out before I let him have the hairpin.
He laughed. “That ain't why we're here.” The light in the lantern brightened momentarily, and I got my first good look at him: He was tall, bony, and Jokjani, although he wore a ragged Empire jacket. He paced around the cabin as he talked, his sword out, his hand on the butt of his pistol. “Just looking to take the boat. Old one don't meet with the captain's needs.”
The cannon fire had stopped.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“What?” The pirate stopped. “Kill you? No, not unless you do something stupid. Captain don't like killing non-Confederates. That's you, sweetheart.”
I'd read enough pirate stories to know what the Confederation was. I glared at him, which just made him laugh again.
“We'll drop you off first port we come to. Starlight Rock, most like. “
“Is that in the Empire?”
The pirate looked at me for a moment and then burst into laughter. “No, girl, it ain't in the Empire. Pirates' island, and not much there but starlight and rocks. Hence the name.” He gave a little flourish as he said that last part, but my body felt like it'd been emptied out. Some abandoned pirates' island was even worse than landing in
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