The Emerald Storm by Michael J. Sullivan

pile. “So, what’s your story?”
    “How do you mean?” Hadrian asked.
    “Why are you and Royce here? I stuck my neck out getting you on board. I think I have a right to know why.”
    “We’re looking for a safer line of work and thought we’d try sailing,” Hadrian offered. Wyatt’s face showed he was not buying. “We’re on a job, but I can’t tell you more than that.”
    “Does it have to do with the secret cargo?”
    Hadrian blinked. “It’s possible. What is the secret cargo?”
    “Weapons. Steel swords, heavy shields, imperial-made crossbows, armor—enough to outfit a good-size army. It came aboard at the last minute, hauled up in the middle of the night just before we sailed.”
    “Interesting,” Hadrian mused. “Any idea where we’re headed?”
    “Nope, but that’s not unusual. Captains usually keep that information to themselves and Captain Seward is no different.” Wyatt shuffled the cards absently. “So, you don’t know where the ship is going, and you weren’t aware of the cargo. This job didn’t come with much in the way of information, did it?”
    “What about you?” Hadrian turned the tables. “What are you doing here?”
    “I could say I was working for a living, and for me it would actually make sense, but like you I’m looking for answers.”
    “To what?”
    “To where my daughter is.” Wyatt paused a moment, his eyes glancing at the candle. “Allie was taken a week ago. I was out finding work and while I was gone the Imps grabbed her.”
    “Grabbed her? Why?”
    Wyatt lowered his voice, “Allie is part elven, and the New Empire is not partial to their kind. Under a new law anyone with even a drop of elf blood is subject to arrest. They’ve been rounding them up and putting them on ships, but no one can tell me where they’ve taken them. So, here I am.”
    “But what makes you think this ship will go to the same place?”
    “I take it you haven’t ventured down to the waist hold yet?” He paused a second, then added, “That’s the bottom of the ship, below the water line. Ship stores are there, as well as livestock like goats, chickens, and cows. Sailors on report get the duty to pump the bilge. It’s a miserable job on account of the manure mixing with the seawater that leaks in. It’s also where—right now—they have more than a hundred elves chained up in an area half this size.”
    Hadrian nodded with a grimace at the thought.
    “You and Royce gave me a break once because of my daughter. Why was that?”
    “That was Royce’s call. You need to take that up with him. Although I wouldn’t do that for a while, he’s sicker than I am. I’ve never seen him so miserable and this sea business is making him irritable.”
    Wyatt nodded. “My daughter’s the same way on water. Pitiful little thing, she’s like a cat on a piece of driftwood. It takes her forever to get accustomed to the rocking.” He paused a moment looking at the candle, then said, “I got the impression the two of you might be sympathetic. Maybe, if you finish this job, you might be willing to help me a little—a turn for a turn?”
    “I thought you got us aboard to pay off a debt.”
    Wyatt sighed.
    “I don’t know—maybe.” Hadrian glanced at the mass of men around him and lowered his voice to a whisper. “The job we’re on is important, and we can’t afford to be distracted, but if the situation presents itself, we might be able to help. Something tells me I won’t have much trouble convincing Royce to stick his neck out for this one.”
    Hadrian felt the nausea rising in his stomach once more. His face must have betrayed his misery.
    “Don’t worry. Seasickness usually only lasts three days,” Wyatt assured him, as he put the cards in his breast pocket. “After that both of you will be fine.”
    “If we can stay on board that long. I don’t know anything about being a ship’s cook.”
    Wyatt smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered. Poe will do most of the