There was an edge to his voice, and I knew there was something on the wind.
“No. It’s my m—”
“Join Mr. Fahr on the deck, please. A Navy witness would be wise.”
And he disappeared, leaving Fahr and me in the companionway.
“Just…” He shook his head, brow drawn, mouth tight. “Just follow me.”
He went up the stepladder to the quarterdeck. The seas were rough, and the evening sky was dark, Ember barely a glimmer on the westerly horizon. There was a quiet hum as the deck crew worked. Neale was at the sunswheel, Kit was in the rigging, and the Dog Watch went about their business, cleaning, mending, folding, trimming. A hundred souls was theTouchstone’s complement, and easily a third on duty at any given time. Fine ship, fine crew. Itwasgood company, like my mother had said.
Fahr moved quietly across the deck, all hands knuckling their respect as he passed. We neared the forecastle, and I was surprised to see Worley and his basket of birds at the prow.
“Mr. Worley,” said Fahr, and the man swung around.
“Hels’ hooks, sir,” he said. “You gave me a fright.”
“I thought you were fetching wine.”
“Oh, yes, sir. Right after me birds, sir.”
“The captain didn’t order a message delivered, Mr. Worley.”
“Oh, but he did, sir.” The man glanced at me. “You heard him, Ensign Blue. He said to get a message to Lord Perry’s Island…”
He glanced back at Fahr.
“For a mooring, sir. You must arrange those at Lord Perry’s.”
“May I see your message?”
“I’ve already loosed the bird, sir. She’s gone.”
There was a flash of white as the winter hawk soared into view. It arced a wing and swept over the prow, dropping a small shape onto the deck with a thud. It was a swift, and Fahr bent to pick it up. Her head lolled, her breast punctured by the hawk’s talons.
“Oh, no, not my Gritta,” moaned Worley. “She was my best, my brightest.”
Fahr unrolled a tiny parchment from her thin leg.
“‘Touchstoneto moor Lord Perry’s, 2 days’ time.’” His dark eyes flicked up. “Who were you sending this to?”
“To Lord Perry, sir!” He glanced between us. “Why these questions?”
“Because you are the ‘soul,’ sir!” Fahr snapped. “The soul aboard in the pocket of the harpiar. You were the one who sent reports of our return to Hodgetown, prompting an attack and almost sinking us all.”
“No!”
“Not Worley, Dev,” I said.
“You sent a bird telling of our trip to Flogger’s Bay,” Fahr went on. “Where the harpiar attacked and killed nine able seamen. Nine of your mates! Don’t deny it!”
“I do deny it, sir! Please, Ensign Blue! Tell him!”
“And this recent attack on Port Corvallan. TheTemplemoreand mates showed up just when your message said they would. But how did you manage to convey that information toRhi’Ahrships, Worley? How!”
“I honestly have no clue, sir! I hate theRhi’Ahras much as any man!”
“You sold us out, Worley. What could be so bad on theTouchstonethat would make you sell out your ship?” Fahrleaned forward, contempt in every word. “Are you really such a coward of a traitor?”
