“Are they from Oversea?”
His smile broadened, telling me all I needed to know.
“A gift from your Bracebridge,” he said. “A bribe, if you will. Look around you, Chaser. What do I need that I do not have?”
“Me,” I said.
He laughed as I was ushered out, back to the darkness and the tar.
Forge set first. He always did. Sometimes, in Forgewinter, Ember never set, just hung low and dim along the horizon. In Emberwinter, everything was dark, with the suns little more than moon-size even at noon. Everyone hated Emberwinter. Things died in Emberwinter. People died, too.
I was brought to the main deck, hands bound behind my back, and made to stand at the bulwark with a clear sight of theTouchstone.The gangway was gone, and she floated quiet in the center of the bay. She didn’t look to have taken on any more sea, but her mizzen was cracked and her pup all but gone. Her sails were tattered with gunshot, and holes gaped through her once-proud hull. Gunports sat open and dark, and smoke drifted from somewhere deep inside. They must have left the bodies piled below, intending to sink them along with the ship.
Kill them all.
I couldn’t hear her. Not a whisper, not a moan, not a rumble nor a shudder. Perhaps her spirit had left the ship. Perhaps she was already gone.
Perhaps that was a blessing.
Echo, I thought across the waves.Areyouthere?
Through her rigging, I could see Smoke at the wheel of his blood-money ship. As requested, theMarelethanhad a small crew, though I could only see Smoke on deck. I was sure he could cobble his way out of the Channel and make some port in the Lower Rim. He’d have serious work to do then. TheMarelethanwas clearlyRhi’Ahr, with her gold-shot sails, intricate prow, and elaborate brightwork. Sails could be traded, and metalwork sold. Carpenters could sand, and seamen could carve. It would takemuch work to make her look like an Oversea vessel. Still, she was an enemy ship taken in battle; every swab’s dream, be he Navy, pirate, or privateer.
Echo? Mother?
The crew of theMarelethanwas still on the Cloudgate, and, once Smoke left, I assumed they would be taken aboard theEndorathil. This crew stood watch, and their cannons made ready, as Forge dipped in the sky and Ember lagged lazily behind.
I turned as Dev was dragged to my side. His hands were also bound behind his back, and his left eye was swollen shut. He looked bad, and my heart ached for all he was about to witness. Truly, we should have left him as dead in Port Corvallan.
He wouldn’t look at me, and I think that was worse than anything.
All hands snapped to, and Ilvalour was on the bridge. He strode to the wheel, a picture of elegance and restrained fury.
“Tonight, we beholdRhi’Ahrjustice,” he said loudly over the wind and waves. “The sinking of a notorious ship, under a notorious captain. Gavriel Thanavar, last Priestlord ofLindurithain, traitor and turncoat on the register of Bonavanczek the Bastard.”
They said nothing, but their faces were bullhorns.
“We could kill him now,” said Ilvalour. “AndRhi’Ahrjustice would be served. We will leave him to the mercy of the Impirius, but until we reachBrenyn’dinas, we will boast the finest figurehead of any warship to ever sail Nethersea!”
They did not cheer. Rather, they thumped their cyrs against theEndorathil’s gleaming deck as Ilvalour swept his arm toward the bowsprit. My heart stopped beating. I knew it would never beat again.
Thanavar was in chains, elbows bound tightly behind his back to crack his ribs in front. He was gagged and blindfolded, and thenoose at his throat was taut, causing the tendons of his neck to strain. Blood from his wrist formed a river down his thighs, and welts betrayed the cat across his chest and back.
Oh Forge. They were going to bind him to the masthead. He’d be dead in three days if lashed like that over the sea.
“Remove the blindfold,” said Ilvalour. “I want him to witness the death of his ship.”
He could be a hawk before they could stop him. Why hadn’t he turned? Another dread bargain for the life of his crew? His prince? His ship?
Ilvalour held up his hand.
“The captain, we shall leave to our Impirius, but theTouchstone…” He glanced around slowly. “TheTouchstoneis ours.”
They did cheer this time, but in rhythm to the beating of the cyrs.
“Notify our men to abandon ship,” said Ilvalour.
“Mor’Rhir!Abandon ship,”called the mate over an elaborate bullhorn. “Leave theTouchstoneand return to theEndorathil.”
