“Lagerheim.”
“Understudy?”
“Taran Vir, Blackmage.”
“How long deployed?”
“Eight months,” I said. “I was conscripted as a bluemage from the Berryburn Naval Yard.”
“I don’t believe you finished the curriculum,” said Echo.
“I was better than all of them,” I said with a shrug.
“You quit?” asked Fahr.
I raised my chin. “The magister said I was ready. All I needed was the ship.”
“Remember your rank, Ensign,” said the faun. “Dev is First Mate. You do need to call himsir.”
“I went from Wan to Blue in less than a year. They were jealous.”
“Jealous,sir,” Echo repeated.
I snorted.
“I’m Navy. You’re privateers. I outrank all of you.”
“Privateers at the hire of King Bonavanczek himself,” said Fahr. “Would you like to inspect our Letter of Marque?”
Damn.I looked down. Stephanus Bonavanczek IV was the King of Oversea, lawful ruler of the Northhelm and all its colonies. That gave them rank, even outside the Navy’s chain ofcommand, and I appreciated that chain, that structure, that rule of law.
“No, sir,” I said, finally using the customary honorific.
“Good call, Ensign,” Fahr said. “Now, where can we drop you?”
“Drop me?”
“You can’t stay with us,” he said. “You’re Navy, after all. We’re just lowly privateers.”
“Where did you accept your commission? Hodgetown?” asked Echo. “That’s generally a good place to begin again.”
“Suns have mercy,” said Fahr. “I wouldn’t send my worst enemy to a rathole like Hodgetown. Still, sheisNavy…”
And he laughed. A most unusual trait for a privateer, but I was beginning to believe that theTouchstonewas a most unusual ship.
“I can’t go back,” I said, glancing between them. “My hands… I need… I can’t…”
“Well, she can’t stay here,” came another voice, and another man pushed through under the canvas. He was a dworgh, several hands shorter than I but built of solid muscle and iron, with a barrel chest, strong arms, and calloused hands. His thick hair and full beard were the color of nutmeg, his brown eyes expressive and large, and his brows were as bushy as a bear in winter.
“Bad luck to have a castaway on board,” he said with the polished accent of someone who’d grown up far from the docks. “Especially a Navy bird. The crew’s already jumpy.”
I noticed he was wearing only one boot.
“She’s a mage,” said Fahr.
“A mage who can’t foggin’ spin. What the hels’s she gonna do on my ship?” he muttered. His accent was fine silver, but his mouth was all sea.
“Smoke…” said Fahr.
