The wind was hot, but the rain was cold, and clouds rolled, black and heavy, across the sea. Even in the pelting rain, the sky was orange because of the suns. It reminded me of the morning at Hodgetown, when the docks were ablaze with cannon fire and chimeric. But there was no such booming now, no roar or screams from the wharf, just the wind and the rain and a distantrumble like nothing I’d ever heard.
Gong-gong-chunk-chunk, gong-gong-chunk.
On the horizon, a massive cloud bank rolled like a tidal wave, black and gray and green like ink. It was a good distance away, but still, it was ominous and strange. As it rolled closer, tiny shapes emerged, but it was impossible to make them out in the haze and fog.
Kill it. Sink it. Pick her bones.
The captain appeared at the hatch and hit the steps to the quarterdeck, then to the pup. Fahr was already there, oilskin cloak flapping, spyglass in hand.
“Twelve, sir,” he said, passing the glass to Thanavar. “Sloops and brigs for the most part.”
I turned back to the sea.
Yes, I saw them. Twelve sailing ships spread out from the cloud and from one another, approaching us like a fleet. There was something strange about them, but I couldn’t see well enough to tell.
“Shall we change course?” asked Smoke from the helm. He had no oilskin and was soaked from his head to his toes.
“Hold course, Mr. Oakum,” said Thanavar.
“Holding course toward the filthiest pisspool of turkey-faced jades,” muttered the quartermaster, but he held fast the grips, and we bucked through the waves toward the cloud.
Kill it. Sink it, she said, and I swore she leaned into the wind.Carrion and men.
Suns, she could be ferocious, and I loved that part of her.
“You have this, Mr. Fahr?” asked the captain.
“Aye, sir, and good luck,” said Fahr. “See you on the other side.”
Thanavar turned and left the deck, swiftly disappearing into the hold.
Wherever he was going, there was bound to be deep magik.We were looking for a map that would lead us to the Cloudgate, to the very heart of the Dreadwall. What could possibly be more extraordinary than that? I turned back to the horizon. I could see them now, twelve small warships in formation, and behind them, the great cloud of fog that billowed like a wave.
One of the ships flared.
“Hold fast, Mr. Oakum,” said the mate.
The cannonball whipped past our bow, splashing into the waters portside.
“So foggin’ predictable,” muttered Smoke.
“And that’s all it will be unless we’re sloppy,” said Fahr. “They aim to take us a prize.”
I glanced around. Broom and his gunners were on deck, standing by one cannon.Lucky Lasswas her name, scratched into her iron casing.
Surely, we would need all the cannons and long guns if we were to take on twelve ships of war.
“Run the colors, if you will, Mr. Buck,” said Fahr.
Colors?
I had never seen theTouchstonerun under flag,anyflag, so when Buck began to haul, I was dumbfounded to see two bolts of cloth running up the mizzen. One I recognized as the blue-and-gold pennant of Oversea, but the other…
Black with a single white tree under three moons. It was beautiful, it was elegant, and it was not ours.
We were running under two flags, one Oversea, the otherRhi’Ahr, and theTouchstone’s sails thundered with pride.
I am coming, Sister.
