Kelpier.Hmm. I’d never thought of him like that, but hels, it made sense. TheRhi’Ahrwere elven lords of the sea. Water spirits. Ocean fae. Not wyrmen.Kelpier.
“No mention of Forks,” muttered Fahr.
“Mutiny?” asked Smoke over his shoulder.
“Or heart,” said Fahr. “The man was a glutton.”
A claxon rang out from Bilgetown, and a sea-level gate began to swing.
“You have the deck, Mr. Oakum,” said Fahr. “Wait for my signal.”
“Always, Dev. And don’t get shot.”
Fahr turned to me, eyes dancing.
“Grab your coat.”
“Me?” My heart leaped into my throat.Yes. No. Yes.“Why?”
“You are our secret of the chimeric,” he said. “I promised I’d share.”
Suns, I loved this game.
I raced down the ladders to the galley, fairly leaping them without steps. I ditched the oily and donned my waistcoat, boots, and neckerchief. Wrapped my waist in the sash that now gleamed with one strand of gold. I hoped I looked like a proper seamage, but my coat was in tatters. It didn’t matter. I grabbed a peacoat instead and swung around to find Kit standing immediately behind me, a bolt of blue in her hands.
“From the captain,” she said, and she handed it to me.
It was a naval coat, perfectly tailored, with golden stitching and silver buttons. I held my breath as I slipped it on, smoothed the fabric on my arms and sides.
“I guessed size,” said Kit. “But am never wrong.”
“Kit, it’s beautiful,” I breathed. “Thank you…”
“Thank captain,” she said. “He commissioned it when you come aboard. Said you would need it one day.”
“But I didn’t earn it,” I said. “You have to earn your threads in the Navy.”
“Not earn,” she said. “Gift.”
No one had ever given me a gift before. Not ever. I didn’t know what to say. I had no words.
“Go,” she said, needing none.
I spun around and bolted from the berth.
I was an ensign in the King’s Navy and chimeric chaser for a ship that sailed under two flags. The captain of this notorious ship had given me a remarkable gift. I was going to Bilgetown. I was the secret of the chimeric. I had no idea what any of that meant.
Fahr and Buck were waiting for me at the longboat, and we were joined by seamages Cable and Dion. They carried a large oaken chest between them like precious cargo, and I could almost feel the sizzle as chimeric worked to escape the oak and the locks. I remembered Thanavar instructing the gunnerto fix special monks for the laced cannonballs, as normal ones wouldn’t hold. As I studied this trunk, I just knew it couldn’t contain chimeric for any length of time.
Forge. Maybe that was the plan from the start.
We set out all oars across the choppy waters to Bilgetown, and the closer we rowed, the larger it loomed—a concoction of dark towers and wooden prows. It was closed off to the sea by a great, rusty, cobbled gate, and on either side, two bodies swung by the neck, dancing the hempen jig like flags run up. As we neared, the Bilgegate swung open, and immediately, the air stank of oil and shite.
I threw one last look over my shoulder at theTouchstoneas darkness closed us in along with the gate.
Sister. I am coming.
Like a nightmare, Bilgetown began to take shape. Ropes and rigging held the behemoth together, built into patchwork shanties by post, beam, nail, and peg. It looked utterly unstable, as some layers tipped one way while some tilted another. Lanterns swung as streetlamps from every bowsprit, and bridges swung as gangways over alleys of dark waves and rotting wood. These canals were the veins of the city, its blood waters oily and black. It was then that I realized that the fog was not fog but smoke, and it hung over the waterways like a wraith.
