“What’s the slimy substance on the floor? Should it be smoking like that?” Cas tilted her chin toward the dark cabin.
“What?” Eyes bulging, the guard took a step back, his grip on her loosening slightly.
Cas grabbed his pistol at the same time as she twisted away. Her canvas prisoner smock ripped, but her captor’s hands slipped away. She cocked the hammer, aiming at him. Someone grabbed her from behind before she could shoot. A fist bashed her hand, knocking the pistol out of her grip, and she found herself spun around and slammed into the wall.
The glowering face of the captain closed in, inches from hers, his anger like a wave breaking over her. He had dark brown eyes, but his brow was drawn down so far, the irises were barely visible. He leaned into her ribs so hard, she feared they would bend—or break. Somehow, her feet were dangling off the ground again. Seven gods, she hated being short.
“Do not make trouble, girl,” he breathed, the scent of alcohol washing her face.
She wished she could lean away, but the wall didn’t help her out. “Sorry,” she grumbled as fiercely as she could with her ribs shoved into her organs, “I didn’t know you were used to compliant prisoners.”
“Just ones not stupid enough to attack their guards.” He leaned even closer and grabbed her chin, his fingers hard as they dug into flesh tender with bruises. Her barely healed lip cracked open again and bled. She hoped it would stain his stupid bone vest. Not that he would care. It probably wouldn’t be the first blood to splash upon it. “If you think I’m afraid to go against the Deathmaker’s wishes,” he breathed in her ear, “you’re wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Cas hadn’t thought that at all—wasn’t he the captain and therefore in charge?—but she wasn’t about to start a conversation with the lunatic. On the other hand, if he brought his ugly snout any closer, she would bite it off.
He released her abruptly. She managed to brace herself against the wall and kept from crumpling to the deck, though her ribs did creak with the first full breath she took. She needed to escape from these madmen—Cofah, pirates, they were all the same—just so she could heal.
The captain handed the six-shooter to the guard, who was standing nearby, wearing a sheepish expression.
“Don’t lose that again,” the captain said.
“No, Cap’n. I won’t.”
The second man had returned with the lantern. He lifted the shackles in the air. “Sorry, Captain. We’ll get her chained up real good.”
The captain looked into the dark room. “What is he thinking, putting her in there? Make sure she can’t touch anything.” He glared at Cas again, and she was certain he would have preferred to tie her in twenty or thirty layers of rope and pin her under a five-hundred-pound anchor.
“Yes, Cap’n.”
Grumbling under his breath, the captain pushed past the guards and strode down the narrow corridor.
“You first,” the closest guard said. “You’ve got the lantern.”
The man grimaced, but took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold. The second guard pushed Cas ahead of him.
The single lantern wasn’t strong enough to illuminate everything—it was a surprisingly big cabin, or maybe a bulkhead had been removed to turn two rooms into one—but it did give the sense of a space packed with built-in tables, counters, and cabinets with glass fronts. Behind that glass lay all manner of books and scrolls, strange tools and quirky gadgets, chemicals in jars, powders in tins, and mysterious substances in clear vials. Bundles of drying grasses, roots, and leaves dangled on twine from the ceiling, and the whole place smelled of chemicals and herbs. All manner of goggles and magnifying devices hung on a pegboard—Cas tried not to find it creepy that hairy tufts that looked suspiciously like scalps were pinned there too. Crates secured to the floor with bolts held metal scrap, and a few mechanical insect-like contraptions rested on the top. Something moved in one of several terrariums along the wall, and she was relieved the lantern wasn’t bright enough to show what exactly.
“Put her in the corner?” One guard pointed to the shadowy end of the cabin. The hammock and clothing trunk there appeared out of place in the laboratory.
“Yeah, we’ll chain her to that pipe.”
Her body too achy to protest further, Cas let them guide her into the corner. Had they been considerate, they might have let her climb into the hammock, but they pushed her to the floor and shackled her to a pipe that ran vertically through the corner.
“Stay out of trouble, girl.” One of the guards patted her on the cheek with all the love of a polar bear smacking a fish out of the water, then they both headed for the door.
“You could leave the lantern,” she said, then, because they had no reason to want to please her, added, “so I’ll have time to look at all this strangeness and grow more and more scared.”
The pirate with the lantern snorted. “I reckon that’ll happen even more in the dark.” He paused in the doorway, and Cas thought some random bit of sympathy might bubble to the surface. But he only glared at her and said, “I lost a friend in that fight last summer. I hope Deathmaker’s got a special treat planned for you.”
The door slammed shut, leaving her alone in the dark.
No, not entirely alone. Something was slithering around in that terrarium. She hoped it wasn’t venomous. And that it couldn’t get out.
She shifted around, trying to find a comfortable space on the floor, but even if there had been one, her throbbing wounds would have precluded relaxation. Lumps and bruises she had been able to forget about while they were running and fighting refused to be ignored any longer. The guards hadn’t given her much slack, so she ended up sitting, cross-legged and facing the corner, her forehead leaning against the pipe.
The engine started up somewhere below her, the vibrations humming through the deck. In a few more minutes, they would be off, and there would be nowhere to escape to, even if she could manage it. The Roaming Curse had an aerial outpost out there somewhere over the ocean, and she guessed that was their next destination. Or maybe they were heading straight to Iskandia to set up that trap.
If she were the one to cause Colonel Zirkander’s death, she would never forgive herself. He had been one of the few people to trust her, to have faith in her. She owed him every award she had won in her short career—and a lot of laughs too.
Cas blinked, trying to fight back tears. They hadn’t threatened when there were witnesses, but here in the dark, it was hard to keep up that shield of toughness.
A doe can stumble and die, a hunter’s arrow in its side, without ever having felt sorry for itself. That was one of her father’s quotes. He had never been one to accept self-pity or any other sign of weakness, not from himself, and not from his daughter, either. He had hugged her and said nothing about her crying at her mother’s funeral, but that had been the last time he had condoned tears. She had been five then.
* * *
Though Port Ariason was several miles from the fortress, Tolemek stuck to the jungle paths rather than venturing into the streets, their corners illuminated with gas lamps. On the way back from his errand, he skirted the town until he reached the southern end where sailing ships and steamers were docked in the harbor. Past them, an oblong shape blotted out the stars over the horizon, though little else suggested a ship was up there. There wasn’t a single lamp burning above decks, nothing to give them away in the distance. With the wooden craft painted black and the envelope made from a similarly dark material, the Hunter sailed the skies with impunity on dark nights.
Given the proximity of the fortress and the local garrison, the lightless profile was a wise choice. The Roaming Curse had a reputation grisly enough that most Cofah army commanders looked the other way rather than tangling with them, but if the pirates made a spectacle of themselves, then the military was forced to take action.
Tolemek hoped Captain “Slaughter” Goroth had gone along with his wishes, giving Ahn a spot in his cabin rather than one of the di
ngy cells near the engine room. It was hot and cramped down there, and there were no portholes. Whatever army she was a part of, she had helped him escape, and he owed her something for that.
He had been on the verge of ordering her released when Malbet had blabbed. Once Goroth knew who he had, there was no way he would let her go. And Tolemek owed him too much to go against his wishes. But if they could, as he had suggested, use her to trap Zirkander, then she need never be harmed. As much as Goroth hated all things Wolf Squadron, he would surely see the benefit of releasing her to gain the greater prize.
Despite these thoughts, Tolemek quickened his step as he approached the airship. Though he trusted Goroth, he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t take out some frustrations on Ahn. Tolemek wouldn’t have left her, but he had promised that boy his gold coin. He had found the youth, shivering beneath the pilings of one of the long piers that stretched to the harbor’s lighthouse. It was the meeting spot they had agreed to. Not only had the boy been forced to take a swim, but he’d been shot in the arm. He had been poor enough that he hadn’t protested his injury one bit, merely thanking Tolemek profusely for the coin and running off, but that had only made Tolemek feel guilty. He had risked that boy’s life, and for what? His research had been wrong. No, not wrong, but conducted far too late to matter. All he had gotten out of his stay in the fortress was a beating and... a burden he wasn’t sure he wanted.
“That you, sir?” a soft voice asked from behind the tree the Hunter was anchored to, its dark form floating a few feet away from the top of the stout palm.
“It’s me.”
One of the cabin boys stepped into view and offered a rope. “You’re the last one out, sir.”
“Good. Follow me up.” Tolemek climbed the knotted rope, his battered body protesting the exertion after the night he’d had. He wondered how Ahn had managed the climb. Judging by the visible bruises, she had received more beatings than he had. He wondered how long she had been a prisoner of war before being deposited at Dragon Spit. He wondered a lot of things about her, foremost among them, whether she would talk to him again.
“That shouldn’t matter,” he muttered. “You’ve barely known her a few hours.”
“What, sir?” the cabin boy asked.
“Nothing. Just scheming up my next concoction.” Though he hadn’t used any of his “concoctions” on any of the pirates since Goroth took over three years ago, rumors never stopped flying, and Tolemek found that he could stop all questions pointed in his direction by making such a statement.
Indeed, the boy’s gulp was audible, followed by utter silence.
A guard waited at the top, but only nodded when Tolemek climbed aboard. He crossed the dark deck, not needing any lights to navigate the familiar terrain—Goroth had ordered this new ship designed after the same model as the one Wolf Squadron had destroyed the summer before—and headed for the stairs to the officers’ deck. He wanted to go straight to his cabin and check on Ahn, but Goroth’s door opened as he passed, as if he had been listening for Tolemek. Maybe he had been.
“Come have a drink with me, Mek.”
The cabin smelled of brandy; it seemed the captain had already had a few drinks.
“My prisoner being treated well?” Tolemek asked.
“Well enough. This is a pirate ship, not a passenger steamer.” Goroth shut the door, waved to one of the benches bolted to the wall, then sat at his own desk. “The boys chained her in there, so she wouldn’t bother your work. I’d leave her that way if I were you. Or put her in one of the cells. You’ll sleep easier that way. I walked in on her about a half a second away from shooting Bloodnose and escaping, not five minutes after she was brought on board. She may not look like a big cannon, but she’ll be trouble.”
“Yes, I’ve seen her shoot.”
“Listen, Mek.” The captain grabbed a brandy glass from his bar, wiped it clean with his shirt, then poured the amber liquid. “I like the idea of setting a trap with her, but nobody knows where Zirkander is right now. He hasn’t been leading his squadron of late. Does she know where he is?” He lifted his brows and handed Tolemek the glass.
“I haven’t asked. I will.”
“You ask her about the flier power sources at all? Those are worth a fortune, and maybe if you got one, you could figure out how to use it. Then sell the information to the government. Or we could make our own fliers and use them for raids. We’d be untouchable. She say anything about them?”
“No.” Tolemek sipped from the glass and searched for a political way to tell Goroth that he could be talking to her about these things now, if he would let him go.
“What were you doing down there for hours? Flirting?”
“Escaping.”
“Fine, but I want answers now. Before we reach the outpost tomorrow. If you don’t question her, I will.” Goroth’s gaze drifted to a cat o’ nine tails hanging on the wall. “But you know I’d like that. And have a hard time stopping.” His hand tightened around his own brandy glass. “I’d have no trouble shipping her head in a box to Zirkander’s office.”
“I will speak to her,” Tolemek said, keeping his voice calm, though he didn’t appreciate the threat.
“I know you won’t interrogate her, but speak to her with that truth serum of yours. I want real answers, not lies.”
Tolemek set his jaw. It wasn’t a bad idea, but he didn’t appreciate being told how to handle his prisoner. “Yes, Captain,” was all he said. He finished his brandy, the liquid burning down his throat, and stood. “I’ll begin now, if you need nothing further from me.”
“Mek,” the captain said, his tone softer, almost apologetic. “Did you find what you were looking for down in that dungeon?”
“No. Whatever scrolls and books were once there had been burned.”
“Too bad. It’s your project, not mine, but I’d give a lot for the treasures—the power—those sorcerers once wielded.”
“I know.” Tolemek headed for the door. He didn’t want to discuss the topic further. Goroth believed he sought the ancient magic to make his experiments more powerful, and that was something “Captain Slaughter” could support. If he knew the truth, he might become an obstacle rather than an ally. Or even competition. What Tolemek sought was invaluable, especially to one who could use it.
“Mek? Be careful with her. She’s Iskandian. She’ll know about Tanglewood. She’ll shoot you the second she has a chance.”
Except she hadn’t. Tolemek walked out, closing the door behind him.
Chapter 5
Cas wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she dozed at some point, weariness finally catching up with her. When the door opened, she woke with a jerk, her shackles clanking against the pipe. Voices sounded in the hallway, a part of some quiet conversation. She turned her head toward the light, hoping one of her captors was bringing food. Her stomach was as empty as her soul.
Tolemek walked in, carrying a lantern. He looked around the room for a moment, then spotted her under the hammock. His lips thinned, then he held up a finger and walked out again. He returned after a moment with a key ring. He stopped only long enough to light a few more lamps from the one in his hand, then knelt in front of her. He unlocked the shackles, but paused before standing up, lifting a finger to her chin.
A gentle gesture, but Cas wasn’t sure how she felt about having him touch her—was that the hand he used to pet his snakes? She glanced at the terrarium.
“Someone hit you?” he asked, then backed away so she could stand up. “Someone here?”
She opted for staying on the floor. This corner was less odd than the others, and something about having the clothing trunk on one side and the hammock dangling overhead made her feel protected, like a child in a fort that adults were too big to breach. An illusion, of course, but she leaned her back against the pipe and stayed there anyway.
“Not exactly,” she said—he was regarding her steadily, waiting for an answer. “I tried to take advantage of a guard’s inattentiveness to
arm myself.” No need to mention that she would have shot the man and anyone else in her path to the exit if she could have managed it. “There were repercussions.”
“Hm.”
Tolemek walked over to a counter, unlatched a cupboard below, and pulled out a bowl and a pitcher with a tight lid. Everything in the cabin looked like it was secured, at least somewhat, as things would be on a sailing ship where the pitches of the waves were a constant. The pirates had to be ready for battle at any time, she supposed. Tolemek poured water, dipped a rag in it, then grabbed a small ceramic jar from one of his cabinets.
“Would you like to sit in a chair?” He waved at one at a desk with a lamp on it, then held up the rag. “I’ll be able to see what I’m doing.”
“Are you a doctor qualified to treat patients?” Cas made a point of looking around the laboratory. “The stories pin you as more of a mad scientist.”
“Mad?” Tolemek arched his brows.
“Something has to explain that hair.”
He blinked a few times, then surprised her by laughing. It was a pleasant sound that didn’t seem to fit with the macabre laboratory surroundings, but she could only stare at him, not finding humor in the situation, or in the entire day. Make that the entire month.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think you would talk to me at all, and here you are, as genial as ever.”
“If having girls insult you is what you consider genial, then you’re spending too much time with the wrong kinds of people.”
His lips quirked upward. “Tell me about it.” Tolemek pulled the chair out from the desk and brushed off the seat, though she didn’t see any crumbs or dust on it. He opened his palm toward it again. “To answer your question, I’m mostly self-taught, with a lot of my education coming through books and experimentation, but I was sent to the field medic course when I was in the army.”
Cas struggled not to shudder at what qualified as “experimentation” for him.