What was happening on deck wasn’t good. The pirates from the Steadfast and the Shrike had peppered the immobilized Chaser with cannon fire, then swarmed aboard from all sides. The deck was strewn with corpses and the wounded, Dr. Clyve working on one injured soul under the watchful eye of a ragged pirate holding a pistol at the ready. A line of marines knelt on the deck with their fingers laced behind their necks, under the pirates’ guard. The pirates who followed Kimona and me up the rope ladder marched Guerin to the line and forced her to kneel beside her marines.
The ship’s officers were also on their knees, bound and gagged, bearing the wounds of their fight. I searched for Cutter and breathed a sigh of relief to see him alive. Cutter’s uncle, Captain Tancrède was sprawled on the deck, however, coughing and cursing. Blood covered his face and coat. A man stood over him, grinning.
“Well, Captain,” the man sneered, “I said no quarter, but it seems my men are loathe to lose the profit they’d make from selling you to slavers. So it looks like you’ll get to live a little longer.”
He nudged Tancrède in the ribs with his boot.
“You’re a little old, but I suppose you might be worth more on the market than in a shark’s belly.”
“Do your men understand what will happen to them now that they’ve attacked an Imperial Navy ship, Lazare?” Tancrède grated. Lazare chuckled.
“Oh, what’s another capital crime after the first nine or ten?” he asked. The pirates around him laughed and catcalled, and a bright flush rose on Tancrède’s cheeks. I felt a flash of pity for him. The Imperial Navy wouldn’t be happy that he’d lost his ship to pirates. Even if he did manage to survive to return to the Admiralty, chances were good he’d be cashiered for the defeat.
“Then take me and let the rest of my crew go,” Tancrède suggested. “The Navy will pay to ransom me; but if you capture all of us, it’ll hunt you down with every ship in the fleet.”
“No!” Cutter started to rise to his feet and was kicked back down by his guards. Lazare grinned.
“Why, who’s your little friend, Captain. A favorite, perhaps?”
“Release my crew, and if you’re captured later, I’ll speak for your mercy,” the captain said, stiffly, ignoring the pirate and his nephew.
“Not exactly a compelling argument.” Lazare fingered his mustache. He was a short, wiry man with dark skin, long, tied-back hair, and a hawkish cast to his features. His clothes were first-rate but stained with old grease and new blood. “We’re dead men already; a few good words on your part won’t make any difference … unless you happen to be the admiral’s favorite.”
Tancrède glared, not deigning to answer. Lazare gave a short laugh and raised a hand.
“Bring the boy over here.”
One of the pirates dragged Cutter up by his collar and frog-marched him forward. I stiffened.
“What’s your name, boy?” Lazare leaned forward and tilted Cutter’s chin up with one powder-stained index finger.
“James Cutter, cadet.” The boy’s tone was stiff and formal, and he kept his eyes fixed on Lazare’s face.
“A baby officer.” Lazare cocked his head back and forth, regarding the boy from different angles. “You’ll fetch a good price at the slave market, I’d wager.”
“Nje….” I hissed.
“Do not try it, Saint-Cloud.” Kimona called a baleblade and held it against my neck, but I felt Nje slide over my skin beneath my cold, sodden clothing. A tendril slipped up my neck into my ear. “I will kill you before you can summon your spirits.”
Do not ***, the transient whispered. “*** *** *** yours *** *** *** kill ***.”
“You don’t frighten me, Captain,” Cutter said, stiffly. The pirates laughed, and Lazare grinned.
“Good, Jimmy, good. That’s the spirit.” He cast an evaluating glance over the rest of the cadets, none older than seventeen. “What do you think, men? Do the little lambs show promise?”
“Aye, let ’em sign!” someone shouted, and others nodded and said words of agreement.
“Bring ’em over.”
“Can always use a Navy-trained brat.”
“Sign ’em.”
I glanced at the other officers, unable to understand what was going on. They were stone-faced, while beyond them, the ship’s crew looked more conflicted, with an equal number of frowns and hopeful expressions. I looked back at Tancrède, whose narrow face was frozen.
“Well, Jimmy, lucky you.” Lazare dropped his hand to Cutter’s shoulder in a comradely gesture. “How would you like to join the free corsairs of the Steadfast? You do honest hard work and you get a fair share of food, liquor, and prizes, and an equal vote on ship’s matters. If you get maimed in the fighting like poor Adair over there, you get paid off from the public stock so you don’t go starving in the streets.”
Lazare’s eyes rose as he addressed the rest of the cadets and, beyond them, the crew.
“On my ship there’s no gambling for money and no fucking any that don’t care to be fucked; no fighting on board and no holding back of loot or weapons. No cowardice or drunkenness during an engagement and the crew votes in the officers. Does that seem fair to you lot?”
I assumed he was lying, but to my surprise, the pirates around him were nodding, some looking downright proud as he spoke. What he was describing was impossible — it was a matter of faith in the Empire that no ship could run efficiently without strict discipline and an authoritarian chain of command — yet I heard none of the snickers or smirks I’d expect if this uncouth lot were trying to hoodwink the crew.
“What hap – happens if someone breaks the rules?” I asked. Kimona growled as Lazare turned, raising an eyebrow as he studied me.
“Depends on the crime,” he replied, with surprising civility. “Sometimes the captain and crew vote on the punishment, and sometimes the Articles require marooning or death.”
That clarification wiped a few smiles off the Chasers’ faces, but even so, I could tell that many of the hands were weighing their options. I took in a deep breath, then released it, centering myself.
“Any that don’t sign the Articles,” Lazare continued, turning back and squeezing Cutter’s shoulder with an avuncular smile, “we sell in Perdue. Some of you might get a job working the plantations. Some of you won’t be that lucky.” His smile wasn’t pleasant. I took another deep breath, trying to calm my shivering, trying to order my thoughts.
“You offering this deal to everyone?” someone shouted from the lined-up crew. Lazare shook his head.
“Don’t need all of you,” he said, his voice flat. “But some few of you with the right skills, maybe. Keep your mouths shut and your ears open and maybe you’ll get your chance.”
“Neither of us need all of you,” a small, dapper man spoke up. He’d been leaning on the mast, silently listening, throughout, and until now I hadn’t paid him any attention. Now he straightened and spat on the deck. “But I might be able to use one or two of them.”
“Hah, looks like today’s your lucky day,” Lazare said to the crew, waving his hand at the other man. “Captain Desmarais has a few openings, as well.”
Now. While everyone was looking at Desmarais, I let a small, quick call slip across the Line, pulling away from Kimona and materializing a balesword in my own hands.
No! You ***! Nje protested.
“Run!” I shouted, calling balefire over the loose canisters of powder laying next to one of the cannon. The powder exploded, spraying sharp metal and fire over the nearest pirates and sailors next to them. More explosions as the powder they were carrying for their firearms exploded. My heart was pounding, my earlier exhaustion held in abeyance by panic and fury.
Nje was spitting something vehement in Chevachèchen, but I ignored it as Kimona awkwardly struck at me with her balesword. Even as awkward as I was feeling, I easily parried, and was grateful for all my years of private lessons. Then I called more balefire, sweeping it over Captain Lazare, who was already throwing his gun and powder flask away from him. Smart man.
Kimona’s balefire washed over my body. I winced and threw my arms over my face as bale slid over my body, blinding me.
Stop! Nje ordered.
“Show me!” I shouted through the bale over my mouth. Nje growled something incomprehensible, but the bale peeled away from my eyes and mouth, though it left the rest of me encased in unnaturally shaped armor. I turned and swept fire across the rest of the pirates. Several jumped away from the flames and pointed their guns at me. The impact of the shot staggered me backward.
Taking advantage of my distraction, Captain Tancrède and the rest of the officers and marines had leaped to their feet and were grappling with the pirates. Desmarais had drawn his pistol and was firing at them, and Lt. Guerin was weaving her way toward him. I started moving in the direction of the fracas but was halted by another balewall.
“Nje, help!” I slashed at the wall with my sword, carving off chunks that swiftly grew back. Kimona might not be a powerful sorcerer, but she was fast, with a hair-trigger command of her two calls.
This is not the *** *** to ***! Nje argued, plucking the balesword’s call from me More shot slammed into me from behind as the pirates who’d been caught in the blast of flame recovered from their initial shock. I sent a wave of balefire over them and heard more explosions. I gave a passing thought to the extra damage it was undoubtedly wreaking on the ship, but dismissed it. Destroy the ship, die in battle — it didn’t matter, if I could only help the Chasers.
I spun, looking out into the darkness for the pirate ships. There; was that a glimmer from a lantern?
“Take these, Nje!” I shouted, calling balelight and balelight and balelight, sending the glowing luminescence stretching out as far as I could. Spitting something indecipherable and most likely rude in Chevachèchen, Nje took each call from me as I made it, until I could see the Shrike and the Steadfast.
“Captain!” Kimona shouted, blasting me with more balefire.
“STOP!” Lazare roared. I glanced at him and froze. The pirate captain had grabbed Cutter and pulled him against his chest, the fingers of one hand twined in the boy’s short blond hair to pull his head back. His other hand held a pistol under the cadet’s chin.
“Stop or I blow his head off,” Lazare growled. His hair, mustache, and clothing were scorched, and his dark skin was flushed.
I froze, my mind racing through the options as I tried to figure out some way to keep Cutter alive and still continue to fight. What call could I make that would be faster than Kimona’s voice, faster than a gun fired at point-blank range?
Behind Lazare, the rest of the Chasers had stopped fighting, their eyes wide as they watched us. I didn’t dare look at Captain Tancrède as I struggled with strategy and conscience, holding his nephew’s life in my hands.
“Do it!” Cutter cried, bravely. I knew what he was thinking — I would have shouted the same thing in his place — but it didn’t matter. Naval officer or not, he was fourteen years old and too young to die … or, at least, I refused to be responsible for his death. Far better for me to be the one to die, if it came down to choosing between the two of us.
“Drop the calls, Nje,” I said, defeated. The Chasers slumped, but none raised a voice in protest. I wondered whether the Admiralty, when it heard of this, would admire our protection of a vulnerable young officer or condemn us for not sacrificing one officer to save the rest of the ship.
“No!” Cutter protested, trying to struggle. “Don’t! Don’t surrender!”
“Hush, child,” Lazare hissed, arms tightening around him. “You’ll piss me off.”
Cutter stared at me, wide-eyed, and I could see him making the same calculations I’d made. If he forced Lazare to shoot him —
“Don’t,” I said, looking at him. “Don’t.”
They will kill you now, Nje whispered grimly in my ears. You are a ***. We can *** now. *** *** the boy die. He *** ***.
“Drop the calls,” I repeated. Nje continued to complain in Chevachèchen, but it obeyed.
“All right, Captain.” I dragged my gaze up to Lazare. “But he’s the only thing standing between your ships and a firestorm.”
“Behave yourself, Sentinel, and both you and little Jimmy here will enjoy a long and healthy life in my service.”
“You should just kill them both, Lazare,” Kimona said grimly. “They’re too dangerous. That sentinel’s a Saint-Cloud.”
The pirates who hadn’t been with us earlier stirred, several taking a step back. Uneasy whispers arose.
“Yeah, she’s right,” someone muttered. “Kill ‘em both.”
“Just let them go,” another said, nervously. “We don’t need spirit trouble.”
“Xavier,” Lazare said, ignoring his crew, “get the chains.”
“Did you hear me, Captain?” Kimona scowled. “There is no way you can keep a Saint-Cloud captive!”
“Roux, darling, you’re a capable sentinel and I envy Captain Desmarais for having secured your services before I could, but you are his sentinel, and not mine. So now I plan to take this one for myself.” Lazare thrust Cutter toward one of his men and handed over his gun. “Pistol against the boy’s head, Dempsey, and blow it off if my new beck here tries anything.”
“Aye, Captain.” The pirate kicked Cutter to his knees and held the pistol against the back of the boy’s head. I clenched my fists but remained motionless as a new pirate —Xavier, presumably — locked heavy iron fetters around my legs. Lazare drew his sword and swaggered forward.
“Be careful,” Kimona warned. Lazare ignored her.
“Tell your demon to take off your armor, Grandeu’ Saint-Cloud.”
No! it protested in Empyrian.
“Nje, do it.”
He will kill you.
“My spirit thinks you plan to kill me.”
Lazare’s lip curled up in a smirk.
“Not as long as I can use you. The boy, though, that’s another matter. And before you tell me that if I kill him, you won’t have any reason left to obey me, do remember the other children.” He gestured absently toward the line of young powder monkeys and middies. “How much of a Saint-Cloud are you? Do you also like to see children die?”
I glared at him, wondering if he were monster enough to do it. To kill a child.
I couldn’t take the risk.
“Take off the armor,” I ordered. Nje hissed Chevachèchen in my ears, but the bale slid away. Lazare beamed.
“And if you’d lift your right arm and present your wrist to Xavier?”
I raised it as Xavier picked up one of the manacles, but before the pirate could move, Captain Lazare lifted his cutlass, grabbing the hilt with both hands, and brought the steel blade down with all his strength on my forearm. Sharp metal cleaved into bone.
I fell to my knees, screaming as I clutched my half-severed arm to my chest. Blood spurted between my fingers and pattered to the deck like rain. Overwhelmed by the pain, I toppled to one side, curling into a ball.
Nje shouted in Chevachèchen, bale tendrils lashing out. Xavier scrambled away and grabbed a pistol, crying out in the same language. I heard a shot, felt an impact, and saw Captain Lazare over me, bale tendrils wrapping around his arm as he kneed my ribs and fought to grab my wrist. Kimona stood over his shoulder, her face twisted in horror. Metal flashed.
Fire, and bale, and pain, and a moment of blank disbelief as bleeding bone jutted from the stump of my right arm, and then everything, mercifully, slipped away into darkness.