Page 103 of Tempest

Cat kept her cards face down on the table, lifting them only enough to glimpse the symbols beneath.

Garedo was far steadier than either of his companions, neither drinking nor rising to anger. But he sighed at his cards, clearly disappointed with the hand dealt.

“We should all go to sleep soon,” he muttered. His sable-brown eyes lifted from his cards to the blackness beyond the rails of the ship. “These are the Furies. We should take advantage of the good weather while we can.”

Cat lifted the corner of a card again, though she had her hand memorized. Then she sighed and looked around the table, offering the silken, polite smile of a lady.

“Gentlemen, you may quit whenever you like,” she said with a wave of a hand. “I’ll not keep you from your bunks.”

They responded with riotous laughter, even Cavallid chuckling into his cards. He shook his head, black curls falling into his eyes.

“We’ve got her on the run. This hand’s ours,” he said, elbowing Garedo.

“Think what you like, Mr. Cavallid,” Cat said with a prim look. “But I mean it. I’ll not have you falling asleep at your stations on my account. After all, it is quite a long journey to Archenport. You need all your strength.”

Across the table, Cavallid gave a shrug and a snort. “Hardly, we can make the run to Drowning Key with our eyes shut.”

Drowning Key.

If it was a slip of the tongue, Cavallid gave no indication, nor did the others.

Cat checked her cards again to give herself a moment to think. She chewed the inside of her cheek and tried to recall the map laid across the floor of the captain’s cabin, with its numerous keys, the little spits of sand too small to be deemed an island. She wondered if Drowning Key was one of them, marked in smudged ink, their true destination revealed.

“Of course you can, you’re able sailors, all of you,” she said graciously, watching as Cavallid discarded a pair of crescents. Beside him, Garedo’s face twitched infinitesimally.

With his own turn, the Itziman turned over a black star and added it to the pile.

Cat clucked her tongue and Garedo froze, his hand still extended. Again, Brimley laughed into his bottle.

“But not so able card players, I fear,” Cat said, her lady’s smile shifting into a far more devilish smirk. “Mr. Garedo, I believe you hold the X.”

For a long, silent moment, Garedo did not move, as if under some spell. It was enough to make Cat doubt her own counting, her own hand, all the tells she noted over the course of the game. Until the Itziman’s face pulled into a warm grin and he tossed his cards across the tabletop.

The X glared up at them all, the ink red as blood.

“Lady Rose, I think you may be a mind reader,” he chuckled, shoving the pot at her.

“Just lucky, Mr. Garedo. Or as lucky as you can be while being held prisoner,” she added, to another roar of laughter around the table.

But for Cavallid, who slid back his stool and threw up his hands. “I’m finished, finisio!” he grumbled, dipping into harried Esperese and back again. “I cannot afford this. I did not leave the sugar fields to go into debt to someone else.”

Metal clinked as Cat piled her winnings.

“Mr. Cavallid is right, we should all turn in for the evening,” she said, her mind already back in the cabin with the map and the books and Drowning Key.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

The familiar voice cut the sea air like a knife, and Brimley leapt to stand, swaying on unsteady feet. Garedo and Cavallid reacted less strongly, though both turned to face the silhouette standing just beyond the circle of light. Cat did not miss Cook doing the same, with Ratter hiding behind his back, the little boy reduced to a bundle of nerves.

She could not blame him.

The sudden appearance of Captain Kane was certainly cause for worry. Especially for Lady Rose.

How long he had observed them, hidden amongst the many shadows of the deck, Cat could not say. But she forced herself to watch as he prowled towards the lantern, the long length of him stepping into the light.

He looked as he had earlier, albeit with a salt-stiff jacket thrown over his white shirt. The collar was still open, his chain a flash of gold alongside the mysterious tattoo. The ring in his ear gleamed to match, as did the chain around his wrist. Valerian Kane was not disheveled by sleep, and again Cat wondered how long he had watched them play. It made her shiver, despite the mild night air.

“Captain, we were just finished,” Brimley said, tucking the rum behind his back.