Page 174 of Tempest

A daring gambit in years prior.

And perhaps an impossible one now.

The Covenant was too well-known, her captain hunted. She doubted Valerian would fly another flag now, even to save his ship.

No flag but the black, she thought, the words still lingering on her lips.

Wincing, she returned the papers to the chest and made to close the lid, only to linger on one last bit of parchment, lined with creases, as if it had been crumpled and recently flattened out again.

Her fingers brushed the scrap, lifting it carefully. The page felt old, dusty, two inked lines written at the top in a language Cat could not read but knew how to identify.

Arcayan.

A translation was scrawled hastily below, along with a small sketch.

May the sea always sing for you.

May the storm be your shield.

Cat read the words over and over. The first line was long-branded in her mind—but she had never heard the second.

Her breath caught as her eyes lowered, the little drawing beneath the translation at first imperceptible. But then undeniable.

The short tube with the notches, rough gold worn with age.

Valerian’s amulet.

Her voice shook as she spoke aloud.

“What did you find, Val?”

* * *

THE DOOR DID not budge, locked fast. And while Cat considered breaking it down with the desk chair, she ventured it would not be the best course of action. The last thing she wanted was to end up in the brig with Fell and his crew, crammed in amongst stinking men who hated her as much as Valerian Kane did, if not more.

The last time they held me captive on this ship, I was given free rein to roam. She lamented that little gasp of freedom now, if darkly amused by how the times had changed.

Cat Rose had been no threat to the Covenant ten years ago.

But I am now.

Days passed, with only Adelo knocking at the door to bring her food and water.

“Quite the quarrel between you two this time,” he mused two days in, shaking his head. “Just apologize and be done with it, Cat.”

Cat tore hungrily into a piece of bread and scowled in reply.

“I have nothing to apologize for,” she said, taking the tray of food and jug of water back to the desk. She was careful to avoid the spray of maps and books strewn over the floor, having torn Valerian’s carefully organized shelves apart almost immediately.

Adelo shook his head at the mess but retreated for the evening, leaving Cat to her lamps and the captain’s papers. As before, he had removed his more recent logs and charts. His voyages of the last few months remained a mystery.

One Cat was eager to unravel.

I intend to get off this ship with at least something to show for it, she told herself, poring over his ledgers, looking for some clue. Especially if the navy closes in. I will need something to trade for my freedom, and I suppose the crew of the Fledge will hardly be worth the prize.

It was tedious work, sifting through columns of carefully inked inventory and lists of stores. Taken on, carried off, bartered for, stolen, or bought. In Alvaris, in Nera, in city ports and little village docks. The Covenant was careful to avoid Meridian holdings in the north, where the navy’s grip was strongest, beyond the protection of the storm-ridden Furies. Tongue between her teeth, Cat took careful notes of her own, alongside a little map where she marked hasty lines of passage.

If Valerian was assembling an armada of ships, all commandeered from the Meridian navy, he would need somewhere to anchor them.