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“Yes, you’re captain … for now.”
There’s nothing else to say to that. I move past him to where Dia stands at the helm. She’s a wizened old crone, but she’s half fae, so gods alone know how old she actually is. For all that her medium-brown face is lined with wrinkles and her hair is white peppered with black instead of the other way around, she’s spry on her feet and has the sharpest mind I’ve ever encountered. “Captain.”
“Dia. How are we looking?” We haven’t been moving as quickly as I’d like; the winds seeming to work against us from the moment we got our orders about this particular sea monster. We don’t have many details beyond the fact that it’s killed several people in the village on Sarvi. But most of our orders come in like that—there are deaths and we’re sent to investigate and remove whatever monster is responsible.
Dia’s brown eyes glaze over into milky white. Her magic is one of the strangest—and most useful—I’ve ever encountered. She’s a weather mage who, by some twist of family lineage, rather than being able to control the weather, has precognition linked specifically with weather patterns. We’re almost never caught unawares in a storm because she’s on board.
She finally shakes her head and her eyes clear. “We have a problem. That little squall we intended to use to speed our way along has developed into a ship killer. We can skirt the edges of it, but it will take us significantly off course and add nearly a week to the journey.” She taps one wizened finger against the helm. I let her think. I know this part of Threshold as well as she does, but I’ve long since learned that the best way to manage the strong personalities in my crew is to let them have their say. Especially when I’m in agreement. “If we cut to the west, we can make port in Yaltia just as it hits. Rough ride, but nothing we can’t handle. Storm should be through in the next day. That way we only lose two days instead of seven.”
It’s no competition. I glance at Miles. For once, he doesn’t seem inclined to argue for the sake of asserting his own dominance. He shrugs. “Sounds like a plan.”
I hate that it feels like he’s giving me permission instead of the other way around. “You know what to do.”
He nods and starts barking orders, and the crew shifts like a well-oiled machine to meet the new demands.
There’s the added bonus of Yaltia being close enough to the attacks that they might have more updated news about what kind of situation we’re headed into with this particular monster. My crew is experienced and good at what they do, but every bit of information we can gather ahead of time is worth its weight in gold.
It will also give me an opportunity to see if the witch intends to keep her vow … or attempts to escape at the first opportunity.
CHAPTER 6
Evelyn
AFTER THE POCKET DIMENSION TRICK THAT IS THE CAPTAIN’S quarters, I shouldn’t be surprised when Kit leads me through a door at the bottom of the staircase and into a space that is blatantly too big to be contained within the walls of the ship. I look at the polished floors and the hallway studded with easily a dozen doors. “Neat trick.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Kit smiles. Ne isn’t like Miles or the captain. There’s something relaxing about nir presence that feels a bit like ne is exuding Xanax from nir pores.
I press my thumb to the glyph tattoo just below my left collarbone, but the sensation doesn’t change. So, not a spell. Perhaps it’s a feature of nir ancestry. I don’t think ne is human, or at least not a flavor of human I’ve encountered before. “Are you from my realm?”
“I doubt it.” Ne heads down the hallway, nir long strides eating up the distance and forcing me to hurry to keep up. “Unless you’re from a realm where all but the tallest peaks have fallen into a toxic sea and most of the population lives on airships.”
“Nope.” I knew there were countless realms out there, a patchwork quilt of existence that boggles the mind, but I never had to think about it before. The most realm-hopping anyone does these days is when they make deals with bargainer demons. And then they hop only to one realm, instead of ending up in Threshold.
Holy fuck, I’m in Threshold.
Eventually, that is going to sink in fully, but for now I’m still in survival mode. I don’t bother to ask Kit about the parameters of the vow. No reason to show my hand ahead of time. “If the ship sinks and I’m in here, do I sink, too?”
“Yes.” Ne points to the door at the end of the hallway. “Through there is the mess hall and med bay. Your room will be here.” Ne moves to a door identical to the others. It leads into a relatively nice room that would be at home in any college campus across the US. “Bathroom is shared with your roommate, Lucky.”
I blink. “Each of these rooms has its own bathroom?” I went through a heavy pirate phase back in my teen years, and the whole life seemed rather glamorous until Bunny sat me down and talked about scurvy and poop decks and the reality of how damned stinky everyone was over those long voyages. It effectively killed any true desire to be a proper historical pirate.
This is something else entirely.
Kit bursts out laughing. “Trust me, it’s better for everyone this way. Before the captain sprang for the extra-large magical expansion, there were more fights over showers than there were over meals or shifts. Beyond that, with as varied as the crew is, everyone’s needs are a little different.”
I can see how that would be true, but it doesn’t explain why Bowen—er, the captain—would care. “He’s paying for it with what?”
Kit’s open expression shutters. “Best you talk to him about it if you want more information.” Ne hesitates. “Everyone needs a bit of a time to adjust when they’re first brought on. That will buy you some grace, but not if you’re trying to make trouble. I suggest you don’t abuse it.”
I give nem a wide-eyed look. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” I know how to work a long con, though I don’t normally have the patience for that sort of thing. I also can’t take for granted that anyone would lend me a willing ear on this ship. It’s entirely possible—probable, even—that they are all as murderous as Miles or as horrifically boring and law-abiding as Bowen.
I haven’t seen anyone as attractive, though.
No.
No, absolutely not.
I might have terrible taste in partners, but even I have to have limits. A grumpy, uptight pirate paladin would have Bunny emerging from whatever plane of existence she’s landed on in her afterlife to slap the shit out of me. Not that Bowen would consider himself a paladin, but if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s a fucking paladin.
