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“Then thirty percent to compensate you. For friends.”
“Three ships! What a haggle!” Kavax proclaims. “What a haggle. Sometimes a man needs a good haggle.” He claps me on the back, making the joints crack again. “If only we had caught Aja. That’d be a spoil to divide!”
“She fled into the sea, unfortunately.” I gesture to Ragnar, who stands at the edge of the bridge. “Heard he did well.” Pale and tall, he continues looking at me from behind his beard and runic tattoos, appearing as devoid of emotions as Kavax and Daxo are full of them.
“The leader of his boarding party got killed. So did the lieutenants. Lots of heads smashed. They ran into some of Kellan’s friends,” Kavax says dourly as he rummages through his pockets for his impatient fox, who clawed at his leg for more jelly beans. “I don’t have any more, my little prince.” He smiles up at me hopefully. “Do you have any jelly beans?”
“No. Sorry.”
“Ragnar there took command. Did himself well,” Daxo says.
“Took command?” I ask.
Kavax explains. “There was a kill squad of Peerless. Half a dozen Bellona blade dancers, real noble boys, carved up all our Golds and most of the Obsidians. The Stained there collected the surviving Grays and a few Obsidians and managed to get the ship.”
“Any of these blade dancers survive?”
“No.”
Ragnar looks at the ground again, as if expecting a reprimand.
“Well done, my goodman,” I say instead.
Both Kavax and Daxo squint at the familiarity.
Worth it to see Ragnar surprise me with a smile. A broad, yellow-toothed grin.
“Do you think he could do more?” I ask.
Daxo hesitates. “What do you mean?”
“Could he lead absent a Gold?”
Daxo and Kavax share a worried glance. “What would be the benefit in that?” Daxo asks.
“I could send him places I could not send Golds.”
“There is no such place.” Kavax crosses his arms. I go too far.
I smile to placate them. “Of course. Just a theory. The mind wanders from time to time.” I clap Kavax on the shoulder and they depart together for their own ship.
“You overstepped,” Orion says.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You have ears.”
I look down, searching the pale blue tattoos on her dark skin as if the math there held the key to understanding her mind. “You’re observant for a Blue.”
“Because I know how the world works outside my digital sync? Comes from working the docks, dominus. When you’re at the bottom, you have to notice everything.”
“Which docks?” I ask.
“Phobos. Father was a Docker, born outside the Sects. Died when I was small. A young girl has to be on her toes if she wants to grow big in the Hive dock cities. It’s the only way to beat the monsters.”
“It’s not the only way,” I say.
“No?” she asks, surprised.
