Page 14

“Really? The way you pass wind in your sleep, Ithought—”

Fisher lunged, clipping me on the back of the head with her book as I skittered into the passageway. I tumbled into the far wall and she came after, cuffing me with the book a second time before I made my escape.

“You are a boor, Samuel Rosser,” she hissed after me.

I fled for the galley, trying and failing not to grin. Slader might be furious with me, and my dreamer’s sense might be a constant, nerve-tearing hum in the back of my mind, but riling Fisher always put me in a better mood.

That condition, however, did not outlive breakfast. I was halfway through a bowl of beans, sausage and rare fresh bread when the captain’s steward Willoughby came to fetch me.

“I’ve learned something,” Slader said as I entered the cabin, still trying to smooth my hair and look presentable. The man barely looked at me, handing over a note and returning to the window to squint at the docks. “Read that.”

I scanned the note. “‘Man-of-War in Antiphony Cove. No Name.’Where did this come from?”

“A woman I pay to keep her ear to the ground in the city,” Slader said, batting the matter aside with a casual hand. “It’s based on rumor. Perhaps it’s true. Perhaps it’s a ploy to get us to leaveport—wordof us has spread and there are any number of vessels here who do not want us in sight when they leave protected waters.”

Whallum was an Aeadine port, but criminals like Kaspin paid good money to keep the port neutral in the battle between lawkeeper and lawbreaker. Beyond the harbor, however? That protection ended.

Slader crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Take five crewmen who can ride and go investigate. Overland—discretionis of the utmost importance. Antiphony is an hour south. I’ve sent a boy to arrange for horses at the edge of the city.”

My weariness evaporated like smoke. Not only was this a chance to redeem myself, but if the ship we hoped for was in thatcove—wecould fulfill our commission here and now, without even leaving Aeadine. Without needing a Stormsinger.

“Yes, sir,” I said, hard-pressed to control my elation.

Slader held my gaze. “Do not disappoint me, Mr. Rosser.”

“I will not, sir.”

***

Roots and twigs dug into my ribs as I bellied through the snow to the edge of a cliff. The spruces we sheltered under caught at mycap—Iwas out of uniform, bundled into the wool breeches and quilted overcoat of a landsman. I tugged the cap back down over my forehead and rested a musket at my side, gesturing for the men to stop before we sent snow toppling over the cliff.

Antiphony Cove lay below us. A rim of trees, snow and ice decorated her cliffs, which dropped all the way down to a small beach and a girding of deadly, icy rocks. The cove’s mouth was equally high and sheer, framing a glimpse of a sunlit Winter Sea.

A sleek man-of-war was preparing to depart. A quick count marked at least sixty guns. The wood of the vessel was weathered to a dull, pale grey, and there was no paint anywhere in sight, no ornate name across her stern or other signaturedecoration—alack of features that made my heart beat faster and my resolve tighten. This could be Lirr, just as we hoped. But I could not be sure without seeing the figurehead, and it was obscured at this angle.

A whistle piped, amplified by the cliffs, and crew ferried goods from the beach to the ship by boat. Their every call reverberated with uncanny clarity, along with the clack and grind of block and rope as goods were lowered through open gratings.

“Three bits, boss,” one of my men said, crawling up. His name was Penn, and he was a quick, reliable fellow, always my first choice of companion on a mission. A cudgel hung from his hip, dragging at the snow, and his knitted cap had slipped up on his bald, pale head into an impish point.

He propped himself up on his elbows and raised a pinky finger. “First one, that ship’s got no name on her, true, and her figurehead no face, just a shroud, real eerie like. She’s Lirr’s, no mistake.”

I nodded as calmly as I could manage. “Very good, Mr. Penn. And?”

“Second bit,” Penn raised his ring finger, “I found the head of the trail, leadin’ down there, ’long with half a dozenpirates—Ileft Kit watchin’.” Penn brushed a clot of snow off his forehead and held up a third finger too. “Last, there’s a wagon comin’ up the road from town as we speak.”

More wagons meant the ship was unlikely to depart for several hours yet. But with all we needed to do to intercept it, that was not much time.

“To the trailhead, quickly then, and we will see what we can.” I gestured to two of the men to stay put, then crawled back from the ledge until I was far enough away to stand. Snow dislodged from the spruce boughs tumbled uncomfortably down my neck. Swiping at it, I nodded to Penn. “Lead the way.”

The trailhead was well hidden among the trees, but the sound of voices and Penn’s sure steps drew us onward. We sighted Kit, the watchman, and settled in beside him as wagon wheels trundled into sight.

“Fitch, boy! Run and tell the cap’nJuliette’s still in harbor, but not for long,” a woman said. I saw her boots as she dropped off the wagon, landing softly in the layers of snow-covered needles. From this angle her face was obscured, but she was Aeadine and wore men’s clothes.

At her words, a smaller pair of boots took off at a run towards the cliffs.

“Randalf got the singer, then?” a male voice inquired, his boots sidling up to the woman’s. She reset the distance between them with a pointed step, but the man only edged closer again, saying, “Good fortune for us, then. Wouldn’t fancy takin’ her fromHartnow, eh?”

“Mind your distance, Deans.”