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“Give me a minute.”

As the big ships crawl our way, a group of smaller attack boats moves out in front, speeding toward us. They send out long streams of fire over the water as they come.

“Right. You’re an idiot,” says Wanuri. “I’m going back to the real fight.”

“If you do, you’re going to miss it.”

“What?”

“This.”

Crouching by the barrel, I shout Hellion hoodoo as loud and long and pissed off as I can.

Fighting Hellbeasts in the arena isn’t a subtle job. I used the na’at as much as I could on the smaller ones, but the big ones I had to use hoodoo. The bigger the beast, the bigger the hex. It left me rusty when it came to small spells, but an expert at eviscerating house-size fuckers. But those were mostly close battles. I’ve never tried killing something as big as a ship and never anything this far away. I have no idea what’s going to happen.

But I know it’s going to be pretty fucking spectacular.

There’s an explosion by the muzzle and the gun rolls back a few feet. Over the attack ships, the air catches fire and blows three boats in the middle right out of the water. I shout hoodoo again. The air explodes. This time I miss, but a couple of the outer ships slow. I shout again, switching the hoodoo around a little.

This time the water beneath the remaining ships explodes, tossing them into the air. The blast also tosses a whole school of the tentacled underwater bastards upward with them. The ships and sailors that survive the blast are pulled into the churning water in a writhing mass of teeth and tentacles. I try shouting one more time, but nothing comes out. My voice is fried.

I sit down with my back against the gun, suddenly exhausted. Get the Aqua Regia and drink a big mouthful. It burns my raw throat like acid, but it’s worth it.

Wanuri sits down next to me. I pass her the Aqua Regia and she passes it right back.

“Keep your swill and tell me how you did that.”

I make a rasping noise and point to my throat.

“You can’t talk? That’s one blessing at least.”

The rest of the crew that uncovered the gun come up to where we’re sitting and stare out over the water. Nothing to do now but wait and see what happens next.

A lot of nothing occurs over the next few minutes. Eventually, though, one by one, the big ships turn and head back upriver away from us.

A cheer goes up a couple of boats back as the peanut gallery sees that they get to die tomorrow instead of right now. Our bunch cheers, too, but Wanuri and I just sit there. I know she’s thinking exactly what I am: We got lucky once, but what happens next time?

We head back to the ship, where the havoc is already breaking out drinks.

Daja is waiting for us.

“What did you do up there?”

I point to my throat.

“He’s gone mute, the poor dear,” says Wanuri as unsympathetically as possible. “What he did was what he’s best at. He talked them to death.”

Daja says, “Whatever that means, good job. The Magistrate wants to see you.”

I point to myself.

“Yes. Just you.”

There’s a party going on belowdecks. As I push through to the Magistrate’s stateroom, people clap me on the back and offer me drinks. I shake my head and keep moving. At the Magistrate’s door, I knock and go in.

Traven isn’t there anymore. I point to his bunk.

“Do not worry about the father,” the Magistrate says. “He just moved to the adjoining room to give us some privacy.”