Page 113 of A Flash of Golden Fire

Hillier examined me and nodded. “He’s carrying himself a bit straighter, now he’s an officer.”

“Captain, I was just on deck, and Hanes wanted me to tell you that he’s very worried about the weather.”

“The weather?”

“Aye. There’s a big storm coming. Well, the sky looks very nasty; that’s for certain.”

He frowned. “Hmm. We haven’t had a big one in a while. Apart from—” He gestured to me vaguely as he stood.

“Yes. He asked me if the coming storm was one of mine.”

Hillier and Captain Martin gazed at me with questions in their eyes.

“What?” I asked.

“Did you, uh… Has anyone made you cross, Rooster?” Dinesh asked, while Hillier listened attentively, his pencil poised over his paper.

I narrowed my eyes at Captain Martin.

“‘Has anyone made me cross’? Of all the—” I folded my arms over my chest. “You’remaking me cross right now, but I ain’t gonna call a storm.”

He gave a forced laugh.

“Right,” Hillier said.

I stomped my foot in frustration. “For fuck’s sake, my bloody powers ain’t like that. They ain’t a conscious thing I do. They just…happen.”

“When someone you love is threatened,” Dinesh agreed. “I know. But I wonder…”

I frowned. “You wonder what?”

But Captain Martin shook his head. “Never mind.”

He turned to Hillier. “Well, Hillier, I suppose we’d best batten down the hatches and warn the crew. If this is as bad as that beast several months ago, we’re going to need all of our luck and more.”

*

The storm hit as the sun went down, just as Hanes had predicted. We’d prepared as much as we were able, rolling up most of the sails and only using the storm jibs to keep us pointed in the right direction.

The ship lurched and jerked in the midst of the horrible gale. Hillier, Guthrie, and the captain were on deck, shouting orders as men hastened to follow them. Hillier had the wheel, fighting the wind to keep the ship steady, and Captain Martin stood nearby, holding onto the mizzen mast to keep his feet, both of them soaked to the skin. Strangely though, they seemed to know what to do and had an air of authority, as if they would get us through in one piece, which I chose to believe.

As an officer myself, I should have stayed with them, but since my sailing skills were abysmal, the captain had sent me downstairs, ostensibly to keep his rooms in order, although how I was supposed to stop things from tumbling off his desk and out of his cabinets, when theArrowrocked and lunged, I didn’t half know. The larger pieces of furniture were bolted down and didn’t present a problem, but the straight chair kept sliding back and forth, and eventually tipped over. I held onto one of the oak bedposts and prayed to a God, whom I didn’t believe in, to be merciful. I was sick with worry for the men up top, but I knew I wouldn’t be any good to anyone up there, and Dinesh would have been distracted with worry for me.

I was quite damp, still, and not very comfortable but glad to be below deck. The cabin was dim and dark with dancing shadows. Lightning lit the space in frequent bursts as thunder boomed with terrifying intensity. I daren’t light any of the lamps in case they fell from their hooks and caused a fire. Perhaps that was unlikely—what did I know, really?—but I wasn’t taking any chances.

I mumbled some barely remembered prayers and tried to remain calm. I didn’t want my desperation and fear to cause me to summon a supernatural tempest because that might be a bad idea in this situation. So I closed my eyes and tried to imagine blue skies and good times.

Then the cabin door slammed open, and I almost shit myself.

Domingo stood there, with his chartreuse robe belted over top of his shirt and trousers, and the small cage containing a frantic Esmaralda tucked under his arm.

“Oh, thank God, you’re here, Rooster!”

He shut the door and ran to the bed, wrapping his free arm around the footpost.

“Is the ship going to sink?” he asked, eyes wide with panic. “I don’t want to die!”

From somewhere, I summoned the pretence of calm.