Page 63 of The Cradle of Ice

Eager to see it all himself, he hurried up the steep staircase. At the top, he hauled himself into the bustle of the wheelhouse. Llyra huddled with a group of men. Rami and Loryn stood to the side, under the watchful eye of only a single guard now, who kept a palm resting on the pommel of a sword.

The ship’s captain turned from the large wheel as Kanthe joined them. “Welcome to the Quisl.” She waved to encompass the ship. “While we stole this ketch for this venture, I’ve taken it upon myself to give her a name. In Rhysian, it means roughly Poisoned Dagger. So best watch your step.”

She tempered this veiled threat with a smile. She was a long-legged woman in Klashean black leather, but her features were snowy, nearly silvery, with ice-blue eyes. He suspected she must hail from the far-off Archipelago of Rhys, near the southernmost turn of the Crown. This was further supported by the smooth fall of black hair tied in a long tail and braided through with tiny silver bells. He knew little about the Rhysians, except it was a matriarchal society renowned for its assassins.

Even the crew who flanked her, manning the maneuvering cranks and levers, were all women, as was the ketch’s young navigator. They all bore the same complexion and dark hair.

The captain nodded to him, while not ringing a single bell in her braid.

Kanthe suppressed a shiver.

It was said that a Rhysian assassin could move unseen and unheard, even when adorned with those silvery chimes. The only warning of your death was said to be the quiet tinkle of a single bell announcing your end.

Her smile broadened, amused, perhaps sensing his discomfort. “You’re the last aboard. Come forward if you like and watch us depart. It’s quite the show.”

Put at ease by her welcoming manner, Kanthe accepted her offer. He crossed to one of the giant curved windows. The alchymy to craft such large domes of strong glass was a guarded secret among Klasheans. As he drew close, it felt like stepping toward open air. The window curved high to show the sky and low to reveal what lay under the ship’s bow. It was unnerving.

He swallowed and backed a step.

The captain bellowed, while leaning over to cast her voice through the highhorn to the rest of the ship, “Hold fast! We’re off!”

She pulled a lever, while gripping the wheel with her other hand.

Small pops released the tethers. The ropes fell away from the hull. Free now, the ship shot upward. The four flashburn engines roared in unison, casting flames and smoke below the keel. The ship blasted skyward.

Thrown by the sudden acceleration, Kanthe fell forward, landing his palms against the window. For a terrible moment, he thought he’d fall out, but the glass held. He watched the stone walls blur past the ship’s prow.

Then they were out of the shadowy well and into the open air. The brightness blinded. Still, he spotted a column of fiery ash and smoke churning upward from the center of a walled garden. Before he could study it further, wings unfurled on either side of the hull, catching the air. The ship angled away, sweeping quickly over the palace towers.

Other ketches dotted the sky, circling on their wings or whisking away. The earlier gongs must have panicked enough of the imri, the richest among them, who sought to escape and seek safer harbors until the danger subsided.

Kanthe smiled, appreciating Symon’s plan. The other ships offered the perfect cover for their flight, one ketch among many.

The captain called to him, her voice teasing, “If you get handprints on my glass, you’ll be cleaning all my windows.”

“Sorry.” Kanthe pushed off the glass, collected himself, and retreated toward the others, who were gathered at the back of the wheelhouse.

As he joined them, a noise drew his attention to a closet next to the navigation station where the ship’s maps were stored. The others looked that way, too. Something kicked against the door from inside, accompanied by muffled cries.

Llyra squeezed past Kanthe. “Looks like someone is awake.”

The guildmaster pulled the door open. A figure was folded on the floor, bound and gagged. Kanthe stepped closer and looked down in horror, recognizing the face, the raw fury.

Aalia …

“Your betrothed proved to be quite the lioness,” Llyra said.

Kanthe swung toward Rami. “I didn’t know.”

Rami’s eyes were huge, his face darkening. His fingers ran to his wrists, likely searching for knives that were missing.

Kanthe remembered Symon’s statement from before, when Kanthe had asked Rami to come with them. Symon had claimed they hadn’t needed a hostage. Kanthe understood now.

Because they already had one.

Llyra waved at Aalia. “Extra insurance. We may need it.” She shrugged. “And if not, she’ll fetch a generous ransom.”

Kanthe breathed hard. He had asked Rami to trust him. He reached for his friend’s arm. “I truly didn’t know.”