She hadn’t trusted him to guide them clear of the docks of Subrosa that day, but out in the open skies she let him take the wheel. She stood by his side, ready to snatch back control in case he pointed them at an island at full speed. It hadn’t been a necessary precaution. He was every bit as in tune with the movements of the ship that day as he was now. He might just be the best investment she’d ever made at Subrosa, and it only cost her a few meals and some hot water. She wasn’t sure whether it was Tisker or she who was more proud the day he received his first crew share from a job’s payout. He’d stared at the money in his hand, then tucked it away quickly, as though he were still a thief in danger of being caught. Bought himself that jacket of his with it, then showed the rest of them how to stitch hidden pockets that sly fingers couldn’t easily get into.
Sophie knotted his ’locks for him, a whole bank of them across his crown, and shaved the sides and back. It was his first haircut worthy of the name, and he’d never quit the habit of rubbing his scalp to feel the shorn stubble prickle against his hand. Except at the helm, where little could distract him.
Talis still took the wheel when they were on a long haul and Tisker needed a rest, but his place under the wheelhouse was secured, and he’d never given her a reason to regret that rare act of charity.
Tisker’s coffee was cold and Talis’s was long gone when The Serpent Rose finally made a visible course correction to move around the island. Tisker flashed her a grin, which disappeared just as quickly. His eyes were on the craggy underside of the hovering landmass, far as he could see it before the lift balloon blocked the view above. Jagged downward spires of rock with scraggly brush clinging to them pointed at the tender canvas of Wind Sabre’s lift envelope like dangerous clawed fingers. Tisker had allowed them plenty of room to slip under, and Sophie was on watch atop the envelope of course, but the sharp stone made its threats anyhow. The mica dust that collected in drifting motes around the island abraded her skin as Tisker accelerated through.
Dug brought them goggles, which they gratefully accepted, and the three of them stood watching the rough surface of the island. Collective breath held, waiting to see the clear skies open up again.
When the first stars sparkled beyond the edge of the landmass above them, Talis couldn’t help but let out a triumphant exhalation. Tisker adjusted pitch and Wind Sabre rose at a steeper angle.
At the same moment that Talis dared to believe they’d make it, Sophie yelled something from above that was swallowed by the winds. Dug moved quickly to the railing and echoed her alarm.
Around the bulk of the lift balloon, The Serpent Rose’s hull came into view before them. Directly in their path. Sitting there, all-stop, like it had been waiting patiently for hours. Gun ports open, and a field of cannons—eighteen-pounders at least—stared them down.
Talis felt an icy grip on her heart.
“Silus’s fragrant winds!” Tisker pulled levers and turned the wheel to prevent them from colliding with the larger ship. Wind Sabre slowed, shedding that precious speed that he had worked so hard to gain.
Sophie appeared down the ratlines, sliding on the insides of her boots and controlling her descent—just barely—with her bare hands. She hit the deck and slunk back into the shadow of the deckhouse, pressing herself against the structure. Not afraid, no, but anticipating Talis’s next order. Dug’s fist clenched so tightly that Talis heard his knuckles pop across the length of the deck between them. They all knew what she knew.
“All right.” She put her hand back on Tisker’s shoulder. “Top marks for trying. Let’s get ready for the boarding party.”
She looked at Sophie, hidden from The Serpent Rose’s view by the deck house and the lift balloon above. It wasn’t the first time they’d been stopped by a patrol, and they weren’t out of tricks yet.
“Sophie, man down.”
Sophie met the command with an impish grin—slightly feral, slightly childlike. “Man down, aye, Cap.”
“Put that ring in cold storage, would you?”
Already heading for the access belowdecks, Sophie waved her understanding over her shoulder as she made for one of the many hidden compartments onboard Wind Sabre. They were too small for most people. Laughable for Dug. But Sophie was shorter than the average Cutter, almost as small as a Rakkar, and tiny enough to comfortably fit in all but the smallest lockers on the ship. When The Serpent Rose’s crew unavoidably searched the decks for all hands, Talis would still have a game piece in play.
“They’ll be on our starboard,” she called after Sophie, then turned back to Dug and Tisker. “All right, you two. Time to look honest.”
Tisker gave her a crooked grin.
“Not even close,” she said and flashed him a scowl. But this was a practiced routine.
They stowed their expensive goggles and donned threadbare wool jackets and fingerless gloves. Covered tattoos and downgraded their appearances. Tisker wrapped a moth-eaten gray scarf over the gold and silver finery he wore around his neck and pulled a knit cap down over his glittering earring.
Not much could be done about Dug. A Bone man on a Cutter ship wasn’t a common sight, but it did happen. Best he could do was slouch and try to look less dangerous, and cover his warrior’s hairstyle with a felt hat. He bit down on a battered cigar, which made him look older and less predatory, somehow, and had the added bonus of preventing him from grinding his teeth when he had to withstand the inevitable Imperial insults.
Transformations completed, they looked like nothing more than struggling merchants with too few hands to manage the rigging. Beneath notice, easy
