Somehow, they had been invisible.
“That emblem never gets old,” Forecastle said. The woman holding a blade to his neck spit at his boots. She had a captain’s hat just like Forecastle’s, and skin as tanned as Tor’s, covered in various tattoos that looked faded and colorless next to her gleaming silver invisibility emblem. It would have taken an extraordinary amount of power to also make her crew and ship invisible. Tor wondered where she had learned to wield her ability so expertly.
Her voice was raspy when she spoke. “You have the gall to speak to me so casually, after what you did? I should take your tongue, fool.” She drove the blade even closer to his neck, and Captain Forecastle’s throat bobbed nervously.
“No need, no need. The watery hole gave us time to think…to…repent.”
Bluebraid laughed thunderously, without humor. “Save those lies for the fish.” She nodded roughly toward one of her crew—a boy who looked not much older than them. He wore a ragged leather vest, shorts, and worn brown boots; his hair was so long it reached past his shoulders. “Search them.”
The boy went to Tor first, and he tensed, waiting for him to draw a weapon—but the young pirate made no move to put a finger on him. Instead, he put his hand out, then dropped it. “Nothing of value,” he said in a voice far too deep to belong to a child.
There was still a blade to Tor’s throat, so close he didn’t dare breathe deeper than necessary. The arm that held the sword was crusted over and scaled like a fish. Tiny shells dotted the pirate’s knuckles.
Tor swallowed and felt the cool metal against his larynx.
The boy moved onto Melda.
“Just a few dobbles,” he sneered.
When the boy approached Engle, he twisted his face in disgust. “Just crumbled, stale pastries.”
Vesper was still in her room below. It seemed like they hadn’t discovered her yet. Maybe she had made herself incredibly tiny. Or maybe she had escaped, somehow, deep below the sea when she’d heard the commotion. Either way, Tor wasn’t surprised.
At last, the boy reached Captain Forecastle, who laughed nervously. “He’s gotten very good…”
The boy glared at him. “Yes,” he said, voice full of poison. “I’ve had twenty years of practice.”
“Twenty?” Engle seemed to not have been able to help himself.
Bluebraid turned her sharp gaze to him. “Twenty years, our lifelines have been frozen.” She dug her blade hard enough against Captain Forecastle’s throat that it produced a tumbling droplet of blood. “Twenty years of agony. Not being able to sleep or leave the sea.” Her nostrils flared. “Usually, lifelines mean nothing out here. But the curse that binds us is relentless.”
“But shouldn’t your curse have ended, like the others?” Engle wondered. Tor wished he would stop talking.
“The Night Witch didn’t do this to us… No, we had to make a deal with a deeper darkness for a chance to set us free.” She grinned down at Forecastle. “And that’s where you four come in.” She nodded at the young pirate boy, and he lifted his hand.
And smiled.
“You’ve got something quite valuable, don’t you, Forecastle?”
“Captain—” he began to correct.
But before he could finish his sentence, the boy stuck a hand into the inside of Captain Forecastle’s jacket and pulled something from one of its hidden pockets.
A compass.
The compass.
Tor forgot all about the sword then. He thrashed against the man’s grip, catching him by surprise. For a moment, he wriggled free. Then, the pirate’s scaled arm sliced against Tor’s as he fought to get ahold of him. “You lied to us!” he screamed out, as the blade found his neck once more. “You were using us to gain passage to Perla, then you were going to lose us and find the pearl yourself!”
Captain Forecastle shrugged. “Never make a bargain with a pirate that isn’t inked in blood.”
Bluebraid grinned. She released Forecastle, pushing him to the floor, then stepped over him. She walked slowly to Tor, her boots echoing loudly against the deck. Closer, Tor could see that her thick, blue braid was dotted with a dozen diamonds. She smiled. “What do you know of the Pirate’s Pearl?”
Tor stiffened. He said nothing.
She kept smiling as she snapped her fingers, and the young pirate boy took Engle by the front of his shirt. He hauled him to the edge of the ship. “We’ll throw him overboard. And I’ll make him more than just invisible. He’ll cry for help, but you won’t hear him. You’ll search for hours, but you won’t see him. Not until it’s too late…”
Engle’s eyes widened. Tor had never seen him look so afraid. He imagined his friend was replaying that day in the Lake of the Lost—when he had almost been lost forever. When he had been dragged deep beneath the gray water, with no hope of ever surfacing.
No.
Never again.
They needed to get away, but Tor’s plan would mean losing the compass. He looked at his friend—
And made a decision.
Tor met Bluebraid’s gaze. He lifted his arms, and the ropes flew to him, startling the pirate holding the sword to his neck so badly that Tor was able to step away. Even Bluebraid seemed shocked, her eyes wide as he pushed his hands down as hard as he could, like he was trying to break through concrete with just his fingers, groaning at the effort. And the ship followed.
“Hold your breath!” he screamed.
The mermaid at the bow plunged headfirst underneath the water.
There was a roar as the ship dove deep through the sea, fast as lightning. Tor closed his fists, and the other ropes found Melda, Engle, and, begrudgingly, Captain Forecastle, holding them secure. Connected to the ship, he could sense Vesper below in her room. The force of the ocean swept Bluebraid and her crew away, left in Cloudcaster’s wake. The ship continued to sail down through the deep seas, bubbles erupting in streams behind them.
Then, seconds later, Tor pulled on the ropes, and they rushed toward the surface.
Sunlight
