The cage’s sliding door was secured by another big padlock. Its roof was a dented metal sheet. Wrenn pointed to some scattered meat bones that the Insect had voraciously scraped clean. It had macerated some into a sticky white paste and dropped it into the space between the cage and hull wall. “They make short work of marrow bones!”
I grimaced. “I thought I could smell the magnificent beast.” I thrust the lantern at Wrenn, dashed aft to the ladder and pulled myself up much faster than he could climb. He struggled behind me, probably realizing for the first time what I can do. I swung my knees between the rungs and bent them to hang on, leaned backward upside-down, face-to-face with Wrenn. I prodded his chest. “Mist will regret her latest trick.”
I flexed back upright and swarmed to the orlop deck. I scrambled onto the companionway and emerged from the hatch onto the main deck. All the sailors were eating their breakfast and rolling up their hammocks. Mouths full of porridge hung open in astonishment as I bounded past.
“Comet!” Wrenn shouted. “Eszai are all equal! Stop and-”
“Kiss it,” I said. I jumped off and flapped across to the Stormy Petrel.
Mist is, of course, an early riser; she was already in her office eating ginger biscuits from a toast rack and walking a pair of brass compasses across an expansive chart draped over the table. I touched down outside next to the red hurricane lamp. I pounced into her cabin, right onto her, bearing her to the floor, my knees on her belly. The biscuits and a cafetiere went flying. Mist was in control of herself; she saw my expression and screamed, “Saker!”
“No more deceit!” I spat.
“Jant,” she said. “Uppers make you manic. Why don’t you calm down, before I have you locked in the brig?”
Her long white hair spread out, finer than silk. Her right hand edged behind the table’s baluster leg, reaching for a paperknife. I snatched it and clattered it away against the bulkhead. “An Insect!” I said. “All those boxes of halberds! Why is there a live Insect on the
Mist’s fair skin turned paler, her amethyst eyes wide. “An Insect?”
“In a fucking cage!”
She caught her breath. “Please get off me.”
I didn’t want to let her move. I could only see one course of action. “We must sail back to Awndyn. Fulmer will turn these over-ornamented crates around and take us home. In the Emperor’s name, with god’s will and the Circle’s protection, you can consider yourself under arrest. I’ll bring you before San, at knifepoint if need be!”
“Comet…” she said calmly.
“The only good thing about being at sea is we won’t be eaten by Insects. And you bring one along! A huge one! I’ll throw it overboard…”
She saw there was no point in dissembling. “Aye, I thought you would pry into everything like a starved rat. Let me up and I’ll explain.”
As I disentangled her cloak folds from around us, Lightning glowered into the cabin with a cursing eye. The sea wind ripped his fur-lined coat into billows. He grabbed me and pushed me away from Mist. I hit the wall hard and sprawled down in a winded pile by the joist. “Damn it, are you fucking trying to break my wings?”
“What is going on?”
Mist held her upper arm as if I had hurt her. She conjured an expression of gratitude for the Archer and sobbed experimentally but it had no effect on him. “Jant is such a junkie.” She shrugged. “He’s so screwed up I am tempted to Challenge him myself.”
“No! This is nothing to do with cat!” I can’t escape my one failing; my fellow Eszai use the label to taint
Lightning listened carefully and at the latter he held up his hand. “I know about them. Of course, Jant, think about it. Stop flouncing around and sit still. Would you travel to an unfamiliar country without armaments? Our ships are our only means of returning home so they’re worth more than the Empire to us now. We have to protect them.”
“Mist said the island was peaceful,” I said sullenly.
“On the other hand, shipping Insects sounds sinister in the extreme. What is it for?”
Mist kicked open her folding chair and regarded the coffee soaking into her sea chart. “I have a license. No, not the usual showground license. A warrant you’ll respect.” She unlocked a tortoiseshell casket and removed a paper with the Emperor’s seal.
She passed it to me and I read aloud: “‘Every item of cargo carried by Mist on her journey is required and permitted in my name. It will benefit the Fourlands at the present time and in the future. San, god’s guardian of Awia, Morenzia, Plainslands and Darkling, January 19, 2020.’
“That’s all it says. It’s the Emperor’s signature all right. But does he know we have a live cargo?”
“Comet, I’m surprised at you, suggesting that I could keep information from the Emperor,” Ata said mildly. “Aye, listen, gentlemen. Tris has no Insects. Imagine their surprise, interest and fascination when I exhibit one. I will tell them: the Circle protects the world from these maneaters-see our benevolence. Even the fact that I have brought it such a distance alive will right well impress them. The governors of Tris can have the Insect for a zoo or a circus, or make soup out of it for all I care. I’ll present it to them with all our Darkling silver and Donaise wine.”
“Bullshit,” I said and glared at her as only Rhydanne can.
Lightning said, “I think Mist is telling the truth.”
“I’m going to hang her off the thingy mast on the doojah until she confesses and Fulmer can take us back to dock.”
Lightning said, “We can’t wrest command of the fleet from Mist. Anyway, Fulmer is not just captain of the
The wind changed direction, the ship heaved, we lurched and Lightning shifted position woodenly, his coat hanging in limp folds to the floor.
Ata smiled and shook her head. She tied her platinum hair into a ponytail, making her strong-boned face look even more martial. She smoothed down her waistcoat with its frogging and brass-domed buttons. “Don’t worry. We won’t risk enraging Eleonora. God, Lightning; I try to show you more of the world, but you just bring your own world with you.”
I was struck by a thought. If I was Wrenn, sincere and uncertain, or a sailor who witnessed my rapid departure from the
Wrenn pushed open the glass-paned door and appeared, abashed. His shirtsleeves were wet with spray; water squeezed out of his soaked boot seams at every step.
I said, “Great, why don’t we invite the rest of the Circle in here and then we can have a party?”
“You could really hear me?”
“Not at all, but I thought it best to check.”
“Oh. Clever,” he said, downcast. He glanced around, taking in the leaded bay windows that gave a view over the stern, Mist’s cot with its embroidered canopy, a stand of scrolled charts, the navigational instruments laid out on her ledger and ginger biscuits all over the floor. With a fencer’s grace he had adapted well to the ship’s dimensions and he was short enough to stand without stooping, whereas Lightning rested his head on his hand pressing the beam.
Wrenn was well aware of Lightning’s one-night stand with Ata. It was common knowledge that one night Lightning comforted her a little too assiduously and now they have a daughter. Wrenn folded his wings submissively, their elbows at his backside and the wrist-joints just visible from the front, clasping his shoulders. He picked his way with care: “My lord. Um. Lightning. I respect your experience but this is my first assignment as an Eszai. You know that’s important. I don’t want to return empty-handed only a couple of days after setting out. I’m
