Now he had also found out he was Molucco’s main heir and rich beyond his wildest dreams. Yet, on some level, Connor still felt like the same naive kid who had listened with undisguised awe as Cheng Li had explained how the vast, carved wooden doors to the Rotunda had been plundered by one of the academy’s founding captains, during a daring raid in Rajasthan.
As his palm made contact with the ancient Indian wood, Connor remembered what Cheng Li had said that first time:
Now, following Cate, Grace, and Jasmine inside the Rotunda, he saw that the vast circular room was packed. The dome of the building was punctuated by glass portholes in varying shades of blue. Moonlight filtered through them, sending shafts of light down upon all those gathered beneath. It was as if they were convening at the bottom of the ocean.
There was amphitheater seating all around the room, save for the center, where a raised platform had been set up. Around the platform itself was a ring of seats, soon to be filled by the great and the good of the pirate world. As Connor walked along the plush blue carpet toward the front, he saw that two glass cases, each containing a sword, were resting on the central table. Glancing up to the ceiling of the Rotunda, he felt a shiver of electricity race up his spine.
High above the platform, suspended by thin steel wires, were glass cases just like those on the table below. Each of the cases contained a sword that had once belonged to one of the most celebrated pirate captains of all time. Most of those pirates were dead now, but somehow their swords kept their presence within the room, a sign of the power they once wielded and the rich history that bound together all those gathered here now.
“Come on, Connor.” He felt Jasmine’s hand on his arm. “It’s time to take our seats.”
Drawing his eyes away from the glass cases, he followed Jasmine along the row. Cate was already sitting down, her eyes fixed ahead, staring at the two swords on the central table. Scanning the crowd, Connor noticed Grace taking her seat a couple of rows in front of him, alongside Lorcan Furey and Obsidian Darke. It was a sign of the strength of the new alliance between the Pirate Federation and the Nocturnals that key Nocturnal personnel were attending tonight’s Council of War.
Connor noticed there were four empty seats next to Barbarro Wrathe. They were not for Trofie and Moonshine, as they both now sat down at the end of Connor’s own row. Moonshine grinned at Connor. Connor nodded, then turned toward the stage. Commodore Ahab Black, chief officer of the Pirate Federation, had just taken to the platform and a hush had descended upon all those in attendance. Yet still, four empty chairs remained on the dais.
“Where’s Captain Fallico?” Jasmine whispered in Connor’s ear. “It’s unlike him to be late. Especially for such an important event.”
Connor shook his head, distracted from Jasmine’s words by her perfume. Shaking her head softly, she leaned away again as Commodore Black began to speak.
“You have been called here for a Council of War, but before we begin, we have an important ceremony to conduct. Some of you may feel that a war such as we are currently engaged in allows us no time for this. But, ladies and gentleman, pirates
“Here lie two swords belonging to pirates who have given their lives in the current conflict. This sword was wielded by John Kuo, one of the most famous names of his generation, the former headmaster of this academy and a pirate who shaped the Pirate Federation into what it is today.” Black lifted his eyes to address the congregation directly. “Commodore Kuo’s famous Toledo blade has hung in a case here in the Rotunda for many years, brought down for the commodore himself to use on special days. He last used it when Cheng Li became a captain, in the Captains’ Race that formed part of the celebrations. John was the firm favorite to win that race.” Black shook his head sadly. “But events proved otherwise. That day, Commodore Kuo lost not only the race but also his life. His sword was stolen by his killers, and it is only thanks to a young pirate who has already made quite a name for himself—Connor Tempest—that the Toledo Blade was recovered and will tonight be returned to its rightful place, in the firmament of weapons above our heads.”
Commodore Black paused to glance up above, then brought his eyes down once more. “It will not surprise you that we come together to honor the achievements of a pirate like John Kuo, whose deeds are legendary in our world. But, perhaps you are surprised that we would even add this other sword to the cases above.
Connor leaned over to Jasmine. “So maybe the fourth empty chair is for Bart,” he whispered.
“No,” Jasmine said. “They only put out chairs for the captains. Jack Fallico should be sitting right there. Which begs the question, where is he?”
Black’s monotone voice boomed out once more. “We have lost some of the leading lights of our generation in this conflict,” he said, “but we have also lost great pirates of the future. Pirates like Bart Pearce, whose best days doubtless lay ahead of him.”
Connor glanced to his side and saw that Cate’s face was pale and contorted. She was struggling not to cry. Instinctively, he reached out for her hand and took it, then turned his eyes to the front as Black warmed to his theme. “War is the great leveler,” he said. “It is indiscriminate, taking away our leaders and our foot soldiers. Tonight, we honor just two of those we have lost but, as their swords are raised aloft to join those above, I want you to think of the many others who have given their lives to this war. A war we are endeavoring to bring to an end. These swords, which once belonged to John Kuo and Bartholomew Pearce, serve as constant reminders to us all of the battles we have endured and, more important, of the battles that lie ahead.”
Black gave a nod to indicate he had come to the end of his speech, and from each side of the platform stepped forward a somber-looking academy student. They joined Commodore Black at the table and waited as he clipped the sword cases to the steel wires that would support them up above. Then each of the students took the steel wire in his hand and pulled at it, working in perfect unison, so that the swords began to rise together.
As the swords made their slow journey upward, the academy orchestra played the Federation anthem. The crowd rose to its feet and began to sing. Connor, like most of the others, was transfixed by the two swords floating up through the watery blue light. Turning to look at Cate, he saw tears rolling down her face. Suddenly she stood up and slipped past him, then stumbled away down the row.
Connor moved to follow her, but Jasmine held him back. “Let her go,” she said.
The music died away. Connor turned back and saw that the swords had reached their final resting place.
NEW ALLEGIANCES
Out on the hillside, overlooking the harbor, Cate sat on a bench, sobbing for Bart. Why now? She had been stoic from the time she had been brought the news of his death to the moment earlier that evening when Connor had revealed the name of Bart’s killer. Somehow, seeing Bart’s sword in that case had made her realize the finality of his death. She knew that Connor had buried their comrade-in-arms at sea. But the glass case that held Bart’s sword might as well have been his coffin.
She was momentarily interrupted from these thoughts by a figure arriving at her side and hovering, gawkily, above her. It was Moonshine Wrathe.
