Balanced on the Blades Edge #2 Deathmaker (7 page)

He met her eyes and didn’t answer the captain right away. She lifted her chin and stared back at him. She wouldn’t plead—appearing weak in front of these scavengers was the last thing she dared—but she had to make sure he knew what she would prefer—after all, he had offered her a ride on his ship. She had answered with sarcasm but hadn’t given a straight-out no. What if he thought he would be doing her a favor, taking her across the sea, closer to Iskandia?

“I can find my own way home from here,” Cas said.

“Wait.” A pirate in the back of the group stepped forward, raising his lantern toward her. He had matted blond hair and paler skin than the Cofah men.

Cas’s stomach sank lower than the pouch of throwing stars. She didn’t recognize the man, but what if he recognized her somehow? She hadn’t been flying long enough to be notorious, not like Zirkander and some of the older pilots, but there were pictures of the heroic flier squadrons back home, especially in the capital city, where they had their air base. She had been recognized on the street before.

“That’s Gargon Ahnsung’s daughter,” the pirate said.

Cas didn’t move, though her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest. Was this some colleague—former colleague—of her father’s? If her father had ever killed a Roaming Curse member, she might not be any better off than if they knew her as one of Zirkander’s squadron, but at least they wouldn’t think to use her against the colonel. That would be intolerable.

“The sniper?” the captain asked.

Tolemek’s eyebrows rose. “I guess that explains the accuracy with rocks.”

“Yeah,” Cas managed—her mouth was dry. “We all get together and see if we can knock over empty bean cans at family picnics.” In another situation, she would have laughed at the idea of her father hosting some family gathering, not only because she was his only living relative, but because he was as social as a mountain lion.

The pale-skinned pirate was nodding. “Yup, that’s her. I been out to Ahnsung’s house once to deliver a message, back when I worked for the guild. Seen her then, shooting bows with him out back. Must have been nearly ten years ago, but she was a pretty little thing.” The pirate grinned. “Deathmaker, she might be all right once them bruises heal up. You might want to keep her.”

Cas bit down her tongue to keep from calling the man a creep for ogling her when she’d been a thirteen-year-old girl. Nobody was cursing or sharing irate whispers about her father—hells, these criminals probably respected a mercenary sniper—so she might still get out of this alive.

“She flies with Zirkander now though,” the pirate added.

“
What?
” The captain’s head jerked up—no his whole body jerked to attention, the finger bone breastplate rattling with the movement.

A blast of other exclamations, some curses, some streams of anger and disbelief, came from other mouths. The arm around Cas’s waist tightened again, putting images of boa constrictors in her mind.

The oh-so-helpful pirate snapped his fingers. “’Course, you must have known that, Deathmaker. That’s why you brought her out, isn’t it? Now that’s a fine prize.”

“I’ll say,” the captain whispered, his eyes as hard as steel as they bored into her. One of his hands was balled into a fist, and the other clenched the hilt of his pistol. “That man ruined—” He was so choked with emotion—with
rage
—that he could barely speak. “Were you flying with him last summer, girl?”

Cas doubted he would believe her if she lied—he didn’t look like a man ready to believe anything that would interrupt his right to rage—but she kept her mouth shut. Wasn’t there a quotation about silence never getting a man in trouble?

The captain slowly pulled out his pistol—every eye there was riveted by it, by him—and stepped toward her. “Answer me, girl. Were you with him last summer?” Between one word and the next, he shifted from a whisper to a yell. “Did you help take down my ship?”

The pirate holding Cas stepped forward, forcing her closer to the captain. She tried to squirm free, to kick him or find an arm she could bite, but the man was no amateur at restraining prisoners.

The captain stalked closer, his face burning as hot and red as a furnace.

Cas didn’t notice Tolemek move, but he was suddenly there beside the captain, pressing his forearm—and the pistol—toward the ground. Several of the surrounding pirates drew in startled breaths. The tension was thicker in the air than the humidity.

“She’s nothing compared to Zirkander,” Tolemek said. “And she’s worth even less dead. We can use her to get to him. Set a trap, make her the bait.”

Even though Cas had suspected Tolemek had something like that in mind all along, she felt an overpowering urge to shoot him. If only these louts hadn’t taken her gun. She had to settle for hurling daggers with her eyes.

The captain looked down at the hand on his arm, then lifted his gaze to Tolemek’s. He was hurling a few blades with his eyes, too, but he finally stuffed his pistol back in its holster and muttered, “It must be nice to be able to see everything so logically all the time.”

“A boon and a bane,” Tolemek said. He glanced at Cas, but must not have liked what he saw on her face, for he soon looked away. “My errand won’t take long. Put her in my cabin, and treat her well,” he said again, then added, “She’ll make poor bait if Zirkander can’t recognize her.”

The captain walked with him several paces away from the group, and they exchanged a few words. Tolemek must have soothed the older man’s anger, for their discussion ended with the captain slapping him on the back and waving. Once again, Cas feared she had made a mistake in not bolting in those first few seconds in the jungle. A big mistake.

Chapter 4

T
he airship’s hull was painted black, the deck was painted black, and the balloon above was dyed black, so Cas was surprised when the wooden bulkheads and floors below had merely been treated with a clear varnish. Her pirate escort had dwindled to two, but there were guards at the railing next to the sophisticated disembarkation device: a rope leading down to the beach. There were also numerous people walking about on the main deck, all of them armed. It seemed against pirate law to carry less than three weapons about, even when engaged in repairs or polishing cannons. Even if Cas somehow subdued her escort, her odds of getting off the airship weren’t good.

The guards pushed her below decks and down a narrow corridor. She could stand up straight, but the bigger men had to duck their heads. They stopped before a side door. They looked at it, then at her, then at each other.

“Deathmaker said to put her in his cabin, right?” one whispered.

“I think so. But maybe we could put her in one of the cells until he gets back.”

“He said to put her inside.”

“He doesn’t usually... I mean nobody goes in his cabin except the captain. If he does girls, he doesn’t do them here.”

“Maybe she’s special.”

“Maybe the door’s locked.”

If Cas’s predicament had been less dire, she might have rolled her eyes at this waffling. Why did she get the feeling that neither of them wanted to go through that door?

“Try it.”

One of the men grabbed the latch. It turned freely, and he pushed the door open. Neither of them walked right in. The cabin inside stood dark, so Cas couldn’t tell much about its occupant, but there was a faint chemical smell. Was this where he made his batches of goo?

“I’ll, uh, get a lantern. And shackles. Even if he wants to have some fun, he won’t want her touching his stuff.” The speaker released Cas’s arm and walked farther along the corridor, then disappeared down a ladder, leaving her with one guard.

She eyed the pistol holstered at his belt. A six-shooter, but she didn’t see an ammo pouch. It would be risky, but if it was fully loaded, she might have enough rounds to take care of him and clear the deck above, at least for long enough for her to sprint to that rope.

“What’s the slimy substance on the floor? Should it be smoking like that?” Cas tilted her chin toward the dark cabin.

“What?” Eyes bulging, the guard took a step back, his grip on her loosening slightly.

Cas grabbed his pistol at the same time as she twisted away. Her canvas prisoner smock ripped, but her captor’s hands slipped away. She cocked the hammer, aiming at him. Someone grabbed her from behind before she could shoot. A fist bashed her hand, knocking the pistol out of her grip, and she found herself spun around and slammed into the wall.

The glowering face of the captain closed in, inches from hers, his anger like a wave breaking over her. He had dark brown eyes, but his brow was drawn down so far, the irises were barely visible. He leaned into her ribs so hard, she feared they would bend—or break. Somehow, her feet were dangling off the ground again. Seven gods, she hated being short.

“Do not make trouble, girl,” he breathed, the scent of alcohol washing her face.

She wished she could lean away, but the wall didn’t help her out. “Sorry,” she grumbled as fiercely as she could with her ribs shoved into her organs, “I didn’t know you were used to compliant prisoners.”

“Just ones not stupid enough to attack their guards.” He leaned even closer and grabbed her chin, his fingers hard as they dug into flesh tender with bruises. Her barely healed lip cracked open again and bled. She hoped it would stain his stupid bone vest. Not that he would care. It probably wouldn’t be the first blood to splash upon it. “If you think I’m afraid to go against the Deathmaker’s wishes,” he breathed in her ear, “you’re wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Cas hadn’t thought that at all—wasn’t he the captain and therefore in charge?—but she wasn’t about to start a conversation with the lunatic. On the other hand, if he brought his ugly snout any closer, she
would
bite it off.

He released her abruptly. She managed to brace herself against the wall and kept from crumpling to the deck, though her ribs did creak with the first full breath she took. She needed to escape from these madmen—Cofah, pirates, they were all the same—just so she could heal.

The captain handed the six-shooter to the guard, who was standing nearby, wearing a sheepish expression.

“Don’t lose that again,” the captain said.

“No, Cap’n. I won’t.”

The second man had returned with the lantern. He lifted the shackles in the air. “Sorry, Captain. We’ll get her chained up real good.”

The captain looked into the dark room. “What is he thinking, putting her in there? Make sure she can’t touch anything.” He glared at Cas again, and she was certain he would have preferred to tie her in twenty or thirty layers of rope and pin her under a five-hundred-pound anchor.

“Yes, Cap’n.”

Grumbling under his breath, the captain pushed past the guards and strode down the narrow corridor.

“You first,” the closest guard said. “You’ve got the lantern.”

The man grimaced, but took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold. The second guard pushed Cas ahead of him.

The single lantern wasn’t strong enough to illuminate everything—it was a surprisingly big cabin, or maybe a bulkhead had been removed to turn two rooms into one—but it did give the sense of a space packed with built-in tables, counters, and cabinets with glass fronts. Behind that glass lay all manner of books and scrolls, strange tools and quirky gadgets, chemicals in jars, powders in tins, and mysterious substances in clear vials. Bundles of drying grasses, roots, and leaves dangled on twine from the ceiling, and the whole place smelled of chemicals and herbs. All manner of goggles and magnifying devices hung on a pegboard—Cas tried not to find it creepy that hairy tufts that looked suspiciously like scalps were pinned there too. Crates secured to the floor with bolts held metal scrap, and a few mechanical insect-like contraptions rested on the top. Something moved in one of several terrariums along the wall, and she was relieved the lantern wasn’t bright enough to show what exactly.

“Put her in the corner?” One guard pointed to the shadowy end of the cabin. The hammock and clothing trunk there appeared out of place in the laboratory.

“Yeah, we’ll chain her to that pipe.”

Her body too achy to protest further, Cas let them guide her into the corner. Had they been considerate, they might have let her climb into the hammock, but they pushed her to the floor and shackled her to a pipe that ran vertically through the corner.

“Stay out of trouble, girl.” One of the guards patted her on the cheek with all the love of a polar bear smacking a fish out of the water, then they both headed for the door.

“You could leave the lantern,” she said, then, because they had no reason to want to please her, added, “so I’ll have time to look at all this strangeness and grow more and more scared.”

The pirate with the lantern snorted. “I reckon that’ll happen even more in the dark.” He paused in the doorway, and Cas thought some random bit of sympathy might bubble to the surface. But he only glared at her and said, “I lost a friend in that fight last summer. I hope Deathmaker’s got a special treat planned for you.”

The door slammed shut, leaving her alone in the dark.

No, not entirely alone. Something was slithering around in that terrarium. She hoped it wasn’t venomous. And that it couldn’t get out.

She shifted around, trying to find a comfortable space on the floor, but even if there had been one, her throbbing wounds would have precluded relaxation. Lumps and bruises she had been able to forget about while they were running and fighting refused to be ignored any longer. The guards hadn’t given her much slack, so she ended up sitting, cross-legged and facing the corner, her forehead leaning against the pipe.

The engine started up somewhere below her, the vibrations humming through the deck. In a few more minutes, they would be off, and there would be nowhere to escape to, even if she could manage it. The Roaming Curse had an aerial outpost out there somewhere over the ocean, and she guessed that was their next destination. Or maybe they were heading straight to Iskandia to set up that trap.

If she were the one to cause Colonel Zirkander’s death, she would never forgive herself. He had been one of the few people to trust her, to have faith in her. She owed him every award she had won in her short career—and a lot of laughs too.