On Discord Isle (31 page)

“Now, Lina,” said Lucian as he strode past, “extra hands are prudent. Especially for an undertaking such as this.” The committee-member held a wineskin in one hand, gesturing with it at the alley around them. “We could be ambushed at any moment.”

This struck her as especially likely. The crew of the
Dawnhawk
were taking a discreet route back to the counting house, almost the same path she’d taken earlier with Rastalak. But where she had skulked through the colony, some thirty of her crewmates were now stumbling along beneath the rising moon without a care in the world.
It’s only sheer luck that some damned patrol hasn’t spotted us by now.

Lucian took a swig and tossed his wineskin behind him. It sailed past Reaver Jane to bounce off of Sarah Lome. She stopped in surprise, causing Allen the Mechanist to run into her. The committee-member glowered back at him through the ink stains that covered her face like tribal tattoos.

“And that’s another thing!” hissed Lina as they all walked past. “Everyone’s drunk! Who thought that was a good idea? How could this have
ever
been a good idea?”

Reaver Jane shook a hand lazily back her way. “Yer worryin’ too much, Stone.” She paused to hiccup. “The lads just needed something to take the edge off. S’not like we don’t deserve it. Besides, I know that tavern-keep. He’ll keep his quiet.” She frowned. “I think.”

Lucian reached the alley mouth and paused to look around. “Ah! Here we are.” He glanced back to Lina and the rest. “No worries, right?”

Lina ran up beside him. The alley they stood in sat directly across the street from the Breachtown Counting House. Its windows were darkened in accordance with the curfew, and the front of the building sat shaded but for two gas lanterns on each side of a pair of great wooden double doors. Two bored guards framed the entrance, leaning against the wall and chatting amiably.

“Right,” continued Lucian. He clapped his hands together and looked to the rest of the crew. “Everyone ready?”

Both Sarah Lome and Reaver Jane drew cutlasses, eyeing each other. Rastalak merely appeared confused. Nate Wiley abruptly whirled, throwing up cheap ale all over the wall to his right and startling Allen, who fell back against Tricia, who shoved him in irritation. Behind her, Jonas Wiley loudly asked why they’d stopped. So it went down the line, with most of the pirates failing to respond at all.

“Wait,” said Lina. “‘Everyone ready’ for what?”

Lucian gave her an annoyed look. “We’re going to raid the counting house.”

We’re going to raid....
Lina all but yelled at him. “What? Head on? That’s your great plan? That’s what you’ve been setting up all this time? Why you had me come down here and play the floozy all day, fending off all the lonely punters,
including
the hideous Gregory? Which I’m sure gave you a good laugh, yes, ha-ha, but
I
was the one stuck here all by myself and the directions you gave Rastalak weren’t even clear and
why
would you even send him down, he’s a
lizard-man,
for Her sake?”

She fell silent, panting. Lucian shared a surprised look with Sarah Lome and Reaver Jane. “Well...yes.” He gestured across the street. “Look, the counting house is right there. In the end I wasn’t coming up with anything especially clever like Captain Fengel always does. So I decided we’d just do what came naturally. We’re pirates, after all.”

Lina threw up her hands. “There’s guards! They’ve got muskets! The second those go off,
more guards
are going to be called. And those will only bring others! Have you completely forgotten what we’re about, here?”

“Watch your tone,” said Lucian sharply. Then he glanced back at the alley of complaining crewmen and grimaced. “But perhaps you have a point.” He looked to the other members of the committee. “Thoughts?”

Sarah Lome peered out across the street. “Well, there’s that building next door. We could break in and use it to reach the rooftop.”

The committee-member had a point, but Lina thought back to Omari and Mr. Gravelin and winced. “Let’s...not,” she said. “There’s something seriously wrong in Gravelin’s Apothecarium.”

Lucian rolled his eyes. “All right, then. What else?”

“Well, the guards are the problem,” said Sarah Lome. “We take care of them quietly, and we can walk right in.”

“There’s still the door,” replied Lucian. “But go on.”

“We need something to distract those two, pull them away for a moment.”

“How about Miss Stone?” suggested Reaver Jane. “Didn’t she used to be a harlot?”

Lina ground her teeth.
Oh for the love of….

“Oh, yes,” replied Lucian. “In fact, she’s already got the clothes. I scrounged them up myself yesterday.”

“Perfect,” said Jane. “She really needs more of a bust to pull it off decently, though.”

“That’s...true,” added Sarah Lome. “It kind of goes without saying.”

“Well, we could get some old stockings—”

Runt gave an uncomfortable chirrup. Lina realized she was crushing his wormy length in a white-knuckled grip. She didn’t care. Her mouth worked furiously.

Allen joined in before she could say anything. “I think she looks just gorgeous as she is,” he said, voice dreamy. “Like one of the Servants from on high, come down to show us true grace and beauty.”

Even Runt blinked at him.

“Enough!” shouted Lina. “Enough of this!” She pointed a finger at Lucian. “You! Enough of your slipshod leadership and obsession with prostitutes! I’m never dressing up like that again!” She wheeled on Allen. “And you! I’ve had enough of this stupid, puppy-dog infatuation of yours! The poetry, and the saccharine compliments. Knock them off, they make you sound like an utter tit!”

The young Mechanist shrank bank. But Lucian only raised an eyebrow at her. “Weren’t you going on a moment ago about the need to do things quietly?”

Lina glared death at him. Then she spun about and stalked into the empty street toward the counting house. Her vision was hazy, and she faintly felt the low growl filling her throat. Dimly, she was aware she had Runt coiled up in a ball under one arm. The little scryn squirmed and chirped uncomfortably as it tried to get away from her.

Both the guards were chatting amiably as she approached. They were Royal Marines, with blue coats and black tricorn caps. One leaned on his musket; the other had his against the wall of the counting house. Neither noticed her until she was almost upon them.

“Ho, what’s this?” said one. “Hello, miss, but there’s a curfew on. You’ll need to be heading home now.”

The Bluecoatie was only a year or two older than she was herself. He was thin, with dark hair and a kind smile. Lina threw Runt in his face. The man let out a cry of surprise as the scryn fell on him, and Runt, for his part, seemed just as surprised. The two of them went down in a writhing, yelling ball.

His partner was a broad man, who cursed and went for the musket propped up at his side. Lina drew her dagger and leapt forward, sinking it deeply into his thigh. He collapsed with a yell and she fell with him, withdrawing the blade and straddling him. She beat him about the head with the pommel, and in short order the guard fell into unconsciousness.

Lucian ran up from across the street, somewhat breathless, with the other pirates trailing behind. “Well, now,” he said. “I thought you said we needed a plan.” He gestured, and Sarah Lome moved to the doors of the building.

Lina glowered at him. “Henry’ll be here in a few minutes.” She found that she felt a
little
better after beating the guardsman unconscious. But that didn’t change the fact that there should have been a plan.

“That he will. All right, get these two tied up and gagged. Miss Stone, if you could...retrieve your pet?”

Lina looked over to where Runt was savaging at the soldier and whistled. Her pet flew back to her and the man curled up in a whimpering ball. Reaver Jane and two others moved to tie them up.

“Committee-Member?” said Sarah Lome. Lina glanced back to see her standing before the opened front doors to the counting house. “Doors ’re open.”

Lucian smiled. “That was quick, Sarah.”

The huge gunnery mistress shrugged. “They weren’t locked.”

Lucian frowned, then shook his head. “Someone screwed up. Oh well, their loss. Our gain. Everyone inside!”

The pirates gave a ragged cheer and surged into the counting house. Lina held back, watching the still-empty street in trepidation.
Why wasn’t the door locked? Something felt wrong.

But no Bluecoat patrols appeared to help their fellows. No musket shots fired, and no alarm rang out. Lina shrugged, then helped Reaver Jane haul the now-bound guardsmen inside before shutting the doors.

The counting house interior was a workmanlike space that gave the occasional nod to opulence. It was a great open square, paneled in expensive oiled wood along the walls and floored with marble tiles. Two wide stairs at either side of the entryway led up to a balcony that circled the space, allowing a manager to keep a bird’s-eye view on the accountants working below. Heavy desks were arranged for such workers, split by a path running from the entrance back to a low wooden rail before a wide, empty space. Beyond the space, at the rear of the room, was a wide cage formed by heavy iron bars set into the floor. Chests and boxes filled that cell—the promise of secured wealth.

The pirates swarmed through the place like ants at a picnic. “That’s it, boyos,’“ crowed Lucian. “Loot the place from stem to stern! Get it all out into the middle of the floor, by that railing. The
Dawnhawk
will be arriving shortly, and we want to make this quick! Sarah, get that cell door open. Jane, keep an eye on this rabble. Allen, get over there and help with the door. You, Wiley brothers, clear a space below the dome. Come on now, move it, move it!”

Most of the crew ignored him, heading straight for the cell at the back of the room. Reaver Jane corralled Jonas Wiley, Tricia, Charlie Green, and Jeremiah Frey with a combination of voice and fists, driving them back through the desks and less obvious hiding places in a flurry of violent looting.

Lina held off on joining in, fun though it appeared.
Something’s still off here.
She moved to where Jane had left the two Bluecoats about a quarter of the way into the counting house. Hopefully these two could assuage her fears. Both were bound and gagged, and while the bigger one was just groaning his way back to consciousness, the one she’d thrown Runt at watched her with wary eyes.

She knelt down before the latter. The Bluecoat was fairly handsome, actually, which she hadn’t noticed in her earlier rage. His eyes were bright blue and both his hair and beard were short and dark. His features were lean and angular, with pale Perinese skin only mostly marred by scryn bites and the red inflammations of Runt’s spittle. The marks made him look rather vulnerable, and Lina felt the sudden urge to reach out and touch his face.

Instead, she held up her dagger. “You see this?” she asked.

The soldier nodded slowly.

“I’m going to lower that gag of yours, and then we’re going to converse. Civilly. You shout or scream for help, or make me regret this in any way, and I’m going to bury this in your throat. Understand?”

“Muh-huh.” The soldier nodded slowly.

“You’re not going to scream?”

The soldier shook his head.

“All right, then.”

Lina leaned forward and tugged the gag down around the soldier’s chin. His beard was soft against her fingers. She kept the dagger up, just in case.

The soldier worked his jaw, then spat off to one side. He glanced around at Reaver Jane and the others as they upended desks nearby, tearing out drawers in their hunt for plunder. Looking back to Lina, he held her eyes a moment before speaking. “Thank you,” he said in a soft Perinese voice. “That tasted terrible.”

Lina nodded. Lucian called out, and those near the rear cell door gave a mighty grunt, which was followed by the squeal of iron bars being wrenched out of shape. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s about right. Reaver Jane is cheap. So she just reuses the same gags whenever we have to take prisoners. Never gets around to washing them, I don’t think.”

“Oh,” said the soldier. He shut his mouth and looked paler than before.

Lina grinned.
He’s adorable
. She caught herself and sobered.
Wait. I thought I was done with this kind of thing?

The soldier abruptly met her eyes again. “My name’s Michael,” he said. “Michael Hockton.”

“Stone,” replied Lina. “Lina Stone, of the airship
Dawnhawk
.” She frowned as the soldier visibly relaxed. “What? Did I...did I say something?”

Michael shook his head. “Yes. I mean, no. I just wasn’t sure if I was going to get your name.”

A storm of butterflies took flight in her belly. “You wanted to know who I am?”

Michael nodded. “Yeah. I’ve found that it’s harder to kill someone when they’ve got your name. Just a little thing I’ve figured out over the years.”

Her elation changed to dismay. “You think I’m going to kill you?”

The soldier raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, you
did
just threaten to cut my throat.”

Lina glanced at the dagger in her hand. A wave of embarrassment washed over her, and she smiled suddenly at him. She sheathed her blade. “Right! Right. I did. Say that, I mean. Ha. Well, just don’t shout out and you’ll be fine. All right?” A distant part of her realized that she was getting worse with every passing second. But she couldn’t help it. He was just
gorgeous
. Her heart felt like it was going to climb out of her throat.

“All right.”

Silence stretched between the two of them. Off to one side, Tricia was loudly hacking open the stuck drawer of a desk with an axe, though Lina didn’t know where she’d gotten it. The wood of the desk splintered and the drawer fell open to disgorge a spray of documents. Tricia swore loudly and moved down to the next desk, pausing to pick up a golden sovereign that someone else had missed.

“So….” said Michael after a moment.

“Yes?” said Lina, a little too quickly. “That’s a neat trick, though. About the names. I’ll have to remember it. Makes a kind of sense, I guess. You get taken prisoner here often?”