“He claims to know you.” Lachance shrugged.
The stowaway coughed, wiping blood from his lip before he pushed himself onto his knees.
“Oh no.” Linnet’s face clouded with disbelief. “No. No. No.”
Charlotte thought her heart had stopped. “Jack?”
Lachance watched them with interest. “You do know him, then? What a puzzle this is.”
“What are you doing here?” Linnet snarled. “And how did you find us?”
“I can still put him on a hook and use him to fish, ma sirène,” Lachance remarked. “He is your adversary?”
“He is my brother.” Linnet made it sound like the latter was worse.
That admission startled even Lachance into silence.
Charlotte managed to recover from her shock and rushed to Jack’s side. The sailors grumbled when she began to interrogate their prisoner without asking their leave.
“Athene’s helm, Jack. What madness possessed you to board a pirate ship?”
“I could ask you the same.” Jack turned his face to her. His lip was bleeding and swollen, but he’d managed to avoid a black eye.
“Jack.” Linnet’s voice lashed at him. “How did you find us?”
“I followed you to the Quay,” Jack said. He pointed at Lachance. “I saw you meet with him, and then I followed him.”
“You impersonated one of my sailors,” Lachance said. “If you killed him when you took his clothes, your life belongs to me.”
Charlotte waited for Linnet to object, but she didn’t.
“I didn’t kill him,” Jack told Lachance. “I knocked him out. It was dark enough that I could keep my head down and go unnoticed by the others. When we got to the ship I hid for as long as I could.”
“Why did you follow us?” Linnet asked. Some of the edge had gone out of her voice, but she still looked unhappy.
“When you came looking for Charlotte. I knew something was wrong,” Jack answered. “Then Coe told me that Charlotte had been confined to the city, but he wouldn’t tell me what had led the officers to make that decision. I was going to ask Charlotte, but Coe kept stalling me in the Tower.”
“He just wanted to keep you away from her,” Linnet murmured.
Jack grimaced. “I know.”
“But how did you follow us to the Quay?” Charlotte asked. “We were in masks.”
“I got to the Black Fish and saw you leaving through the back.” Jack cleared his throat, obviously a bit uncomfortable. “As far as the masks go . . . they didn’t matter. I recognize the way you walk.”
Lachance chuckled, and Linnet shot him a dark look.
“Did you tell anyone where you were going?” Linnet asked Jack. “Anyone at all?”
“No.” Jack got to his feet. The sailors who’d brought him in moved to restrain him, but Lachance waved them off.
“Go back to your posts.”
The two men obeyed their captain, but not before spewing French at Jack that couldn’t have been complimentary.
Charlotte stood close to Jack, worried that he might be hiding some injury she hadn’t been able to detect.
“You don’t have to worry about anyone knowing where I’d gone,” Jack said to Linnet. “When I saw you at the tavern, meeting with Lachance, I had no choice but to follow him if I wanted to find out where you were going. With his reputation, I knew your aim was to be secreted out of the city.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me you knew?” Charlotte asked. “You could have come back to the inn that night and asked to join us.”
Jack smiled at his sister. “She never would have allowed it.”
Linnet shrugged. “You’re right.”
“So you decided to stow away on a pirate ship?” Charlotte glared at him. “Why would you do something so foolish?”
“Why can’t you understand that I’d sooner spend my life in the Crucible than let anything happen to you?”
It took Charlotte several breaths before she could ask. “You . . . why would you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
“The mystery is solved, then. The true culprit here is but love.” Lachance walked behind Linnet, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Ma sirène, son frère is now a guest on my ship. What would you have me do with him?”
“I’d still be happy to throw him overboard, but Charlotte is rather attached to Jack and I’m quite fond of Charlotte.” Linnet’s mouth curved with delight. “The only thing to do is put him to work. As long as you think your men won’t kill him.”
• • •
Jack’s punishment exiled him from the main deck to the galley.
“He will never love a potato again,” Lachance declared, and Linnet fell into gales of laughter.
Charlotte had thought to go with Jack, but Linnet forbade her. It would be no punishment, Linnet insisted, if Jack had Charlotte nearby to distract him.
Instead, Charlotte went to check on Meg and Grave, both of whom preferred to stay in the small cabin allotted to them. Meg, like Charlotte, was in dire need of sleep. Grave, however, surprised Charlotte with his reason for staying below.
“I don’t like the sea.”
“Does the rolling of the ship make you feel ill?” Charlotte asked him.
“The ship is fine. It is a fine ship.” Grave climbed into the bunk above Meg’s. “But the sea has no end and no beginning. I do not like it.”
Charlotte gave up trying to make sense of Grave’s aversion to the sea, but she chose not to remain in the cabin with them. Unlike Grave, Charlotte was captivated by the sea. She’d never seen so many varieties of blue. Not even on the clearest summer days of her memories had there been a shade to rival this vivid array of hues. With every swell the sea changed, turquoise to teal; waves shrugged indigo shoulders only to stretch wide arms of midnight. Charlotte sipped the air, which matched the sea’s exotic character. The briny bite of the Atlantic had been subtled to a smooth saltiness kissed by a sweet green flavor that Charlotte couldn’t place.
Linnet joined Charlotte at the rail. “I adore being at sea.”
“It’s beautiful.” The waves rocked the ship like a cradle, lulling Charlotte into a peaceful mood.
Linnet turned around, resting her elbows atop the rail. “Mind you, today is a fine day to sail. When the sea is angry, she’s cruel. I’ve seen ships torn to pieces by storms.”
“You’ve seen that without being shipwrecked yourself?” Charlotte asked.
“Lachance is an exceptional captain.” Linnet glanced toward the captain’s cabin. “But don’t ever tell him I said that.”
Charlotte returned Linnet’s broad smile.
High above the billowing sails, a bell began to clang. Its shrill peals carried on without pause.
Linnet pushed off the rail. “That’s an alarm. Another ship’s been sighted.”
“What kind of ship?” Charlotte chased after Linnet, who darted toward the prow.
Lachance stood at the center of the prow in his full regalia: a long, deep blue coat with silver buttons over his white shirt and hat atop his head. Just shy of the bowsprit a sailor turned a large crank, raising an enormous brass contraption. Its bulbous shape tapered toward the ship, ending in a narrow slot that the sailor peered through. He flipped switches and pulled levers that sprouted from the device.
“What is that?” Charlotte asked Linnet.
“It’s called a Fortune Teller,” Linnet answered. “Meg’s mother would not approve.”
The sailor began to shout. Lachance called back to him and when the sailor answered, the captain drew a brass tube from the base of the ship’s wheel.
Lachance’s voice boomed in the air and his crew exploded into action. The pirates raced to various stations along the ship; some scaled the masts, others disappeared belowdeck. After giving further orders to the
sailor operating the Fortune Teller, Lachance came to Linnet. His face was terribly grim.
“Tell me,” Linnet said.
“A Titan,” Lachance told her. “And two Hermes frigates.”
“A Cerberus patrol?” Linnet spat and began to swear.
“We can outrun the Titan,” Lachance said. “But the frigates we’ll have to fight, at least long enough to hobble them.”
Linnet nodded, her jaw tightening. Lachance bent and brushed his lips across her forehead. When Linnet didn’t object, Charlotte began to be truly frightened.
“Come on.” Linnet took Charlotte’s hand, drawing her away from the prow to the midship rail.
The ship shuddered, making Charlotte stumble, and there was a deafening boom.
“Did something hit us?” Charlotte asked.
“No. We fired at them.” Linnet looked out from the rail. She pointed starboard of the prow. “Look there.”
A trail of smoke floated in the air between the ship and three shapes in the distance. Charlotte saw a bright flash, but nothing else.
“They’re still too far out,” Linnet murmured.
The three shapes were quickly drawing closer, becoming more distinct. One of the three was twice the size of the other two.
“I know the ships,” Charlotte said to Linnet. “But you called them something else.”
“A Cerberus patrol,” Linnet replied. “A three-ship configuration the Empire favors. One for power, two for speed.”
The Perseus shuddered again. This time Charlotte covered her ears before the boom.
Linnet followed the arc of the shot, but Charlotte kept her eyes on the enemy ships. She could see their features now. The frigates were lean vessels with sharply cut sails. The Titan lumbered through the sea, its sides pocked with broadside guns. There was another flash, but this time a second flash followed the first, then a third. A joyful roar went up from the crew.
“We hit one of the frigates,” Linnet said with relief.
One of the smaller ships began to lag behind; wide columns of smoke rose above it. The Titan and the second frigate continued to bear down on the Perseus.
“Be sure to always hang on to the rail,” Linnet told Charlotte. “Lachance tends to be unpredictable in these situations.”
“What do you mean?” Charlotte asked.
She got her answer a moment later when the Perseus lurched violently to port and she lost her footing and fell to the deck. Charlotte climbed to her feet and hugged the rail.
The Titan had turned as well, mirroring the Perseus so the two ships knifed through the waves on parallel courses. The frigate continued its pursuit, driving straight at them.
Charlotte’s eyes flew from the massive warship to the nimble attacker. She was afraid to look away from either of them, as if her gaze could ward off any harm they might do. As she watched the frigate gain on the Perseus, a strange whistling pierced the air.
Beside Charlotte, Linnet whispered, “No.”
Charlotte tracked her friend’s focus to a cannonball hurtling into the air above the Titan.
The projectile soared, arcing high, but heading toward the waves rather than the Perseus. Sunlight illuminated the metal of the falling object, flashing copper, gold, and silver. Just before it hit the sea, the sphere began to break apart; what appeared to be its casing fell into the waves in pieces, and then the strange cannonball disappeared beneath the surface.
The gun must have misfired, Charlotte thought. What else could have resulted in such a terrible shot?
She was about to say as much to Linnet. Linnet, however, drew a hissing breath, then began to swear.
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked.
Linnet pounded her fist on the rail and shouted toward the stern. “Jean!”
The captain ceased shouting orders, turning to Linnet.
“The starboard side!” Linnet pointed at the spot where the cannonball had sunk. “The Titan just launched a Charybdis globe!”
“What?!” Lachance abandoned his post, leaping over the rail from the deck above to land beside her. “You must be mistaken.”
“I’m not.” Linnet shoved him toward the rail. “Look!”
Charlotte looked to the sea between their ship and the approaching frigate; within the deep blue swells, something stirred. From below came a great bubble that pooled onto the surface in a smooth, still circle between the waves. The stillness only lasted a moment before the ocean seemed to turn against itself, giving birth to new swells and currents that clashed, creating strange and violent patterns. The sea frothed and surged until a great spout of water shot toward the sky.
“They’re mad.” Lachance glared at the churning waters. “That frigate is lost. They’ve sacrificed her and all aboard—their own sailors. Why?”
“And what about us?” Linnet asked. “Are we lost as well?”
Lachance touched Linnet’s cheek, then pushed away from the rail. “Perhaps not. You should get below.”
“I am not going below,” Linnet snarled. “You should know better than to suggest that I would.”
“At least stay away from the mast,” Lachance shot back at her. “And by Athene, put a harness on.”
Lachance shoved off the railing and ran up the deck, barking orders at his crew.
“Come on!” Linnet grabbed Charlotte, tugging her toward the ship’s stern.
“What about the others?” Charlotte asked. “They’re still in the cabin. And Jack’s in the galley.”
“They’re likely safest if they stay put.” Linnet stopped and crouched down, opening a compartment in the deck. “If you want, you can go to them.”
“No.” She didn’t want to be in the bowels of the ship, blind to what took place above.
“I thought as much.” Linnet drew a bundle from the compartment. She handed one to Charlotte and shook the other out. What Charlotte held in her hands resembled a web of leather. She wasn’t certain what to do with it until she watched Linnet slide her arms through the largest openings and buckle three straps at her waist. Two long, braided leather cords trailed after Linnet as she walked away, headed back to the railings at the prow. Charlotte hurried after her, shrugging on the harness as she ran. Linnet stopped and fastened the brass clips at the end of the braided cords to metal rings that protruded from the deck near the railing, and gestured to Charlotte to do the same.
When she’d secured herself to the ship, Charlotte’s gaze swept the length of the deck, taking in the mad rush of activity around her. Lachance’s shouts to his sailors miraculously won out over the roaring wind and pounding waves. The crew had also donned harnesses, though the cords that tethered them to the deck were twice as long, if not more, than those at Charlotte’s back. That extra length freed them to cross the deck and climb to the sails. One sailor scrambled up the mainmast, appearing smaller and smaller as he scaled the great column. From what Charlotte could see, it appeared all the men were rapidly altering the rigging on the sails. They tossed lines to one another, installed levers, and turned cranks—all the while wearing faces taut with fear.
Something terrible was about to happen. Something even a crew of hardened sailors thought they might not survive.
Charlotte’s thoughts flashed to her friends below. Meg. Grave. Jack.
If the ship goes down, should I be here? Or with them?
A moment later Charlotte knew it was too late for her to do anything but pray for Athene’s mercy.
The roaring wind was joined by a new sound, deep and hollow; its relentless drone pulled her attention from the sailors to the sea.
Linnet was already staring at the sound’s source. Her hands gripped the rail, knuckles bloodless and face whiter than the sails, while the wind tore at her hair. She focused on a shadow that lay across the span of water from which the spout had erupted. The dark spot shifted restlessly, expanding o
utward. A pattern formed within its bounds, currents chasing each other in concentric circles, growing ever wider at its outer rim and ever tighter at its center. Tighter. Tighter. Until the center of the shadow disappeared, swallowed by the sea itself, only to leave a gaping maw in its place. The drone became a howl and Charlotte fell to her knees at the sight of the ravenous maelstrom.
“Charybdis.” Linnet knelt beside her and reached for her hand. They laced their fingers together.
Charlotte now understood what Lachance had meant when he said the British had sacrificed their own ship. The Imperial frigate had been bearing straight and hard at the Perseus. A swift, small ship, it had been closer to the site where the globe had landed, and now it barreled toward its doom. The crew made a desperate attempt to escape the vortex. The ship swung hard to starboard, turning from the whirlpool. Their efforts were futile. The ship skirted the outer currents of the maelstrom as it fled. At first, the frigate slowed until it ceased to move altogether. Then it began the horrible, inexorable drift backward. Charybdis claimed the ship, casting it into ever-swifter revolutions. The frigate pitched and rocked. Its mainmast broke first, snapping like a splinter to be swallowed by the dark abyss. The frigate's prow lifted, rising from the whirlpool like a rearing steed. And then Charybdis broke the ship in half. The two halves cracked, splitting into ever-smaller pieces.
Charlotte saw other things amid the wreckage, and she knew some of those things were people. She couldn’t discern British sailors from the milieu of destruction, but all was lost. Within seconds the maelstrom had swallowed every part of the ship. No evidence of the frigate remained. Charybdis churned on, howling to be fed again.
Such disregard for human life left Charlotte speechless. Was Grave the sole reason for that vicious act? Did the Empire believe that having lost the living design for the perfect weapon, his destruction was their only course? Would the Resistance reach the same conclusion when they discovered they no longer had Grave in their grasp? Were such drastic, final solutions the logic of war? Could anything good emerge from a society shaped by violence?
“Charlotte!” Jack had emerged from belowdeck. He dashed toward her, faltering when he saw what lay beyond the ship’s prow.
The Conjurer's Riddle Page 25
