She crumpled in the hands of the soldiers who held her, and she started crying. Not delicate maidenly blubbing, but full rolling sobs that made her entire chest shake. The soldiers looked bewildered again. Their lord was dead, his heir was a murderer . . . this was not a situation for which they had been trained, and they looked honestly confused about what should happen next.
But one of them rallied, a thought seeming to strike him. He raised his spear and levelled it at me. “Kill them all!”
Oh, no. Oh, fucking fuck, no. After everything we’d just survived, were we going to get murdered in a root cellar by a bunch of soldiers who didn’t know what else to do with their day?
The troops started forwards, at first hesitant, but then with greater momentum. Latoya lifted another barrel, Regon raised his short sword, I screamed foul words and hefted my own blade. I could have sacrificed myself for Lynn with something like dignity, but this was just ridiculous, and I had no intention of being gracious about it. If I really had to die in such a stupid way, then I was going to perform lots of impromptu castrations before I went out.
But there was a soft touch on my wrist.
“It’s all right, Mistress,” Lynn said. “I’ve got this one.”
Just four words, but her voice was her own again, really her own, and relief flooded me in a warm wave. Lynn, my Lynn, was back in control.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lynn
Morning, Day XIII
“DROP YOUR WEAPONS. Do it now!”
Darren’s sword, and Regon’s, both hit the ground a second after I spoke. Latoya hesitated, but she, too, swung her barrel to the earth floor.
I moved in front of them, just in case, and sought and found the eyes of the man I needed—the guardsman I had asked Darren not to kill. “Captain Whytock, stand your men down. Just for a minute. Let’s talk before the killing starts, or you’ll make mistakes that you won’t be able to fix.”
Whytock’s face, what I could see of it behind his helmet, was grim. He really had no stomach for this kind of thing. But he didn’t sheathe his sword. “That woman murdered a Kilan lord. Our duty is plain.”
“Your duty to what? The House of Bain? The House of Bain is bleeding out in a squelching pool of mud. Iason is dead, his line is finished, and before long, his generals and courtiers will start circling around Bero like jackals on a corpse. When that happens, you’ll be in for a power struggle that’ll make the war in the islands look like a chess match between neighbouring girls’ schools. You’ll all be swept into different factions and you’ll spend the next ten years fighting pitched battles up and down Bero. Just about all of you will die, and what will your deaths purchase? At best, you’ll have moved some idiot baron an inch closer to the throne of Bero. An idiot baron who doesn’t deserve it. Most of the people who’ll be fighting for the crown shouldn’t be trusted with a puppy, let alone a kingdom. So if I were you, I would think a little less about your duty to the House of Bain, and a little more about your duty to yourselves and your families. You’re the ones who are still alive.”
I had been talking very fast; now I had to stop to breathe. The soldiers hadn’t dropped their weapons, but they weren’t attacking, either.
Whytock said something I didn’t catch. “Sorry, what?”
“I said, what do you propose?”
“I’m going to tell you. Let me take care of my sister, first.”
Ariadne was still bent double in a guardsman’s grip. When I walked towards her, a few hands tightened on sword-hilts, but no one moved.
As I passed Melitta’s body, I gingerly prodded her side with a bare toe. It wasn’t meant to be an insult, I just had to know. No motion in the prone figure. No life in the purple-black face. It was strange that I didn’t feel more.
The soldier holding Ariadne loosened his grip when I reached her. She leaned on me for the few steps it took to get back to the others.
“Take care of her, Latoya,” I directed. The burly sailor blinked, nervous, but she bent over my sister, and, though she looked like an oak next to a sunflower, her hands were gentle as she took hold of Ariadne’s shoulders. That was all it took. The next second, Ariadne flung herself, bawling, into the bosun’s arms.
“What do you propose?” Whytock repeated, stiffly. “You know that the Lady Ariadne can’t take the throne now. Under the law, she should be exiled, if not hanged.”
“She couldn’t take the throne even if she hadn’t killed Melitta. She doesn’t have an heir and she doesn’t have any support among the army. She wouldn’t last six months. You need someone else. You could elect one of your generals, but the runner-up will get sulky and declare himself lord as well. Same result. Civil war. Captain Whytock, would you take off your helmet, please?”
“What? Why?”
“Humour me. It’s important.”
His eyes flicked to my hands, looking for weapons. Unwillingly, he pulled his helmet off. I studied his hair. It was a sort of tawny straw colour. Yes, this would work.
“Do you have lemons?” I asked.
Whytock gaped. “What?”
“If we’re going to do this, we’ll need lemons. Lots of lemons. Rub the juice into your hair and then spend as much time as you can in the sun.”
“If we’re going to do what? What the hell are you suggesting? You’re not going to propose this pirate as lady of Bero, are you?”
“No. Bero isn’t ready for Darren. Ariadne wouldn’t last six months, but Darren wouldn’t even last three. There’s only one man who can hold Bero together and rule it . . . and that’s Iason’s long-lost cousin.”
“Lord Iason doesn’t have a cousin.”
“Not yet, he doesn’t. Not until you’ve bleached your hair with lemon juice. But after that happens . . .” I let my words trail off enticingly.
There was a pregnant silence. It was almost a full minute before Whytock shook his head. “It’ll never work. No one will ever believe it.”
“People believe what they’re told to believe, Whytock. There are people in every port in Kila who owe Darren favours. We’ll draw up your lineage and make up a story about your childhood, and I’ll have a man on every island who’ll swear to every detail. Within a year, you’ll be so solidly grounded that no one would dare to question where you come from. And these men?” I looked around, taking in each one of them. “These men will be your officers, your generals, your honour guard, well-paid and well-respected. They’ll serve you loyally, because they’ll be better off under your authority than under anyone else. And every single one of them will swear himself blue in the face at every opportunity that you’re Iason’s cousin, the rightful lord of the house of Bain.”
More silence.
“Or you could just let Bero be ripped to shreds in a bloody and meaningless war. That’s also an option.”
Even more silence. Iason had stopped kicking. I stooped over, lifted his limp hand, and worked his signet ring off his finger. It took a minute, but nobody spoke. When the heavy gold loop finally came free, I held it out to Whytock.
I’m not the kind of person who believes in concepts like destiny. I think I’m in the world because my father was bored and needed an afternoon’s entertainment, not because some cosmic power was directing events towards some ultimate goal. But if I’m wrong about that, if I owe my existence to some kindly god and not my father’s urges, then this, I guess, is my purpose. To think the things that nobody else will think, to bend people’s brains in directions they wouldn’t take on their own, and to watch as their minds suddenly open. Is it possible? Could it possibly be possible? But why shouldn’t it be possible? Why shouldn’t it?
“Follow the rules, and you’re doomed whatever you decide.” I was talking both to Whytock, and the men who could raise him to the throne, if they only decided that they could. “Break the rules, and you have no idea just how good your life could get. You don’t have to let this island fall apart. You can save yourselves, you can save everyone, but only if you’re brave enough, and
only if you have enough imagination. Whytock, think carefully before you answer this question. Does Iason have a cousin? Yes, or no?”
Slowly at first, then with greater conviction, Whytock reached out for the ring. He slid it onto his finger and closed his fist. The signet ruby sparkled in the torchlight.
“Well,” he said. “Does anyone know where they keep the lemons?”
YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE, unless you’ve been through it yourself, how suddenly freedom can happen. A day before, I’d been Melitta’s captive servant, and an hour before, I’d been inches away from death. But in the faint glow of the pre-dawn, with Lord Whytock striding before us and ten new captains marching proudly on either side, we passed unchallenged through gate after gate.
Ariadne had a thing for poetry when we were still quite small. There was one that she would repeat to me endlessly—“in hope,” she would always say. Forgotten the fear that once held me in thrall, it began. And my bonds have become light as dreams . . .
It used to make me roll my eyes. But as I walked through the walls that had shut me in for most of my lifetime, with Darren beside me, her face radiant in the pink light, all I could think was . . . well, exactly.
Ariadne had collected herself, more or less. She was talking to Whytock at high speed as we descended through the lower city. “You can keep the barons under control as long as you hold the tax coffers,” she was saying. “Put your most trusted men in that department, and pay them well enough to keep them from taking bribes. And hire a different steward—the old one listens at doors. Remember, your mother’s parents were named Demetrian and Iocosta and your father’s parents were Teleager and Nerine . . .”
I watched Whytock out of the corner of my eye, trying to assess how he would do as lord of the most powerful state in Kila. I didn’t know much about his brains or his talent. But he had taken a load of wood from me once, when I was too tired even to stagger. That was a straw in the wind.
“How are you doing?” Darren said, interrupting my thoughts.
I squinted up at her sideways. She looked exhausted. Her leather armour was slashed and crumpled. Threads of blood etched the right side of her face. She was beautiful.
“How do you think the Clever Lass felt when she left the castle?” I asked. “After she bested the wicked king?”
“After she hopped there with one leg on a goat? Sore. I’m going to say sore.”
“I do, as it happens, feel a bit sore.”
“As it happens, so do I. But I also feel fucking fantastic, so there’s that.”
A breeze wafted from the harbour—salt, fish, damp wood, seaweed. My knees almost buckled from sheer relief. We were so close to being home.
Darren’s arm came around me, enveloped me. “Easy. Are you sure you can walk?”
Instead of answering her question, I announced, “I am never going to have children. Ever.”
She shrugged. “Lynn, it’s your damn body. Your choice. Besides, there’s a war on, right? Orphans everywhere. If we ever decide that we want a kid, then we can pick up a slightly used toddler.”
“Ha. Not for me. But Ariadne, maybe . . . she really does want to be a mother. Go figure.”
Latoya was pacing alongside Ariadne, looking protective. Every so often, she would touch my sister’s sleeve with a careful fingertip, as if reassuring herself that she was still real.
“I think my bosun is head over heels for your sister,” Darren noted.
“Of course. Didn’t you see it coming? My sister is a lady, Latoya is a gentleman. It’s only natural.”
Darren suddenly stiffened. “Oh . . . damn.”
“What? You don’t have a problem with this, do you? Latoya’s been alone too long.”
“No, it’s not that. Hang on.”
We sped up until we came abreast of Whytock. Darren coughed, and then spoke in the specially deep voice she used when she was scared of sounding desperate. “Whytock—I mean, Lord Whytock—can you lend us a ship? Nothing fancy, just something that’ll get us off the island.”
“A ship?” Whytock repeated, as though he’d never heard the word before. “Yes, I suppose so. There’s a wreck that they pulled off the reefs a few nights back. They’ve just patched the hull. It isn’t much. Bit of an old tub, I’m afraid. Called, uh . . . the Badger, or something like that. Do you think that’ll do?”
DARREN DENIES IT, but I’ll swear on a stack of gold royals that high that there were tears in her eyes as she caressed the Badger’s gunwale.
“I swear, you love this ship more than me,” I said.
“Do not,” she said. “I sunk the damn thing so that I could come after you. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”
“Just that you were getting randy. Let’s face it, there are some things that ships can’t do.”
Regon gave me a sly wink as he brushed past with a barrel of pork over one shoulder. I nodded graciously back, accepting the tribute.
With Whytock there to lean on the dock master, we were allowed to take enough supplies for the trip back to friendly waters. Once we’d loaded them, and once Darren and Regon had crawled all around the patch on the Badger’s hull to make sure it would last as long as it needed to last, we were ready to go. Only Ariadne was still on dry land. She and Whytock were standing with their heads close together, having what looked like a Very Serious Discussion. I was about to come after her when they broke apart. Whytock whispered something more, and then stood back politely. Ariadne approached the ship and stood with one foot on the gangplank and the other on the pier.
“What was that all about?” I asked warily.
Ariadne’s face was pinched and grey. “He said that I can stay. He’ll cover up the murder so that I can remain here as his advisor.”
“Is ‘advisor’ the new secret code word for ‘wife’?”
“No, he’s married. Five sons. But he said that he could really use me, and if I want to be here, I’m welcome here.”
“Do you want to be here?”
“I don’t know,” she said unhappily, with a glance back over her shoulder. “Let’s face it, court intrigue is what I’m good at. It’s where I really belong.”
“That’s total crap. You belong anywhere you want to be. Right now you belong on a pirate ship. I’m already figuring out where to put your hammock. I’m going to put ribbons on it and things.”
“But I don’t know a thing about sailing.”
“Darren’s got sailors,” I pointed out. “What she doesn’t have is a ship’s surgeon.”
“But I’m not—”
I looked at Darren. “She knows about herbs and specifics, she can bandage and split with the best of them, and she knows when to back off and let nature take its course. Plus, she can sew.”
Darren cocked an eyebrow. “Did she ever stitch you up?”
“Well, not exactly . . . but she’s done a hell of a lot of embroidery.”
“It would be nice to have someone on the Banshee who could stitch wounds right,” Darren said thoughtfully. “Spinner’s been doing that, and he’s got hands like . . . well, like a sailor.”
Ariadne looked ragged and tired, with her face streaked with mud and streams of lace dripping from what was left of her underclothes. “But I know Bero. I could maybe ease the transition. Help Whytock with the deception. Stop some of the conflict. Don’t I really have a duty to the people? To stay?”
The silence crawled, and then Darren rubbed her face fiercely. “It’s what I would have done, if it were me. Ow. Lynn. Don’t kick me, I wasn’t going to stop there. I can’t make this decision for you, Ariadne. All I can say is, duty is overrated. No matter where you go, there are people who need help. But you kind of have to take love wherever you find it.”
Ariadne looked back at the castle.
And then back at me.
“The hell with it,” she announced.
And in two great bounds, she was up the gangplank, taking me into a crushing embrace.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Da
rren, formerly of the House of Torasan (Pirate Queen)
Morning, Day XIII
THERE WAS A freshening wind from the south as we pulled out of the harbour. It would be a long trek to find the Banshee, but for once I didn’t feel tired. It felt like the beginning of one of my early voyages, when every square inch of the ocean was new, and death was something that only happened to other people.
Regon had the tiller, and Lynn and I worked the sails. It was no good asking Ariadne and Latoya to do anything useful. They were huddled together by the side, Latoya’s arm wrapped around the princess. Every now and then, she cast a sort of “how’m-I-doing?” glance over her shoulder, and I would give an encouraging nod in reply.
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