Ravage the Dark: 2 (Scavenge the Stars)

by Tara Sim

  Deadshot helped haul the captain back to her quarters, leaving Amaya’s bloody knife behind. Amaya picked it up and wiped it on her sleeve before sheathing it.

  The above deck was a mess of whispering and nervous shifting. Liesl signaled to Avi that the plan was changing as Jasper ran forward.

  “How many siblings did you have down there?” he asked, eyeing the others.

  “Apparently quite a few. We’re taking the ship.”

  “What? Li—”

  Then Adrienne stepped forward, and Jasper’s voice failed him. Amaya raised her eyebrows at the look that passed between them, stark and yearning. Liesl, oblivious for once in her life, asked the people who had followed Adrienne if they knew how to sail.

  Finally, Adrienne moved forward and hugged Jasper hard.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, holding her tight. “I failed you and Li. I should’ve done more, I should’ve looked harder.…”

  “Don’t say that,” she said softly. “You did what you could. We were all fighting for the same cause, and we knew what the consequences would be.” She stepped back with a watery smile. “And now we’re doing all we can to fix it.”

  “We’re going to have to make this quick,” Liesl interrupted, watching as some of the prisoners ran across the deck and jumped onto the docks. “Amaya, you take the helm while Deadshot and I take care of the rest.”

  Amaya gripped the spokes of the wheel as Liesl gave out orders, calling for the sails to be unfurled and the anchor to be lifted. The prisoners knew their duties like a song, making quick and quiet work of it.

  Avi, perched on the roof of the nearby ship records office, caught her attention. He was waving frantically, touching his chest twice. The signal that the navy was onto them.

  Amaya cursed under her breath and realized the vessel watching over the Ghost Ship was coming to life with scurrying soldiers.

  “Liesl!” she called down, knowing the time for stealth had passed. “We have to go now.”

  Liesl barked out orders alongside Adrienne, who knew the others by name and assigned them to their tasks. The wheel jerked beneath Amaya’s hands. She turned it a bit to the left as the ship began to move, slow and cautious as it nosed its way back into open water. The hull scraped against the dock and she winced. She had only had helm duty a couple of times on the Brackish.

  The Silver Star gained momentum as Liesl and Jasper rushed to join her. The naval ship was slowly starting to close in from the opposite side, but its pennants flapped halfheartedly, the wind working against their sails.

  Jasper took out his spyglass. “Hey, mean girl, your friend’s on that ship.”

  “Remy?” Amaya handed the wheel off to Liesl and rushed to the railing. The closer the ships came, the more she could make out his head of tousled brown hair behind the gunwale.

  Hoping it would work, she gave a high, sharp whistle followed by a two-finger salute, the familiar call and response from their days on board the Brackish.

  They were close enough now that she could tell he’d noticed. When he saw her, his eyes widened and his mouth moved; she could practically hear him cursing her out.

  Remy hurried to the helm as the ships began to draw up alongside each other and the naval soldiers prepared to board. Amaya pulled out a knife, more than ready to defend the prisoners from the system that wanted to destroy them.

  There was a call and a shout, and suddenly the naval ship veered away, toward the docks. The prisoners gasped as Liesl sighed in relief.

  “Well, what do you know,” Jasper drawled. “The bluecoat turned out all right.”

  “I’m sorry, Remy,” Amaya whispered. She knew she had a lecture in store, that he might face a suspension or worse for what he’d just done for her.

  But then a cheer erupted on the deck, the prisoners of the Silver Star throwing up their fists in victory. Adrienne beamed at Liesl, and the sisters hugged tightly, fingers digging into each other’s backs.

  “You know you can’t all stay on this ship,” Liesl told her, sobering as they parted. “You should go down toward Leguinne and leave it there, then go on foot to Viariche. Once my business has been taken care of, I’ll meet you there.”

  “What business is this?”

  “I’ll tell you about it when I come back.” Liesl put a hand on her sister’s shoulder, squeezing hard as if, despite her words, she wanted Adrienne to never leave her sight again. “Will you be all right? I can go with you.”

  “Tovi and Hermé know the ship backward and forward, and we’ll put the captain in one of the rowboats and leave her in open water. You can use the other rowboats to get back to shore.” Adrienne grinned. “We’ll be fine.”

  Jasper cleared his throat. “I’ll go with her.”

  “You will?” Liesl and Adrienne demanded at the same time.

  “Just to get you to Viariche,” Jasper said hurriedly. “Until Li comes back. If… If that’s all right.”

  Adrienne flushed as Liesl finally looked between them with a suspicious frown.

  “That’s all right with me,” Adrienne whispered.

  “What about the Benefactor?” Liesl asked of Jasper. “You’ve been invaluable to us. Without your contacts, I don’t know how far we’ll get.”

  “You’ll think of something. You always do. Besides, I don’t know how much more help I’ll be, since I can’t access the Deirdre records.”

  Liesl hummed doubtfully but caved. “Fine. But if anything happens, Jas, just remember how much you like your remaining hand.”

  As the ship began to settle and Deadshot and Adrienne finally exchanged a proper greeting, Amaya turned and saw the supposed Ghost Ship looming on the starboard side. It sat dark and brooding on the water, a silent monument to the city’s paranoia.

  Her smile fell as its features became clearer under the wan moonlight. It was a frigate, small and nondescript, bearing scratches along its hull as if it had undergone a battle and lost. A piece of its railing was missing on the port side.

  She had seen this ship before, in Moray. The night Nian and Cricket had died. The night she had realized Boon’s true intentions.

  She had fought him on the deck of that very ship.

  Boon was somewhere in the city.

  Just as gold is alloyed to give it strength, so too must our findings contribute to a better world.

  —ZANE MUSTAVE, RAIN EMPIRE ALCHEMIST

  Cayo was sweeping metal shavings in the back room when the bell to the front entrance of Florimond’s shop chimed.

  A customer. Which meant Florimond would be distracted for at least a little while. Cayo quietly leaned the broom against the wall and took the lockpicking tools from his pocket.

  When he had told Avi about the box of letters Florimond kept in his shop, the man had handed over his tools and told Cayo to make use of them. He still wasn’t very skilled at it, but at least he’d had some practice on the apartment’s locks.

  Florimond was working on a cure, and his patron wasn’t Deirdre. There shouldn’t be any reason to suspect him. And yet Cayo felt strange about the secrecy around the box; it gave him a prickling sensation in his stomach that he couldn’t properly explain.

  But as he headed toward the shelves, a man’s booming voice cut through the door.

  “Francis! Haven’t seen you at the meetings lately. What’s keeping you cooped up this time?”

  A friend? Another alchemist? Cayo used the man’s voice to his advantage, slipping the tools into the box’s small lock.

  “I’m not ‘cooped up,’ I’m working.”

  “Same thing. Patron’s got you burning more candles than you can afford?”

  “I’m fairly certain my workload is none of your business.”

  The man’s laugh was loud and belly-deep. “Same as ever. We miss you at the meetings.”

  “I’m sure you do. What you want, Avon?”

  “Well, Deirdre’s got me working a bit harder, too, and I completely forgot to order more goldenseal. Can you spare a few ounce
s?”

  Cayo stopped his attempt to find the lock’s tumbler. Deirdre?

  “She has you using goldenseal?” Florimond scoffed. “That can be poisonous in high doses.”

  “Good thing we’re not using high doses, then, isn’t it?” Something creaked, as if the other alchemist were leaning against the counter. “C’mon, I know you have some. The sooner you give it to me, the sooner we can get cracking on this cure.”

  Cayo frowned. Deirdre was having her alchemists work on a cure?

  It took a second to realize Florimond was walking toward the back. Cayo yanked the tools from the lock—cursing when one of them momentarily caught—and stumbled toward the broom.

  Florimond paused at the door and gave him an odd look. “What’s wrong?”

  “What?” Cayo’s voice was nearly a squeak. “Nothing. I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Is that another alchemist?”

  Florimond muttered to himself rather than respond, digging through his various jars of herbs and dried plants. Cayo gripped the broom handle tight enough to warrant splinters.

  “Is Deirdre his patron?” Cayo tried again. “Are her alchemists working on a cure, too?”

  Florimond found the right jar and headed for the door, giving Cayo that odd look again.

  “Want to go work for him instead?” Florimond demanded.

  “What? No, I… I’m just curious.”

  “Everyone’s working on a cure. What matters most is who gets there first—and what price it’ll go for.” He nodded to the broom. “If you’re done, you can go home for the night.”

  Cayo glanced at the locked box as the other alchemist said his goodbyes and the entrance’s bell chimed again. Florimond came back and immediately resumed his current project, ignoring Cayo as if he’d become just another piece of clutter.

  He’d lost his chance, but at least he’d stumbled on some information. His head spun as he returned to the apartment. It was empty; the others were out on their mission to rescue Liesl’s sister.

  He was far too anxious to sleep, so he stayed up to wait for them, pacing the length of the apartment. He practiced making the beds—he avoided Amaya’s; it smelled too much like her—and even started to dust using one of his socks, at a loss for what else to do. When that was done and the moon had climbed to midnight, he began practicing how to make tea. The cup he poured was bitter and pungent, making him gag.

  The door opened as he was tossing out the soggy tea leaves. The others streamed inside, slightly damp and smelling like the sea.

  “How did it go?” But one look at their faces told him they had succeeded, and some of his anxiety melted away.

  As they filled him in on what had happened—“Wait, you stole the entire ship?”—he couldn’t help but glance at Amaya’s oddly stony expression, the stiff way she held herself. She didn’t seem glad or relieved.

  She seemed… furious.

  “I wish I could have gone with her,” Liesl sighed as she kicked off her boots.

  “We’ll see her again,” Deadshot assured her. “And now we can focus on the counterfeit situation.”

  “Right.” Liesl flushed. “I’m sorry for being so preoccupied.”

  “She’s your sister. We understand.”

  “I’m glad you were able to find her,” Cayo said. “I, uh… I found out something. At Florimond’s.”

  The others turned to him. Everyone except Amaya, who leaned woodenly against the wall, staring at the window.

  When he told them about the other alchemist and how Deirdre was also trying to find a cure, Avi rubbed his chin.

  “Well, now,” the man said. “That’s an interesting development.”

  “Why would Deirdre be focused on making counterfeits and a cure for the fever she’s causing?” Deadshot asked.

  “Florimond said something about price. About whoever getting the cure first being able to control how much it goes for.”

  Avi laughed darkly. “Of course. She accidentally causes an epidemic, and then miraculously finds a cure for it. She could be controlling the whole damn thing to make a profit.”

  “That would be… ghastly,” Liesl muttered.

  Amaya pushed off the wall as the others contemplated at the table, heading for her bedroom. Cayo made to intercept her.

  “Are you all right?” He kept his voice down.

  She clenched her jaw, staring at his chest instead of his face. “Fine.”

  “You don’t seem fine.”

  “I’m fine, Cayo.” Her voice turned gravelly and sharp—a hint of Silverfish coming out. “Please move. I’m tired.”

  He hesitated. Whatever stood between them still felt fragile and brittle. If he dared to say anything more, do anything more, he worried it would shatter completely.

  But what they were facing was so much larger than an uncomfortable reconciliation.

  “Are you going to be all right for the tournament?” Cayo whispered, glancing at the others.

  “Worry more about yourself than me,” she hissed before shoving past him and closing the door behind her.

  He tried to ignore the cold weight in the pit of his stomach that only grew heavier the more he thought about the game, the chance to sit at the same table as Deirdre.

  The pouch of coins he’d won was tucked beneath his pallet, and more than anything he wanted to bring them to Mother Hilas and beg for any and all treatment they could buy.

  But Liesl had ignored their mission because of her sister, and he didn’t want to stumble into the same pitfall, to remain the weakest link among them. If there was a chance to gain an advantage, he was going to take it.

  Even if it meant risking everything he had worked for.

  Trickster brought the moon three gifts: a bowl of oil, a rabbit bone, and a drop of demon’s blood. The moon asked the purpose of these gifts, but Trickster did not say, only instructed the bone to be anointed in the blood and to steep it in the oil. Over time, it grew into a fearsome beast that stalked the moon, terrorizing all who came upon it. When Trickster next visited, the moon demanded why he had done this. I thought it would help you, Trickster said. With what? asked the moon. Isn’t it better, Trickster replied, to know your enemy as well as yourself?

  —KHARIAN MYTH

  Amaya laid on her bed, twisting the jade ring on her finger until her skin turned red.

  Tonight, she and Cayo would go back to the Golden Harbor in the Casino District. Tonight, they would be in close proximity to Deirdre and hopefully get more answers out of her.

  But Amaya couldn’t stop thinking about Boon’s weathered ship in the harbor. What Avi had told her. She conjured an image of her mother sitting in the corner where she liked to sew, kneeling beside Amaya and pointing out the beautifully glimmering webs of spider silk in their garden.

  Boon had known her parents, and he hadn’t told her. The weight of her mother’s potential betrayal sat like a cancerous growth inside her, and knowing the truth would be the only thing to remove it.

  Remy’s voice broke through her fugue. At first she dismissed it, thinking it some auditory hallucination. When he called her name again, she sat up with a gasp.

  Remy.

  He was sitting on the edge of her bed, thick eyebrows furrowed. She grabbed his wrist.

  “The ship,” she rasped. “Remy, I’m so sorry.”

  The laugh that came from him was strangled yet sincere. “Let’s just say you owe me a pastry.”

  “What happened? Are you in trouble? I’ve been so worried—”

  “After that stunt I pulled to save your ass? Of course I’m in trouble.”

  She pressed her forehead against his shoulder. He sighed as he rubbed her back.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured. “They only gave me a suspension. The debtors running loose on the docks were a good enough excuse to turn back to port.”

  She leaned back. “Did they…?”

  “Don’t worry, they escaped. Although I have no idea how much time they’ll hav
e until they’re caught again.”

  Amaya nodded miserably. She thought about how she’d felt on board the Silver Star, how badly she wanted to do that again, deposing captains and freeing their prisoners. Saving others from what she had suffered for seven years.

  “I know you had your reasons for doing it,” Remy said. “But next time, wait until I’m not on duty, all right?”

  “I’ll try.”

  He smiled faintly, then dug a piece of paper from his pocket.

  “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here,” he said, “although I suppose I had to show my face so you didn’t think I’d been executed for treason. They’ve been keeping a close eye on me, or else I’d have come sooner. Do you remember when you asked me to be on the lookout for incident reports?”

  Amaya’s stomach fluttered, thinking back to the sight of that ship in the harbor. “Yes.”

  “A new one came in. Took me a while to get ahold of it, what with the suspension and all.” Amaya grimaced even as he grinned. “It matches. ‘Tall, stocky Kharian man, black hair, black beard, drunkenly smashing bottles against the side of an ale house,’” he read from the paper. “‘Incapacitated the active officer attempting to fine him and fled the scene.’”

  A cold, heavy weight settled inside her.

  “That ship,” she whispered. “In the harbor. It’s his. The one he had at Moray.”

  Remy cursed. “I thought it looked familiar.”

  To Amaya, there had simply been no mistaking it. That night in Moray had left a brand within her, down to every horrific detail. The puddle of blood under Nian. The way Amaya’s lungs had seared with pain as she’d run through the streets. How coldly the stars had burned overhead.

  “Where was the incident reported?”

  He consulted the paper again. “Aumerine Street. It’s in a poorer district, far from the shops but not too far from the harbor.” Seeing the look on her face, he squeezed her forearm. “Amaya, I don’t want you doing anything reckless with this information. If you’re planning on going after Boon, at least let me go with you.”

  She looked into his warm brown eyes and wondered how they would regard her after seeing her kill a man.