Scott Lynch - Red Seas Under Red Skies

"Those weeks and months may instead be time enough for him to rouse his city," said Rodanov.

"You must trust me to be delicate," said Zamira. "As brother and sister captains, that's what I'm asking in the end. No matter what you hear from Tal Verrar — trust my judgement." "A significant request," said Colvard. "You ask no aid from any of us?"

"I can't think of anything that would be more counterproductive than for all of us to show up one morning off Tal Verrar, can you? The Archon would have his war in about ten minutes. So leave this task to me. A risk to my ship alone."

"A risk to us all," said Rodanov. "You're asking us to put our fates, and that of Port Prodigal, in your hands. Without any oversight."

"How has it been otherwise, these past seven years?" She stared around the circle at each captain in turn. "Each of us has always been at the mercy of the others. Any one of us could have raided too far north, attacked a ship carrying someone's royal cousin, murdered too many sailors or simply grown too greedy to ignore. We've been in peril all the way. I'm merely doing you the courtesy of pointing it out in advance for once." "And if you fail?" asked Ranee.

"If I fail," said Zamira, "there'll be no penalty for you to levy. I'll already be dead."

"Our oaths of non-interference," said Colvard. "That's whatyou want, isn't it? A promise to keep our swords in their scabbards while you throw the most important rule of our… association out through your stern window."

"In lieu of any better alternatives," said Zamira, "yes. That's exactly what I'm asking for."

"And if we say no?" Rodanov spoke quietly. "If we, four against one, forbid this?"

"Then we come to a line that we all fear to cross," said Zamira, matching his stare.

"/ won't forbid it," said Ranee. "I'll vow to keep my hands off you, Zamira. If you sweat for my gain, so much the better. And if you die in the process, I'll mourn you not."

"I'll give my oath as well," said Colvard. "Zamira" s right. Our collective safety at any given time depends on whichever one of us is the bloody craziest. If there's a chance to kick Maxilan off his pedestal, I pray for your success."

"Obviously Zamira Drakasha votes with Zamira Drakasha," Zamira said, turning her gaze to Rodanov and Strozzi.

"I don't like any of this," said Strozzi. "But if things go to shit, no ship afloat on this sea can run like my Osprey." He smiled and cracked his knuckles. "What the hell. You wave your skirt at the Archon and see if he's up for a fondle. I won't be anywhere near it."

"It appears," said Rodanov once all eyes had turned to him, "that I have the opportunity to be … unsociable." He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I don't think any of this is wise — but if I may take your promise of discretion to be as binding as my oath of non-interference… very well. Go spring this insane scheme."

"Thank you," said Zamira, feeling a warm flush of relief from head to toe. "Wasn't that easier than cutting one another to pieces?"

"This needs to stay between us," said Colvard. "I don't ask for an oath, I expect it. Stragos may have other eyes and ears in Prodigal. If this gets out to anyone not standing here, the time we've spent at this meeting — not to mention Zamira's mission — will be an utter waste." "Right," said Strozzi. "Silence. All gods as our witness." "All gods as our witness," the others echoed. "Will you leave immediately?" asked Colvard.

"My crew needs a night ashore. I can't ask them back out without that much. I'll send them in halves, sell off the rest of my swag as fast as I can. Clear the harbour in two or three days." "Three weeks to Tal Verrar," said Rodanov.

"Right," said Zamira. "No point in any of this if our lads drop dead en route. I intend to be hasty." She stepped up to Rodanov, put one hand on his right check and stood on her toes to kiss his left. "Jaffrim, have I ever let you down?"

"Never since the war," said Rodanov. "Ah, shit. Even that was a poor thing to say. Don't put me on the spot like this, Zamira. Just… don't fuck this up." "Hey," said Colvard, "how can I get some of that attention?"

"I'm feeling generous, but keep your hands to yourself if you prefer to keep them attached." She smiled, kissed Colvard in the middle of her wrinkled forehead and gave the old woman a hug. Gingerly, because it took pains to accommodate all the swords and daggers the two of them were wearing. Always thus, thought Zamira. Always thus in this life.

Utgar was the one waiting at the entry port to offer a hand when Zamira and Ezri went back up the side of the Poison Orchid. It was half-past the tenth hour of the evening. "Welcome back, Captain. How you be?"

"I" ve spent the day arguing with the Shipbreaker and the council of captains," Zamira muttered. "I require my children and I require a drink. Ezri—" "Yes?" "You, Ravelle, Valora. My cabin, immediately."

Once in her cabin, Zamira threw her coat, sabres, Elderglass vest and hat haphazardly onto her hammock. She settled onto her favourite chair with a groan and welcomed Paolo and Cosetta onto her lap. She lost herself in the familiar smell of their curly dark hair, and gazed with absolute satisfaction at their little fingers as she caught them in her own rough hands. Cosetta" s, still so tiny and uncertain… Paolo" s, growing longer and more dextrous by the week. Gods, they were growing too fast, too fast.

Their familiar chatter calmed her to the marrow; apparently, Paolo had spent the afternoon fighting monsters that lived in one of her sea-chests, while Cosetta now had plans to grow up to be King of the Seven Marrows. Zamira briefly considered explaining the difference between a king and a queen, and deemed it not worth the effort; contradicting Cos would only lead to days of circular argument.

"Be king! Seven Marers!" the little girl said, and Zamira nodded solemnly.

"Remember your poor family when you come into your kingdom, darling."

The door opened and Ezri appeared with Kosta and Valora… or should that be de Ferra? Damn these layered aliases.

"Lock the door," said Zamira. "Paolo, fetch Mummy four glasses. Ezri, can you do the business on one of those bottles of Lashani Blue? They" re right behind you."

Paolo, overawed at his responsibility, set four small tumblers out on the lacquered table atop the sea-chests. Kosta and de Ferra found seats on floor-cushions, and Ezri made quick work of the waxed cork sealing the bottle. The smell of fresh lemons pervaded the cabin, and Ezri filled each tumbler to the brim with wine the colour of the ocean depths.

"Alas, I'm bereft of toasts," said Zamira. "Sometimes one merely needs a drink. Have at it." Holding Cos with her left arm, Zamira downed her wine in one go, relishing the mingled tastes of spice and citrus, feeling the prickles of icy heat slide down her throat. "Want," said Cosetta. "This is a Mummy drink, Cos, and you wouldn't like its taste." "Want!"

"I said— Oh, very well. Can't fear the fire if you don't scald your fingertips." She poured the merest dash of the blue wine into her tumbler and handed it carefully to Cos. The girl took it up with an expression of the utmost solemnity, tipped its contents back into her mouth and then dropped it on the tabletop with a clatter. "Like PISS," she hollered, shaking her head.

"There are some drawbacks," said Zamira as she caught the tumbler before it went over the edge, "to raising children among sailors. But then I myself am no doubt making the largest contribution to her vocabulary."

"PIIIISSSSS," yelled Cosetta, giggling and immensely pleased with herself. Zamira shushed her.

"I have a toast," said Kosta, smirking and raising his glass. "To clear perception. I have just now, after all these weeks, realized who the real captain of this vessel is."