Scott Lynch - Red Seas Under Red Skies

"Yes, I do feel that I can speak for both of us," said Locke. "There's no other choice. We won't see Stragos again unless you do as he asks. And to be frank, if you do as he asks, I think our usefulness ends. We'll have one more chance at physical access to him. It's time to show this fucker how we used to do things in Camorr." "I thought you specialized in dishonest finesse."

"I also do a brisk trade in putting knives to peoples" throats and shouting at them," said Locke.

"But if you request another meeting after we sink a few ships for him, don't you think he'll be prepared for treachery? Especially in a palace crowded with soldiers?"

"All I have to do is get close to him," said Locke. "I'm not going to pretend I could fight my way through a wall of guards, but from six inches with a good stiletto, I'm the hand of Aza Guilla Herself." "Hold him hostage, then?"

"Simple. Direct. Hopefully effective. If I can't trick an antidote out of him, or cut a deal with his alchemist, maybe I can frighten him half to death." "And you honestly believe you" ve thought this through?"

"Captain Drakasha, I could barely sleep these past few days for pondering it. Why do you think I wandered back here to find you?" "Well—"

"Captain!" The mainmast watch was hailing the deck. "Got action behind us!" "What do you mean?"

"Sail maybe three points off the larboard quarter, at the horizon. Just came around real sudden. Went from sort of westerly to pointed right at us." "Good eyes," said Drakasha. "Keep me informed. Utgar!" "Aye, Captain?"

"Double the watch on each mast. On deck there! Make ready for a course change! Stand by tacks and braces! Wait for my word!" "Real trouble, Captain?"

"Probably not," said Drakasha. "Even if Stragos has changed his mind since yesterday and decided to hunt us down now, a Verrari warship wouldn't be coming from that direction." "Hopefully."

"Aye. So what we do is we change our own heading, nice and slow. If their course change was innocent, they'll sail merrily past." She cleared her throat. "Helm, come around north-west by north, smartly! Utgar! Get the yards braced for a wind on the starboard quarter!" "Aye, Captain!"

The Poison Orchid slowly heeled even further to larboard, until she was headed almost due north-west. The stiff breeze now blew across the quarterdeck, nearly into Locke's face. To the south he fancied that he could see tiny sails; from the deck the vessel was still hull-down.

A few minutes later came the shout: "Captain! She's come five or six points to her larboard! She's for us again!"

"We're off her starboard bow," said Drakasha. "She's trying to close with us. But that doesn't make sense." She snapped her fingers. "Wait. Might be a bounty-privateer." "How could they know it's us?"

"Probably got a description of the Orchid horn the crew of that ketch you visited. Look, we could only hope to disguise my girl for so long. These lovely witchwood planks of hers are too distinctive." "So… how much of a problem is this?"

"Depends on who's got the speed. If she's a bounty-privateer, that's a profitless fight. She'll be carrying dangerous folk and no swag. So if we're the faster, I mean to show her our arse and wave farewell." "And if not?" "A profitless fight." "Captain," hollered one of the top-eyes, "she's a three-master!" "This just gets better and better," said Drakasha. "Go wake up Ezri and Jerome for me."

"Bad luck," said Delmastro. "Bad damned luck." "Only for them, if I have my way," said Zamira.

The captain and her lieutenant stood at the taffrail, staring at the faint square of white that marked their pursuer's position on the horizon. Locke waited with Jean a few steps away, at the starboard rail. Drakasha had nudged the ship a few points south, so that they were travelling west-north-west with the wind fine on the starboard quarter, what she claimed was the Orchid's best point of sail. Locke knew this was something of a risk: if their opponent was the faster, they could lay an intercepting course that would bring them up much sooner than a stern chase. The trouble was that such a chase to the north could not last; unlimited sea room existed only to their west.

"I'm not sure we're gaining any ground, Captain," said Delmastro after a few minutes of silence.

"Nor I. Damn this jumpy sea. If she's a three-master she may have the weight to carve a better speed out of it."

"Captain!" The cry from up the mainmast was even more urgent than usual. "Captain, she's not falling away, and… Captain, beggin" pardon, but you might want to come and see this for yourself." "See what?"

"If I ain't mad I" ve seen that ship before," shouted the watchwoman. "I'd swear it. I'd appreciate another set of eyes."

"I'll take a look," said Delmastro. "Mind if I fetch up your favourite glass?" "Drop it and I'll give your cabin over to Paolo and Cosetta."

Locke watched as Delmastro went up the mainmast a few minutes later armed with Zamira's pride and joy, a masterpiece of Verrari optics bound in alchemically treated leather. It was a few minutes more before her shout fell to the deck: "Captain, that's the Dread Sovereign]" "What? Del, are you absolutely sure?" "Seen her often enough, haven't I?" "I'm coming up myself!"

Locke exchanged a stare with Jean as Zamira leapt into the mainmast shrouds. A buzz of muttering and swearing had arisen among the crewfolk on deck. About a dozen abandoned their chores and headed aft, craning their necks for a glimpse of the sail in the south. They cleared away in alarm when Drakasha and Delmastro returned to the quarterdeck, looking grim. "So it's him?" said Locke.

"It is," said Drakasha. "And if he's been looking for us for any length of time, it means he sailed not all that long after we did." "So… he could be carrying a message or something, right?"

"No." Drakasha removed her hat and ran her other hand through her braids, almost nervously. "He opposed this plan more than anyone else on the council of captains. He didn't sail as long and as far as we did, to risk his ship within spitting distance of Tal Verrar, to deliver any message.

"I'm afraid we'll need to postpone our previous conversation, Ravelle. The point is moot until we're sure this ship will still be floating at the end of the day."

Locke stared out across the whitecaps at the Dread Sovereign, now well over the horizon, fixed on them like a needle drawn toward a lodestone. It was the tenth hour of the morning, and Rodanov's progress at their expense was obvious.

Zamira slammed her glass shut and whirled away from the taffrail, where she'd been studying the same phenomenon.

"Captain," said Delmastro, "there must be something… if we can just keep him off until nightfall—"

"Then we" d have options, aye. But only a straight stern chase could buy us that much time, and if we fly north we'll find the coast long before dusk. Not to mention the fact that she's fresh-careened and we're past due. The plain truth is, we've already lost this race."

Drakasha and Delmastro said nothing to one another for several moments, until Delmastro cleared her throat. "I'll, urn, start getting things ready, shall I?"

"You" d better. Let the Red Watch keep sleeping as long as you can, if any of them are still asleep."

Delmastro nodded, grabbed Jean by the tunic sleeve and pulled him with her toward the main-deck cargo hatch. "You mean to fight," said Locke.

"I have no choice but to fight. And neither do you, if you want to live to see dinner. Rodanov has nearly twice our numbers. You understand what a mess we're looking at." "And it's all for my sake, more or less. I'm sorry, Captain—"

"Avast bullshit, Ravelle. I won't second-guess my decision to help you, so no one else gets to, either. This is Stragos's doing, not yours. One way or another his plans would have put us in a tight spot."