The Sky Weaver Page 6

  A pair of black boots came into sudden focus. At the sight of them, Safire pushed herself to a sitting position and was surprised to find her hands weren’t bound.

  She immediately reached for her knives—all of which were gone. Even the one she kept hidden inside her shirt, strapped to her torso.

  “Well, little spy” came that rough voice from the Thirsty Craw. “Welcome to the Hyacinth.”

  Jemsin.

  Safire looked up into the watery brown eyes of a man old enough to be her father. They were the same eyes she’d seen in the crawl space an instant before that knife flew up through the boards. The raised bump of a scar slashed across his forehead above his right eye and on his shoulder perched a huge black raven with bloodred eyes. A silver band encircled its leg, one that matched the silver ring on Jemsin’s smallest finger.

  The pirate captain looked Safire up and down, taking in her complexion—which was several shades lighter than Dax’s and Asha’s. “Skral born,” he mused.

  She bristled, waiting for further indictment of her mixed heritage—an almost daily occurrence in Firgaard. But the captain only shrugged, as if it meant nothing to him. As if the designation hadn’t shaped Safire’s entire life. “Eris says you’re the dragon king’s commandant, as well as his cousin. Perhaps you can help me.”

  I’d sooner throw myself into the sea, she thought.

  “What day is it?” she demanded.

  “The day after yesterday,” he said, making it clear that he had no intention of giving her information until she gave him some first.

  Safire held his gaze. “It’s true. My cousin is the dragon king, and I’m the commander of his army. Which is precisely why you’ll never get away with this.”

  “With kidnapping you?” Jemsin smiled, gesturing to the empty horizon. “I already have.”

  Safire shook her head. “My king will come after you the moment he realizes you have me.”

  He bent over, pressing his hands to his knees, and Safire saw the blood caked in his fingernails. It turned her mouth sour.

  “We’re half a day’s sail from Darmoor, love. We left in the night without a soul knowing. Your precious king will just be waking up, and by the time he tracks you to us—if he tracks you to us—there will be very little left of you. Unless you cooperate.”

  Safire glanced around, needing a plan. The truth was, she very much doubted Dax would be able to track them. Even if he’d discovered Safire’s absence by now, how would he know it was Jemsin who’d kidnapped her? And even if he figured it out, how would he begin to look for her?

  Safire couldn’t depend on her cousin. She needed to get out of this herself.

  She checked the sky, but it was cloudy and gray. She couldn’t tell where exactly the sun was, nor the direction they were sailing in. And they were so far out at sea, she couldn’t tell how far from land they were.

  “Tell me where the Namsara is,” demanded the pirate captain.

  Safire turned back to Jemsin, holding his steely gaze with her own. “Tell me why you want her.”

  His jaw tightened. Clearly he didn’t like being challenged. “I’ll give you one chance, skral. Where’s the Namsara?”

  Safire kept her mouth clamped shut.

  “If you’re not going to cooperate, I’ll let my crew take you down to the brig. And then we’ll try again.”

  If he thought she would endanger Asha so easily, he was deeply mistaken.

  When it became clear she wasn’t going to talk, Jemsin clenched his fists. He glanced over Safire’s shoulder and gestured with his chin. Strong hands grabbed her, hauling her to her feet. They dragged her down damp and rotting steps, through a dim narrow passage, toward what looked like an enormous cage with rusted iron bars on all four sides. Inside there was a small, moldy mattress with a bucket beside it.

  Safire wasn’t worried about the cell. She still had her picklocks, after all. She could feel the bulge of them hidden in the flap of her boot. It was the fact that this room had no windows. And she was surrounded by men with big, groping hands.

  She had been alone with such men before.

  Alone where no one could hear her cries.

  She would not endure it again.

  She nailed the first one in the teeth with her elbow. Then broke the nose of the second. They both let go, cursing and bleeding and staggering back. No longer restricted, Safire managed to grab the daggers from their hips as two more fell in to replace them. She caught the short sword of the first while she stabbed the second with the folding knife in her boot, sending him howling. But everywhere she turned, there were more.

  A fist connected with her cheek and Safire fell back, trying to shake off the shock of it. She didn’t see the boot until it hit her in the gut, knocking the air out of her lungs as it sent her backward. Her spine slammed into one of the cell’s iron bars.

  Safire saw stars.

  They shoved her, stunned, into the cell.

  Safire fell to her knees, trying to stop the world from spinning around her.

  She felt rather than saw someone step inside with her. Heard the clang of the door shutting behind them. Suddenly, she wasn’t here, in the brig of this ship. She was back in the halls of the palace, cowering before the former commandant—a man named Jarek—and his soldats, waiting for their fists to rain down, for their boots to break her ribs. . . .

  “That’s enough.”

  The snarl brought her back. Safire looked up, to the green-eyed girl flying down the steps and into the crowd circling the cell. The Death Dancer.

  “Get out of there, Remy.”

  “You ain’t my captain,” the man called Remy said, cracking his knuckles as he smirked down at Safire.

  In the blink of an eye, Eris was through the door and inside the cell, standing between Safire and Remy.

  Safire stared, stunned at her swiftness.

  Remy staggered back in surprise. “Tides, Eris. What’s your problem? The captain said—”

  “Change of plan. Captain’s orders.” Eris’s gaze didn’t leave Remy, who glared down at her. Without taking her eyes off him, she said to Safire: “Get up, princess.”

  Safire obliged.

  Strange, how this wraith-like girl could command such vicious men.

  Stranger still that the captain would change his orders immediately after issuing them.

  The Death Dancer led Safire back up to the deck. Safire glanced up to the horizon, searching for landmarks. But there was still nothing but cobalt sea and gray sky.

  Before Eris forced her down another set of stairs, Safire caught sight of a small rowboat, tethered to the Hyacinth’s starboard side. If she could somehow get free of her captor, perhaps she could use it to escape.

  “Keep moving.” Eris gave her a shove from behind and Safire stumbled, reaching for the damp clapboard walls of this passage to steady herself. Prickling with anger, she wanted nothing more than to turn and strike. But this was the Death Dancer: a girl who’d dodged Safire’s every blow last night as if made of wind and starlight; a girl who’d snuck past the palace guards and into her room, then disappeared before her eyes.

  Even if this girl wasn’t some kind of demon, even if Safire could overpower her and flee, they were out at sea. There was no way Safire could escape in broad daylight.

  More important: she needed to find out why they were hunting Asha.

  “Where are you taking me?” asked Safire.

  “You would find out sooner if you walked more and talked less,” said Eris, nudging her on and nodding toward a door straight ahead. Just before they reached it, Eris reached for her arm, stopping her. Safire flinched, jerking away. That same prickle of memory bubbled up in her: Jarek. His soldats. All of them hurting her. With the memories came the too-familiar panic.

  Safire willed herself to calm. Jarek was dead. She was commandant now.

  She could handle this.

  “Behave yourself in there, princess.”

  Safire cringed at that word, thinking of the
ir last conversation in her bedroom three nights past and the things Eris accused her of.

  Despite what this girl thought, Safire had no claim on the throne. She wasn’t a draksor—not wholly, anyway. Her mother had been a skral. A slave. And even though the skral had been freed from their bonds in Firgaard, most draksors still didn’t see them as equals. Didn’t see her as equal.

  In no world would Safire ever sit on that throne. Nor did she want to. It was Dax’s throne, and she intended to keep him on it.

  “It must have been nice, growing up in a palace. Having servants to dress and feed and bathe you. Having guards to protect you.” Eris said this with bitterness. Like the thought of it—of Safire—sickened her.

  Safire thought of her childhood. Of how she was never allowed near her family at formal events, how she was forbidden to touch her cousins, how she lived every day in constant fear of Jarek and his cruelty.

  “Actually,” she said softly, “it was a nightmare.”

  Eris paused, studying her.

  Safire stared straight ahead.

  Finally, Eris opened the door and pushed her inside.

  The room she stumbled into lay at the stern of the Hyacinth, full of light that flooded in through the portholes. An ornate desk loomed before her, its sides carved with images of ships and waves and sea monsters. On its surface were a familiar pair of black boots, crossed at the ankles. Just beyond the desk, that same black raven perched in a gold filigree cage, staring at Safire with its eerie eyes.

  “Eris.” The captain uncrossed his legs and lowered his feet to the floor, looking from his Death Dancer to Safire and back. “What are you doing?”

  “Saving you from a grave error.”

  Jemsin frowned, leaning over the desk and setting aside the stack of papers he’d been reading. “And what error is that?”

  Eris shoved Safire closer. Safire had to plant both palms on the surface of the desk to stop herself from tumbling over it. She scowled over her shoulder.

  Eris ignored it. “Your men are brutes. They’ll accidently kill her before they get anything useful out of her. I want you to put me in charge of her.”

  Safire shot Eris a look. Huh? Hadn’t she just told Remy she was taking Safire on the captain’s orders?

  Jemsin’s weathered face showed no hint of emotion or decision as he looked Safire up and down.

  “If you give her to me,” Eris continued, “I’ll find out the Namsara’s location before tomorrow morning.”

  The captain’s brows lifted. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “And if you don’t?”

  “I will,” insisted Eris. But then she shrugged. “If I don’t, I’ll give her back to the boys.”

  The captain steepled his fingers, thinking.

  “We don’t have time for that.” He shook his head. “If she doesn’t cooperate—if she doesn’t give you the Namsara’s location before midnight—you’ll give her to me. And I’ll send a very clear message to every corner of the Silver Sea.” He fixed his eyes on Safire, speaking directly to her now. “As of midnight, for every hour the Namsara doesn’t come for you, I’ll take something. Starting with those pretty blue eyes of yours.”

  Safire held his gaze even as a cold fear spread through her. In that moment, she hated this man even more than Jarek. At least Jarek was loyal to something. Jemsin was less than that. He would use someone’s loyalty against them.

  Jemsin leaned forward with both hands on the arms of his chair, about to push himself out of it. To Eris, he said, “Bring her back to the brig.”

  “I don’t want her in the brig,” Eris said.

  The captain paused.

  “I want her in my quarters.”

  Safire nearly choked. She turned, horrified and fists clenching. “I think I’d prefer the brig.”

  A slow smile curled the captain’s lips. But Eris’s expression remained neutral.

  The captain looked back and forth between them. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Trust me,” said Eris, her voice quiet. “I can handle her.”

  Nine

  Strong hands plunged Safire’s head beneath the icy water of the barrel and held it there. Her fingers gripped the rim, struggling against the strength of those hands. Fighting to lift her head above the surface.

  Her lungs were on fire. She was drowning. She needed air.

  And then, just like all the times before, her torturers let her up.

  Safire gasped, gulping in air, her chest heaving as she clung to the side of the barrel, her wet hair plastered to her face.

  Eris paced back and forth in front of her, footsteps agitated.

  One of the two men who held Safire in place asked, “Again?”

  Eris stopped, staring down at Safire. “I don’t know. Are you ready to tell us where your cousin is?”

  Looking out of the porthole, Safire could see the sky growing red.

  Sunset.

  Safire would never tell them where Asha was. But the thought of going underwater again filled her with dread. And if she didn’t give Eris the information she wanted, Eris would hand her over to Jemsin, who would simply kill her.

  She needed to buy herself enough time to escape and warn Asha.

  “Send them out,” said Safire, her breathing ragged as she looked to the two brutes on either side of her. “And I’ll discuss terms.”

  Eris arched a brow. “Terms? You think this is a negotiation?”

  Remembering the conversation she’d overheard in the Thirsty Craw, Safire didn’t back down. “I think you’re more desperate than you let on.”

  Eris’s eyes flashed. She stared down Safire for a long moment, as if deciding her next move, then looked to the pirates holding her captive. “Lock her up. Then leave us.”

  The brutes secured Safire’s wrists in cold shackles attached to an iron ring in the ceiling. When the lock clicked, Safire found the chains weren’t long enough to drop her arms. She tugged, but her wrists could only come down as far as her temples.

  Eris waved the men off, sending them out of the room. When the door shut and they were alone, Safire said, “You’re despicable.”

  Eris walked over to a large table where a map lay unrolled. Reaching for the pack of matches resting next to an unlit lamp, she said, “The feeling’s mutual, princess.”

  Safire gritted her teeth. “Stop calling me that.”

  Eris removed the glass chimney of the oil lamp, then turned the thumb wheel to raise the wick. “You’d prefer I call you commandant?” She struck the match, lit the wick, then adjusted the flame. After blowing out the match, Eris replaced the glass chimney and turned to Safire. The golden glow illuminated her face as she spoke. “Tell me, then, commandant: Do you enjoy making people do what you want? Does it please you when they unthinkingly follow your orders?”

  Giving orders was not Safire’s job. Her job was keeping the king and queen safe. Keeping Firgaard—her home—safe. And looking out for every single soldat under her care.

  “Isn’t that what you do?” Safire held Eris’s gaze, thinking of the conversation she’d overheard in that crawl space. “Unthinkingly follow your captain’s orders?”

  Eris shot her a withering look.

  “My soldats are free to leave at any time,” Safire went on. “They stay because they’re loyal.”

  “Loyalty,” Eris muttered, her jaw clenched, “is a luxury most of us can’t afford.”

  She said it so matter-of-factly. As if she believed it.

  For the merest of heartbeats, Safire wondered what that would be like. To be devoted to no one, and have no one devoted to you.

  It made her sad to think about.

  Safire quickly changed the subject. “Why do you want my cousin so badly?”

  “I don’t want her.”

  “Your captain, then.”

  Eris opened her mouth to answer, then closed it.

  “How about we play a game,” she said, clasping her hands. “For every answer I give you, you give me one in r
eturn.”

  Safire frowned and fell back against the wall of this room, her wrists locked above her.

  “I’ll tell you why the captain wants your cousin if you tell me where she is.”

  No way was Safire doing that.

  It gave her hope, though. If Eris had no idea where the Namsara was, it would be much easier to lead her afield of her target.

  “Even if I knew where she was,” said Safire, “I wouldn’t tell a pirate.”

  “I’m not a pirate.”

  Safire narrowed her eyes. “You run with pirates.” She looked Eris up and down, taking in her yellowed cotton shirt and dirty trousers. “You look like a pirate. You even smell like a pirate.”

  Eris stepped back suddenly, then pulled up the collar of her shirt and sniffed. She wrinkled her nose and dropped the shirt collar.

  “Come on, princess. It’s only a matter of time before Jemsin comes through on his promise. He’ll use you—dead or alive—to lure her in.”

  “And what will he do once she arrives?” Safire said. “Doesn’t he know that where Asha goes, so does Kozu? Jemsin and his crew are no match for the oldest and fiercest of dragons.”

  “A dragon can be taken down,” said Eris simply.

  “And you’ll take Kozu down with . . . what? A net made of sails?”

  As if she were suddenly bored with this conversation, Eris took out a knife—one of hers, Safire noticed with hot fury—and started picking her fingernails with it. It was the one Eris had stolen from beneath her pillow.

  “There are no less than twelve harpoons aboard this ship,” said Eris.

  Safire’s heart sank. She didn’t think Kozu could withstand twelve harpoons. She tucked this information away for later. If she couldn’t escape, she would somehow find those harpoons and drop them to the bottom of the sea.

  “And the king?” Safire continued. “I’m the commander of his army. You don’t think that army will come after me the moment Dax figures out where I am?”

  Eris smirked at this. “The king’s army is in Firgaard, leagues away from here. It would take them a week to catch up, and that’s if they have ships, and good weather, and navigational skills.” She shot Safire a skeptical look. “I’m willing to bet they have none of those things.”