It was my fault. I insisted we follow that signature. I lost myself in magic. If only I had listened to Maté…
“Would it help if I promised my people will not harm you?” he asked quietly.
“You’ve already harmed me,” she whispered. “You murdered my—my people.”
“I have my own dead from that encounter. But I see your point.” There was a brief pause, then he said, “Was that man your lover?”
If the ropes were not bound so tightly, she would have savaged him. Maté was her friend. Her companion. Her ally. The one person in Lord Brun’s household she trusted. Had trusted. It was her fault he was dead, and there was nothing, nothing she could do to bring him back.
Her eyes burned with tears. All those lessons from her tutors—how to kill with a single word, how to shape the magical current into a weapon—tumbled through her mind.
But there were too many unknowns for such an attempt, even if she could bring herself to kill. The size of the crew. The other magic-worker who had tended her during the night. In spite of her grief and rage about Maté, she was not yet done with caution.
“I have no lover,” she muttered. “They are not worth the trouble.”
The man said nothing. Anna wished she could see his face, to guess what he might be thinking. From far away, a sailor called out. Another echoed his words, then the floor beneath her leaned to one side. How many hours or days had passed since they had taken her prisoner?
“Where are you taking me?” she said reluctantly.
“Have you decided to cooperate?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No. But if you do, you’ll find it makes your time aboard easier.” When she did not answer, he sighed. “Very well. Let us take these matters in smaller steps. Will you consent to eat, Lady Vrou? Then we can talk about terms and parole. I’ve already sent word to your father, but we have a month or more before he replies.”
And those months would be spent as this man’s prisoner. What then? Barône Klos would deny her, of course. Meanwhile Sarrész would escape with the Emperor’s jewel. He might even find a buyer this time. Any number of rebel provinces might wish to turn the Emperor’s chief weapon against him to regain their freedom.
She frowned and pretended to consider. “Very well. But I want to see your face before I promise anything. You won’t untie me, I know, but please take off the blindfold.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Hold still now. My people tied these knots very tight.”
He took hold of her chin with one hand and slid the blade underneath her blindfold, just behind her ear. With a quick jerk, he cut through the cloth and it fell away.
He knelt beside her, the knife in one hand, the other holding her hammock steady. His face was so close it filled her vision. Lean and angular, nearly as dark as her own, with a nose like a hawk’s and eyes the color of new straw, so pale they appeared ghostlike. A dusting of beard covered his jaw and his thick black hair was cropped short. For a moment he studied Anna with narrowed eyes. Could he see the tears on her face? Or was he calculating the size of the ransom?
“Happier now?” he said. “Or is that a foolish question?”
Her lips curled back, but before she could make a reply—or bite him—a rap at the door interrupted.
“Captain!” a boy called out. “Daria’s back. She’s got news.”
The man’s attention veered from Anna to the door. She caught a flicker of—anticipation? triumph?—in his expression, but just as quickly it vanished.
“Of course she does,” he called back. “Tell her to report to my cabin. Pass the word for the rest of my officers. Oh, and we better have Thea as well.” To Anna, he said, “As for you, you have a temporary reprieve from our discussion. Expect me back before the glass turns.”
He exited the cabin and shut the door firmly. Anna sank back into the swinging cot. Her stomach felt hollow, her bones felt weak. She whispered her own invocation to the magical current, which eased the remaining aches in her skull, but she could do nothing about the panic that fluttered just beneath her ribs.
Before the glass turned. Did that mean an hour? Or less?
For the first time, she took stock of her surroundings. Her prison was a stark box of a room, everything scrubbed clean and polished smooth. Bright sunlight poured through the small porthole, and a faint whiff of magic, like freshly crushed herbs, overlaid the sour smell of sweat and vomit. Off to one side was a stack of crates. One held a tray with biscuits. Another had a pitcher of water and a mug. On the floor she spied a few crumpled sheets of paper. Letters to my supposed father.
She twisted her hands, trying to loosen the ropes, until her wrists were raw. No luck. She spent a useless moment wishing the captain had cut the cords, but the man was no idiot. A murderer, yes. A kidnapper. Brutal and devious. He would pretend kindness even as he planned how to extort money from her supposed situation.
She had to get away, but how?
Think, Anna, said a cool, dispassionate voice from her memory. Identify the obstacles, then consider how to overcome them. Her father’s voice had led her through intractable problems of logic and magic so many times. He had never foreseen his death, or her capture by pirates, but his lessons had taken on a new usefulness over the years.
How many did she face? One captain, who would preserve her only as long as he believed Anna to be Barône Klos’s daughter. An unknown number of crew, some of them vicious, violent men. All of them vicious and violent, she corrected herself. This Daria had returned with important news, which might occupy the officers, but that left the regular watch, not to mention any special guard posted.
I have to take the chance. They won’t kill me if I’m caught. Not until they find out I’m worth nothing to them.
Another whistle sounded overhead, followed by more thumping. Anna closed her eyes and pinned her thoughts upon magic. There was a thin divide between the worlds of magic and mundane, her father always said. The tipping point, he called it. A skilled mage could cross that divide into the magical plane called Anderswar, could stand upon the edge of all the worlds and lives, but for now, Anna would be satisfied if she could unravel the ropes.
Ei rûf ane gôtter. Ei rûf ane Lir unde Toc. Komen mir de strôm...
It took only a moment to reach the balance point. Magic spiraled around her, like the breeze from Duenne’s northern hills, edged with snow and frost and the tang of pine fires. Like the sharp wind from her life dream. She reached into the rope with her magical self...
She had the barest of warnings—a spark, a sudden flare of heat. No time to counteract that spell. The ropes exploded into fire and seared her wrists. Anna bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out. Damn, damn, damn.
The magic vanished almost at once. Anna let out a gasp, then another. Her eyes blurred with tears of pain. Gods, it hurt. She didn’t need to look to know what had happened. Her wrists were burned raw and bleeding. Her boots had disintegrated into charred bits. Nothing remained of the ropes that bound her except a cloud of ashes drifting through the air.
So much for being discreet. She had to act quickly now, and never mind the rest. Gritting her teeth, Anna eased herself from the hammock. Her treacherous legs folded underneath her and she sat down with a loud thump. She cursed again, breathless and terrified, fully expecting the captain to reappear, but there was no sign anyone had heard.
No time for panicking. She had to keep moving. Teeth gritted against the pain in her throbbing wrists, Anna crawled over to the nearest porthole and hauled herself to her feet.
Finally. One small bit of luck in an ocean of disaster.
Anna had half expected to find herself on the open seas, but there, not so very far away,