Blue Sea Burning (13 page)

I looked at the preparations going on around us.
Li Homaya
's men were almost ready to march. I had to go now, or not at all.

“Then we'll have to split up.”

My stomach dropped as I said the words.

“Nuts to that!” growled Guts. He was twitching up a storm. “Gotta be a
pudda
way to do both!”

But there wasn't. And there was no time left to argue.

“You still have the map I drew?” I asked Kira.

She nodded.

“No!”
Guts yelped, practically in tears. “
— pudda glulo —
! Gotta stick together!”

“We can't, Guts,” Kira said softly. “There's no other way.”

I could feel tears welling up behind my eyes. I didn't want to split from Guts any more than he wanted to split from me.

But after what I'd seen between him and Kira on the
Grift,
I knew that if there was a choice to be made, he belonged with her.

“You stay with Kira,” I said. “I'll be okay—”

“— you, ye —!”

“
—
you,
ye —
billi glulo domamora!”
I shot back.

I'd never cursed at Guts before, let alone like that, and the shock of it made him laugh.

It made me laugh, too—which was a relief, because if I hadn't laughed just then, I would've cried.

Li Homaya
was just down the beach, in the middle of a little purple swarm of his lieutenants. “Can you speak to
Li Homaya
for me?” I asked Kira.

“You are sure you want to go with him?”

I nodded. “I'm sure.”

She walked over to
Li Homaya.
Guts and I followed.

The Viceroy turned at the sound of her voice. She asked him a question in Cartager.

He looked past her to me. His lip curled. Then he asked a question of his own.

Kira translated for me.

“He wants to know what good you are to him.”

That was a tough one. “I speak Rovian. And I could . . . scout for him. I've been over the land before. And I'm small, so people won't notice me.”

Kira translated it.
Li Homaya
snorted. I didn't need a translation to know he wasn't convinced.

“Tell him Roger Pembroke killed my father,” I said, my voice shaky with emotion.

She told him.
Li Homaya
's mouth split into a sour smirk. He said a couple of sentences, shaking his head. Then he turned his back on us.

The conversation was over.

I felt my face turn hot. “What did he say?”

“It doesn't matter,” Kira said in the soothing voice she usually reserved for calming down Guts. “He is not a kind man.”

“Just tell me what he said!”

She sighed. “He said all fathers die eventually. And he is leading an army, not a camp for boys.”

The anger was boiling up inside me. I wanted to scream. Or hit something. Not something, someone:
Li Homaya.

“Nuts to him,” said Guts.

For a while, we just stood there—me seething, and the other two not knowing what to say.

“C'mon,” Guts said finally. “Gotta get back to the
Grift
'fore the sun rises.”

As I followed them back to our little raft, I thought about going to Pella anyway—following the Cartagers as they marched, or striking out on my own and getting there ahead of them.

I can find the way just fine. And I'll eat . . .

I didn't know what I'd eat. I didn't have any supplies, or weapons, or anything except the shirt on my back.

I can steal a rifle from them. And powder, and shot, and . . . and . . .

In the end, I got on the raft. But the anger kept building, until I could feel it burn all the way to the tips of my ears. As we pushed away from the shore, I silently cursed
Li Homaya
and all his men with the foulest words I knew.

And I wondered if my uncle had been right about
Li Homaya
after all.

Even if he wasn't, Healy was dead-on about one thing: there was no point in trying to divide the Blue Sea into good and bad.

As far as I could tell, the only men on it were bad and worse.

Landfall

I SULKED FOR MOST
of the next hour as we paddled back through the fog.

Li Homaya
's refusing to take me along probably shouldn't have upset me as much as it did. Even as I stewed over it, a part of me had to admit he was right. I wasn't a soldier, I didn't have any skills or knowledge that might help him . . . I didn't even speak Cartager.

But I was furious just the same. And I didn't snap out of it until Kira gave me something new to worry about.

“What if we can't find the
Grift
in the fog?”

“Tough to miss once she starts firin',” Guts pointed out. “Bigger problem, tho'—wot if she sinks that ship and sails off 'fore we can get to her?”

I thought about the situation for a moment.

“That might not be the biggest problem,” I said.

“Wot is?”

“What'll the pirates do to us when they find out we've crossed them?”

I'd managed to ignore that question when Quint had brought it up, because I knew
Li Homaya
and the Cartagers were the only ones who might be able to knock off Roger Pembroke. But now there was no ignoring it, and the way Kira and Guts fell silent made me realize they were as worried about it as I was.

“We can't turn around,” Kira said finally. “The Cartagers will not have us. And we'd be left in Moku territory.”

Having been captured by the Moku once before, none of us were exactly eager to repeat the experience.

“Take our chances with the pirates, then,” said Guts, his shoulders twitching.

After the last couple of days, I wouldn't have thought I still had it in me to be afraid. But my stomach churned the whole rest of the time we were on that little raft.

Fortunately, we weren't on it for long. Daybreak came quickly, and the fog was just starting to lift when the
Grift
's guns erupted, lighting up the gray sky with bursts of orange a few hundred yards from us.

By the time we paddled within hailing distance, the guns had stopped and the fog had burned off enough to reveal the distant, burning hulk of the last Cartager man-of-war, listing badly on the Fangs. If she hadn't been so firmly beached, she would've keeled over and sunk before we finished climbing the rope ladder that had been thrown over the side of the
Grift
to let us back on the ship.

Healy met us at the deck rail, along with Quint and a dozen other pirates. There was a tight smile on my uncle's face.

“On behalf of the crew, I'd like to thank you three,” he said.

We must have looked as shocked as we felt, because he quickly added an explanation.

“The carpenter told me what happened,” he said, nodding at Quint. “It was quite brave of you to volunteer to go over the side and seal the breach with sailcloth so he could get a better handle on the patch. And I'm sure you must have been quite frightened when you drifted off and spent the next few hours lost in the fog. Good to have you back.”

Just in case we were tempted to think he believed what he was saying, he let the smile drop at the end of his speech and shot me a look that could have melted steel.

“We won't speak of this again,” he said.

And we didn't. Although I did wonder if the rest of the pirates knew what we'd been up to, or if anyone had noticed that the burning of the man-of-war was strangely unaccompanied by the anguished screams of dying men.

But even I wasn't dumb enough to ask about that.

After that, we went below and slept through the whole rest of the day, getting up just long enough to eat practically a whole bucket of rations each before going right back to our hammocks and sacking out again.

I lay awake for a couple of hours that night, working out what I'd do once we reached Edgartown. Kira was going to find her old tutor and get his help in tracking down the Okalu, translating the map, and trying to find the Fist of Ka.

Guts was going with her. And so was I.

But first, I had to find Millicent. She was almost definitely still on Sunrise Island—but if I didn't move fast, her mother would ship her off to some Rovian boarding school on the Continent, and it'd be months or even years before I could find her.

What if she'd met someone else by then? Someone like that Cyril fellow—older and richer than me?

What if she was with that Cyril fellow right now, back on Sunrise?

What if they were
actually
planning to get married?

I had to get to Sunrise. And fast. I wouldn't be welcome there. It was Pembroke's island, and even if he was down in Pella, his men would know me by sight—those “
WANTED
” posters had seen to that—and if they got their hands on me, it wouldn't be good.

My uncle could help. I'd ask him the next chance I got.

No. I couldn't. I'd pushed my luck with him far enough already. I couldn't just go begging him for more help.

Unless I could find the right way to ask.

I'd figure it out. I'd make it work. I'd find Millicent somehow.

I had to. I was in love with her.

BY THE TIME
we got up with the sun the next morning, the
Grift
was sailing into a wide bay on the southern tip of a lush, hilly green island so big that at first I thought it was the mainland.

Then Edgartown came into view. It was the second-largest city I'd ever seen behind Pella Nonna—a mile-wide spread of pointy-roofed Continental buildings, nestled under a hillside topped by a giant stone fortress.

Quint thought we were insane to be sailing within range of the fortress's cannon.

“An' us flyin' the red and black? Be smashed to bits any second!” he yelped at Ismail, who was standing with us at the forward rail.

Ismail smiled. “Look up, friend. We fly Rovian flag today.”

We turned and craned our necks to peer up at the mainmast. Sure enough, Healy's pirate flag had been struck, replaced by the blue cross of Rovia.

“Flag ain't gonna throw nobody off! The whole world knows wot Burn Healy's ship looks like.”

“Nah,” said Ismail. “Is good, man. We go to Edgartown long time. Years now.”

“Tell another!” snorted Quint.

“Is true. Not all together. Usually, we dock in cove to north. Take launches down to city. Ten men each. Captain make us change clothes, look fancy. This time little bit different. Never dock in port before. But is okay. We need shipyard for repair. And these Rovians owe us big now. For Pella.”

“What
did
happen in Pella?” I asked. “What did you do for Pembroke and his men?”

“Practically whole thing. Rovians want invade, but only got four warships. Not many guns. They ask captain for help. Healy make plan—middle of night, we sail into lagoon north of citadel. Then we shoot from behind. Cartager cannon all pointed forward, into bay and ocean. Never expect someone shoot from behind. So, boom—we take out citadel. Sink man-of-war in harbor same way. She never even raise sails. After that, Rovians land troops, no problem. Then we help with street fight, too.”

Ismail nodded in the direction of Edgartown. “These Rovian guys owe us big. Think now, we walk in front door, they don't complain.”

Quint wasn't buying it. “Believe it when I see it,” he muttered.

But it seemed true enough—we sailed into the crowded port without so much as a warning shot coming from the shore.

And the flag wasn't the only thing that had changed. The crew's usual deadly seriousness had melted away. They were laughing and joking—especially the gun crews, who had started some kind of contest that, as far as I could tell, involved setting each other's toes on fire.

I would've expected my uncle to come down on them with a heavy hand. But he'd gone as strangely jolly as the rest of them. As we started our final approach to one of the easternmost piers, he showed up on deck, his head and eye freshly bandaged, and called the crew together for a speech that was so different from his usual ones that for a moment I wondered if his head injury was more serious than I'd realized.

“Morning, brothers. Hope you're looking forward to your stay in the Fish Islands. The crab cakes are particularly good this time of year. But for everyone's sake, please don't dine in public until you've had a bath—preferably with soap, because every last one of you smells like a dog's rear end.”

A few of the pirates sniffed themselves. No one seemed to disagree. Healy continued.

“A few things to keep in mind: as long as we're in Edgartown, I am
not
Burn Healy. I'm Mr. Longtrousers. Actually, Commodore Longtrousers. I was promoted recently, not that any of you ingrates bothered to send flowers. As for yourselves, congratulations: you've also been promoted, from murderous outlaws to the brave marines of the Forty-Third Rovian Irregulars. Once we've docked, I'll have to ask you to stay near the ship for at least a few hours. You're welcome to disembark, but don't stray past the boardwalks. And mind the ground rules: no robbery, assault, extortion, pillaging, or practical jokes.

“And I can't stress that last bit enough—please, please,
do not set fire
to the toes of any non–crew members. And for Savior's sake, don't start drinking until I say it's okay. Any questions?”

A pirate raised his hand. “When's it okay to start drinking?”

“When I say so.”

Another hand. “When will you say so?”

Healy sighed. “Soon as you get paid.”

“When do we get paid?”

Healy frowned at the pirate who'd just bellowed out the question. “I didn't see your hand up, Frank.”

Frank raised his hand. “When do we get paid?”

“Soon as I fetch the ten million. Any other questions? No? Nobody wants a restaurant recommendation? All right, then. Meeting adjourned.”

Quint was standing on the capstan, his mouth open wide enough for a seagull to nest in it.

“Wot the blaze got into
him
?”

“I have no idea,” I said. Kira and Guts looked equally stunned.

Ismail was still with us. He grinned.

“Is something, yeah? Captain on shore not like captain at sea. Big relaxed.”

“That's
Commodore
to you,” came a voice from behind us.

It was my uncle. He gave Ismail a smirk. “And don't you forget it, you dirty Gualo.” Then he turned to Quint.

“When we dock, would you mind seeking out the master of the shipyard and giving him a look at the damage? We'll want to get the repairs started as fast as possible.”

“No problem, Cap.”

“Thanks much. Ismail can join you if he's not too lazy.”

“Only just,” Ismail said with a wink.

Then Healy turned to me. “Do you have plans for this morning?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good. Come run an errand with me.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a fistful of gold coins, and handed them to Guts and Kira.

“I'll bring him back shortly,” he told them. “In the meantime, there's a bakery along the boardwalk you'll want to try. The jelly bread's outstanding. Tell them Commodore Longtrousers sent you, and you'll get a discount. Along with a look of terror, I suspect.”

Just the mention of jelly bread made my stomach growl. “Save some for me?” I asked Kira as I followed my uncle away.

SPIGGS, PIKE, MACKIE THE GUNNER,
Roy Okemu, and several other pirates were all in the captain's cabin when we entered, arming themselves to the teeth with pistols and knives from a crate of weapons.

“Help yourself,” my uncle told me. “No need to load the pistols. It's for appearance's sake more than anything.”

I took a pistol and tried to jam it into my waistband. I must have looked pretty ridiculous, because the men all traded amused grins.

“The boy know where we go?” Okemu asked.

“Let's ask him,” said Healy. “Do you know where we're going, Egg?”