Tress of the Emerald Sea (The Cosmere)(27)

A cannonball. Hidden in the cavity beneath the barrel’s false bottom. There was room for three or four of them inside.

She quickly pulled the pouches out and reset the device. As she returned to her work, her hands trembled even more. Her mind raced so fast, it would soon need a new set of tires.

She could see it. She knew what had happened.

The cannonmaster was in charge of loading, aiming, and firing the weapon. He’d be given a rack of cannonballs, but who would be watching to see if he grabbed one from this secret compartment instead? Probably no one.

She bet those hidden cannonballs wouldn’t pass Fort’s inspection—they wouldn’t be rigged to incapacitate the target with vines. Laggart, the cannonmaster, had deliberately sunk that other ship.

But why? The entire situation didn’t make sense for a multitude of reasons. It wasn’t just the lack of plunder. Why bother hiding the fact that they were going to sink the ship? Why the subterfuge?

It only made sense if…

“So, zephyr spore duty,” a voice said behind Tress. “I wondered who the Dougs would force to do it, now that Weev is dead.”

Tress turned to see the lanky, sharp-nosed woman with the short hair who had been talking to Fort earlier. Ann, the ship’s carpenter.

Every ship needs a good carpenter. Oh, a sprouter can patch up a hull with a quick burst of spores—but silver erodes even fully hardened roseite over time. Doesn’t take a man long at sea to start contemplating how thin the barrier is between him and certain death. Just a plank. If you ever want to have a good face-to-face with your mortality, you’ll find the opportunity on the deck of a ship at night, staring at the endless darkness beyond you—when you realize the darkness beneath is somehow even more heavy, more vast, and more terrifying.

That’s when you realize that having a good carpenter on board is worth paying them a double share of wages. In fact, it’s quite the steal.

“I don’t mind the duty,” Tress said, making another pouch. “I’d do it again if they asked.” Inwardly, she was uneasy with how Ann walked next to the cannon, trailing her fingers on the metal. She’d been talking to Fort about the cannonballs. What side was she on? How many sides were there? What had Tress gotten herself into?

Sadly, she didn’t know the half of it yet.

“Don’t say things like that, Tress,” Ann said. “Sailors don’t volunteer for duty. It’s downright untraditional.”

“You know my name?” Tress said.

“Things get around on a ship,” Ann replied. “I’m Ann. Ship’s carpenter. Assistant cannonmaster.”

Assistant to Laggart? Tress licked her lips, nervous—then stopped. Licking anything was not a good idea when handling spores. She made another pouch.

Had Ann seen her find the hidden chamber?

“What do you think?” Ann said, settling on a box nearby, a hand on one of her pistols as if taking comfort in it. “You’re a pirate now, Tress. An unexpected sideways turn in life.”

“Better than an unexpected turn downward,” Tress said.

“Aye,” Ann said. “That it is.”

Tress wanted to ask more questions, but it felt like too much of an imposition. These people had spared her. Who was she to be making demands of them? So instead she said, “You all seem to be adjusting well to being pirates.”

“Adjusting well? What kinda talk is that?” Ann leaned forward. “You want to know why, don’t you? How we ended up this way?”

“I…yes, Miss Ann. I do.”

“Why not ask?”

“I didn’t want to be impolite.”

“Impolite? To pirates?”

Tress blushed.

“I don’t mind talkin’ about it,” Ann said, staring out over the sea. Before them the ship’s prow cut a path through the spores. “The cap’n spun it well. We could either end up fighting in the king’s coming war, or we could strike out on our own, throwing away all the laws about writs and tariffs. Plus, the cap’n said we’d be doing a noble and important duty.”

“…Important?” Tress asked.

“A vital part of the economy.”

“…Um, I see.”

“Do you?”

“Actually, no,” Tress admitted.

“Then why not say so, girl?” Ann said, shaking her head. “Anyway, our job is important. You know how rich folk are—they make all this money off people sailing around, selling and buying for them. Then what’re they gonna do with the money? Lock it away. What good is locked away money? Ain’t nobody going to enjoy it if it’s trapped in a vault with Granna’s wedding ring.

“So we’ve gotta take some. Inject it back into the economy, as a stimulus. To help local merchants, the small folk who are just tryin’ to live. We do an important service.”

“By…stealing.”

“Damn right.” Ann sat back, shifting her hand on her pistol. “Least, that’s what it was supposed to be like. We weren’t supposed to be deadrunners. I guess we all knew the risk. Didn’t expect to fail so hard on our first act of piracy though.”

Tress cocked her head, barely resisting the urge to scratch at the place where the goggles met her face. Despite the silver on the deck, spores on her fingers could live long enough to do damage.