Tress of the Emerald Sea (The Cosmere)(88)

Tress read the words through twice. And…though her first instinct was still to protest…something else was growing. She’d have called it arrogance, and it frightened her. But arrogance and self-worth are two sides to a coin, and it will spend either way.

That day, she met Fort’s eyes and nodded. “All right.”

“Mutiny,” Salay said. “Tomorrow morning. I’ll make certain the Dougs are with us.”

“I’ll distract Laggart,” Ann said. “If I’m firing the cannon, he’ll come scold me again.”

I have a key to the captain’s quarters, Fort said. She doesn’t know. We will go in while she’s asleep and take her captive. Then we sail for the Verdant Sea and turn her in to the king’s officials in exchange for our lives.

Tress took a deep breath. “Capturing her won’t be that easy, Fort. The spores inside her will react to someone trying to restrain her. Fortunately, I’ve devised a weapon that might work. It…”

What was that?

“It…”

Tress shivered. She felt something. A familiar itch, distinct as the scent of her mother’s bread. Without thinking, she reached to the side, into the shadows underneath the overhang of Fort’s counter.

Some of the darkness there resisted her fingers. It felt like a filled waterskin.

Midnight Essence.

Tress felt another mind controlling it, but it was distant and she was near. Working by instinct, she seized control. Immediately her tongue felt dry. She coughed, and—panicking—somehow severed the connection completely. The Midnight Essence puffed away, becoming dark smoke.

That other mind.

That had been Crow.

Crow had been listening to them with Midnight Essence.

“Oh…oh moons,” Tress rasped. “Crow knows.”





THE MURDERER





The ship’s bell rang a series of unceasing sharp notes.

“All hands on deck,” Ann said. “How…how could she know, Tress?”

“Spores,” Tress said. “It’s hard to explain.”

The bell continued to ring, and each peal seemed a threat: Die. Die. Die.

“What do we do?” Ann asked. “She’ll execute us, same as she did with Weev.”

“We fight,” Salay said. “We were going to do it tomorrow. We’ll have to start early. Tress, you said you have a weapon we can use?”

Though she wanted nothing more than to sleep, Tress nodded. They were committed now. She stood and threw open the door, intending to run down the hallway to her room to get the flare gun. However, as soon as she opened the door, she found a pistol leveled at her forehead.

“Well now,” Laggart said, “captain wants to see you four most of all. How…convenient to find you all together.”

Tress’s trembling returned, then redoubled, trying to make up for lost time. She stared down the barrel of that gun and found her mouth had gone dry again, for a different reason. She forced out some words anyway.

“You can’t hurt me,” she said. “Captain needs me.”

“True, I’m afraid,” Laggart said. Then he turned the gun and shot Salay in the thigh.

Ann screamed and Fort lunged forward to try to grab Laggart—but he stopped short when he saw a second pistol pointed right at him.

“Captain didn’t say anything about bringing the other three of you up alive,” Laggart said. “So now, Fort. Can you read what I’m saying, or does the gun speak loudly enough for you?”

The large man froze, but Ann ignored the gun, kneeling and using her handkerchief to bind Salay’s wound.

Tress felt helpless. Ann finished the binding, but then looked up, uncertain. They needed Ulaam. It was bleeding so much…

“Up on deck,” Laggart said to them, backing away and gesturing toward the steps. A few gawking Dougs hurried past, feet thumping on the wood.

“She’s bleeding!” Tress said.

“Not as much as she would be with another hole in her,” Laggart said. “Up.”

Fort gently pushed Ann to the side, then lifted Salay, who put her arms around his neck. She nodded to Tress, grimacing at the pain. Ann glared at Laggart, her hands bloody. He just smiled and wagged the pistol’s tip.

Reluctantly, Tress led the way, and the five of them emerged on deck. The Crimson Moon hung ominous in the night sky, pouring spores down in a vast haze—like the misty sheet of rain you might get beneath clouds on another planet. Here, the bright moonlight made them shimmer like tiny drops of glistening blood.

Crow stood framed beneath the moon, her shadow breaking the red light. Dougs gathered on either side of the deck, leaving an open space in the center for the captain—and the four mutineers. Fort settled Salay down, and she held a firm hand on her bound wound. The other three huddled around her. Laggart came up behind them, then climbed up onto the quarterdeck where he had a good view of—and line of sight on—all of them.

“So,” Crow said, “you lot want to take my ship away from me, do you? Mutiny against your own?”

None of the four responded.

“Honestly,” Crow said, “I didn’t think you had it in you—considering how I had to force you lot into this life.” She waved, and a Doug hurried forward, setting a small table onto the deck between them.