*
He awoke on the deck of the Night’s Edge, heaving a vile mixture of salt water and hardtack into the scupper. Another spasm brought up a second lungful of the briny muck, and then another, and another. He felt like someone had been at his ribs with their bare knuckles. His head throbbed, and each breath dragged gravel through his lungs. So the black shapes circling down around the ocean floor hadn’t been sharks; they were trainers. Someone had waited for him to pass out and then cut him loose. They should have let me drown, he thought to himself, curling into a ball on the dry deck. I was through the hard part already.
As he shuddered to catch his breath, Valyn realized that someone was looming over him, blocking out the light. Fane. Part of him had thought it might be Annick. The enormous trainer was shouting.
“What in ’Shael’s sweet name is wrong with you, soldier? How long have you been on the Islands?”
Valyn struggled to respond, but only managed to retch more water out onto the deck.
“I’m sorry,” Fane said, cupping a hand to his ear. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“Couldn’t … couldn’t untie the knot, sir.”
Fane snorted. “I concluded that all on my own when you failed to rise to the surface. Couldn’t untie a basic double bowline? Looks like the Light of the Empire has grown somewhat dim.”
That earned an appreciative chuckle from Sami Yurl.
“It wasn’t … wasn’t a simple bowline, sir,” Valyn managed. He didn’t want to sound like he was making excuses, but didn’t want Fane to think he was inept, either. The memory of that extra twist, of Amie’s bound hands, blackened and clenched into claws, gouged at his mind. Had she struggled like him in her last moments, trying desperately to scrabble her way clear of her captivity, to rip apart the rope and escape?
“Oh, I’m sure it didn’t feel like a basic bowline down there, not with water filling your mouth and shit loading down the seat of your pants, but I assure you,” Fane said, holding up a severed section of dripping rope, the knot still in it, “that this looks just like any other bowline I’ve ever seen.”
“There was more.”
“Annick,” Fane said, turning to the sniper. “Is this the knot you tied?”
She nodded, eyes like stones.
“This is the entire knot?” Fane pressed. “You didn’t do anything fancy that might confuse His Most Radiant Highness? He is easily confused.”
She shook her head.
Valyn tried to read the emotion in those unreadable eyes. Annick was lying. It was as plain as that.
“Not a good start to the morning,” Fane concluded, dropping the knot to the deck in disgust. “Not a good start at all. Annick, you’re next. Sharpe, Ainhoa, toss our fearless leader over the side and let him swim back to the island.”