Someone whistled. “Ain’t you Nick’s girl?”
Thisbe Brixton was in her thirties, with a thick blond braid down her back and a tattoo of a serpent winding around her forearm. The sun had bleached the hairs on her arms white and creased the skin at the edges of her eyes. I was momentarily overwhelmed with relief to see someone I knew—until it hit me that Captain Brixton’s wherry must be among the sunken boats.
I elbowed my way to the bar. “Why are there soldiers here?”
“Don’t know.” She beckoned the bartender over and ordered two mugs of the strong dark beer they favored in the northern riverlands. “They arrived right before you did.”
“They wanted to talk to Pa.” My voice sounded hollow. I was shaken, still remembering the disconcerting stillness of the dead bodies and the brusque way the soldiers had hauled my father away. “Said it was about a job.”
From the red rims of Captain Brixton’s eyes, I could tell she had been crying. “I don’t like any of this,” she muttered.
I curled my hand around the cool mug. Despite the horrible circumstances, I couldn’t help feeling pleased she thought me old enough to order a drink. I’d always admired Captain Brixton. Her wherry was one of the few crewed only by women, and she carried the prettiest pistol I’d ever seen, engraved with a pattern of swirls and flowers.
“Thank the gods your pa’s here,” she said. “We’re putting together a crew to hunt down those bastards what did for the Singers.”
The old man beside her shook his head. “We are not.”
“Oh, stuff it, Perry. The time to act is now.” She banged a fist on the bar, setting the mugs clattering.
If someone sunk Cormorant, I reckon I’d be raging to charge off and fight too, four-pound cannons be damned. Something like excitement stirred recklessly inside me. I shoved it down. People were dead. Pa was in trouble.
I turned to the old man. “Your wherry too?”
“Ayah,” he said, “though we fought like hell to save her.”
I couldn’t believe he’d lost Jolly Girl. Captain Perry Krantor had been sailing her since before Pa was born. She was a lovely old boat, with a cheery red-painted deck and a weather vane at the top of the mast carved like a windmill. As for the captain himself, he’d been a friend of my grandpa. It was too awful to take in.
“Was the damage bad?” I asked. “Can she be raised?”
“Bless you, Caro,” he said, and my heart ached at the way his sun-spotted hands trembled around his mug. “I don’t know as she’s a total loss, but that’ll be for the assessor to decide. And the salvagers. We sent off a runner to Siscema. On a gods-bedamned horse.” He twisted his lip to show what he thought of a wherryman stooping to send word by road. “Not a boat left bigger than a dory.”
I suddenly saw Jolly Girl’s weather vane, warped and blackened, paint curling from the heat of the fire. My fingernails bit into my palm.
“Reckon you and your pa don’t get down south much these days, eh?” Captain Brixton said. “Well, I do. Heard of this Victorianos. Her master is Diric Melanos, and we all know who that blackguard runs with.” She spat on the floor.
I didn’t know. She was right—we didn’t get down south much.
Seeing the question in my eyes, she leaned in close. “The Black Dogs.”
“Black Dogs?” My head shot up. “This far up the river?”
Everyone knew to steer clear of the Black Dogs, an Akhaian mercenary crew—pirates, really—whose fast ships terrorized the Neck, the long saltwater bay in the southern riverlands. Now I knew why Captain Krantor wasn’t keen on putting together a crew. Standing against the Black Dogs was a good way to get yourself dead.
“Pirates,” hissed Fee. She dipped a long green finger into her beer and pulled it out again, examining the bubbles on her fingertip. Captain Brixton paid this no mind. Wherry captains were used to the frogmen’s odd mannerisms.
“There’s something gods-cursedly fishy about this whole business. They didn’t even take nothing.” Captain Brixton took a big pull from her half-empty mug. “First Black Dogs, and now soldiers.”
“You ought to slow down, is what,” Captain Krantor told her.
“And you ought to mind your own business, old man.”
I pushed my beer away, untouched. If pirates had set fire to those wherries, they might attack others. My thoughts leaped to Cormorant, anchored alone and unprotected out there on the river. Those pirates hadn’t been looking to capture prizes or coin. Their purpose was to destroy, and with six cannons they were well equipped to do it.
“Black Dogs.” My throat was hoarse. “I have to tell Pa.”
CHAPTER
TWO
Only one guard was posted outside the harbor master’s office. Not much older than me, he slouched on a bench on the porch, picking at a hangnail. I strode past him.
“Hey!” he cried belatedly, leaping to his feet with an armored clatter. “You’re not supposed to—”
I banged through the screen door. “Pa!” I gasped, out of breath. “It’s the Black Dogs.”
Pa sat in a spindly-legged chair, arguing with the harbor master across a cluttered desk. “Now look here, Jack—” He broke off, turning at the sound of my voice. “What?”
Commander Keros stood behind the harbor master, arms folded. The last of the sunset slanted in through the blinds, lighting up dust motes on the air and sparkling on his sword hilt. The office was lined with glass-fronted cabinets stuffed with curios from around the riverlands.
“I—I heard the news in the tavern,” I stammered, suddenly embarrassed by the weight of the strangers’ eyes on me. “Captain Brixton says the ship belonged to Diric Melanos.”
Pa’s head snapped up. He recognized the name even if I didn’t.
The commander’s mouth tightened. “A fish story from a bunch of wherrymen. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
I heard the scuff of heavy boots behind me. Two soldiers stood on either side of the door. Startled, I stepped back, bumping the glass cabinet and causing the articles inside to shift with a rattle.
“Those wherrymen are my friends.” Pa cut a grand figure with his long red hair and his shirt laid casually open at the collar, exposing the faded tattoos on his chest. “I trust them more than I trust the likes of you.”
Commander Keros turned to me. “What do you mean barging in here, girl? This is a private meeting.”
Pa sat up straight. “Whatever it is you have to say to me, my daughter can hear it.”
“This girl is your daughter?” The commander studied me in a way I was, unfortunately, plenty familiar with. I tried to ignore the prickly feeling as his eyes crawled over me.