“Daria. This is serious.”
“She can’t run in that.” I gestured to the floor-length nightgown. “She’ll trip.”
Markos made a face. No doubt he desperately wanted to make a comment about how I was always spoiling nice things, but he took the knife I offered and cut off Daria’s gown at her knees.
I tried to remind myself that my part in this adventure was to be the one with knowledge of pistols, knives, and generally unlawful behavior. But it was hard when my heart wanted to get all warm at the gentle way he dealt with his sister.
A door hinge creaked. My breath catching in my throat, I ran into the hall.
Diric Melanos braced his arm across the front door, blocking it. He wore a navy blue coat, strapped with gun belts. I didn’t doubt he had at least ten weapons on his person.
“You must be the wherry girl,” he said, a grin crawling across his scarred face, “that I keep hearing so much about.” Boots falling heavy on the floor, he stepped down from the threshold.
Cleandros the shadowman entered, trailing black robes with gilded stripes. I’d only ever heard his voice, but I knew him at once. He was not as old as he sounded—there were only little tufts of gray in his dull brown hair. He looked altogether mild mannered and boring, like a teacher or a clerk. Several pendants dangled about his neck on long chains.
The rest of the Black Dogs trickled in behind him. Five—ten—fifteen men, armed with cutlasses and pistols.
My whole body hummed with danger. We were like the crabs in the traps floating in the harbor.
Stuck.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Daria looked back and forth between Cleandros and her brother. “That’s Father’s friend.”
“He’s not our friend,” Markos said, hands on sword hilts.
Cleandros surprised me by ignoring him. “One whom the shadow has called, I greet you,” he called to Kenté. Then he nodded to Captain Melanos. “Kill the Emparch, the child, and the river rat. But bring the shadow girl to me.” He focused on Kenté again with a smile that felt like spiders on my neck. “What are you doing away from the Academy? Does the headmaster know where you are?”
She lifted her chin defiantly, but her voice wobbled. “I don’t answer to your headmaster.”
“What’s your name, girl?”
Kenté looked down her nose at him, which was a very Bollard thing to do and also a good trick seeing as the shadowman was taller. “Never mind.”
I didn’t like being called a river rat, nor did I like the shadowman’s tone. I drew my weapon. So did Diric Melanos, only his was a Bentrix volley gun. It had five barrels, and I had to assume all five were loaded.
He waggled a finger at me. “Don’t even think about it.”
Why shouldn’t I? Oresteias are bold. We don’t take kindly to being murdered. After all, hadn’t my grandfather fought off bandits with only a knife and an old frying pan? I had two shots and two daggers. That was four men I could take out before they cut me down.
Markos was thinking along the same lines. Jaw twitching with anger, he drew his swords and stepped in front of Daria.
“Well?” Cleandros turned to Captain Melanos. “Tell your men to kill him.”
“That bunch of riffraff? Please.” Markos sneered. “Try. I shall enjoy cutting their heads off, but none more than yours.” He drew himself up, and in that moment I saw the Emparch he would be.
Diric Melanos’s eyes swept from Markos to Daria. “What about the little girl?” he asked. I reckon killing children didn’t go along with his swashbuckling image of himself.
“I took you for the terror of the seas,” Cleandros snapped, “not a sniveling weakling.”
Kenté pressed close to me, whispering, “Get ready to run on my mark.”
The pirates’ lantern whisked out. The room went dark, but not very. I could still clearly see everyone—Markos brandishing his swords, Cleandros and Captain Melanos, and the pirates arrayed behind them with cutlasses drawn.
Sucking in an unsteady breath, Kenté took a step back.
Cleandros laughed. “All you can manage, is it?” He fingered something around his neck. It was a locket, an odd-looking brass one with eight or twelve sides. “An admirable attempt. With training, you could be very powerful. Come, child, I’ve already told you, you’re not in any danger. Indeed the headmaster will be very pleased with me for bringing him such an intriguing recruit.”
“I won’t abandon my shipmates,” she declared.
His fingers moved. “So be it.”
Cleandros disappeared.
I fired at the spot where he had been, only to hear oily laughter from the other side of the room. I took an uneasy step back and fired my second pistol, accidentally hitting a pirate in the thigh.
That’s when they rushed us.
Markos sprang in front of Daria and me, his blade blocking the nearest Black Dog’s cutlass. He spun through the men, ducking and slashing. It was clear he was accustomed to using two swords at once, because they moved like they were part of his own arms.
“Kenté!” I yelled, pulling a cushioned bench over on its side. She grabbed Daria, and we dove behind it. With shaking fingers, I reloaded, while Daria crouched on the floor beside us. “Stay right there,” I ordered. I popped back up, pistols in both hands, and fired.
Diric Melanos spotted me. Lunging between two of his men, he seized me, wrenching my arm as he dragged me out from behind cover. I struggled, kicking out at any part of him I could reach.
With a shrill squeak, Fee launched herself in the air. She landed on his shoulders, knife between her teeth.
He swatted at her, but her bare toes dug in.
That was diversion enough for me. Luckily Pa taught me how to throw an elbow. It met Melanos’s chin with a good hard smack. He swore. I wrestled free and grasped Daria by the arm, yanking her up.
Suddenly Markos cried out, touching his hair. His fingers came away bloody, as uncertainty rippled across his face. Cleandros must have either swung or thrown a dagger. How was Markos supposed to fight him when he was invisible?
“Let’s go!” I scrambled backward down the hall. We needed to get out of there.
Blood running into his eyes from a deep cut on his face, Diric Melanos raised his gun.
Many men favored a Bentrix volley gun for their handsome carved bone handles and ability to fire five rounds of shot at once, but Pa only ever carried a one-chambered flintlock pistol. He said the volley guns were inaccurate.
The shot scattered in all directions, ricocheting off the walls and splintering a mirror. None of the bullets hit us.
One of the Black Dogs dropped, blood spurting out of his leg. I shook my head. Fool. You couldn’t fire a gun like that in close quarters. He was going to kill us all.