Since she was more or less correct, I didn’t have anything to say to that.
Daria’s eyes widened at the sight of my matched pistols. “Where’d you get those?” She reached out to touch the cat’s gemstone eyes, and her face grew wistful. “That’s the mark of the mountain lion.”
“Markos said it was the symbol of Akhaia.”
“Sort of. It’s the crest of the royal family. The Emparchy.”
An uneasy feeling fluttered through me. “What?”
“Only a member of the family may wear the mountain lion. Or a highly placed warrior. Like a bodyguard or a general. Someone the Emparch wants to honor.”
I traced the lion’s lean body. “He never ought to have given them to me.”
“He knew what he was about. My brother likes you.” She followed me up the deck. “I saw you kissing.”
“Daria. Your brother …” I swallowed. Saying his name would have felt too real. “Your brother is almost certainly dead.”
“Markos promised we’d be together in Valonikos.” She lifted her chin. “He always keeps his promises. Nereus said—”
“Nereus is an exceedingly suspicious character who hasn’t even told us who he is.” I glared at him. “Don’t listen to him. He wasn’t there.”
Nereus rested one hand casually on the rail. “Tell me, girl who knows so much, why haven’t you hoisted the topsail?”
“Because last night we were close-hauled, in foul weather.” And because I was scared, though I would never admit that. I wasn’t comfortable with Victorianos. We were already carrying more canvas than I was used to, even without the topsail. “It wouldn’t have done us any good.”
Nereus grinned, and I realized I’d passed a test. A square sail is no use when tacking. “Now that we’ve the wind behind us,” he said, “there’s no reason not to unfurl that topsail. We might do with a jib too, just for the fun of it. Give her her head.”
I looked at the sky. It was clear except for horsetail clouds high up, which usually meant bad weather would hold off for at least a day or so.
“Let’s do it,” I decided, feeling bold.
“Now listen. This ship is a cutter,” he said. “I mark her a little under seventy feet long on deck, eighty-five if you be counting that bowsprit. Ayah, not much bigger than your wherry, but with three times the sail. You’ll see she carries much of her canvas forrard. Mark where the mast is stepped.”
I glanced sharply at him—I didn’t remember mentioning the wherry.
The cutter’s mast was mounted far back, almost amidships. A wherry carries one large sail on a mast that sits in her bow. This ship carried a mainsail, a square topsail above that, plus a jib and a staysail that fastened to the long bowsprit. There was room for a third sail forward of the mast, a jib topsail of some kind, and maybe even a fourth.
“Ayah, on a fair day, this is the fastest little ship on the Inner Sea,” Nereus said, as if he’d heard my thoughts. “She were built to fly.”
I watched, shading my eyes, as he nimbly scrambled up the mast to unfurl the topsail. We could use someone of his expertise. I’d just have to keep a close eye on him.
With the topsail raised and a second triangular sail billowing out in front of the bowsprit, Victorianos seemed to lift a little. She dove ahead, plowing across the next swell with a wave of white foam. She had “a bone in her teeth,” as the sailormen said.
Something creaked loudly. I jumped, my shoulders betraying my surprise. With four times the number of sails that Cormorant had, this ship certainly made more noise.
“Think of it as her talking to you,” Nereus said, noting my unease.
That ship had dogged me up and down the river, ever since Hespera’s Watch. I didn’t particularly care if it talked to me. It was not the ship I loved.
“Now, you see? Out here in the open sea, the Black Dogs ain’t got a ship what can touch her for speed. Feel how she goes!” Grasping one of the stays, he pulled himself up onto the pin rail. “You wouldn’t want to be missing this.”
It was grand. In the sunlight and sparkle of the spray, in the rightness of how Vix pitched along, I could almost forget about yesterday.
Almost.
I leaned over the rail. The day makes us too eager to forget the horrors of night. In the sunshine the drakon seemed like a dream, but something else tunneled along inches below the water. Something slick and gray and—
“Look!” I cried. “Dolphins!”
One sprang up, sun glinting on its slippery back. Daria clapped her hands. There were more creatures, I realized, than just the dolphins. Fish of many colors popped in and out of the waves as they raced the ship.
“See how the fish leap alongside us.” I pointed. “So many. They must admire how she moves.”
Nereus only laughed. “Is that what you think this is?”
Annoyed, I went back to take the tiller from Kenté so she might catch some sleep. I wished he would stop talking in riddles.
Daria plopped down beside me. “What are we going to do next?”
Her hair was a ratted mess, and the beginning of a sunburn splashed her cheeks. Her cheerfulness worried me. From what Markos had told me of his life in the palace, her mother had likely been a vague, distant figure. I understood her lack of grief on that count. But she clearly believed her big brother could do anything, and now she’d convinced herself of his escape. How much would it crush her when her hope was shattered?
“Now we drink.” Nereus winked, drawing a brown bottle from inside his vest. Kenté was right. It looked as if it had been in a shipwreck, the label water stained and half-gone. He took a chug off the bottle.
I rolled my eyes. “Isn’t it a bit early for that?”
He passed the bottle to Daria, but I snatched it out of his hands. “She’s eight!”
“Ah.” He threw her a nod. “I tried, girlie.” Stowing the rum bottle, he ambled up the deck with the rolling gait of a man long accustomed to being at sea.
Daria fidgeted on the seat, an obstinate expression on her face. Finally I sighed. “Fine. Go with him. Just don’t stray out of my sight.”
Later that afternoon, as we sailed along in the shadow of the barrier island’s cliffs, Kenté slid onto the bench beside me. Her striped dress was still wrinkled, but her face was damp. She looked much refreshed.
“How are you holding up?” she asked.
I told her my hopes about Fee. “Perhaps,” I said, “even now, she’s sailing up the Hanu River on Cormorant.”
“Perhaps.” She pursed her lips, staring into her lap. “Caro …” She hesitated. “What about Markos?”
I squeezed the tiller until my bones hurt. “What about him?”
“You didn’t tell me he kissed you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You were very handsome in that dress. You know, the one you wore when he danced with you at our house. Do you reckon that’s when he started to like you?”