The Ship Beyond Time (The Girl from Everywhere #2)

 

 

“Did you curse me for leaving them?” Gwen called to Dahut. “Did you bring the fog?”

 

“What do you mean, two?” I called back.

 

“Ask her!”

 

“I don’t remember!” Dahut said, exasperated, but the next question died on my lips as the wind carried the distant sound of bells to my ears.

 

Spinning around, I swore. Back at the city, the fishing boats were pouring through the gates and into the safety of the harbor. Outside, I could see the tide rising along the wall in a wave. I ran to the helm. “Hold on!”

 

We left the Fool in our white wake as Gwen cursed our names. I cursed right back. Ahead, eddies were forming near the base of the wall. As the gates began to move, I gave it all she had. The Dark Horse rose, her prow cutting through the water, running over the waves just like the legend promised. The motor roared, the wind whipped my hair—and I held a grin between my teeth; my own ship was not half so fast. Streaming away from our stern, a wake like the tail of a comet, and the Dark Horse burst into the harbor as the doors slammed shut behind us.

 

Easing up quickly, I whooped like a maniac as the wave of our entry rolled up toward the wharf, making the boats bob—and sloshing water right at Crowhurst’s feet.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

 

 

My giddy thrill twisted into dread; beside me, Dahut stiffened. Her father was practically hopping with anger. He’d brought four guards to the wharf, and sunlight gleamed on the hilts of their swords.

 

As if that was not enough, the fishermen had clustered in groups on the pier, muttering and casting dark glances our way. News of the scrum on the water had clearly spread—and they might not know their harpooner had been rescued.

 

Maybe Crowhurst’s guards were not such a bad thing.

 

Then I saw Blake, hailing us from the deck of the Temptation, and the tension between my shoulders eased a little further. Though his presence only brought us up to four against five, he was an excellent shot, if it came to that.

 

But the gun was still in my pocket. Could I use it bluff our way out of this? I bit my lip, considering. As though reading my thoughts, Kashmir turned to me. “What are we going to do, amira?”

 

I glanced over my shoulder—the gates were firmly shut. There was no escape, not until the next low tide. But we couldn’t have left anyway—not without my family, not without my ship. “Same plan,” I said softly, slipping my hand into my pocket. “We’re gathering the crew and taking Dahut to Boeotia.”

 

She narrowed her eyes. “You swear you’ll try to help me?”

 

I was almost offended. “Of course.”

 

“Then I’ll go with him, for now.” To my surprise, she tossed the flare gun into the cupboard. I met her eyes, a question in my own, but she was resolved, and I couldn’t deny I was relieved.

 

“All right.” Swallowing the lump in my throat, I released the gun and motored toward the pier. Then, hidden from view by the helm, she pulled the diary from her pocket and pressed it against my leg.

 

“Keep this for me,” she whispered. “Don’t let me forget.”

 

I let the throttle slip into neutral; we glided up to the dock as my hand closed around the book.

 

“What are you doing?” Crowhurst shouted from the pier. “What on earth was going through your head?”

 

Her response was blithe. “I can’t remember.”

 

“This isn’t a game! You could have killed yourselves out there!”

 

“Sorry, Father.” Dahut’s voice was unusually contrite, and she tossed him the rope to belay to the bollard. While his eyes were on her, I slipped the book into the pocket of my cloak. Then I went to turn the ignition, but I froze with the keys on my palm. I recognized one of them: an ornate brass thing that looked a bit like a cross. The long gold chain still dangled from it.

 

“Give me those!” Crowhurst snatched the keys out of my hand. Standing there at the helm, he loomed over me, but Kash was right by my side.

 

“We’re all safe,” he said, his tone soothing. “No need to shout.”

 

“All’s well that ends well,” Blake added with forced cheer as he trotted down the pier. Billie followed close at his heels, wagging her tail.

 

Crowhurst took a deep breath then, glancing from Billie and Blake to Kashmir and me—but I was staring at the keys that dangled from his fist. There it was, the brass key. Had he taken it from a dead man’s neck? He looked down at the set for a moment, then back up. “What’s wrong, Nix?”

 

“Nothing.” I shook my head, but I’d spoken too quickly; he narrowed his eyes. Tucking the keys into his pocket, he pulled himself together, glancing from me to Dahut and back.

 

“I shouldn’t have yelled,” he said. “I’m sorry. But I have to keep her safe. You understand?”

 

“Of course,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

 

“You can’t always listen to what she says,” he added. “She forgets things.”