“She probably tripped over his bird,” Gramon said.
Pey Lu gripped Yanko’s shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning. It’s our last day at sea, so we’ll start early with your training.”
The mage hunter sneered slightly at that grip on Yanko’s shoulder. He had little doubt that she knew exactly who Pey Lu was, and was judging him for standing there and accepting her... camaraderie? He shook his head. Who cared? She’d been trying to kill him, and she didn’t even know him. Her judgment didn’t matter.
Still, Yanko found himself asking, “What are you going to do with her?” instead of walking obediently out. “Interrogate her?”
“Interrogate her and then kill her,” Gramon said. “Pirates who let assassins live don’t live long themselves.”
Yanko turned his back on the Turgonian. Nothing on his mother’s face suggested she disagreed. Yanko couldn’t fault the logic, but his stomach twisted at the idea of a cold-blooded killing. Captain Snake Heart Pey Lu might be known for such things, but he wasn’t, and this woman had come to kill him, not her.
“I’m the one who subdued her,” Yanko said. “I would like to question her before you kill her.”
He glanced at the woman, wondering what manner of sneer she might make at his claim and his request, but she was still looking at that spot on the wall, not acknowledging him.
“To what end?” Pey Lu asked. Did she sound suspicious? Maybe she thought this had something to do with the lodestone.
“We’ve never spoken before, and as far as I know, we’d never met before this all started, before she and her... employer—” Yanko was tempted to use a far more derogatory term for Sun Dragon, “—came to the homestead and burned it to the ground. I’d like to know why she wants to kill me so badly.”
“We’ll be happy to ask her,” Gramon said.
“No,” Pey Lu said. “Yanko has the right to question her, though I doubt you’ll get much out of her, given your feelings about people. And fish.”
Yanko’s cheeks warmed again. His mother thought that he wouldn’t be willing to inflict pain to get an answer? What could he say? She was right.
“You ask your questions first,” Pey Lu said, surprising Yanko. She nodded to Gramon. “We’ll finish the task.”
Finish the task. That sounded ominous.
“Because I love staying up all night,” Gramon grumbled, but he ducked his head and stepped through the door.
Pey Lu surprised Yanko again by stepping out after him and closing the door behind her. He sensed them walking for the steps. Was he truly to be given some time alone with the prisoner? No guards to make sure she didn’t overpower him somehow and escape? No guards to watch him and make sure he didn’t escape?
The woman’s eyes narrowed in calculation as she shifted her gaze from the wall to the door. Maybe she was also contemplating guards and escape. Maybe she had a few weapons or potions squirreled away that Pey Lu had not found.
Her gaze shifted from the door to him, hard and contemplating. It worried Yanko, but he decided that nonchalance might get him further than meekness. He had bested her once—and without Kei’s help, thank you, Gramon. He would treat her warily, but he had to believe he could best her again, if needed.
Yanko dragged a stool, the brig’s single piece of furniture, to the corner beside the door. The two-celled room was not large, but that corner should be out of her reach if she decided to lunge at him. He plopped down on it, putting himself at a lower and he hoped less threatening level.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
She shifted to lean her shoulder against the bars and glare down at him. He wasn’t surprised when she did not answer.
He tried to sense her thoughts the way he had Gramon’s. He didn’t get anything from her. He could almost feel the wall bricking her mind off to him. Perhaps if he applied force, he might be able to get through, as he had with the attack in the cabin, but perhaps not. She must have been as distracted as he then. Perhaps a mage hunter struggled to concentrate on keeping defenses up while engaged in physical battle, the same as a mage struggled to access his magic.
“I’m Yanko,” he spoke into the silence. “Yanko White Fox, though I gather someone told you about me already.”
She stared at him, looking him straight in the eyes, making him want to squirm. Why did he feel like he was the one being questioned?
“Why are you trying to kill me?” he asked, though he felt like he was speaking to an empty room. “Is Sun Dragon paying you? Or is it something more? He told me—he likes to taunt me in my head when we’re close, you know—that you were quite eager to kill me.” Yanko swallowed, the memory of her shadowy form springing across his cabin and trying to stab him with the knife rearing to the front of his mind. It was hard not to take such a thing personally. What had he done in his life to cause someone to hate him so? He could only guess that it had to do with Pey Lu, as so much of the loathing toward his family did.
“I have killed twenty-seven mages,” the woman announced, almost surprising him into falling off the stool.
By now, Yanko had given up on the idea of her answering him without the application of force, which he had no intention of using.
“And I was to be twenty-eight because...” He lifted his eyebrows, encouraging an answer.
“I did not make a sound,” she said, her voice dark with irritation, or maybe frustration? She sounded so young, like someone who should be in school with him, not like someone who should have twenty-seven notches on her belt. “I am certain of it. I knew about the bird. I did not wake it. How did you hear me and know to roll away?”
Luck, Yanko thought, but he kept his mouth shut. Better that she think he had some inexplicable power. And who knew? Maybe some magic-fueled instinct had warned him.
“I’m getting used to people trying to kill me,” he replied, figuring that would not give anything away. He wanted to keep talking, to keep her talking. “What’s your name?”
“Why do you care? Do you think this familiarity will make it so I don’t want to kill you?”
Yanko sighed. “That would be nice. You forgot to mention why you want to kill me, by the way.”
“I did not forget.” Her gaze shifted to her favorite spot on the wall.
He was tempted to tell her that he had spared her life back on Kyatt, that he could have made sure those rocks crushed her completely. Instead, he had made sure she had an air hole, to ensure she would survive until her allies dug her out. If she believed him, she would probably think that just made him a fool. Maybe she would be right.
“Will you at least tell me if it’s because of something I did that I don’t realize I did?” Yanko asked softly. “Or is this something else that I can thank the mother I first met three days ago for?”
“You seem close enough now,” she said, bitterness lacing her words.
Yanko spread his hands, though he didn’t know what he could say to that. Condemnation by association? Given the circumstances, it hardly seemed fair.
“It is because of her, isn’t it? What did she do to you? She didn’t seem to recognize you.”
The woman snorted. “I doubt she would recognize a tenth of her victims.”
There, a confirmation of sorts. Yanko lifted his eyebrows, hoping she might continue. He wasn’t sure why he hoped that. What could be gained by talking to her and getting her story? It would only make it harder for him to fight her if she escaped and came at him again. And if she did not escape and if Pey Lu insisted on interrogating her and killing her, Yanko would find her death that much harder to accept.
“Do not pretend you know nothing about her actions,” the woman said.
“Not... nothing. I’ve heard the stories, read the newspapers.”
“Read the newspapers.” She sneered. She did that a lot for someone so young. Maybe she would get along well with Lakeo. They could bond over their bitterness.
“I grew up in the mountains, about three days from the sea. I guess you kn
ow that, since you were there, trying to find my brother and me. Were you the one who set fire to my ancestral home?” Yanko looked at her face. He suspected that had been Sun Dragon, but she clearly had no qualms about working for him. Maybe she had laid the torches. If she had, would he find it easier to accept her death?
Her chin came up. “I am a Hunter, not an arsonist.”
“Oh? Is killing twenty-seven mages better than lighting homes on fire?”
“Mages are evil,” she snarled, passion and real anger coloring her words for the first time. “They kill mundanes with their damned fireballs, as if human beings without the ability to wield magic are substandard, some lesser species of animal.”
“Not all mages are like that. There are healers and—”
“And what, White Fox? Are you going to tell me that you’ve never killed anyone? That you and your moksu family don’t think they’re better than everyone of humble origins?”
“I haven’t—”
“Three guards died at the correctional facility outside of Red Sky,” she snarled. “You let the prisoners go who killed them, prisoners who deserved to be there, murderers who had committed many crimes. But you’re a mage, so you think yourself above the law and above human decency.”
“I don’t think that,” Yanko said, though he had no idea how he could explain that night to make the events acceptable to her, not when the events weren’t acceptable to him. If three guards had truly died—and he found himself believing her heartfelt statement—then it was his fault.
“Why are you here, White Fox? If you are not going to kill me, leave me be.”
“If I leave, the captain and her Turgonian will come back,” he said. “I can’t stop them. Whether you believe it or not, I’m as much a prisoner here as you are.”
She snorted. No, she did not believe that statement. “Let them come. At least they are honest about who they are and what they intend.”
Yanko frowned, oddly stung by her dismissal. “I haven’t been dishonest with you.”
She turned her back to him.
For a moment, Yanko did not move, stunned that she would choose torture over talking to him. But she did not look back. She hadn’t even told him her name.
He left the stool and walked out. He didn’t know what else he could do.
Chapter 17
Dawn arrived before Pey Lu or anyone else came to his room. Yanko hadn’t slept since leaving the brig. He had not gone to his mother’s cabin and told her he was done with the prisoner—he’d hoped she and Gramon might have fallen asleep or decided to put off the questioning until the next day. Even so, he had lain on his bunk, listening and waiting for what seemed inevitable, screams of pain. He had spent hours debating what he would do when they came. He could not stop his mother, not with force, but he’d decided that he would try, anyway. With pleas if he had to. He could understand it if she chose to kill an assassin, one who would be as happy to kill her as Yanko, but he couldn’t accept inflicting pain before doing so.
Despite his certainty that screams would come, they never did. With his cabin only one deck above and so close to the brig, he would have heard them if they had.
A cry of, “Land on the horizon,” trickled down from somewhere above.
Yanko pushed himself to his feet, grabbed the warrior mage robe, and pulled it over his head as he peered out the porthole. His mother had suggested he wear it for their training sessions, so his energy would last longer. Now, he thought it might help him if he chose to confront her, though he shuddered to imagine how much of a disadvantage he would be at, even with the robe.
Outside the porthole, he couldn’t see anything except the sea and the sky with a few clouds casting shadows onto the waves. He thought to reach out with his mind, to sense what must be the island his mother had spoken of, but he found himself checking on the deck below instead.
Since he hadn’t heard any screams or other noises of distress, he expected to find the mage hunter alone in her cell, forgotten for the time being. But she wasn’t alone. Yanko sensed Pey Lu down in the brig with her and someone else too. It wasn’t the Turgonian or anyone familiar to Yanko. As he tried to figure out who it might be, he sensed the mage hunter drop to her knees. If she cried out, he did not hear it, but pain leaked out from the rigid mental defenses the woman kept around herself. Though his magical senses couldn’t tell him as much as his eyes and ears would have, Yanko pieced together the situation and realized that Pey Lu or the other person was using magic to interrogate the assassin. Maybe they were working together. Chipping away at her mental defenses, hurting her as they did so.
Yanko clenched a fist. This seemed even worse than a brute force interrogation.
He strode to the door, the arguments he had been rehearsing all night leaping to the forefront of his mind. He had no idea if Pey Lu would listen to him, but maybe he could at least distract her. Besides, wouldn’t she want to come up to the deck to see their approach to the island where the lodestone supposedly awaited?
When Yanko stepped into the passageway, he heard footsteps and more shouts coming from the deck above, but there wasn’t anyone outside of his door. He jogged toward the steps leading down, but caught himself on the railing before descending. If Pey Lu was busy with the prisoner, and if land was close, might he not escape overboard? If none of the pirates on deck were mages, he might obscure himself and sneak away before anyone noticed him. He could slip overboard and swim to the island—even if there were sharks out here, he should be able to convince them to leave him alone. Or if that underwater boat was still back there, if Dak was following him, he could swim in that direction and perhaps be rescued much sooner.
All he had to do was abandon a woman whose name he didn’t know to torture.
He scowled down at the steps, his fingers tight on the railing.
“I’m an idiot,” he muttered and started down.
Before he had taken more than two steps, something struck the ship. He lurched, catching himself on the railing. It felt like they had struck a rock. Just how close to land were they?
Shouts exploded from the deck above. Pey Lu came into view, swinging up onto the steps and almost crashing into him.
“What—” he started to ask, but she ran past without slowing.
“Attack,” she said as she went by. “Come with me.”
He looked down the steps, stretching his senses toward the brig. Had she left the other person down there? No, a door slammed, and he found the mage hunter alone in the cell. She was lying on the deck, probably in pain, but Yanko wasn’t a healer and couldn’t do anything about that.
He turned to obey Pey Lu, or at least to go up on deck with her. Perhaps he might still get his chance to escape.
An explosion roared, the power of it hurtling him against the wall. Booms came from the deck, cannons being fired. More people shouted, some voices full of command, some voices full of fear.
From his passageway, Yanko couldn’t see any sign of fire—the explosion sounded like it had come from the rear of the ship. He stumbled his way up the stairs to daylight as something else slammed into the side of their vessel. When he came out onto the deck, he gaped at the rear of the ship. Flames spat, pouring smoke into the air, and the railing was gone, as well as a large chunk of the decking. It was as if the wolf god had descended from the heavens and taken a huge bite out of the ship.
Pey Lu stood at the railing, looking overboard. Yanko did not see any enemy ships, though he did spot the island. A green smudge with a flat mountain in the middle, it lay about two miles ahead of them. The same four ships that had been flanking them the day before remained in their positions. He didn’t see any smoke coming from them. Only the Prey Stalker had been targeted.
“Dak?” Yanko wondered. All he could imagine was that the underwater boat was attacking. Would Dak dare to do so against his mother? If it was Dak, he knew who he was dealing with.
Pey Lu flung a hand over the railing, as if targeting something in the water bel
ow the ship, and Yanko remembered her claim that she could lift an entire vessel out of the sea to drop it onto its side.
Something else slammed into the side of the craft, this time near the bow. The deck quaked under Yanko’s feet.
“How do we target them?” someone yelled from the gun deck.
“Turgonians,” someone else yelled. “The mages need to do it.”
Yanko wasn’t sure what his mother was doing or if he should run to help her. If this was Dak, Yanko surely did not want to help. If it was some other Turgonian underwater boat...
Another explosion went off, the deck heaving under Yanko. It flung him into the air, boards being ripped from their nails all around him. Something clubbed him in the back of the head. He sailed several feet before landing, then fell through a hole where the deck should have been. Flames ate at the boards, and light and heat surrounded him. He slammed down to the gun deck, the sky a pale blue through the hole above him, a hole ringed by fire. Someone screamed nearby.
Yanko felt useless, but he didn’t know what he could do.
Another scream came, and he climbed to his feet. Smoke that hazed the air smelled of gunpowder, and he squinted through flames at the rows of cannons lining either side of the deck, their barrels thrusting out through open ports. Some of the cannons were missing, having tumbled through the hole in the deck. What had struck the ship? He had no familiarity with such powerful explosives.
“We’re shielded now,” Pey Lu yelled, her voice coming from somewhere on the deck above. “Drop some charges off our port side. They’re over there now.”
Yanko stumbled to a corner of the gun deck that wasn’t on fire, at least not yet. He helped pull out a pirate who had been trapped under a cannon rolling backward, his leg mangled. Yanko wasn’t sure he should be thinking of these people as allies, but he couldn’t leave someone screaming in pain.
It quieted somewhat, no more attacks striking the ship. Yanko covered his mouth and nose, trying to keep himself from coughing as he reached out with his mind to the port side. He sensed the underwater boat out there, much closer than it had been the last time he’d touched it. His heart leaped into his throat. There was Dak’s familiar aura. And Arayevo. And Lakeo.
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