Silver Mirrors

by A. A. Aguirre

  CHAPTER 7

  WIND BILLOWED THE SAILS, CARRYING DAMP WITH IT THAT chilled Ritsuko’s bones. While she loved the freedom of riding the ocean waves, she wasn’t enjoying the weather. The closer they got to the Winter Isle, the clearer it became why it was so named. She nestled deeper into her coat and tugged the hood up to protect her cheeks, which felt hot, a sure sign that she’d let her skin get chapped.

  In the distance rose the rugged shoreline of the Winter Isle. Gray basalt cliffs rose from the churning surf and beyond, the dark, imposing peak of Mount Surtir, wreathed in smoke and mist until it looked as if the crag had pierced the sky, and the heavens were bleeding fog. It was early morn, second full day on board. Yesterday, she’d spent an agreeable afternoon with the doctor, then they’d strolled on deck as the sun set over the water.

  Beautiful. The colors are never so vibrant in Dorstaad.

  “Are you armed?” Mr. Ferro clambered down the rigging, clearly addressing her.

  “I have a gun in my cabin.” She smiled at the first mate, wondering what it would take to dispel his morose expression. “Do you need me to shoot someone?”

  He walked past, pointing off to her left. “Yes, anyone on that ship that comes close enough to get shot.” A faint glimmer was barely visible above the waves where he pointed. “They’ll be on us in an hour at most.” He disappeared below, bellowing in a guttural dialect at the rest of the crew.

  Sailors whose names she hadn’t learned appeared on deck, preparing to defend the ship. Their hasty movements impressed on her the urgency of the situation, so Ritsuko ran for her cabin. Her small firearm might not do much damage in an attack, but it was better than being helpless. She was out of breath when she returned, fear warring with determination. A dozen sailors scrambled along the deck and up the masts; the Gull rode the waves with a loud and rhythmic roar on her hull. The doctor, Mikani, and a half dozen others stood with Miss Braelan amidships. Ritsuko hurried toward them.

  “Definitely craggers. Look at the smoke. They’re running dirty and full speed to catch up.” The first mate loaded a rifle as he spoke.

  “How long?” Devoid of his hat and stick, the unshaven stubble made Mikani look more piratical than any of the officers, and the axe slung over one shoulder added to that impression. He had a reputation for brutality amongst the other inspectors, and now that she’d heard the story of how he joined the force, she understood why.

  “Fifteen, twenty minutes. We need to slow before we hit the shallows nearer shore, or we’ll shred the keel and save them the trouble.” Miss Braelan ignored the ship behind them, her hands steady on the wheel. “Another half day, and we’d have been out of their reach. If I call the elementals now, we’ll run aground in the shallows.”

  So there will definitely be a battle. No wonder the other captains were so reluctant to risk this route. Grimly, Ritsuko drew the knife from her boot. She hadn’t brought unlimited ammunition, so she’d need a backup once she ran out. Her breath came quicker at the notion of clashing with murderous pirates. My self-defense training might not be enough.

  She didn’t let fear win. “Where do you want me?”

  Irahi turned toward her. “You’re with me, Celeste.” His gaze dropped, and he shook his head. “But you need better than that cheese slicer. Here.” He slipped a dagger from his belt that looked like a cutlass in her hand.

  “You make me give you a deposit for a fire axe, but just give her your favorite knife,” Mikani muttered.

  Ritsuko studied the blade. It was fine steel, highly polished, with an etched mother-of-pearl hilt. She’d seldom seen such fine craftsmanship, and it was sturdy enough that she suspected she could run someone through with it. Or near enough.

  She was touched by Irahi’s generosity. “I’ll use this with the greatest care.”

  Then she stowed the smaller knife in her boot and slid the larger one through her belt. The weight felt reassuring on her hip, but she checked range of movement to make sure she could draw it quickly. Best to be prepared. She did her utmost to pretend she wasn’t nervous since everyone else seemed calm.

  But there’s really nothing in the manual to cover this.

  Ritsuko managed a smile for Mikani, hoping it was cheeky rather than uneasy. “He just likes me better. I bet he doesn’t throw me overboard even once.”

  Ferro said, “Take this up later. Oliver, position your men portside. Cut the grapples as you can, and remember to give us a clear field of fire. I’ll leave two men to guard—”

  “I can take care of myself. Just get rid of the bastards.” Miss Braelan gestured to the crew to prepare for battle.

  “Aye aye, Cap’n.” Mikani hefted the axe and headed to the back of the ship, whistling.

  Ritsuko heard shouts when the craggers neared. They were a rough lot: bearded, filthy, and hollow-eyed. At the vanguard, the enemy whirled grappling hooks, then the metal prongs came sailing. Craggers hauled on the ropes en masse, tightening the distance between the two ships. Gunfire rang out, along with cries of pain. The ship jolted as the waves rocked it into the cragger vessel—and pirates poured over the rails.

  The rush of bodies shoved her away from Ferro and Hu, and craggers surrounded her on all sides. She danced away from the first swipe and spun from another; in that same movement, Ritsuko whipped the cutlass from her belt. She shot a man in the gut and kicked him back. His body tripped the cragger that sliced at her; Ritsuko blocked with a clang of her blade and fired another shot. Need to keep track. That bullet ripped through a pirate’s arm in a bloody spatter. She fired another round at the one looming behind, but it went wide on a roll of the ship.

  Someone was shouting her name, but damned if she could pause to see who. The whole deck swarmed with pirates, as far as she could see. Her boots skidded on the spray-slick decking, tumbling her toward the rail. Nails tearing on the wood, she saved herself and narrowly avoided being skewered by a knife slashing from behind, but she wasn’t fast enough. Her side stung, and there was a gash in her coat. The first cragger readied for a second charge while another shot at her, and she dove toward two barrels, set to collect rainfall. Splinters of wood bit into her ankles, and her breath came in choppy rasps.

  “Come on, love. I’ve got all kinds of mercy for a pretty thing like you.”

  Mustering her nerve, she answered that offer with a blast to the chest. The pirate staggered and fell over with blood bubbling out of his mouth, but two more shouted and ran toward her hiding place, reeking of cheap rum, sour sweat, and old fish. Along with the fear, it was nearly enough to make her lose her dinner. How many shots do I have left? Got three here.

  They converged on her from all sides, and she lashed out with a kick from a squat, sweeping the ankles. She was fast enough to kill him with a shot to the head before he could get up, but there were two more with knives within stabbing distance. Ritsuko hoped the barrels weren’t important as she shoved them over and leapt to avoid the rush of water. One of the pirates slid backward, and Hu took him over the side with an elbow to the face.

  Three more rushed him, so she shouted, “Behind you!”

  She raised her weapon, hoping to save him as he had her. But her revolver clicked. Empty. Hu spun to defend even as she backed away from the cragger set on killing her.

  “The evil tyranny of the slavemaster cities must end!” the pirate snarled.

  She stared at the ruffian, bewildered.

  From above, a small voice called, “Miss, up here!”

  Ritsuko tipped her head back to spy Sam up in the riggings, like the monkey the first mate had called him. Seconds before the pirate rushed, she scrambled up the mast, using the ropes as handholds. The rough fibers scraped her palm, pulling the slice on her side, so she felt the hot trickle of blood over her hip.

  If he comes up after me, I have to fight, or Sam could get hurt.

  Clenching the knife between his teeth, the cragger went up fast and lunged, using the spring of the ropes to propel himself forward. Bronze gods, this was a b
ad idea. Even outnumbered, I was safer on the ground. But with Sam counting on her to protect him, Ritsuko squared off against the red-eyed, unshaven pirate, hoping she didn’t plummet to her doom.

  • • •

  MIKANI UNLEASHED HIS talent so he could hear the anger and hatred around him, louder than the curses. The ebb and flow of their emotions made it easier to avoid blows and sense when fear got the better of them. He’d learned that trick in Celbridge; his years working the docks in Dorstaad as a merchant’s enforcer and later as a ward officer had made it second nature.

  It’s cheating, but there are more than enough of them to even the odds.

  Slick, warm blood covered him, but the rest of the battle faded to inchoate chaos beyond the short range of his own struggle. A tall, scarred pirate cut high, aiming for his head. Mikani lifted the haft of the axe to stop the blow. As the man stumbled, Mikani headbutted him in a satisfying crunch of bone. A kick and a shove later, the cragger was in the sea, and Mikani caught his breath.

  Ritsuko. Mikani searched for his partner, and a shiver ran down his spine when he failed to spot her. When a cragger got in his way, Mikani shattered his knee with a hard kick and bashed in the man’s skull with the half of his bloodied axe. Movement in the rigging directly above made him look up. Ritsuko was swinging from a rope, her feet braced on the mast. She swooped down at a cragger who had gotten past the men below. The filthy raider ducked her blows, more at ease in the ropes high above deck than she could ever be.

  The bastard’s biding his time. When she gets tired, he’ll pull her off. The ship tilted and shuddered as the cragger vessel slammed into its side, sending attackers and defenders stumbling to their knees, Mikani along with them. He hauled to his feet, sidestepped the renewed carnage, and pushed forward.

  “Hu!” Mikani swept the axe before him, hacking into a cragger who didn’t scramble away in time.

  “Busy.” Irahi had a cragger by the throat, his free hand swinging his hand cannon like a club. “Can’t reach her!” He tossed the pirate into his fellows, punching another who ventured too close. Ferro was holding his own, slashing with quick and controlled strikes at anyone who tried circling behind the bigger man.

  “Just bloody brace . . .” Mikani swung low, making the last three craggers between him and the doctor throw themselves aside. He buried the axe on the deck with a solid thunk and vaulted onto Hu’s shoulders, using his friend to reach the rigging just beneath the cragger slashing at Ritsuko.

  Irahi grunted and lifted his shoulders as Mikani landed, boosting him.

  Mikani grabbed the raider’s legs, using his momentum to pull the surprised man off the rigging; they both crashed against the deck. Hu immediately brought his boot down on the pirate’s skull. He’s out for hours, if not dead. Then Ferro slit the bastard’s throat, so that a slow-spreading crimson pool formed. Mikani was still seeing stars when the doctor hauled him to his feet.

  Ritsuko climbed down then. “Thanks.”

  But there was no time for niceties; craggers still needed killing. Eventually, they broke, and the Gull’s crew killed most of them while the pirates fled for the railings. On the enemy ship, they cut the grappling lines. Mikani tried to count how many survivors were left on the opposite deck, but between the movement of the men and the sea, it proved impossible.

  The planks were covered in carnage as Saskia gave the orders to put on speed. Mr. Ferro muttered something about seeing to the dead, then he started the surviving sailors on piling the bodies away from the wounded. Hu set about moving the injured crewmen down to the infirmary, where he could treat them.

  Mikani wiped the blood from his face and looked over at Ritsuko.

  “You all right, partner? Still having fun?”

  “That was a little more adventure than I expected, but I’m well enough.” She looked a little pale, shaky, probably from the spinning.

  Mikani reached over to wipe a red smear from her cheek. “All right. We need to clear the deck, see who needs help.”

  “I can probably pitch in with some first aid. Do you think Irahi could use a hand?”

  “Hu could probably use a dozen. Go ahead, I’ll see to things up here.”

  Ritsuko paused, her gaze intent. Then she put a hand on his shoulder while turning the other one up so he could see it. The delicate skin of her palm was aflame with rope burns. That looks like hell.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “I don’t know how much longer I could’ve held on. You’re my hero today, Mikani.”

  “Told you. Always there for you, partner.”

  She let go of him and stepped back with a warm smile. Mikani watched her walk away, torn between relief that she was all right and worry that they might not fare so well next time. We’re in over our heads.

  “Stop staring, start cleaning.” Ferro pushed past, dragging a body toward the port railing. Sam hurried along behind him, his arms full of collected weapons and assorted debris, looking flushed but glad to be of use.

  Mikani pulled his axe free from the deck with a wet thunk.

  “Oi! Like we don’t have enough damage from the stinking craggers?” Oliver was dirty, bedraggled, and furious. Her repair crew was starting to check for leaks and cracked timber. “Dimwit. The axe goes in the raiders, not my ship.”

  “They kept moving. I missed.” He dropped the boatswain a salute and headed for the helm, pausing now and then to help flip a dead enemy off the side of the ship.

  Saskia was leaning heavily on the wheel. Her vest was torn in a couple of places, and a nasty bruise was forming on one cheek. One of the men who had been assigned to guard her lay nearby, nursing a deep wound to the thigh; Mikani saw no sign of the other.

  “They don’t usually bring so many for boarding parties. This is getting worse, Janus.” She looked over at him, her hands holding the rudder steady. “That must have been at least forty or fifty raiders, plus crew? They must have been piled three deep belowdecks.”

  Mikani sat heavily, resting against the mizzenmast. He lay the axe across his knees, tracing the nicks and cuts on the haft. “That ship wasn’t meant to carry anything back, cargo or prisoners for ransom. Something has them running scared . . . they fought like desperate men.”

  He looked up, ignoring the urge to read her. Not sure I could, even if I tried, right now.

  Using his gift was taxing at the best of times. Using it constantly in the middle of a fight to the death was excruciating. His head throbbed, and his skin chafed and burned where his shirt rubbed against it.

  “They didn’t cut and run when they should have. Most of them preferred to stay and die. Why would they do that?” There was a look in her eyes that he’d never seen before, perplexity mingled with despair.

  “They’d rather die than go home? Or they wanted us dead more than they wanted to live.” Mikani rested his head against the rough wood. “Either means a world of trouble.”

  In his time working at the docks, the craggers had always been a distant but real threat. Captains went out of their way to avoid them, and for the most part the raiders left them well enough alone but for the occasional demand for ransom or stolen cargo. But he’d never known them to be suicidal, more concerned with slaughter than booty.

  “How long has this been going on?” he asked.

  “Two or three months. Why?”

  “Not sure yet. But if we can work out the pattern, it might help us understand what’s changed. And once we figure that out, we can stop it.”

  “From your mouth to the ears of the gods,” she muttered. “I don’t know how much more of this we can take.”

  CHAPTER 8

  SASKIA STUMBLED THROUGH THE CABIN DOOR AND TO HER BED, swaying with the motion of the ship. She pulled her feet up under her, staining the rumpled sheets with blood and grime. With a weary sigh, she freed her hair from the loosened braids and dropped into a tumble of pillows.

  Bronze gods, I want to sleep for a week. Wish to wake up and find that every last one of those filthy hill dwellers
burned in their hovels overnight. She folded her arms to her chest and rolled on her side, trembling for a few moments as the rush of excitement and fear from the fight washed through her body. A single wracking sob escaped before she pulled herself together. From the ewer on the stand nearby, she poured a splash of icy water into a bowl, then grabbed a clean cloth.

  “Enough, Alexandra. You’re the captain, act like it.” She repeated the words as she undressed and washed up. Shivering again, she examined the darkening bruise over her cheekbone. One of the raiders had skewered her personal guard and knocked her against the wheel. Her knife was still stuck in the bastard’s throat; she hoped Sam would recover it before they tossed the bodies overboard.

  That’ll heal, at least. Poor Dayson. He saved my life . . . I’ll need to see to his widow—I’ll need to see about far too many widows, after this is over.

  She pulled on a fresh shift and sea-green gown, leaving her pale hair free and tangled. As an afterthought, she gathered the mess of sheets and stained clothing into a corner. She would burn them first chance to prevent the nightmares the smell of death would otherwise bring.

  But first, she had a duty to her fallen crew: she spent the rest of the afternoon writing out letters of condolences and making sure the families of her fallen would be provided for when the Gull returned home.

  When she emerged, the sun was starting its descent in the bright blue sky. Bronze gods. It feels like days, not hours. Saskia took her place on deck. She was the last to arrive, but it was important that she look the part. If the captain were a disheveled mess, the crew would take their lead to behave accordingly. Discipline would suffer.

  Irahi Hu’s voice rang loud over the gathered crew. “We gather to ask that you listen. Dwellers of the deep, watchers of the sky. We gather to ask that you listen: listen to our pleas.”

  Janus and Inspector Ritsuko stood near Mr. Ferro and Nellie. Loison lingered a couple of feet away from the rest of the crew. As usual, he was pale and composed, his countenance revealing nothing of his thoughts or of the steel trap of a mind he hid behind his spectacles.