His partner cleared her throat. “I think I know how Skarsgard got word of what happened in Eldheim.”
“Enlighten us,” Saskia said.
Ritsuko explained, “We made a full report to the Major General, but . . . her reaction seemed wrong. She was too kind even though we cost her House a substantial amount of coin and hurt their business interests.”
“It tracks,” Mikani agreed. “She might have told Skarsgard, hoping they would eliminate us. That way, House Skarsgard deals with all inquires from the CID and the Council . . . and Thorgrim is free to claim we were working for Magnus, or whoever else best serves their interests.”
Saskia seemed thoughtful, one hand resting on the wheel. “Some House scions tend to work that way. They prefer not to dirty their hands directly. And I can’t think of how else Skarsgard would’ve found out, if not from the Major General.”
Ritsuko wore an ominous look. Her clothing was stained in dark splatters, grisly remnants of the battle. “I wish she’d just clapped us in irons. There’s no reason so many men should’ve been injured in trying to dispatch us.”
Mikani knew her well enough to realize she was bothered by the violence on all sides, both the sailors Saskia had lost and the ones who had died because some Skarsgard lordling ordered them to. Without a thought, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned on him slightly. As comforting gestures went, it might not be enough, but he couldn’t think what else to do. He remembered how she’d climbed into his lap after killing her first man, and a rush of warmth surprised him.
“We’re away now,” Mr. Ferro interrupted. “Pursuit well behind us, as we’ve caught the wind. There’s no catching us unless they’ve a weather witch on board.”
“Don’t even joke,” Saskia warned the first mate.
Agreed. That’s a complication we don’t need . . . the situation’s bad enough already.
CHAPTER 29
SASKIA LET OUT A BREATH SHE HADN’T REALIZED SHE WAS holding as soon as they cleared the headland for Northport bay. She looked over her shoulder; the Pride was following them at half sail, her gun ports still open. In the narrow passage of the harbor, the big warship effectively blocked the Skarsgard squadron’s pursuit.
Smart. They’ll probably claim they were firing on us as we made our escape, and Skarsgard will have little choice but to play along or start a war.
“He’s as devious as any Magnus scion, that one,” she said.
Ritsuko glanced back toward port. “What about the other Free Trader ships?”
Good of her to be concerned about them.
“They slipped out ahead of the cruiser, while Skarsgard was focused on us. I’m guessing they’ll make for a sheltered cove up the coast to repair and refit before heading home.” Saskia scanned the horizon for a moment, then pointed left. “There they go. I’m more worried about us. As soon as they clear the harbor, those frigates will chase us at full speed.”
On the deck below her, Irahi and a couple of volunteers did what they could for the wounded. Saskia refused to look too closely, afraid to see how many more men she’d lost. The Gull had taken a blow near the rear mast; Nell was directing the repairs, her arm in a sling and a bloodied bandage around her right calf. She seemed to feel her captain’s gaze, for she looked up and smiled through the grime shadowing her face.
“She’ll hold, ma’am. Get us out of here!”
Saskia nodded at the other woman, her lips twitching. She knows me too well. They all do. Bronze gods, this had all better be worth it.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head up. One hand rested lightly on the wheel, keeping her wounded clipper steady. Saskia raised the other to the sky, splaying her fingers in an invocation. The rush of wind served to focus her, the cold salt spray a caress on her skin more familiar than any lover’s touch. She called to her spirits with a whispered chant cast into the air.
Saskia felt the thrum of energy along her arms, surging from deep within.
Then she frowned. Though her senses stretched far and wide, she could barely feel a glimmer of her elementals—where they had always rushed forth at her summons, this time, they were reticent. Their cool presence tugged at the very edge of her awareness, circling and swirling but seeming afraid to come closer.
Oh, no . . . Not you, too. You’re not slaves, you were never servants. She strained, reaching wider. Trying to reassure the spirits, murmuring entreaties. “You know me, you remember. I need your help. Don’t run from me.”
She was surprised when one rushed in, the arctic gust of its dash stealing her breath away. The sylph curled around her, wailing with a voice like icicles scraping the walls of a hidden cave. Saskia reeled, opening her eyes and blinking away tears. Janus and Ritsuko each grabbed an arm, and Mr. Ferro took the wheel; she saw them moving their mouths, but all she could hear was the keening of the wind spirits.
“Bronze gods. They’re terrified.” She shook her head and stumbled upright. “Something’s wrong. They’re scared, but not of me—” Her throat felt hoarse, and she realized that she was screaming when Janus held a finger to his lips. She let him help her against the railing, and waited for the cacophony in her head to recede.
“Who’s scared?” Janus crouched before her, and Inspector Ritsuko offered a glass of water, which she downed gratefully.
“My air elementals. Only my family’s ties to them are preventing them from making full speed for the open sea.”
“Has anything like this ever happened before?” Ritsuko asked.
“Never.”
Janus was frowning. “I take it they won’t be granting us any speed for the escape?”
“Not under these conditions.”
“What could scare them like that?” Mr. Ferro put in from his post at the wheel.
“That’s an excellent question.” Saskia’s head felt too big, swollen with the echoes of the sylph’s outburst.
Nell Oliver strode up, a knot of sailors at her back. “The lead Skarsgard vessel is gaining ground, ma’am.”
She’d counted on her familiars to make a clean getaway, as she had done so many times before. But it didn’t seem to be possible this time. “We need a new plan. Ideas?”
Janus exchanged a look with his partner, who lifted one shoulder. The first mate’s silence didn’t seem to spring from his taciturn nature this time. It’s possible the Gull’s made her last lucky escape. But she wasn’t ready to give up just yet. The Pride was still keeping pace, blocking the smaller Skarsgard warship, but she couldn’t expect Viktor Magnus to risk his ship and command while covering their retreat.
“If we lighten the load, we might put on some speed,” Ferro finally said.
The boatswain aimed a daggered stare at him. “Those provisions have to last us past the Sisters. You want us to starve?”
“I’d rather come in thin than be bombarded with cannonballs, take on water, and drown.”
Bickering wouldn’t solve anything. The two inspectors didn’t know that much about ships, so they couldn’t be expected to solve this. She studied the ships behind them, a glimmer of an idea forming.
I hate this. If I am wrong, we’re all dead.
“We may have a chance,” she said finally. “Mr. Ferro, bring the ship about.”
“Are you jesting?” Inspector Ritsuko wondered.
“No. Brace yourselves. This will get rough.”
She took the wheel back from Ferro, who gave her a dubious look. The Gull turned hard, her timbers protesting the abuse, until they were facing the Pride and the first Skarsgard ship, both of which were nearly clear of the harbor mouth. Saskia’s men scurried to the rigging and over the deck, securing lines and pulling at ropes to brace the sails as the new angle gave them a burst of fresh speed—in the wrong direction. They were rushing headlong toward the Skarsgard frigate. Janus regarded her as if he were trying to decide if she had lost her wits.
“Ramming them seems unlikely to yield a desirable outcome.” Inspector Ritsuko gripped the railing with wh
ite-knuckled hands.
“I’m hoping her captain feels the same way, Inspector.” She tightened her grip on the wheel; they were a couple of hundred yards from the Skarsgard warship and coming in at full speed. As the Gull passed the Pride, the Skarsgard ship turned hard, away from the Gull’s seemingly suicidal dash.
The wake of the gargantuan Magnus cruiser hit the Skarsgard frigate at the wrong angle as it turned; enhanced by the shallow and narrow channel at the port mouth, the waves hit the ship hard enough to topple it over.
Saskia pulled on the wheel and held firm. The Gull rocked and bounced on the same waves with a thunderous crash. She bit hard on her bottom lip as ropes snapped and one of the foremast’s yards broke under the strain. The loose sail flapped with the crack of a giant’s whip, but her clipper turned at last and raced off westward along the coast. Saskia finally looked back. The Skarsgard frigate was on her side; she could see two dozen men trying to get away from the sinking ship. The Magnus cruiser was swinging around to help, but the wreckage would block the second Skarsgard ship from pursuing them anytime soon.
The Gull limped away from the chaos and toward open water. Saskia’s head pounded again. Her sylphs hadn’t settled down. If anything, the conflict made it worse, so that they were the elemental version of hysterical. Their keening rose and fell like the waves beneath the ship, leaving her with a spinning, nauseated ache in her stomach, driven by the relentless sound.
“Take the wheel,” she said to Mr. Ferro, hoping she wasn’t shouting again.
With a narrow-eyed look, the first mate complied, and Saskia stumbled toward her quarters. It was a narrow thing, but she made it to the privacy of her cabin before vomiting in a basin. She shook all over as she rinsed her mouth. This needs to stop. I have to get to the bottom of this, or I’ll have no choice but to send the spirits away for good. My family might never forgive me . . . nor would I forgive myself.
A tap on the door proved a slightly unwelcome interruption. She didn’t feel up to dealing with another crisis, but it wasn’t as if she could take the night off. With a smothered sigh, she answered, trying to look calm and capable. “Yes? Oh. Janus.”
“You don’t have to sound so dismayed.”
“Idiot. It’s not that. I’m not . . . at my best just now.”
“So I noticed.” He strode into her quarters as if he owned the place. “Obviously, something’s gone haywire with your elemental bond. I think we need to sort you out.”
“I could use some sorting,” she admitted with a shaky laugh.
“Tell me what’s happening?”
“As I mentioned, they’re frightened, but that’s not all. It’s like . . . they’re being tugged away from me when I try to call them. Whatever it is, they’re terrified . . . and they cry out, and I hear it, all through my head, down into my bones. That probably sounds mad.”
Janus raised a brow, as if to remind her who she was talking to, but all he said was, “That’s not the oddest thing I’ve ever heard. Is there a way for you to . . . show me?”
“I’m not sure that’s wise.”
“Right, because I’m the epitome of wisdom. We’ll be brief, I promise.”
“Very well, then. Give me your hand.”
Janus took her hand in his, and she was surprised to find it was only the comforting clasp of an old friend. How things do change. She sucked in a bracing breath and she whispered a call to the sylphs. The response was instantaneous—and agonizing. At the same time, she opened herself to Janus, so he could hear the endless keening, worse than the dying cries of a hundred men. Her skin crawled as their horror and pain razored down her nerves. The wind spirits were . . . caught, somehow, pulled taut through a force not of their own making. If there was a trap—
She cut the connection and dropped Janus’s hand. He was pale, and he regarded her with shadowed blue eyes. For a few seconds, he didn’t speak, and she mustered a semblance of aplomb, pretending she didn’t want to sick up again.
“That . . . I’ve heard something like that before. I didn’t feel it. But . . .” He trailed off, seeming unsure.
“Tell me. This is no time to be delicate.”
His mouth twisted wryly. “Since I’m known so much for it. Ritsuko and I heard spirits wailing like that inside the mirrors at a station in Dorstaad.”
“They were probably air spirits bound against their will,” she said, quietly horrified.
All this time, I never knew. Those silver mirrors are a prison.
“Does that mean someone is trying to bind yours?” Janus asked. “Is that even possible?”
“I have no idea. It shouldn’t be. But a practitioner of sufficient power and insufficient morals can find a way to do nearly anything.”
“Then we need to figure out who it is and stop them.” Janus curled a hand into a fist, looking as wary as she’d ever seen him.
“You have an idea, I take it?”
“Remember how I found Ritsuko?”
She nodded.
“Now that I know how your sylphs . . . feel, for lack of a better word, I can probably track them, as I did her. But it’ll be . . . taxing.”
“Maybe there’s another way—”
“There isn’t. Don’t worry. I don’t plan to die sober and at sea.”
“What can I do to help you?”
“Nothing. Just . . . some peace and quiet. You can stand post outside my door if you like.”
Saskia inclined her head. “I’ll send your partner, actually. I should check in with Irahi, then find out how Nell’s doing with the repairs. I’d hoped we could put into a cove for some patching, but it appears we don’t have time. Good luck, Janus.”
CHAPTER 30
RITSUKO WAS HELPING IRAHI TEND THE LAST OF THE wounded when Miss Braelan came looking for her. At first, she stepped aside, as the other woman seemed tired and more than a little ill. She imagined that Miss Braelan needed some medical attention.
Instead, she took Ritsuko’s arm and drew her aside. “Janus needs you. Can you come?”
What’s he done now? Below the aggravation, however, lay a thread of genuine worry. One of these days, he’d go too far, crawl out on a ledge from which she couldn’t pull him back. Nodding, she hurried after Miss Braelan, but the woman stopped outside Mikani’s cabin. Inside, it was all stillness and silence.
“Is he hurt?”
“No. Well. At least, not yet. But he needs you to stand guard.”
Ritsuko stopped, a hand on the handle. “Pardon me?”
Then Miss Braelan explained that the complication with her familiars had reminded Mikani of the screaming mirror spirits. She finished with, “So he’s trying to track down whoever’s attempting to compel them.”
“And I’m meant to keep everyone out while he does so.” Her lips firmed.
He’ll kill himself with nobody to stop him.
“If you don’t mind.”
Ritsuko did, but she merely nodded, scowling at the door so that it should’ve burst into flames from her ferocity as Miss Braelan strode away. For the first few moments, she was determined to do the job she had been assigned without interfering. But she couldn’t get the potential for trouble off her mind, so with a muttered curse, she nudged the door open and slipped inside. Mikani stood with his back to her, hands flat against the wooden wall of his cabin. The small space was in disarray, his clothing and personal effects scattered throughout—unusual, even for his usual chaos.
“Close the door.” He did not turn to her, but the strain in his voice was razor-sharp. She latched the door and stepped closer. The swaying ship nearly sent her tumbling into him. “I think I found them. Hell, I found something.” He pointed back east, toward Northport.
“Where?” she asked, quietly taking stock of the damage.
Mikani turned to face her. He was pale and haggard; his eyes were clenched shut, a thin trickle of blood dripping from the corners of his eyes. After massaging his temples, he wiped at the red smears on his cheeks with clumsy hands. Ritsuko c
losed the door behind her. It’s never been this bad before. She wondered if he had any pills handy that would dull the pain.
“Near as I can tell, her familiars are caught near the Major General’s palace. Along with every air spirit, sylph, and wind elemental for miles around.” His expression was stark. “I just felt a half dozen of them die. I’d rather not do that again.”
When he stumbled, she reached him in seconds, putting her shoulder beneath his arm. His weight was almost enough to take her down, but she braced on the wall and helped him sit. Mikani looked shaky with exhaustion and horror. She perched beside him, despite the pull on still-healing skin on the backs of her calves.
“Whatever that damned Thorgrim woman’s doing, we need to stop it. Let me catch my breath, and we can head out.” He leaned back with a groan and went limp.
“The Major General’s binding Miss Braelan’s elementals?” Ritsuko repeated it just to make sure she understood.
“Saskia made that comparison. I only tracked them.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what she’s doing to them . . . or with them. They feel somewhat like the tormented spirits in the mirrors, back in Dorstaad . . .” He opened bloodshot eyes, and looked up at her. “But there’s something different, as well. Whatever she’s doing tastes rotten. Like ashes and carrion . . . a lot like Lorne’s ritual.”
“Then this is too big for the Gull. We need reinforcements.”
Damn shame we’re essentially alone in this and already acting well outside our authority. Her time with Mikani had clearly corrupted her since that didn’t bother her as much as it once would have. She’d once believed that all governmental rules existed for the protection of its citizens, but the longer she worked as an inspector, the more she saw regulations offering perks to people because they had wealth or power or both.
“You’re right. Let’s gather the others.” He tried to rise and nearly collapsed again. “All right, new plan. Please call them in here, while I try to keep from passing out.”
Silver Mirrors Page 27