And having decided not to run, the beast craved, longed to take part. It felt a deep, deep drive, an ache in its belly, in its mind, in its heart that was not hunger, was not for the hunt, nor for food, nor for procreation, but more powerful than any of these. The beast yearned for something it knew not. As it rose toward the surface, it felt it was being drawn upward. And as it broke the surface between the deep fin and the other, slower one, it felt the air, it raised its head into the light.
And it saw the very face of the deep fin.
The teeth of the deep fin were bared, the eyes wide and ablaze. The beast could not know this was but carved and painted wood. It saw and it felt only the passion of the lioness.
And then it saw the deep fin’s wings, like clouds billowing up forever into the sky.
Then it felt before it saw, and then it saw, an intelligence, a mind so great it was as though an entire pack of creatures lived within this single creature, looking out from its eyes. Rows and rows of eyes. They stared back as the beast stared, lining the sides of the deep fin between scales and wings. And then, more astounding yet, a beaming source of light and wonder at the fore of the creature, just above its face, as though the deep fin’s very heart stood shining there. Its eyes spoke of wonder, of possibility. This presence held high a single tooth, a pale and gleaming blade.
The Firefish felt its joy.
CHAPTER 11
Revelations
Packer Throme stood at the prow of the Trophy Chase with his arms upraised as the beast broke the surface to his left. It rose up slowly, almost methodically, seeming motionless as it matched the pace of the great cat. Its scaly, misshapen head dripped water; its jaws were closed, its teeth poked up randomly, menacing. Its eyes took in the figurehead below him, his comrades lining the deck behind him and then, piercing and aglow, they fastened on him.
Packer’s heart raced as he stood eye to eye with the Firefish. As he looked at it he felt a sense of connection, something much like kinship, something that chased away his fears. He sensed a searching there, a longing in those enormous, terrifying, watery eyes. It was as though the beast wanted to speak. Even when its jaw dropped open, Packer felt no fear. He felt only its desire to communicate. To commune. He stood that way, emboldened, searching, until the ancient predator turned its great face away, eyed the oncoming Rahk Thanu, bared its teeth, and sank noiselessly back into the rushing sea. And then Packer felt a pang of regret, a desire for that moment to continue. His one thought, now that the beast was gone, was of his father. If only you could have lived to see this. If only…
All gunfire had ceased the moment the Firefish appeared. The Drammune stood slack-jawed. They saw the beast in all its radiant yellow, glowing like the sun behind it. They saw its face as it turned to them, its mouth agape, its teeth…Packer could see the Drammune gaping now themselves, fear flooding through them, terror emptying their souls through their eyes. They knew the legend of the Devilfish, as they called it. They knew it could take down a whole ship. But they had never seen one. The secret Vast trade in Firefish was known only to their leaders, and on this voyage, only Fen Abbaka Mux. So now they stared into the swirling seas as the prow of the Trophy Chase overtook them.
“Fire! Fire! Fire!” shouted John Hand, again and again and again until his crew awoke from their own trances and began to obey. When they did, smoke and flame erupted from the Chase, so thick and heavy it appeared to the Drammune that the Vast ship’s gunwales simply flashed, barrels of gunpowder igniting and exploding all at once along her rails.
The Chase pummeled the Thanu with cannonballs and musket balls from every gun available and with every load possible, steel and lead and shot and scrap, raking and clawing and biting deep, a mad barrage, a blistering fire, a titanic drum corps that hammered the entire length of the hull and rails of the pride of the Drammune Armada.
The Rahk Thanu did not return fire.
Drammune sailors, clearly visible now in their crimson vests and helmets, took musket balls to head and chest and torso and limb, and were knocked away from the rails, away from their cannon, blown backward by cannon fire. Through the smoke now filling the seas behind him, Packer watched the Rahk Thanu take the full brunt of the Chase’s rage, saw wood splinters flying, saw the hull of the enemy ship open like hide being peeled away, leaving visible the skeletal framework of the hold, the decks, the timbers below the decks.
And then the Chase was by, just that quickly, unscathed, unharmed, barely even fired upon. The roar from the crew of the Chase was as deep and full as that of a whole pride of lions.
Packer looked behind him, saw Delaney and Marcus. Marcus’s eyes danced, glassy in the awe of victory; Delaney looked at Packer, shook his head in wonder. Packer shrugged, eyes wide, half a smile turning to a full one. He had no clue what had just happened, or why.
Fen Abbaka Mux did not see the Firefish.
He had been standing on the afterdeck astern, where he had just given orders to begin firing on this crazy, suicidal Vast ship. There was nothing of a surprise in this attack; the Drammune commander had been notified of the ship when it broke the horizon in darkness, more than an hour ago. When he was sure the Vast vessel was by itself and that it was seeking out his flagship, he had ordered the Kaza Fahn, his rear guard and second in command, up to the line so the Rahk Thanu could have the honor of dispensing with this irritant.
He had been thinking, as he watched the ship approach through the first rays of the morning sun, that the Vast were truly, unequivocally the most naïve people on earth. This was an attempt to save the Marchessa, of course. The attacking ship’s captain, whoever he was, undoubtedly had courage, at least in the foolish way the Vast defined it. But he had no wisdom. Why would a captain risk himself and his ship to save one other ship, especially when the ship in danger was far less capable than his own?
It never occurred to Mux that this could be the same ship that had slipped from his vision at sunset. That would be an impossible feat for the best Drammune ship, let alone a Vast tub.
The Drammune captain had walked away just as the musket balls began to fly, exercising good judgment. The Armada would not sail itself; the army would not land itself; they needed a commander like Abbaka Mux. His men would dispense with the Vast ship. Mux was already appointed to take command of the captured capital, to rule the City of Mann for the Hezzan. This early victory would make him seem anointed as well.
Mux had no idea why his men froze, why they feared, why the icy blast of approaching death seemed to sweep over his ship just as the prow of the attacker came alongside them. He screamed at his men; he shouted orders. They obeyed, but slowly and with trembling, as if in shock. This strange loss of nerve created just enough gap, gave the Pawns just enough advantage that when they began firing, his own men were on the defensive.
And the cannon blasts from the taller Vast vessel were devastatingly on target, ripping not just his hull, but his cannon placements, taking out two-thirds of his starboard cannon in one swift and brutal pass. Only when the attackers had passed by, and the stern of this flying ship came into view, did the commander bother to look at its name. His Vast-language skills were not good, and he could sound out only the first few letters. Still, those letters gave him a chill.
“Sailor,” he ordered his first mate, who knew the Vast language. “What is the name of that ship?”
“ ‘Trophy Chase,’ sir.”
Abbaka Mux closed his eyes. It was the ship his Hezzan wanted him to spare, to take alive! It took him less than five seconds to determine that this ship must be defeated at all costs. Capture her, sink her, burn her, it didn’t matter to Mux. In the first engagement with the Drammune Armada, the Vast salamanders had made his men look like, well, like Pawns.
The Hezzan understood honor. If he were here, he would feel the same need to crush this foe for the sake of the war. For the sake of the Armada. For the sake of the kingdom.
“You bust udderstad, Padda, I ab dot all I seeb to be.” The prince was u
nable to breathe through his nose, and the huge white bandage across his face made him look as ridiculous as he sounded. Panna felt an urge to laugh, but managed to stifle it. It would not have been a compassionate laugh.
“I know,” the prince continued, as Panna grew more accustomed to translating the sounds of his nasal blockage, “that I appear to be calm and in control, but in fact I am often unsure of myself. There are things that…scare me. The king is not well; his mind is going. I have enormous pressures. I carry the weight of Nearing Vast and its future, especially now that we are at war. It is a harder thing than anyone knows.”
Panna sighed, completely unsympathetic. She had thought a lot about what had happened, about where she was, and why. She thought about what Mather had said, and about what the servant girls had told her, and all the ugly things Jacqalyn had hinted at. And the conclusion she had come to was that she was, for the first time in her life, ashamed of her nation. The Vast were good people, she believed, had always believed. Now she had to doubt. If this was their leadership, if this was how their country was run, how could they be good? Mather thought his father was a fool, but what was Mather? How was he any less one? He lied to his people about the Fleet; he purposefully got his new recruits drunk to try to gin up their fervor; he had made Panna a captive in his own home, and then in this remote corner of it. And of course, there was his loathsome behavior at dinner. And now he enters her rooms with dragoons in tow, spewing self-pity?
Panna was standing, arms crossed, in the center of the entranceway. She would not let him pass, would not let him believe he had any right to enter into her chambers, even if they were his. “So that’s why you accused me of wanting your filthy advances? That’s why you’ve locked me up in these four rooms as though I were a threat to you, instead of the other way around? That’s why you brought these two…goons with you?” She did not look at the hulking dragoons standing behind Mather at the doorway. “Because you’re unsure, and things scare you?” She grimaced. “Why am I locked up here? Tell me that.”
The prince could see this was going to be difficult. He had thought about what he had done as well, had considered it all through the night and most of the day, and his conclusions were somewhat different. He had decided that his passion for her was, at root, quite pure. He had simply fallen in love. This was not his doing; how could it be? It simply was. He had made a bad mistake in displaying it at all, and a worse mistake in the manner he had chosen to display it. But the war and the pressure he was under, surely these were to blame for that. His manners had always been spotless before. Panna would understand this, certainly, as a momentary lapse in judgment. No one was perfect. She had had lapses in judgment of her own, including her decision to deck him, the Crown Prince of the land. He would apologize; she would apologize. He would then behave himself, as a true prince. She would promise to keep it all quiet, and all would go back to the way it was. This is how it would need to work out. Otherwise, things would stay…difficult. He was here to work it out just that way. He had planned his approach. Somehow, though, he had not envisioned standing in her doorway as he attempted to execute his plan. He had not expected her to position herself as quite the obstacle she seemed to be.
“May I come in to discuss this?”
“No, you may not.”
He took a deep breath. “Fine.” He smiled, but his voice betrayed irritation. “We’ll chat here. Panna, I am not a bad person,” he said. “But at the same time, I am not always the person I should be.”
Panna glared. “I believe that last part.”
“Yes, well. But who is, really? Of course you have little evidence of my better nature. I was uncouth at dinner, and I apologize for that. I am sorry. I understand your anger. But you know nothing of me except for a few stories over dinner. That is why I am here. I want you to know me better.” He softened some, and then said the words he’d prepared so carefully, the strategy he was sure would win her favor: “I know you can help me to improve.”
She rolled her eyes. “Look, Prince—”
Not the response he had anticipated. “Please. Call me Mather.”
“You need a priest. You need a counselor. I’m your victim, not your pastor.”
“Victim? That’s a very harsh word.” He was beginning to sense that this conversation would not end at all where he needed it to end. “Panna, you seem quite well, while I on the other hand have this horrible broken nose.” He pointed to his “broked doze,” as if she couldn’t see it. “I didn’t have you arrested, as I could have. Twice now I’ve saved you from the law. Surely that says something about my good intentions.”
“Oh for the love of—listen to you! Do you have any idea how self-centered you are? No, of course not. How could you? No one will tell you for fear you’ll have them locked away somewhere.”
“What are you talking about? How am I self-centered?” He was happy to have finally engaged her in this line of conversation, even if she was being rather ill-tempered about it.
“Are you joking?”
He swallowed. “No. I am not joking. Nor am I arguing with you. I’m sure you’re right. But I really don’t know how to be anything other than what I am. Perhaps you can help me.”
She stared at him. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but perhaps it would get him out of her rooms. “ ‘I want to talk about me.’ ‘I have this burden.’ ‘I want you to know me better.’ ‘I carry the weight of the kingdom.’ ‘I saved you twice.’ I, me, me, me, I, me, and sometimes you, but then only because of me. For heaven’s sake, Prince, maybe flattening your nose will help you see past it. I represent something you can’t have, and so you want it more. I can’t believe I have to say this to you.”
He smiled, as though he weren’t listening to her words, as though he was just admiring her spirit.
This irritated her. “You’re hopeless. And to top it off, you are a total, unrelenting bore.”
Now the prince grew sullen. Then a flash of anger glinted in his eyes.
She was glad to have gotten to him. “Let me guess, no one ever talks to you like that. And that means no one in your life has ever told you the truth about yourself. If they had, maybe you wouldn’t be assaulting married women over dessert.”
His eyes went wide, his voice went low. “I did not assault you.”
She was defiant. “You did. And I will punch you again if you try it again.”
Mather glanced at the two dragoons he had brought with him. They stepped forward in unison. Mather waved them back. But he also took a small step backward, just to be sure he was well out of her range. “Let’s leave that behind us, shall we?”
“No, let’s not. How long am I going to be locked up here?”
“Panna.” He tightened his jaw. He would need to get stern with her. “I can’t have you wandering about the palace telling people I assaulted you. You do understand that, certainly. I will be happy to give you free rein again when you can promise me that this little episode will always and only be between us.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Our little secret.”
“Yes.”
“No. The answer is no. I will tell whom I please what I please.”
He was incredulous. “But you know that means you must stay here.”
“And how will you explain to your father, your brother, your sister, and the servants why I’m locked up here? How will that look to them?”
“You don’t understand at all, do you? These things are not difficult. You’re ill. That’s why you’re here.”
She pursed her lips in anger. “And what about your dragoons? They know better.”
“But they are loyal to me. They will not talk.”
Now she looked at each of them. Their eyes were implacable. One of them was the same young man who had taken her from the Trophy Chase to the carriage, though she didn’t recognize him. She shook her head, angrier yet. “You come up here pretending to be remorseful, offering apologies, saying you need my help. But all you want is to shut me
up. That, sir, is revolting behavior for any man, but for a prince? True repentance doesn’t arrive with armed guards. No, I will not let you get away with this. For your own sake, and for the sake of this kingdom. I will speak of the Fleet, and I will speak of how you assaulted me, to anyone and everyone I choose. You choose how to deal with my crimes.”
He stood still, stunned.
“You should have let me go home, Mather, when it was just about the Fleet, when I truly knew nothing and could only guess. But you didn’t, because you wanted to manipulate me like you do everyone else. Now I won’t go away, not until everyone knows who you really are.”
Mather just stared at her, wide-eyed. What was she trying to do to him? She was trying to destroy him. But why? “Panna, I haven’t hurt you. Why do you insist on hurting me?”
“You can’t see it. You’re too blind. But you asked for my help, and this is the only way I know how to give it.”
“Panna, there must be some way you can help me be a better man, other than ruining me.”
“Perhaps if you truly repent, you will not be so ruined as you fear.”
“I…have no idea what you’re talking about.”
This was the first thing he’d said that she believed. She looked at him a moment, then asked, “Do you have a copy of the Scriptures?”
“Of course.”
“Read the Gospel of Matthew.”
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
“Okay. But tell me why.”
Panna paused. “Because it’s not about you. Read it. You'll figure it out.”
The big young dragoon stole a glance at his partner, who smiled. Just slightly.
“Please, I know she’s in there. I just want to get a message to her.”
The dragoon was impassive, as all the others had been. But this one was young. Will Seline did not recognize him as the one who had shepherded Panna from the Trophy Chase to the royal carriage. He just hoped that because of his youth, he might still have a soft spot within him somewhere.
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