The Sin in the Steel

by Ryan Van Loan

  “I’ve read your reports,” Salina said.

  “Then you know they’re becoming an infestation that must needs be eradicated. And soon.”

  “And you know,” Salina repeated, “that we’re not interested in your petty religious war. Aren’t there enough fools to convert for each of you?”

  “You blasphemous bitch,” the Harbormaster spat.

  “Aww, so you are faithful,” Salina mocked, even though she knew she was wasting time. The Company needed the Sin Eaters as surely as the Sin Eaters needed the money their services brought. Ciris had shown up out of she alone knew where only a few centuries earlier; she didn’t have the resources the Dead Gods had accumulated over the millennia. But every Sin Eater knew where their loyalties lay and that thought more than any other fueled Salina’s disgust with the lot of them. “And here I thought you just loved the coin we send your way. How much of that does your Goddess see these days?”

  “Will you hear what I have to say or should I end this now?” the Harbormaster asked after several moments of silence. Sweat dripped down Katal’s forehead, beading on his nose, and a small pool had already started to form on the table he rested his meaty forearms on.

  “I’m listening,” Salina muttered. Because I have to. Because we need you today. But one day, Sin Eater, one day we’ll be free of your grip. Now, if she could only find the faith to believe that day would be in her lifetime. “Say on.”

  “During my Rebirth, the Goddess spoke to me,” the Harbormaster said, sounding like a lover remembering a particularly passionate evening. “There is an artifact that she seeks. Something that was stolen from her and hidden away shortly after she first awoke. She has reason to believe it has now been found.”

  “Interesting,” Salina lied. Some on the Board liked to dabble in religious politics, but she’d be damned if they heard of this from her. “I’m sure we’ll be more than willing to offer the services of our ships to help your Goddess find what was stolen from her.

  “After our sugar problem is resolved.” And for a price that will make your eyes pop.

  The Harbormaster laughed. “This isn’t some trinket, Salina. This is an item of immense power. Power beyond your ken. Why do you think the Dead Gods are swarming here now when they’ve turned a blind eye to the Shattered Coast for millennia? Why do you think your ships have gone missing? Why do you think the Widowmaker’s suddenly made a name for herself? A ship that went missing centuries ago started all this and now it’s happening again.”

  “What are you saying?” Salina bit off each word and wished her stomach didn’t leap with each one. She remembered that fool historian who had given herself some trumped-up title. Archaeologist, that was it. The woman had come from the Shattered Coast, talking of an expedition to find a lost treasure, one she couldn’t recover without proper funding. Salina had sent her out the door like the dross she was. What had the Archaeologist said?

  It was an ancient shipwreck.

  “What are you saying?” Salina repeated as thoughts raced through her mind. “That your war is the reason for the loss of our ships?”

  “Goddess’s breath! No!” The Harbormaster’s mirthless laugh cut off. “I am simply pointing out the confluence of events that seems to circle around an artifact of my Goddess and suggesting that since it appears our problems coincide in the same geographical location, it may be in your interests to keep an eye out for said artifact. The rewards would be … immeasurable.”

  I doubt it. And yet, the Archaeologist had been sure. Did I miss an opportunity? If the Board found out—No. Salina rubbed her arms through her thin silk sleeves and shivered. She had to focus on what was in front of her. That was enough of a shit show as it was, without dredging up might-have-beens. “Gods. Missing ships. Cannibals. Pirates. Holy artifacts. And you sent Buc and Eld into the midst of that with a paltry brig beneath their feet?”

  “The Sea Dragon has one of our gear-work mortars,” the Harbormaster said finally.

  “A mortar,” Salina said flatly. True, a Sin Eater–modified one was impressive, but it wasn’t enough. A mortar when they need an armada. She didn’t like any of this one jot. Worse, she knew the Board wouldn’t either … and they didn’t know about the Archaeologist. She shivered again when she realized she would have to be the one to tell them. Still, there was one good piece of news: she wasn’t with Buc and Eld. Good luck, you wretched girl, wherever you are.

  You’re going to need it.

  18

  “Oh, there you are,” Eld said. “More food? Really?”

  “I had to piss again; hopefully that tapers off soon,” I said. “But I bumped into that damned physiker and he shoved an orange and a piece of hardtack at me. Worried I’m going to turn into a bag of bones.”

  “Hardly,” Eld said. I caught him looking me over and he blushed. “You do look like you’ve lost some weight, though.”

  “I have.” I bit into the hardtack. “But this shit is like chewing cobblestone powder,” I said, spraying crumbs everywhere. Eld looked aghast, so I bit into the orange and let the juices help clear my throat. “What’d you need?”

  “I just wanted to let you know we’re square in the middle of the route now. I imagine it’ll take a day or two to attract the wrong kind of attention.”

  I moved to the railing and he joined me, both of us watching the open sea. In the distance a few small dots of land, islands where the helmswoman said unruly sailors were marooned and left for dead, broke up the monotonous blue waves. She’d told me the bit about being marooned with something like glee in her eyes, as if hoping that would be my fate. And it might have been, if the captain hadn’t feared the Company more than the Widowmaker. As it was, the crew had an edge to them now—there was no more singing or laughing and while they still scrubbed the deck, most kept a blade or pistole close to hand and the first mate had ordered two more up to the crow’s nest. The air felt heavier and it wasn’t just my imagination. Ships had disappeared in these waters and now our ship was the only one on the horizon.

  “Sail ho!”

  I actually jumped at the lookout’s hoarse shout and Eld laughed. “So much for a day or two,” I said.

  Eld shrugged. “Could be another ship foolish enough to travel this route like us.”

  “She’s flying the black flag, Captain!”

  “Gods damn it,” Eld muttered.

  “Where away?” The captain used a brass mouthpiece so he could be heard easily even though he stood by the helm.

  “Edge of the horizon, two points starboard and moving to intercept,” the man in the crow’s nest hollered into a brass contraption that ran the length of the mast and magnified his voice across the deck. “She’s got the angle,” he added.

  “Sound General Quarters. To arms.” The captain’s voice was surprisingly calm. Maybe he would surprise me after all. “All hands to stations and make ready the cannons. Prepare the mortar!”

  “Let’s go check in with the captain,” I said.

  “I’m not sure he’ll appreciate your help,” Eld said.

  “Probably not, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need it.”

  “Spoken like a woman,” he muttered half under his breath.

  “What was that?”

  “I said he might not like that notion.”

  I elbowed Eld in the ribs as I passed him and dodged sailors that ran back and forth across the decks. There was no panic in their movements, thank the Gods, but there was a hurried order that made me think the first exchange of gunfire would tell the tale for the rest of the battle. Either molding them into the force I thought they might be or shattering them like so many ships had been before them. In a few moments we reached the deck where the captain held a ridiculously long telescope to his eye. He twisted it in his hands and gears spun, lengthening and retracting it as he took in the enemy ship.

  “Ask Jen for an accurate count,” he said to a boy beside him. “I count three rows of six cannons and her decks show no glint of a mortar.”


  “Aye, aye, Captain,” the boy croaked before dashing off in a flurry of tanned legs.

  “Well, signorina,” he said when he lowered his glass, “it looks like you’ll have your battle after all.”

  “It’s the Widowmaker?”

  “There aren’t many pirates haunting the Southern Expanse these days. And last I heard, her ship ran thirty-six cannon.” He licked his pinched lips and glanced down at me. “She tried to run out of the sun so we’d not get a good look at her until she was closer, but the winds favor us more than her, so she had to adjust her angle. She’ll catch us in another hour or so because she’s got more sail and oars besides, but she’s lost the element of surprise.”

  “How many guns do you have?” Eld asked.

  “The same as when you asked me back in Port au’ Sheen,” he said. “Three rows of four. Luckily, we’ve a newly minted mortar, Sin Eater–wrought, and I don’t see one on her decks.”

  “You plan to shell her?” I asked.

  “In a manner of speaking.” The captain smiled. “She’ll be in range of our mortar for several minutes before we’re in range of her guns. If we turn away, I can extend that time and drop a few more shells on her decks. It’s a tough shot under the best of circumstances, but my mortarwoman is the best in the Shattered Coast.”

  “A good plan,” I said.

  “Aye.” He nodded. “And all it takes is one shell from that angle to open a hole straight through to the sea.”

  “I was afraid of that,” I said. The captain arched an eyebrow, but Eld paled beneath his sunburnt cheeks when he saw my expression. The captain’s plan was good—too good. We had to confirm it was the Widowmaker before sinking her. And with the mortar, odds were even if we’d glimpse her before sending her to the bottom. I wasn’t going to wager a seat on the Company over a coin toss. “Salina’s orders were clear—we’re to take the Widowmaker, confirm her identity, and slit her throat.” Eld started to open his mouth, but I turned my glare toward him and he chewed his lip instead.

  The captain either didn’t see my look or didn’t care. He laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “Dead is dead, girl. I’ll not risk my ship and crew so you can look her in the face when she breathes her last.”

  “You will or risk the Company’s wrath,” I said. Girl? He’d lost the “signorina,” quickly enough. Not like Eld then. Somehow that made the next bit easier. “Luckily for both of us, I’ve a plan.”

  “You?” He snorted. “And what do you know of naval warfare?”

  “I’ve read Aislin,” I said. “And Gatina. And Frobisher. She was number two twenty-one,” I added.

  The captain’s eyes grew tighter at their names, but they popped back open at the last. “You read The Silence of Black on Blue?” he asked.

  “Twice—she had a way with words,” I said.

  “Did you mean to attend the Academy?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” I said. “The point is that I have more knowledge here”—I tapped my head—“than half the captains in these waters put together.”

  “Words,” he said.

  “Combined with your experience, they are a formidable weapon, Captain. Use them.” He started to shake his head and I touched his hand. He jerked at my touch but didn’t pull away. “I want her dead as quickly and painlessly as do you, but I also can’t risk failure. The Company…” I glanced at the helmswoman and leaned forward. “You know the Company ties strings around all our throats and is as happy to pull them tight as cut them loose. You’ve a string of your own, I’m sure.” I bit my lip. “None of us wants to risk their wrath.”

  “No one wants that,” he agreed slowly.

  “Then let’s not,” I said. I could see his pulse in his throat and knew I had him. “Hear me out.”

  The captain glanced back at Ulia, but she was concentrating on holding the wheel on course in the choppy waters. “Very well, what is your plan?”

  “Something worthy of Frobisher,” I lied. None were as masterful on the waters as she had been. “Your ship is smaller and lighter than the Widowmaker’s by how many tonnes?”

  “Many,” he said simply.

  “So while she can pile on sail, that will do her little good when she’s close in.”

  “Anyone can see that.”

  “Aye, but think about it,” I said. “We can easily outmaneuver her, so let the Widowmaker in close and you’ll only have to brave a single volley before you can slip behind her.”

  “Only? She’s thirty-six guns,” he grunted.

  “Eighteen to twelve for one broadside,” I said. “There’s some risk, but no more than risking hitting her with a mortar across the sea. But I suggest you hold your fire, slip behind her, and then let her have a taste of the grape up her arse.”

  “Grape?” The captain’s mouth formed a frown, but I could see the light in his eyes.

  “Aye—we’re not trying to sink her, remember? So load grape instead of round shot. Her cannon won’t fire themselves. And if you can take her rudder with it, she’ll be unable to turn herself right. Even if you don’t, you’ll be able to turn and give her another round before she has you in her sights again.”

  “Captain! You’re not actually listening to her, are you?”

  Ulia’s voice brought him back to reality but not before I saw through his eyes—saw the Widowmaker’s decks raked with shot, sailors slipping in their life’s blood that ran in waves across her decks and breaking bones while trying to reach their cannon. Just when they were righting themselves, the boarding party came over the side, loaded with pistoles and bare steel. They were lost before they’d even begun. The Company would be pleased and they rewarded those who pleased them, but more than that, he’d have a second ship to his name … the beginnings of a fleet. I raised my voice and painted the portrait I’d seen, covering my lack of experience with Frobisher’s musings.

  “I’m impressed,” the captain admitted. He raised the telescope to his eye and shook his head. “We’ve less than a turn of the hourglass to decide.”

  “Do what’s best for your crew,” Eld said.

  “At least he’s not a fecking liar,” Ulia spat over her shoulder.

  “For the long haul, not for today,” Eld added.

  The woman cursed again.

  “It can be done,” the captain said. “It is risky, but—”

  “So is the alternative,” I said. “You don’t sink her with your mortar and she draws level—then what?”

  “Aye.” He collapsed the telescope hard between his palms and nodded as he marched past me. “We’ll give them a taste of the grape.”

  I watched him go, back stiff with steel that hadn’t been there a moment ago. At my shoulder, Eld asked—loudly, to be heard over the helmswoman’s vehement cursing—“Do you think it will work?”

  I shrugged. “‘Once the cannons are loosed, only the Sea knows,’” I quoted.

  “Frobisher?”

  “Frobisher.”

  19

  “Spin those wheels before you hear my dulcet tone and I’ll splatter your brains over the carriage,” the first mate growled into a brass mouthpiece as he marched back and forth on the deck below us.

  “Eloquent fellow,” Eld commented.

  “He’s a good man,” the captain said. “If any of them fire now, we’re fucked.” He glanced up from the deck and his face drew taut. “She’ll be on us in another minute.”

  “How long before you make the turn?” Eld asked.

  The captain glanced at me and I answered for him. “A heartbeat after the last moment you believe possible.”

  “Two heartbeats if you can hold out,” he added.

  The man had bought into my plan wholesale and all doubts were cleaned from him. I didn’t have any doubts either, but that was because I held all the cards, even if the players didn’t know it. Eld kept shooting me looks as if trying to gauge my plans—he knew me well enough to know that I wouldn’t tie myself to a single plan. A plan within a plan and another if everythin
g goes to shit. Not even a mouse trusts itself to one hole. And I was no fucking mouse.

  “On my mark,” the captain muttered to the helmswoman.

  She returned his nod and if she was tired from holding the course for so long, she didn’t show it. Her hands were steady on the wheel. The Widowmaker’s ship was close enough now that I could see individual sailors moving on deck. From everything I’d read and heard of pirates, I expected them to be disorganized, but they moved with as much efficiency as the sailors on the Sea Dragon. And they had more guns. The sun glinted off their cannon as they ran them out of their ports as if to remind us of the violence they promised. Eld looked calm, but I could see the captain’s shoulders tighten by degrees as the Widowmaker’s ship nosed almost even with our rudder and then drew alongside. Eld’s mouth moved, but no command came. And then it did.

  “Clew up! Clew up! Hard to starboard!” the captain roared.

  “Fire, you fuckers!” The mate’s gravelly voice was swallowed by the sound of machinery as twelve wheel locks zipped in tune. The Sea Dragon shook and the Widowmaker’s ship disappeared in a plume of smoke. Recoil made the ship swing over faster than seemed possible.

  “Hard over!” the captain screamed again. It sounded distant thanks to the ringing in my ears. He saw me and clapped me on the shoulder so hard, I stumbled into Eld. “It’s working, thank the Gods. It’s—”

  The rest was drowned out by the Widowmaker’s broadside. I could actually hear the rounds screaming through the air and then wood splintered and we were enveloped in something wet and cloying that drove me to my knees. I tried to fight my way out of the canvas, but everything was dark and tangled, so I drew a stiletto and began hacking around me. You’d think canvas sheets would cut like paper, but you’d be wrong. I finally managed to hack a hole large enough to squeeze through and emerged to find the deck partially buried under half the mainsail, with shards of wood littering what was visible of the rest. I could see Ulia’s arms wrapped around the base of the wheel, but the wheel itself spun freely and there was enough blood soaking through the sheets that it didn’t seem likely she would steer anything again. The canvas heaved as a figure stood up beneath it, then sloughed off, revealing Eld through the large hole he’d cut with his sword. He cursed when he saw the helmswoman, but his face lost some of its tension when he found me standing beside him.