The Sin in the Steel

by Ryan Van Loan

  “Maybe they want to set up their own Empire in the south?” Eld asked.

  “Aye, or they’re just fucking mad,” Gem said. “We’ve considered all the options, but none seem any more likely than the other. In the end, it don’t matter. Run afoul of the ghost ship and its captain will either claim your soul or extinguish it.”

  Gem was right: We’d gone around most of these scenarios back in Servenza with the Trading Company bitch and gotten nowhere. We’d spent the better part of our two weeks jumping from one disaster to the next and I’d thought we were on the right track. I didn’t expect Chan Sha to spill her life’s ambitions to us in the bottom of her ship, but I’d hoped to get enough confirmation that all we had to do was kill her and escape … after getting out of these irons. A tall enough order.…

  Now it seemed we’d been pointed in the wrong direction the entire time. And, unlike the dead, who can have motives ranging from complex machinations to pure spite, I couldn’t see an advantage in the live pirates lying to us. Not when they had us dead to rights. I believe her, damn it. We were no closer to ending this than before we left Servenza. The thought rankled.

  “So now you know the truth,” I said, bringing the conversation back around. “You’ll release us?”

  “I believe you,” Chan Sha said, nodding. “Or most of it, anyway. But I can’t just let you join my crew; things have gone too far for that.”

  “The chains?” I asked.

  “And the beating,” she said. “I don’t trust that you’ll let that go.”

  She knows me well.

  “I can be persuaded to do any number of things,” I said. “You’ve caught me in a very amiable mood.”

  “Be that as it may,” she said, “no. You were trying to kill me and my crew, after all, blackmailed into it or not.”

  “Kill you?” I shook my head. “Didn’t you wonder why the Sea Dragon didn’t use its mortar? She could have dropped bombs on your head while you were still drifting into cannon range. But the mortar stayed silent, because of me.”

  “You?” Gem asked.

  “Both of us,” I said.

  “More her than me,” Eld admitted. “She rode the captain hard. It was Buc’s idea to try to use your size against you rather than sink you at distance.”

  “I saved your ship,” I said, forcing Chan Sha to meet my eyes. “Isn’t there a debt there?”

  “There are debts and then there are debts,” the woman said. She wasn’t smiling, but her face didn’t tell me anything more than that. “I still won’t allow you to join my crew and I can’t just set you ashore. ‘Loose lips sink ships, but still lips none at all,’” she quoted. “I won’t skin you though. Nor will I torture you further.”

  “Then what?” Eld asked.

  Usually I’m the one with the insatiable curiosity, but for once I didn’t feel the need to hear her answer. Anytime a plan hinges on honor and doing the right thing, you know you’ve run out of options and are tossing the dice because it’s the only freedom left to you. All say they will do the right thing until the blade is at their throat. And sometimes the blade doesn’t have to be there; they need only imagine it. Chan Sha seemed to have a great imagination.

  “The sharks,” Chan Sha said. “I’ll give you the night to get your thoughts in order. Tomorrow, you swim.”

  Sometimes I hate being right.

  25

  The warm breeze blew Chan Sha’s braids back as they came up on deck at dusk, carrying with it the smells of salt and pitch, steam and brine. Her mouth twitched toward a smile, against her will. The sea always did that to her. Even on a day like this, long and difficult, if unsurprising. The breeze promised a hint of chill later, but by then she’d be in bed with a blanket or three tossed over her. Remind Gem to see the lads and lasses have an overcoat near to hand. The nights this close to the islands were warmer than most, but after the sweat-sucking heat of the day, they felt cooler. Tonight would feel more than cool.

  Her crew was good, but many couldn’t think past the point of a blade and she’d yet to meet a pirate that wasn’t a misery when sick. Lanterns began to flicker to life as the second day shift tidied up before heading down, giving the night watch the light needed to work as the Widowmaker plowed through the spray.

  A happy accident that the girl didn’t know Cordoban as well as she thought, or that could have given me more trouble than I need at the moment. Had she known that calling the ship Widowmaker would have tarred her with the same name, she might have made a different choice all those years ago. Gem cleared his throat, pulling her out of her reverie, and she glanced at the first mate, whose features were partially hidden by the fading light.

  “What did you think?”

  “I think they was telling the truth,” he said, lighting a kan cigarillo as he spoke. “Leastways, fer the most part. Enough as it doesn’t matter much at all.” He glanced at her and blew a stream of smoke past his pursed lips. “Will you release them in the morn?”

  Chan Sha leaned against the railing and scanned the deck. She knew what she should do … and yet.

  “Blood of the Gods,” the quartermaster snorted as she joined them from across the deck. “Release them?” She spat over the side. “I was wondering why you didn’t just slit their throats and let them bleed out down below. They were trussed up like hogs—might as well have finished the thing then and there.”

  “Oh, aye?” Gem inhaled deeply, the cherry glow illuminating his unshaven cheeks. “That would have left one damn fine mess to clean up after, wouldn’t it? Fish guts, woman,” he growled, sending another stream of smoke past his mouth.

  “Fish guts is right,” the quartermaster shot back. “They likely wouldn’t have eaten the stew for tonight anyway, not after the pair of them turned their swiney noses up at the eel.”

  “That’s not fair,” Gem said. “Eld choked down that slobby knob like nobody’s business.”

  Chan Sha chuckled and Gem guffawed another plume of smoke from his lungs. The quartermaster eyed the pair of them askance. She has a priest’s sense of humor. Which probably wasn’t fair to the priest. But the woman was more than prickly, and there was still enough light left with the lanterns for her to see the quartermaster working herself up to another explosion. “I won’t release them,” she said a moment before the other woman went off. “And it’s not because of the eels,” she added, which snapped the quartermaster’s teeth together. “You promised you’d have those reports on the bales of silk from last fortnight’s haul to me yesterday. Are they ready for me to read before I turn in?”

  “W-well, I … I.” The quartermaster licked her lips. Her loose skin shook as she turned away. “I’ve been busy, Captain. That is to say, I’ve been doing your work, Chan Sha. I’ll have those reports to you by—”

  “The last evening bell?” Chan Sha prodded. The other woman froze; clearly she hadn’t put pen to paper or, more likely, hadn’t even gone to that cargo hold to begin. Unusual for her. “The crew won’t thank us if we don’t handle their interests well, Quartermaster. You know this is true.”

  “Too right it is,” Gem muttered.

  “I haven’t seen a report on the rum barrels, either. Could you find the time for a sounding?”

  “Gods, woman!” Gem rounded on the quartermaster. “Do you want a mutiny on our hands?”

  “I told you, I’ve been busy!” the woman snapped. The next moment, she began apologizing so rapidly that it took Chan Sha a full minute to get a word in.

  “Easy, easy,” she said. “The crew trusts you. I trust you.” Chan Sha’s fingers found one of the match cords amongst her braids and twirled it as she studied the other woman. It was a calming routine for her, but she’d noticed early on that it made others nervous, more willing to please. The quartermaster needed it less than most, but she was slipping. And the stakes were too high for that. “Now, we’ll leave you to your reports.”

  “Of course, Captain. Of course,” the older woman stammered. She almost sketched a curtsy. A c
urtsy! She spun on her heel and disappeared down into the hold in a flurry of skirts.

  “She hasn’t even bothered to open the bales yet,” Gem grunted.

  “Agnes is a good crew member,” Chan Sha said quickly. Gem smiled and she snorted. “I’m not saying she’s not a pain in the arse. She’s an unholy pain in the arse. But she’s good at what she does.” Her smile slipped. “But we’re down a second mate, so she’s been doing the work of two. You both have.”

  “Price we pay for keeping the seas clear of sail,” Gem said, suddenly as serious as she was. He took another drag on his kan leaf and sighed. “We can’t keep word of the Ghost Captain from spreading forever, Chan Sha. We need a plan. One that doesn’t involve us sailing back and forth chasing sails.”

  “Aye, Gem, you’re right.” She let the match cord slip from her fingers—Gem didn’t need incentives—and fought back the angry retort on her lips. We’ve been over this before, old friend. Why won’t you let it go? But she knew why.… She wouldn’t have let it go either, if she were him. Because her plan made no apparent sense. Unless you knew the larger plan. And I can’t trust you with that.

  “We need more information,” she said at last. “If only there were some way to find out what that rotting bastard was actually doing, where he goes when he’s not sinking ships.…

  “You’ve been here the longest, Gem. Gods, you were born in these seas. Have you noticed anything on the map?” Not that she’d seen anything during the half thousand times she’d gone to the map room to stare at the little colored needles pinpricked all across the Southern Expanse. Too random for a pattern and not enough needles to find one, if one did exist. Even with her edge, she hadn’t found it. Maybe Gem—

  “It’s like you said,” the first mate responded. He studied the cigarillo, almost smoked down to a nub, and shrugged. “We need more information. Might be we need to give this plan over and go right for said rotting bastard’s throat.”

  “Why, Gem, that’s almost poetic of you,” Chan Sha said. He guffawed and she smiled.

  “I know you don’t want to hear it,” he continued, “but that girl down there has a brain on her that I haven’t seen before, save once.” He looked at her sharply. “And that was you. Buc reminds me of you, a little different here and there, but damned close. You consider maybe the two of you could do what one can’t?”

  “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t,” she said after a moment. She hadn’t realized she’d been considering it until she heard the words, but she had been mulling it over. Subconsciously. The girl was smart, no question, almost preternaturally so. If Chan Sha didn’t know better, she’d have guessed her a follower of one of the Gods, but that was impossible. I’d have known. Wouldn’t I? No answer came, so she turned to Gem and shook her braids.

  “Did you see her face when I called her out on not forgiving me—us—for the treatment we’ve given them? Even if she wanted to, I don’t think the girl is capable of forgiving that. If the ship was going down, maybe I’d consider unlocking them. Eld, at least, would stand to in a fight.” Gem nodded; he’d asked to bring Eld on as crew before they discovered their treachery. “But even then I’d have to think twice.” She sighed, then straightened and scratched at where the railing had begun to dig into her side. “It’s almost full dark—don’t you want to make a round of the crew before heading belowdecks?”

  Gem took a final pull of his cigarillo before flicking it over the side. He nodded and spoke in a stream of smoke, “Aye, aye, Captain. But what about the lass’s story? What’s it mean that someone is saying you’re behind all these disappearances? It’ll be a small favor if we keep the Ghost Captain’s presence quiet but bring the Imperial fleet down on our heads. Who’s behind this, do you think?”

  “I’m not sure,” she lied. “But I intend to find out.…” They stood together in silence. “Have you ever heard of a woman what calls herself an Archaeologist?”

  “Arch-e-what?” Gem’s brow furrowed. “Can’t say as I have. Why?”

  “No reason,” she said quickly, hiding her second lie behind half a smile. “A name I came across in correspondence from that ship’s captain a fortnight ago.” She grinned. “I didn’t know what the word meant either.”

  Gem shook his head. “Sometimes you can’t trust words, Captain. I’ll check on the crew, then.”

  “Oh, and Gem?” The large man paused mid-step. “Make sure the crew has something warm to hand,” she said. “There’s a chill in the air.”

  “As you say, Captain,” he replied, the smile clear in his voice. “As you say.”

  She watched him leave. Straightening, she let her gaze roam the decks, but everything seemed up to shape, and if it wasn’t, Gem would sort it out. A good man. Chan Sha inhaled the briny air again, let it fill her lungs. A good crew. A few years ago her loyalties had been easy enough because they had been singular: loyalty. But these tattooed, greasy-haired, sunburnt bastards had wormed their way into her heart. And what should she do when even the Gods were silent? Her ear twitched and she smiled. Mostly silent.

  Her smile stiffened. She’d taken a risk, mentioning the Archaeologist, long shot that it had been. And another, telling Buc and Eld about the Ghost Captain. I didn’t tell them everything about the Ghost Captain, though. How could she, when she hadn’t told Gem or the others? And loyalties, plural, or no, she couldn’t do that. Besides, why tell the pair when they would be shark bait by morning?

  “Because I have to tell someone,” she whispered.

  Because she had to change the equation soon or the sums would keep coming up as they had been since the Ghost Captain appeared. And eventually those sums would come up with her number on them—and her crew’s as well. I can’t keep lying to them. I can’t keep juggling all these balls in the air. Her breath hissed between her teeth. Balls? It was more like juggling steel blades or bare flames. Sooner or later there would be a price to pay. But will I be the one to pay it? In the end it kept coming back to that damned word: “loyalty.” Chan Sha shivered and it had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

  26

  “She’s really painting it on thick, don’t you think?” I asked.

  Eld looked up from the manacles on his wrists. He’d been fumbling with them since members of Chan Sha’s crew had marched us onto the deck and then onto the thin spar they’d fastened out over the side. No leg irons, surprisingly, but given the way the spar danced in the salt-kissed wind, leg irons might have sent us over the side as soon as we stepped out. Besides, the locks on our wrists weren’t simple tumbler locks, and without a locksmith’s kit they weren’t going to open. I told Eld that twice already, but the man seemed to think effort would overcome reason.

  “You want her to tell the crew we’re Company spies and send us over the side?” he asked, nodding toward where the pirates stood in a circle, listening to their captain.

  “If I’m going to die”—I glanced down at the dark water below the thin board we stood on—“and all signs point that way, I’d rather do it and be done. Not listen to her assuage her feelings by spelling everything out to her crew.”

  “She leads more by reason and logic than she does by sheer will,” Eld said, watching Chan Sha, who was perched on an overturned barrel across the deck, delivering her closing arguments to her willing jury. “I hadn’t thought to find that amongst pirates.”

  “Well, she only has a dozen pistoles on her and there’s more than thrice that many crew members, so I don’t think she can rely on force alone. Still, does she think throwing us over the side will really upset them? It won’t upset the quartermaster, that’s for sure.”

  “No,” Eld said, once again bending over the irons around his wrists. “She’ll smile to see the sharks take us.”

  “Well, they better or she’ll dive in after them,” I said. “Captain’s honored you lot,” I added, pitching my voice higher and hoarser with a bit of nasal tone added in. “Now tuck in!”

  “You do the quartermaster surprisingly well,”
Eld said. A smile touched his lips despite the hard look in his eyes. He cursed as the bit of metal in his hand slipped and fell down into the water. He looked up. “You really don’t have a plan?”

  “We’re shackled, standing on a pace of wood that wobbles with every rise and fall of the ship and never mind the wind, with sharks circling below us,” I said. “What plan could I possibly have?”

  “I don’t know,” he muttered. “You’ve always had one before. At least they gave us back our clothes.”

  “Yes, her conscience must really be paining her,” I said.

  “Gods, there are sharks down there, aren’t there?” Eld asked, peering carefully over the edge of the beam. “Did you see a fin? I thought I saw a fin just now.”

  “Not there,” I said. I pointed with my head. “That woman near the prow just dumped a pail of fish guts over the side. Look at the water there.” I’d seen three different fins moving about, but as I spoke, another, larger one with a white tip swam through the bloodied water, scattering the other sharks before it.

  “Fuck me,” Eld whispered. My eyes widened at the curse and he actually blushed. Eld swore as often as I was polite. A wave shook the ship and we both had to bend our knees to keep from pitching off the spar. “Fuck me!” he repeated.

  Chan Sha climbed down off the barrel she’d been speaking from. I could no longer pretend I didn’t feel fear. We’d gone overboard before the Sea Dragon exploded and no sharks had taken us then, but with blood and fresh fish in the water, I didn’t think we’d be as lucky this time. Chan Sha pointed at us and the crew split, letting her and Gem and that damned quartermaster through.

  “She’s finished,” I said. The fear was in every limb now, but there was no sense in letting Eld know. “About damned time,” I added.

  “You’re not right,” he muttered. His skin was alabaster white, save for some color in his cheeks that looked blue, tending toward purple. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” he whispered.