//------------------------------// // Chapter 12: Face to the Door // Story: Set Sail // by Jack of a Few Trades //------------------------------// I took the pocket watch out of my vest, tapping a hind hoof against the floor impatiently. Five minutes late. “Queen Novo, are you quite ready?” “Just a minute, Sea-bee!” she replied casually from behind the folding screen where she had spent the last twenty minutes primping and preening. I threw a little eye roll at her nickname. “Please hurry, we’re already running late as it is.” It was a good thing she couldn’t see me from behind the screen. Faced with nothing to do while I waited on her to finish dressing, I stepped out onto the room’s personal balcony to get a breath of fresh air. Of course, the air outside wasn’t exactly fresh. The city of Arini was not as beautiful as the brochures claimed it would be. Sure, it boasted plenty of strikingly white stucco buildings with bright orange pottery roofs, and they were pleasant in their own right. Wide cobblestone streets bustled with activity as the parrots of the city moved about their daily business, and a seemingly endless parade of titanic airships streamed in and out of the port on the western horizon, their bright white gas bags catching the dawn's first rays. It was an impressive sight, but one key detail kept it from qualifying as beautiful. I leaned forward over the balcony railing. Perhaps it had been beautiful once upon a time, but that was hidden in a layer of soot and smog. During the height of the Storm King’s occupation, Arini had become the industrial heart of his empire. What had been a simple port town two decades ago now boasted a bustling and productive manufacturing hub on its west end, one that belched smoke into the air with abandon. Prevailing westerly winds then carried that smoke right into the city proper most days. When Ornithia was liberated, the citizens hadn’t let go of their newfound economic prosperity. Industrialization breathed new life into the ancient town, but that breath was choked with pollution. The gleaming palace we were lodged in mirrored the architecture of the city around it, all soaring arches and white walls, though these were built of much more expensive and sturdy marble. Still not immune to the filthy air, though, I thought, running a claw along the railing and leaving a faint trail through the grime that had accumulated on it. As far as seats of government went, it was fairly modest. Real estate on the stone outcrop the palace was perched atop came with a strict limit, and it hailed from a time before building taller was easy. Despite its relatively small size, the palace made up for it in its position. It was meant to be visible from anywhere in the city, a symbol of some old king who had built it. The view it commanded over the city below was impressive. But I’d had enough time to take in the sights. “Almost ready?” I called over my shoulder. “Seaspray, do I hover over you when you’re writing orders to your commanders?” I stayed silent. Nothing I could say would help my cause. “Exactly,” she added after a moment, “I’m almost done; calm yourself.” Arguing with Queen Novo was usually a losing prospect, so I cut my losses and turned my attention back to the city below, noting the details along the horizon. Strategic points: the harbor, the factories. It was ultimately useless information in peacetime, but after a lifetime of military planning, it was hard not to gravitate toward them. That thought made me frown. Anyone else with such a grand view before them would be content to take in the sight and enjoy the moment. It was my first time seeing Arini from above, and yet all I could think about were what points I’d target in an assault? Had all my years in command left me unable to enjoy the smaller things in life? Briefly, the thought of retiring early crossed my mind. I still had plenty of good years left in me, but sometimes the notion of hanging up my uniform and stepping out of the hot seat sounded like a dream. It amounted to nothing more than idle fantasy, though some days it sounded better than being responsible for the fate of an entire nation or simply having to butt heads with Queen Novo over every little thing. I had a duty to the hippogriffs in my charge, I supposed. The navy needed a leader, and they seemed to think I was the right griff for the job. Until a day came that I was no longer fit for service, I would stick by it. “Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?” came Novo’s voice from behind me. I turned around to face her, giving her a look from beak to hoof. She didn’t spend much of her time as a hippogriff anymore, though when she did, it reminded me of what things had been like before the Storm King; when times were simpler and we were younger. She had a few more gray feathers, but that same old self-assured smile on her beak was still there, a challenge to the world to keep up with her. Her outfit was quite pleasing in its simplicity: a sash of rich purple silk complemented her ivory white feathers and fur, adding an extra layer of sophistication alongside the crystalline blue and gold of her regalia. Not a single detail out of place. She was beautiful, and despite my annoyance with her, I couldn’t deny it. A bubble of warmth rose through my chest, and I smiled. “You look splendid.” “Thank you!” She did a quick curtsy but then frowned. “Oh, hang on a sec,” she said, crossing over to me. She reached out and straightened one of the medals adorning my vest. “There, now you look splendid too!” she laughed, mocking my verbiage. My eye roll was involuntary. Regardless of how useful the time had been for her appearance, we were still late. “Let’s get going,” I said, trying and failing to mask the irritation in my voice. “Shouldn’t we talk over our strategy a little first?” I shook my head. “We’ll walk and talk.” I crossed the room and opened the tall, intricately carved wooden door, courteously allowing the Queen to exit first. Our steps echoed through the high hallway, the clicks of our front claws and the clops of our rear hooves reverberating through the space. “Step me through your plans again?” I asked. This was Novo’s affair, after all. I was merely here to assist. “Schmooze and mingle.” I waited a moment for her to elaborate, but she said nothing. “That’s it?” “Mmmhmm,” she hummed. “No plan, just go in and hope for the best?” She nodded. “Free-form jazz.” My eye twitched. “And here I thought you would have cooked up a master scheme.” “I believe in the beauty of improvisation!” Her voice rose slightly out of defensiveness. “Conversations can’t be planned in detail. You have to just go with the flow.” “The flow, being?” “Well, there’s only one thing I had in mind,” she said, patting the newspaper tucked under her wing. “You remember the griffon we hired.” “How could I forget the griffon you hired?” I rolled my eyes again. Novo laughed, ignoring my little barb. “He’s my ace in the hole! They finally published the article about him a few days ago.” I had to fight the urge to grumble my frustrations aloud, but I couldn’t help the bit of snideness leaking into my voice. “And was the article to your satisfaction?” “It was perfect—thanks to you. Glad to know that your connections at the Daily are still good.” “Right,” I grumbled, choosing to omit the fact that all I’d done was mail them a tip. The story they decided to tell was entirely up to them, and I wasn’t about to lift a claw to make it the right one. It was dumb luck that they hadn’t turned it into a smear piece. “And you’re planning to woo the griffon delegation with a week-old newspaper?” “If I can’t convince them with my words, then the words in the paper might help.” “For your sake, I hope so.” Novo looked at me, her confident smirk souring. “I’m getting the feeling you don’t have faith in my abilities, Seaspray.” “I have faith in you, it’s the others I’m worried about,” I said, which was only half of the truth. It wouldn’t do to tell her that I was still cross with her. We came to the end of the corridor, turning right and immediately encountering a double door flanked by two parrot guards in shining golden armor that obscured their eyes. This was the kind of outfit that was designed to unnerve political enemies. An imposing, flashy presence that served to subtly remind those who entered of the might that governed this place. We didn’t need to bother identifying ourselves, as the guards pushed the doors open for us without a word. “Just watch me go to work,” Novo said, ending the conversation on that note. She thanked the guards for getting the doors for us, but I kept my eye on them. Eyes forward, fixed in the same neutral expression. These parrots were well trained. Inside the room, there was a low din of chatter from a very wide assortment of creatures, most of them decked out in the wildly varied formal attire of their homelands. Zebra in their traditional brightly colored robes, parrots in their shiny silver and gold regalia. Camels and deer were in attendance as well this year. I vaguely recognized a few of them, but there was little familiarity in the room that I could see immediately. Queen Novo went directly for the Griffon Empire’s delegation. I lagged behind her and instead made my way to the refreshment table on the far side of the room. An ice sculpture of a parrot in mid-flight stood proudly at one end of the table—down its length was a beautiful and wide-ranging assortment of richly colored hors d'oeuvres. Bunches of grapes, assorted cheeses, candied oats and nuts, and even a few selections of meats for the carnivorous guests in the room. The food wasn’t of much interest at the moment, but the beverages at the far end of the table caught my eye. An array of bottles of various sizes and shapes, most of which I could only assume were alcoholic. When in Ornithia, do as the Ornithians do. I rarely drank, given the laws in Hippogriffia, but this was a special—and legal—occasion. I recognized the squat, crystalline bottle of brandy in the center of the liquor rack, and I helped myself to a small glass. With drink in claw, I turned to observe the room again. Queen Novo was rubbing elbows with all of the Griffon Empire’s half-dozen ambassadors, leading what would certainly be a riveting conversation if I were a politician. I could not overhear them, their words lost to the low roar of voices throughout the room. Truly, she was in her element. Similar conversations were happening elsewhere. It was impressive to see so many different species from around the South Sea all mingling together in the same room. Griffons, zebra, camels, parrots, deer, and… A dragon? That was odd. I had never seen a dragon at one of these conferences in the past. I did recognize her, though it took me a moment to make the mental connection. She was quite small for a dragon, coming close to my own height, and her lithe build and shimmering blue scales stood out against the earth-toned fur and feathers of the majority of the attendees. She held a scepter tipped with a huge red crystal in one claw and a glass of some liquor in the other, thin blue flames wisping from its rim. “Dragon Lord Ember!” I waved at her and started walking over. She noticed me and didn’t exactly perk up, but there was a glimmer of recognition in her eyes. “Uh, sorry,” she said, just the barest hint of embarrassment in the slight smile she gave me. “I know I remember you, but you’re gonna have to help me.” “General Seaspray,” I said, offering a claw to her. “We met when our student ambassadors to Equestria’s Friendship School went missing.” Her eyes lit up as she shook my claw. “Right! Sorry, it’s been a while.” I laughed off her faux pas. “It’s quite alright, second-in-commands are much more difficult to memorize.” I tossed a glance over my shoulder at Queen Novo, who appeared to have made fast friends with the griffon delegation. “How is Smolder, by the way? Our Silverstream speaks very highly of her.” “She’s doing… well,” she said, her eyes shifting. “I bet you hear all about it from your student.” “Oh no, not me,” I laughed. “I merely served as the escort for that first trip. Her father is the one who gets the earfuls. I only receive the necessary bits and pieces.” Ember nodded and smiled. “That’s about the same reason I was there that time, too. Smolder isn’t my drake. I only see what’s on the progress reports from Princess Twilight.” She paused to take a sip from her drink, the flames no problem for her fire-resistant face. “But she is doing well!” “Ah, I understand.” The common ground I thought I had with her didn’t go very deep. A subject change was in order. “So, what brings you to this conference? I wasn’t aware the dragons had business on the South Sea.” “We don’t. Well, not yet, at least. Really, I’m just here to scope things out.” “Not yet?” “I’m sure you know that the Dragon Lands aren’t formally recognized as a nation.” I nodded, and she continued, “There’s been a lot of push lately to make it a real country, so I figured this would be a good place to start. Making a presence, that is.” “How splendid!” I said. “I’m sure you know that land disputes are sure to happen, right?” Ember nodded. “Thankfully, the portion of the Equestrian Badlands we occupy is pretty much empty. Nobody else but dragons would want a volcanic waste like that. We’re working on a treaty to Princess Celestia, but all of this statecraft business is pretty new to dragons. We’re starting from scratch, and it takes time.” “I wish you the best of luck in your endeavor.” I raised my glass of brandy. “To the Dragon Lands!” Ember raised the glass of whatever flaming liquid she was holding, and we both drank the toast. “I cannot speak for her, but you should seek an audience with Queen Novo about this. I would bet my medals that she would love to support your cause. It pays dividends to have allies, you know.” “I’ll do that. We thank you for the suggestion,” she said, trying out a slightly more formal tone with the royal we, the irony in the statement clear. This was a much less standoffish dragon lord than I recalled from our previous meeting. She was more pleasant when her student ambassador wasn’t missing. A bell at the front of the room chimed three times over the din of the room. The meeting was about to begin. The crowd in the room gravitated toward the front, where a positively massive, semicircular table with the middle hollowed out stood. It had likely been custom-built for the event, big enough to seat each delegation with wide gaps between each seat, but no unused space. Name tags signified where to go. I found my and Novo’s tags about halfway between the crest of the semicircular table and the wall, and we arrived at our places simultaneously from opposite directions. “How did it go with the griffons?” I asked, thankful that their delegation was separated from us by the zebra, who had no less than a dozen members present. No chance of them overhearing. “Perfect,” Novo said. “All it took was a little bit of coaxing, and I practically had them eating out of my palm. We’ll be having trade talks after the main meeting.” It was little consolation, but at least the trouble I’d gone to for her little griffon PR stunt hadn’t been for naught. From the crest of the table came another ring of the bell. “Welcome, delegates, to the second annual South Sea Rulers Conference!” The voice was a bit gravelly yet distinctly feminine, belonging to a bright green parrot with a crest of yellow feathers atop her head. “I am Chancellor Romunda of Ornithia, and I am honored to be selected as host of this year’s exalted assembly. We will begin with introductions to all participating nations.” Starting from the far end, Chancellor Romunda read off introductions. Prince Catawba led the delegation from the Kingdom of Cervidas—a small dusty red buck with antlers adorned in an array of jewelry. The griffons were led by their Emperor Gretchen, who had come wearing only an ornate gold crown. The Zebra were spoken for by a mare in brightly colored traditional robes, Zetiri. Romunda represented the parrots of Ornithia, Novo stood for the hippogriffs and seaponies, King Hormoz for the camels of Camelu, and Dragon Lord Ember was called on last, conspicuously crammed at the other end of the table. It was probably a stroke of good fortune that she had even been allowed to attend in the first place. As Novo’s accompaniment, I had little to do other than fill a chair. Much of the meeting did not concern me; nearly all of the time was devoted to purely political matters: border disputes, tariffs, foreign trade allowances, et cetera. The territorial issues were of a bit more interest to me than the rest, but they were between countries on the other side of the South Sea from Hippogriffia. The griffons and the deer of Cervidas had been arguing over survey details and easements at the conference last year, and that hadn’t changed. Cervidas was a relatively new nation, having won their independence from Griffon Empire rule not long before the Storm King took control of the region. In gaining their freedom, they had also cut off the Empire from their access to the sea, which Emperor Gretchen was not happy about. About half an hour had passed in the talks when I received a tap on the shoulder. It was Sapphire, the leader of our guard detail. “Sir, there’s a courier here for you. Says it’s of critical importance,” she whispered. “Critical?” I whispered back. I looked back at the table. The spotlight was still on the far side of the room, so that left me with plenty of time to slip away from the table without making a scene. I tapped Novo with a wing, mouthing the word ‘urgent’ to her as I left. Out in the hall, the courier was still catching her breath, wings held out from her sides slightly to help with cooling. “Sir,” she wheezed when I came into view, snapping a salute. “Let’s take this back to my quarters, shall we?” I said, nodding to the two parrot guards flanking the door. We three hippogriffs walked in silence down the corridor and back to the suite Novo and I occupied. Sapphire waited in the hall while the courier and I went in. “From HQ, sir,” said the courier, passing me a scroll with the naval seal embossed on it. I took the parchment and unrolled it, skimming the document with haste. It nearly fell out of my claws by the time I got to the end. My navy had been attacked. Pushing myself through the initial shock of the revelation was difficult, but I needed to take charge of the situation. It wouldn’t do to stand there stupefied in front of a subordinate. “How long until you’re ready to fly back?” I asked the courier. “A meal break and half an hour’s rest, sir.” “Good. Meet me back here in one hour to take a reply. Dismissed.” She nodded and saluted with a wing before turning and speed walking for the door. I shut it behind her, letting my forehead rest against the oak paneling for a moment as I took a deep breath to steady myself. An attack. One ship lost, another corvette crippled. Dozens killed or missing. “Damn pirates,” I muttered, shredding the scroll with my talons. The anger gave way to a morbid, dry chuckle. At least now I would have something to keep me busy in that dreadfully boring meeting. The door closed with a click, and with that click, I let my shoulders sag. Well, my left shoulder sagged. The right one was immobilized, the arm in a sling. The wound burned ferociously under the bandages, but I was pretty much used to it. Pain medicine had been in short supply on the voyage home, and what little we had was reserved for those with the most severe injuries. I was one of the lucky ones who could live without it. Navy HQ was a hive of activity in wake of my arrival. As it turned out, limping into port with a partially shredded ship full of partially shredded crew was quite a shock during peacetime. The paper pushers who worked in the tunnels deep under Mount Aris were in a frenzy, bustling back and forth down the corridors, breezing past me as they went about their business. I could only imagine what the muffled voices on the other side of the door were saying. Four of the navy’s five Commanders—of which Commander Waves was the one missing—were locked in a heated debate following my debrief. Debrief, yeah, I scoffed to myself. It felt more like an interrogation. A bright light directly overhead, the four officers sitting in the shadows of the otherwise dark room, notepads and quills at the ready, piercing stares from all directions. It was all designed to make me feel the squeeze. Even the questions had an accusatory edge. “Who made the judgment to operate outside of the ship’s given orders?” “Why was the ship attempting search and rescue without a prior threat assessment?” “Why was there no communication with headquarters before or during the engagement?” They hadn’t said it outright, but it was obvious they were trying to assign fault to Captain Virga, even though she was dead. Someone had to take a fall, right? I rested my head against the door for a moment and let out a shuddering sigh. It was out of my claws now. My duty was done and I’d been dismissed; now it was time for me to go and get some rest. I began the long hobble out of headquarters, awkwardly making my way on three legs, my right arm held up in the sling. They just had to choose a conference room in the deepest bowels of the HQ tunnel complex. At my slowed pace, the walk seemed to go on forever, lost in an endless labyrinth of twists and turns. The longer it went on, the more annoyed I grew. The corridors were tall enough for flight, but unfortunately, my injury prevented that. Flapping my wings jostled the shoulder too much. If I tried to take off, I’d just tear my stitches or maybe force the lead ball still inside my arm even deeper. I’d made my choice to forego treatment. Other griffs had worse injuries; they needed to be seen first. And so I walked. Tired. Filthy. In pain. It felt like an eternity, but I finally found my way to the front of the tunnel complex. I wasted no time making my exit. Darkness had almost fallen, only the faintest touch of sunlight coloring the horizon in burnt orange. The cool and still air smelled faintly of the sea’s salt. A few crickets chirped in the distance, mixing with the sound of... Muffled screams of pain. The navy’s infirmary was attached to the main office complex, a much smaller extension of the tunnel system that had its own door to the surface right next to the office entrance. I’d been through it a couple of times, and I knew it wasn’t huge in there. With the number of injured we’d just brought in, the small medical bay was overwhelmed. It had been a few hours since our arrival, and they had made a big dent in the numbers of wounded, but there were still a small number of minorly injured griffs like me waiting outside on the ground, maybe a dozen or so. The screams were coming from those worse off who were already inside. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” That voice cut right through the fog in my brain, and not in a good way. My hackles raised ever so slightly on instinct. A mirthless chuckle was punctuated by the faint crackle of a long drag on a cigarette. “Well, a sore eye, at least.” Leaning against the wall next to the infirmary door—half of her face obscured by bandages and the other half smoking like a chimney—was the last griff I wanted to talk to right now. “Moraine.” I acknowledged her dismissively, starting on my way. I had no reason to stick around any longer. “Hey, wait up a second,” she said from behind me. “Yeah?” I stopped and turned my head just enough to watch her out of my right eye. “How’d it go in there?” Somehow, I thought I detected a little sincerity in her words, at least enough of a difference from her usual casual indifference that I turned around to face her. “It went fine,” I said, keeping my response vague. “Come on, you have to give me more than that. What did they say to you?” This was definitely a rare mood for her. She seemed almost... friendly. It kind of creeped me out. “It was just a standard debrief. To all four commanders at the same time.” Moraine whistled her impression. “That must have been a sight to see.” “It was.” I looked out at the horizon, watching waves lap against the rocks in the bay surrounding Mount Aris. I weighed the options before me. I could just go on my way and disregard her, as the sensible part of my brain told me to do. She probably only cared about my debrief to see if she needed to worry about her job. But I decided to walk over toward her anyway. Moraine being even slightly cordial with me was rare, and part of me wanted to see what was making her act this way. “Can I steal one of those?” I gestured to the pack of cigarettes in her hand. She seemed taken aback, but smiled wryly. “You smoke?” “Not that stuff, usually. But my head is killing me.” I plopped down on the ground next to her, leaning my back against the stone wall and letting out a breath. “Sure,” she said, passing me a cigarette and a matchbook. I cupped my palms around the flame and lit the cigarette, taking a brief inhale of the acrid smoke. It tasted just as bad as it smelled, and I reflexively coughed as my lungs balked at the smog I’d thrown into them. That got a laugh out of Moraine. “You better stay away from these things. They’ll have you hooked before you can blink.” Another pull, another cough. “Good thing I hate the taste.” We sat there in dead silence for a minute before she spoke up. “So, what becomes of the crew?” “Effective immediately, you and I are placed on paid administrative leave, pending investigation,” I said, quoting the commanders directly. I took a puff from the cigarette and managed not to choke, this time keeping most of it in my mouth. “The crew who weren’t wounded will get two weeks of leave, and then they can either transfer to a new ship or work dock detail until Eidothea is repaired.” “Fantastic.” Her tone held none of the enthusiasm the word required. “And I assume that means we can’t take a vacation?” “You’d be right,” I said. “We can expect plenty of information requests. I bet you’ll have your debrief after you see the doctor. By the way, how’s your eye?” “Hurts like hell. Cardia said ‘never say never’, but it’s a lost cause. No way they’ll be able to fix that kind of damage.” I didn’t really know what to say to that, so I sufficed it with, “That sucks.” “It’s my life now.” She took a long drag from her cigarette, which was nearly down to the nub. “How’s your shoulder?” “Hurts like hell,” I said, adopting her terminology. “But it’s stable enough; I’ll just come back tomorrow to get it looked at.” Moraine nodded, and we slipped into a moment of silence, both content to let the nicotine do its work. “So, what’s the plan to get back at those bastards?” she asked after a moment. I shrugged my left shoulder. “Not much telling. We know the coordinates, so there’ll be a full complement of ships sent out there to investigate soon enough. After that, it won’t even concern us.” Moraine scoffed. “And let someone else get the glory of taking those vultures down.” “That’s about the size of it.” I took another drag. “Fine by me.” “You’re okay with that?” I was sitting on her right side. If not for her bandaged eye, she probably would have been glaring at me. “Yeah.” “How? Aren’t you pissed off?” “Yeah,” I repeated. “I’d like to wring that parrot’s neck, same as you.” “Then why are you fine with just sitting here?” Because we’d get killed if we tried, I wanted to say. My breath hitched before I could get the words out, so I chose a different answer that was easier to say out loud. “It’s out of my claws. Not worth worrying about.” Moraine sneered. “Where was that indifference when we found the smoke plume?” “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” she spat, venom dripping from her words. “If you hadn’t talked Captain Virga into abandoning our charge—” I blinked. “You think this is all my fault?” She laughed mirthlessly. “If I had my way, I’d still have both my eyes.” “How dare you try to pin that on me,” I snarled, fighting to keep my voice level despite the boiling rage clawing at the base of my skull. “Someone’s going to, especially now that you’re Mr. Big Shot in charge of the ship. You might as well hear it from me.” Suddenly, I remembered why I never talked to Moraine. The best option was to walk away. “We’re done here. Thanks for the smoke,” I said flatly, flicking the butt aside and jumping up to start the long hobble toward home. I heard her say something after me, but I didn’t bother listening. It served me right for trying to talk to her. I should have expected nothing less. The anger was enough to make me forget the pain from my shoulder, at least briefly. Without thinking, I spread my wings and pushed off, pumping them once and instantly regretting it as a lance of pain tore through my shoulder. I glided back down gingerly but nearly tumbled end over end as I skidded to a halt, cursing under my breath the whole way. Getting to the top of the mountain was going to be an ordeal. The wind had turned icy in the last few hours. At long last, we were almost there. Progress came with difficulty against near-constant headwinds the past two days. Sailing in a tacking pattern meant a constant game of adjustment, zig-zagging back and forth and using the ship’s keel to make headway against the breeze and still get where we needed to go. It had grown to nearly a gale now, the clouds heavier and the seas angrier with each passing hour. Such was the cost of needing a secure, remote place to do business. The hippogriffs rarely sailed this far south—nearly to the edge of the Great Ice Sheet. There was no point for them. Cyclones grew especially intense at this latitude, but they were regular, like clockwork. With enough time spent in these waters, one could figure out their patterns and work around them. I had put in the time. I knew the storms. Knowing was only half the battle, though. One also needed the skill and timing to make it through in the gaps. A few hours too early or late, and you’d be sunk or blown halfway around the globe if you survived. As captain, I always kept a close watch on the barometer. Headwinds typically meant the closest storm was moving away, and sure enough, the pressure had risen slightly in the past hour. We were in the gap. Another successful passage to The Keep! It would be at least another five days before we’d have an opening to set out again. Five days was less time than I wanted. After all, a master plan was best created at its own pace, when the inspiration hit. The luxury of time had since been spent. I was committed now, and I would have to figure out my next move quickly. I leaned forward and rested my head on the railing, watching over the side as Green Haze’s prow clipped through the big, heaving waves below. There was something mesmerizing about the way it parted the water, slipping through the swells like a sharp knife through warm butter. “Captain Sternclaw.” A voice behind me broke my trance. I turned to see the familiar face of a dull blue parrot, standing with her wings crossed. “Yes, Astra?” I answered. “We’re almost to The Keep. Don’t you think it’s time you addressed the crew?” I sighed, returning my gaze forward and leveling it on the misty horizon. “I guess I’ve put it off long enough. I’ll do it once we’re berthed.” “Aye,” she confirmed, spreading her wings and flying back to her post in the ship’s wheelhouse. I stood up, feeling a crick in my back as I rose. How long had I been hunched over the railing? Long enough, I judged from the furtive glances the crew gave me. Surely they sensed something was wrong, what with their captain hanging his head over the bow for so long, but everything was perfect. Better than perfect! As far as they knew, we had just scored a major victory. A perfect battle didn’t make a perfect war, though. Our first strike had been a nasty sucker punch, a bloodied beak the hippogriffs would no doubt be reeling from for weeks! But they would regroup, and now they would be sending every ship they had to hunt us down. Our next move would have to be equally perfect, or it would be our last. But the crew didn’t need to know that. Not yet. The mist on the horizon gave way to a large, looming black outline, revealing the first glimpse of our destination. The Keep wasn’t much, perched on a small outcrop of weathered black volcanic rock that poked above the sea’s angry waves. The remains of a dead volcano, the crescent-shaped island surrounded a small harbor that occupied the volcano’s crater. It made the perfect shelter for our ships in such a hostile environment, the island absorbing much of the sea’s force and leaving calm and stable waters in that small inlet. Scattered around the island were an assortment of huts and a few larger buildings—mostly living quarters for the crew, but we had our own tavern and a few communal buildings as well. Getting supplies to such a remote base of operations was difficult, and it was a bit modest compared to some of the other hideouts I’d seen in my time. But in real estate, location is everything; that was where The Keep shone. It wasn’t extravagant, but it had anything a swashbuckler who didn’t mind the cold could need, all in a safe and secluded location away from the watchful eyes of the Hippogriff Navy. Even during his reign, the Storm King hadn’t come this far. Much like the hippogriffs, he had no reason to. I had yet to even find a map with this place charted, not even on the best and most expensive editions. It was pure luck and probably some sort of divine intervention that I was the one to discover it. Years ago, while running from one of the Storm King’s patrols, I had somehow perfectly timed my passage between the South Sea’s storms and happened upon this place. It was the only thing I could credit with letting me evade the hippogriffs for so long. And if my plans were successful, I wouldn’t need it much longer. Green Haze eased through the narrow passage and into the safety of the harbor first, followed by the rest of our four ship convoy: Mother of Pearl, the cargo ship we’d just picked up; and the two schooners we hadn’t lost in the battle. The crew didn’t need orders to get us there, having come in and out of The Keep enough times that it was nearly muscle memory. The great black sails lowered above my head as we passed through the channel. I breathed a sigh of relief. The last bit of the distance to the docks was a slow and steady coast, passing without incident. A few other crew that staffed the place in our absence ran out of a hut near the shore when they noticed our approach, and with some shouting back and forth to the crew on board, they tied off the mooring lines just as the ship came close enough to reach. With a satisfying lurch, we came to a stop, and a gangplank lowered. We made it. I climbed to the top of the wheelhouse, took a breath, and rang the ship’s bell twice. “Listen up!” I shouted between the rings. The deck crew were still busying themselves with the mooring lines, while the others from below deck were beginning to emerge. The motley assortment of parrots, Abyssinians, zebra, and the occasional griffon turned toward me. Their faces were filthy—no doubt their bodies were, too, underneath the winter gear they had donned—but under the filth, those faces were bright. Excited. It bolstered a bit of energy in my chest. I waited about half a minute for more of the crew to pour out topside, and then I began. “I won’t keep you long, but that was some damn fine work you lot put in out there. Those navy bastards had no idea what they were up against!” A rousing cheer from the crew interrupted me, and I smiled. “That’s right, they were just routed by the finest crew sailing on the South Sea. You should all be proud.” I took a breath as more cheers broke out from the crew. Too much positivity was dangerous. “This is merely the beginning. Now they know we’re here, and that we mean business. We’ve bloodied their beaks, and now they’ll be coming after us harder than ever before. There’s a lot of work ahead of us yet.” The mood had come down a few notches. Now for the closer. “It’s all according to plan. Now that we have the shards we need, we can begin the next phase of our operation.” For effect, I pulled one of the severed necklaces out of my pocket, regarding the cloudy gem dangling from it. From the neck of Itroscia’s captain to my claws—the rest we’d stolen were in a crate below deck, but this one was a personal keepsake. I held it high for all to see. “This is the key! Little do those hippogriffs know that those gems they wear around their necks will be their undoing. In a couple of months’ time, we will be free to roam the seas on our own terms. We’ll be the ones in charge!” A murmur of excitement swelled. “But for tonight, we celebrate. Double rations for every sailor, and all the grog you can drink! Now off you go!” I surrendered the spotlight as the crew erupted in cheers and chants of my name; some of them even started dancing. Nothing like the mention of extra food and free booze to keep everyone’s spirits high. The merriment lasted a few minutes as Green Haze’s sailors disembarked, many of them heading straight for the tavern building. I stayed around on the deck for a little while, making small talk with the stragglers and joining in on a bit of the fun, but as they trickled into The Keep and its comforts, I slipped back below decks to my quarters. The flimsy wooden door that separated my cramped little cabin from the rest of the crew deck closed with a quiet click, and I let out a breath, leaning my head against it. The crew could enjoy this evening, but not me. There was simply too much to do. I needed time to sit and think. Taking a seat at my desk, I looked over a few of the papers scattered around its surface. Detailed maps of The Blades, with coves large enough to hide a large galleon like Green Haze circled in red ink. Lists of contacts I had in the various port towns around the South Sea. I would need those very soon, especially with the jewel of my small fleet wearing such a big target on its back. Getting around was about to prove more difficult than before. Daylight would be the greatest danger. It had been two days since our attack. No doubt the naval command was aware of what had happened by now. Investigation would come before retaliation. I could anticipate the area around The Blades to be absolutely crawling with hippogriffs in the next few weeks as they searched the area for anywhere I might be hiding. Not that they would find anything other than the torched hull of that skiff that had been run up on the rocks when Eidothea slipped through my grasp. It wouldn’t provide any clues. We had made sure of that. That meant they’d be fanning out far and wide. Putting ships on every outcrop they knew of in an attempt to smoke me out. I’d have to come ashore somewhere eventually, and they’d be there waiting for me when I did. As much as it pained me to think it, Green Haze would be taking a sabbatical. My next move would have to be done stealthily—that was where the captured merchants would come in. I snuck a glance out the port side window, watching as the dock crew worked on berthing the boat. Mother of Pearl was to go missing permanently. Renamed, refitted. Disguised to look like a fishing boat and not a freight hauler. We had five days. Plenty of time to make the changes needed. The worst part would be coming up with a fake name for the ship. I hated naming ships! It was so difficult to come up with ones that fit. Another glance out the window toward Mother of Pearl made up my mind. Laziness won out. “I’ll just let the crew come up with names and pick the best one,” I mused aloud. Problem solved. That brought me back to what we were actually planning to do with it. Sure, we could sail out of here on a disguised ship, but we had to make use of our time. There were several items on the agenda. First of all, the shards. I needed expertise to make that happen, the kind I couldn’t get without traveling. Luckily, I knew just the zebra. An old friend who was well versed in magical artifacts. An arcane tinkerer. Unfortunately, she lived in the coastal range of Zebrica. To get there, it was a straight shot across some of the busiest routes for navy ships going back and forth between Mount Aris and Greenfin Island. I scoffed. All this trouble, just for a diversion. The hardest part of all of this was the act. The crew had to believe we were getting some sort of tactical advantage from the hippogriffs’ pearls. The ugly truth was that those shards were as useful to me as flight feathers on a penguin, but I had to act like they were going to save the day—like somehow we were going to win just because we had them. A superweapon, I had told them. One powerful enough to force those hippogriffs back into the sea and keep them under the waves forever. One that would keep us in charge of these waters as long as we lived. One that I had cruelly slain scores of hippogriffs in order to obtain the parts for. “I just kicked a huge hornet’s nest,” I muttered to myself. Staying on top of this situation would surely be a huge problem. I had convinced my crew that our plan was achievable, that it wouldn’t send us swiftly to the bottom of the sea or the end of a rope. If they caught even a whiff that things weren’t as they seemed, I’d have a mutiny on my claws. It was a delicate balancing act, and I had taken my first step out onto the tightrope. No turning back now. My gaze turned toward the map of the South Sea hung on the wall, lingering on that little beak-shaped peninsula labeled Hippogriffia. “Sooner or later, I’m going to find out how hard they sting.”