Tyria was beginning to get a crick in her neck. She and Rye had been hiding behind some barrels back down at the harbor for close to an hour while they waited for their captain.
“Are they coming?” she asked. “Or did Zevan cut and run after all?”
Rye, who had donned his robes as soon as they’d returned from the tavern, shrugged. “We’d have seen him if he boarded any of these ships, so unless he had a boat hidden somewhere else on the island… Hang on, here we go.”
A group of seven zebras had appeared at last from the street at the opposite end of the harbor. One of them had a lantern, but as they approached the ponies’ hiding place, the light went out.
Tyria stood and stretched her legs. “Took you long enough,” she muttered.
“Apologies,” said Zevan, who was heading up the little band. “Took longer than I expected to find ‘em all. These be me most loyal crewmembers. Viridian’ll regret thinking he can buy ‘em.”
After all, thought Tyria dryly, our price was much better. Most of the pirates she recognized. There was Lem, the friendly zebra she’d gambled with during her stay on the Nightingale, and Zennan, the ship’s bosun. She glanced at the ships floating by the piers. “We’ve been thinking. Is Viridian going to be on the Adder’s Bite? If we could capture him…”
“Nay, not tonight.” Zevan motioned for the ponies to follow. Together with the pirates, they began walking along the street above the wooden docks below. “I don’t know if ye caught that argument earlier—”
“Oh, we did,” said Rye, visibly amused.
“Well, that got started because he were heading to inspect Cap’n Zillian’s ship.” Zevan growled. “The one he owed me as a replacement.”
“Can we hit it before we leave?” asked Rye with lingering hope. “We’d solve this entire mess instantly. Although the camels could still pose a problem…”
“The Adder be near undefended right now, but I cannae say the same fer the Bilgerat,” said Zevan.
Tyria’s mouth twisted. “What an awful name for a ship.”
“We’re pirates, not poets,” said Zevan, a little defensively. “Anyways, most ‘o Zillian’s crew still be on her, all cleaned up and sober fer inspection. We’ll not be taking her with so few.”
“Yes, I think we’ve taken enough risks tonight,” said Rye, sighing. “I’m not sure how much more pushing our luck can take.”
Oh, so now he thinks we should be cautious, thought Tyria, rolling her eyes. He was right, though; no matter how much it burned her to let Viridian slip through her hooves from so near a distance. Just think about the big picture, she reminded herself.
“All right, then, lads,” said Zevan, rolling his shoulder with a click from the mace on his hoof, “There she is.”
They all paused to look over the Adder’s Bite. The ship rocked slowly in the calm waters. Zab muttered something, moving his hoof. “Two guards on deck. One’s half-drunk, but the other looks alive. Probably three to five more belowdecks, asleep.”
Zevan grinned. “Let’s get to work. Quietly, now.”
They slipped down to the dock, exchanging no words. They all knew the plan, simple as it was. The zebras thudded up the boarding ramp as silently as speed would allow, while Rye and Tyria hung back by a pallet of barrels that was waiting to be loaded onto the ship. Together, they pulled the top barrel from the stack and began prying it open.
Tyria heard a few muffled thumps and squeaks from above. Soon, Zab and Lem appeared at the top of the ramp, carting a pair of limp pirates on their backs. They dumped the unconscious—Tyria hoped—bodies at the ponies’ hooves. Zab nodded silently, and the two stole back up onto the deck.
Finally getting the lid of the barrel off, they dumped out the contents—tea leaves, by the smell of it—into the water. Grunting, Rye helped Tyria lift the pirate. To her relief, she could feel the zebra’s chest rising and falling. They stuffed him upright into the barrel, making sure he could breathe, before setting it up farther toward the city end of the pier.
They repeated the process four more times as Zevan’s crew brought out more comatose zebras. “How long do we have until they find the bodies?” whispered Rye, as they wrestled with a particularly fat pirate.
“At least an hour, I expect,” said Tyria. “Oof,” she exclaimed, finally shoving the zebra’s midsection into the barrel. “Getting out of the bay unnoticed might be harder.”
“Are ye done down there?” Zevan’s head poked over the railing. “Quickly, Metrel, we need another pair ‘o hooves to help us get the mooring loose.”
“Got the last one on your own?” she asked Rye.
He nodded. “Go help them out.”
Tyria trotted up the ramp and met Zevan by the anchor winch. Zevan had a nervous energy in his movements. “So far, so good,” he said under his breath. “All three decks be clear. Once we get the anchor up and yer mate finishes hiding the crew, we can cast off.”
The two of them each took a bar on the winch and pushed. The chain ground upward, creaking as it slid from the water. Tyria couldn’t help but remember a week ago when Zevan had strung her up in a noose and lashed it to an anchor much like this one. Strange bedfellows, we are.
Rye came clambering up the ramp. “All done,” he said, with a subdued look around the harbor. “I think we’re still in the clear.” He began pulling the ramp up onto the deck.
Beneath Tyria’s hooves, the winch shuddered as the anchor at last came to rest at the end of the chain. Zevan locked it down while Tyria held it still. She glanced aft toward the helm, where a pair of Zevan’s zebras were oiling down the ship’s wheel.
“All right,” grunted Zevan, finishing with the winch lock. “Time fer us to leave.”
Tyria and Rye joined the rest of the crew belowdecks in the wide galley placed at the center of the ship. Long oars slid out, slipping silently into the water below. The ponies and zebras rowed as quietly as they could manage, slowly shifting the Adder’s Bite away from the dock.
“What about the harbor watchzebras?” asked Tyria, feeling sweat drip from her brow as she put her back into the oar. “I hope Zevan remembered to take care of them.”
“Aren’t any,” replied Zab, sitting just in front of her. “Viridian didn’t feel the need to post any guards for such a short stay.”
“Doesn’t mean the ones on the ships can’t catch us,” said Rye, struggling with the oar he and Tyria shared. “Shh.”
At a sharp whistle from Zevan up above at the helm, the port half of the galley reversed their rowing direction. The ship entered a lumbering turn, pointing her bow toward the open sea.
Tyria craned her head to peer out of the oar slat in the hull. She could see another ship only a dozen meters off their port, too close for comfort. As they passed it, she made out the name Bilgerat on the wood. Still pushing the oar, she held her breath.
Zevan whistled again, and they began rowing for the bay’s exit. Once they were out of Zendruga itself, they could safely unfurl the sails and let the wind take over on the path back to Zyre. Tyria’s muscles strained against the oar, listening to the calm sloshing of the water against the hull.
“Oi!” cried a distant voice. “Izzat the Adder? Where’s she going?”
Tyria and Rye locked eyes with each other, alarmed. “Pick up the pace,” she said, garnering a nod from the zebras. All of them rowed faster.
A long whistle that was not from Zevan rang out across the bay. Zab swore. “All right, lads, to hell with stealth. Let’s get out of here. Metrel, get up there with Lem and get the sails loose.”
Tyria left the oar to Rye, racing back to the stairs with her zebra compatriot in tow. She thundered up to the main deck, casting about for the correct line, which was tied on the starboard railing.
As she and Lem began loosening the lines to release the sails, she glanced over at the nearest ship. Its deck was lit by numerous lanterns, and a growing number of zebras were gathering at the stern to watch the Adder’s Bite drift away.
“Zevan!” came an enraged cry from the ship. The zebras shuffled aside to let through a gray, fuming pony. Even from this growing distance, Tyria could see the burning wrath on his face. “ZEVAN!”
“Ahaha!” Zevan, up at the ship’s wheel, made a rude gesture that was wasted in the darkness. “Should’ve given me that ship, Viridian!”
Viridian roared. “I’ll find you, Zevan. You can’t run from me forever.”
“Ye won’t have to look far,” called Zevan. “I’ll be waiting for ye in Zyre.”
Tyria slapped a hoof to her forehead, appalled. Dropping the line, she raced back aft up to the wheel.
“Have you lost your senses?” she hissed at the captain. “If he knows we’re heading to Zyre, then—” She looked out at Viridian, whose face was not yet so far away that she couldn’t see the sudden alarm in it.
“All hooves, full alert,” he called, turning abruptly around. “We need to leave, right now. Get ready to sail. I’ll get the rest of the boys.” He galloped down onto the pier and back into the city.
“Damn it, Zevan,” muttered Tyria. “So much for our head start.”
“Relax, girl,” said Zevan, as the mainsail came fluttering down in front of them. “He won’t get that drunken lot in sailing condition fer hours. And even if the Bilgerat come after us right now, it ain’t fast enough to catch us.”
“You weren’t the one who had to shove all those zebras in barrels for nothing,” she said, her back aching. “And we might have bought another day or two if he didn’t know where we were going.”
“Nay,” said Zevan, without a trace of humor. “He be too close to alter his plans now, even if his ship be stolen. He’d be on his way to Zyre anyway.”
“That wasn’t your call,” she snapped. “Next time, indulge yourself after we’ve gotten the job done.”
Zevan blinked, and smiled faintly. “Aye aye, Ma’am.”
“Bloody pirates,” Tyria muttered, walking back down to help Lem with the sails.
Once they had passed beyond the bay, the rest of the zebras came up from the galley to aid them. The rest of the sails descended in sheets of white, shining in the moonlight. The Adder’s Bite soared away, catching the wind and taking off into the current that would carry them around the last stretch of the archipelago toward Zyre.
Rye and Tyria rejoined Zevan at the ship’s stern, climbing up the stairs to the navigation deck that sat directly above the captain’s cabin. Zevan nodded to both of them as they arrived. “A clean getaway, eh?” he said.
“Hardly,” grunted Tyria, feeling mutinous, but Rye raised a calming hoof.
“We still need him to steer,” he reminded her. As he turned back to Zevan he adjusted his robes, jostling the money pouch inside them with a clink. “Well, Captain, how long before we reach the city?”
“Two or three days,” replied Zevan, calmly adjusting the wheel. “And I’d say we’ve a twelve-hour head start.”
Tyria nodded up at the mizzenmast, where the Viper flag lazily waved in the wind. “Milliden’s in jail and his signal’s gone with him, but if we go sailing into Zyre with those colors flying then the navy will be on us before we can blink.”
“I’ve got an idea about that,” said Rye, “Still, we’re going to run into the military inspection when we try entering the harbor. I should be able to get the captain to take us to the Marquis.”
“If they don’t throw ye in shackles,” said Zevan, nonchalantly. “I’ve half a mind to drop the two of ye off in a lifeboat and leave afore we reach the island.”
“Try it and I’m tossing the money overboard,” said Rye crossly.
Zevan grinned and shrugged, as if to say you can’t blame me for thinking it. He returned his hooves to the wheel. “Ye’d best get some sleep, both of ye. Metrel, I’ll need ye to take over the helm tomorrow while I rest.”
She blinked, surprised. “Not Zab?”
“I need him rested too. I’ve a feeling me crew and I may need to make a quick exit once we get to Zyre.”
“Well then,” said Rye, “we bid you goodnight. Oh, and one more thing—we’re taking the captain’s cabin. We’re certainly paying enough for it.”
Zevan’s mouth twisted unhappily. “Don’t be wrecking the bed, now. I plan on keeping this ship.”
Tyria hid a smile. “We’ll leave it in better shape than we find it. Ensign’s honor.”
“Hrmph.” The zebra gave them a curt nod.
As the two ponies descended from the quarterdeck, Rye suddenly laughed. Tyria tilted her head inquisitively.
“I just realized,” he said, “we’re real pirates now.”
“Huh?”
He gestured expansively at the Adder’s Bite. “We just hijacked a ship.”
“Ha!” Tyria paused by the railing as they left the stairs, looking up at the stars. “My father would be terribly disappointed.” Her mouth curled upward. “My brother, on the other hand, is going to be jealous.”
Rye rested his forelegs on the railing, placing his chin on his hooves. “Now we just need to get you an eyepatch and a hook.”
“The hooks aren’t really that practical for quadrupeds, you know. More of a griffon thing.”
“Mm,” he said, amusement fading. They were quiet for a while, listening to the creaking of the boat as it sliced through the water. At last, Rye sighed. “Tyria, it’s going to get crazy soon. Even more than it has been.”
She mock-frowned, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. “This sounds like the start of an if-I-don’t-make-it speech. I hate those.”
“No, no, just…” Rye bit his lip, mulling something over. “There are things that I wanted to say before we head into what looks like a pretty nasty fight. Things I wanted to ask.”
Her heart caught in her chest. “What kinds of things?”
Rye swallowed. “If… well, if…” He fidgeted. “Oh, damn it, fine, this is one of those speeches. If one of us ends up dead, I don’t want the other to—to regret not asking—”
“Shh,” she said, pressing a hoof to his lips. She leaned in closer, staring into those solid, sturdy brown eyes of his. Tyria drew the hoof down to his chin, pulling him into a kiss.
He relaxed a little, but pulled away after a moment. “I just…”
Tyria shook her head. “Wait until we’re somewhere a little more romantic, hm? Besides…” she leaned in close, and whispered in his ear. “I think you already know my answer.”
Rye stared at her dreamily. “I hope so.”
Above, Zevan coughed pointedly.
“Ahem,” said Tyria, her cheeks heated. “Shall we, then?”
Rye strode over to the door of the captain’s cabin, pushing it open and gesturing grandly with a hoof. “After you, lady Metrel.”
Tyria grinned, entering the cabin. It was cozy, as befit Viridian’s personal quarters. An oil lamp on a standing desk lit the room, revealing a small glass cabinet full of Sleipnordic carvings, and a wide bed with fox fur blankets.
Rye shut the door behind them, and Tyria doused the oil lamp. “We’ve got two days,” she whispered in the darkness. “No time to waste.”
“I haven’t wasted a moment since I met you,” breathed Rye.
They sank into each other’s lips, toppling bedward.
* * *
Zanaya took one last, slow sip of coffee. It was extra bitter today, befitting her mood. She sat the cup back down on her kitchen table. The drink hadn’t done anything to help the lump in her throat. Staring into the dregs, she recalled the last time she’d been to that little café off the docks with Tyria. Was she ever going to hear that nervous laugh again? Hear one of those dry jokes that took so much coaxing to drag out? See that closed-off face light up in unguarded happiness the way it had when she’d spoken about that trip to the playhouse, the week she’d vanished?
Four weeks. The longest Zanaya had ever heard of someone returning alive after a kidnapping was five, but that had been a ransom case. Usually two was when the Watch advised the family to start making funeral arrangements.
Her ruminations were interrupted by a rap on her door. Zanaya sat upright, pushing away from the table. Had Wheatie decided to brave his way through her house arrest? More likely this was someone come to ask her to fill out more paperwork.
The knock came again. With great apprehension, Zanaya stood and trudged over to the door. She lifted her hoof to open it, pausing and grimacing at the absence of the silver band around her fetlock. Her unknown visitor hammered on the wood again.
Pushing open the door, she was neither surprised nor relieved to see a Watchzebra. He was from a different department than her, but she vaguely recalled his name was Zeke.
“Detective Zanaya,” he said, tipping his head respectfully.
“For a while longer, at least,” she said, without enthusiasm. “What do you want?”
“Marquis Zahira has requested your presence. Commissioner Zireena will meet us near Mercullius Square before we proceed on to the manor.”
The square was the location of the Watch’s headquarters. Zanaya frowned. “What does the Marquis want?” If she was pulling the now extremely busy Commissioner away from her duties, it had to concern city security, not just Zanaya’s recent ignominy.
“I’m not at liberty to say,” said Zeke.
In other words, you don’t know, thought Zanaya dryly. “Very well. Let’s go.”
As the two passed through the streets of Zyre, Zanaya took in the city with trepidation. The normal crowds had been vastly reduced ever since the curfew had been declared. Even now, nearly at noontime, the streets were populated by more soldiers and Watchzebras than citizens. Patrols crossed her path with regularity.
They reached the Watch’s headquarters, and her heart lifted as she saw who awaited them. A familiar brown-speckled pegasus stood beside a pair of zebra guards, preening his feathers. He had on a set of golden armor, helmet tucked under a hoof. Gods, he looks downright dashing, she thought.
Feeling a little saunter return to her step, she approached. “Hey, soldier boy,” she said, smiling.
Wheatie’s face instantly lifted at the sight of her. “Hey.”
“Expecting trouble?” She nodded at the armor. The plates were clean, but scarred with countless dents and scores, revealing lines of the silvery steel underneath the gilded surface.
He grimaced. “My own ambassador tried to kill me. I’m not taking chances.”
Zeke entered the building to fetch Zireena from her upstairs office. Waiting under the watchful eyes of Wheatie’s two guards, Zanaya and Wheatie continued their hushed conversation.
“I haven’t seen you in six days,” said Zanaya. “How have things been at the embassy?”
“Drafty,” said Wheatie, his lips twisting. “They still haven’t fixed the hole Milliden’s little present blew in the side of it. Too busy tearing the place apart, looking for pirates.” He cracked his neck. “I’ve been grounded since we brought the traitor back. Petalbloom’s in jail, the cell right next to Milliden’s. The only reason I’m not in there with them is because I hauled the ambassador in myself. They haven’t let me leave the building until today.” He scowled at one of the guards, who remained emotionless. “What about you?”
“Administrative leave,” she replied tonelessly. “I’ve been touching up my résumé.”
Wheatie closed his eyes and hung his head. “I’m sorry, Zan.”
“It’s not… totally your fault,” she said, half-smiling. “I certainly didn’t stop us from plowing through the red tape and over the lines of the law.” Her eyes narrowed. “Even so, the Marquis wouldn’t have reacted the way she did if we’d been allowed to come directly to her and explain the situation. By the time my report filtered up through the chain of command to Zahira’s eyes, she was already convinced that her city was full of insurgent Equestrian plotters.”
“She’s been ring-led by sycophants. The Dromedarian said they’ve got infiltrators in the navy, no doubt some of the nobles are helping.” Wheatie shook his head. “I can only hope the Marquis believed us on that front, at least.”
At the mention of infiltrators, one of the Watchzebras spat on the ground, a dark look on his face. Zanaya stared coolly back at him. Was that reaction righteous indignation, or guilt? Maybe they’re here, too, infesting the Watch like changelings waiting for the time to strike…
It was a romantic—and she had to admit, ego-soothing—notion that her career was in such dire straits due to a cabal of shadowy malefactors, but such a scheme was hardly necessary to explain why the Commissioner had stripped away her bracelet and taken her off duty.
“If there’s an internal affairs investigation going on in the navy, it hasn’t reached my ears,” she said. “Though it might explain why Zahira’s pulled back the entire navy to the city. Even if she is scouring the military, it’s going to take months to clean house. Years, even.”
A small group of earth-colored ponies in black cloaks passed by. They stared at Wheatie and his golden armor with their vibrant blue eyes, muttering to each other in Sleipnordic. Zanaya watched them walk around the building and vanish into another street, shaking her head in grudging admiration. The Nordponies were some of the only ones brave or crazy enough to walk around the city under all of this oppressive military atmosphere. I suppose it might be business as usual for them.
“What do you think the Marquis wants with us?” asked Wheatie.
“Another interrogation about the Milliden investigation, no doubt,” said Zanaya glancing up at the clear blue sky. “You know, it hasn’t rained once since you’ve gotten here.”
“I expect the Marquis’s pegasi have been busy hunting pirates.” Wheatie slid his helmet on, tugging on the chin strap until it was tight. He set his hoof down on the ground, shifting his weight.
The door opened behind them, banging off the wall. Zireena came striding out, sternly appraising Zanaya. “The Marquis is waiting,” she said without preamble. Her hoof pointed toward the government district where Zahira’s manor lay.
Sighing, Zanaya lifted her hoof to begin walking, when suddenly a long, loud blast of a horn rang out from the harbor. Everyone froze, lifting their heads. The horn blared again, the note holding for a full five seconds.
Zanaya felt sweat on her forehead. Military alarm. One means unknown incoming ships. Two blasts for allies… not many of those right now. And three…
The third horn carried clearly through the air, and all the zebras sucked in their breath. Hostiles.
Zireena’s head whipped back to the two of them. “Meeting’s canceled. Zeke, take these two to the interrogation rooms, hold them there for now.”
“Commissioner,” began Zanaya, “we can help—”
“Quiet.” Zireena looked at one of the zebra guards. “Ziegler, go… check on Milliden. Make sure his cell is secure.”
The zebra nodded with a strange, almost-amused expression, then re-entered the building.
Zireena gave a sharp whistle, and more zebras appeared from around the side of the wall. “Emergency procedures are in effect. We’ve got enemies at the gates. Time to see to the Marquis’s personal security.” She waved them forward, and the group trotted away, toward the noble district.
Zeke cleared his throat. “Officer Zanaya, Mr. Specklestraw, if you’d please follow me…”
Mutually ignoring him, Zanaya and Wheatie shared a frown. “Is it the pirates, the camels, or the ponies?” asked Wheatie.
“I can’t tell from down here,” Zanaya said. “One quick way to find out.”
Zeke stamped a hoof. “You’re not going anywhere. The Commissioner—”
Zanaya snorted at him. “I’m going to be fired anyway. The least I can do is chip in to help the city before I go.” She nodded to Wheatie. “Let’s check it out.”
He knelt, letting her climb onto his back. Zeke stepped forward with a protesting noise.
Wheatie stood again, with Zanaya on his back, and glared so fiercely that the zebra unconsciously recoiled. Zanaya nearly swooned with delight. Mine’s bigger than yours, Zireena.
Beating his wings mightily, Wheatie took off. The two soared into the air, up above the buildings. Zanaya clung tightly around his neck, looking down. Her stomach still gave a habitual twinge, but she thought she might be getting the hang of flight after all this time.
“I’m impressed that you can lift me wearing all that armor,” she said loudly over the wind.
“I’ve practiced,” said Wheatie, uncharacteristically serious. “Once, I wasn’t strong enough to lift someone important. I promised myself it wouldn’t happen again.”
Zanaya restrained herself from prying further. It could wait until they weren’t in danger.
The bay and the ocean beyond stretched out beneath them. Hundreds of ships dotted the surface of the sea, so many that most could not even fit inside the bay itself. The surrounding waters were filled with Zyran military vessels, all anchored in the deeps outside the harbor. The guard towers that lined the cliffs over the bay entrance looked tiny from up here, even the largest one at the tip of the passage that held the controls to the chain boom.
Zanaya looked up, craning her head over Wheatie’s shoulder to spot the approaching enemies, but the ocean was bare. “Where are they?”
“There,” Wheatie pointed.
Zanaya squinted in the noon sunlight. “The colors are… yellow?” Not what she had expected. “Is Celestia sending the fleet in?” she asked, baffled.
“I don’t think so,” said Wheatie, sharing her puzzlement. “I only see the one ship.”
“Do you think it’s…” Zanaya’s chest filled with hopeful tension. “Wheatie, get us down there. We need to get on that ship before the military does.”
He tucked in his wings and they went soaring down, swooping into an arc and flying over the city.
The minutes passed as they flew. A few navy vessels peeled off from the main cluster, heading for the newly appeared ship, but the wind was against them. Wheatie and Zanaya overtook the Zyrans, making a beeline toward it.
“Not many on deck,” said Wheatie, speaking between wingbeats. “Running a skeleton crew, by the looks of it.”
“They’re zebras,” said Zanaya. “Could be pirates who commandeered an Equestrian vessel.”
Another few minutes passed as the ship grew larger beneath them. The sails strained against the wind, bringing it closer to them.
Going into a dive, Wheatie took them down toward the ship. There were only a few zebras scattered across the deck, all wearing articles of green clothing. Pit Vipers. Zanaya swallowed.
“There,” said Zanaya, “the one by the ship’s wheel. That’s got to be the captain.”
Wheatie pulled out of the dive with a massive flourish of his wings, coming up just above the quarterdeck. Zanaya leaped off, landing hard on the wood.
Completely taken aback by their unexpected arrival, the zebra stared, making no move to attack or flee. Zanaya charged forward, slamming him against the wheel. Her foreleg across his throat, she leaned his head back over it, growling. “All right, pirate, I’m giving you one chance.”
The other zebras were running toward them, but Wheatie somersaulted over the railing and landed on the lower deck, flaring his wings. His legs slid out into a fighting stance, and the pirate crew paused, exchanging alarmed looks.
The pirate captain choked under Zanaya’s hoof. “Relax, girl, I be on yer side.”
“Zanaya!” Wheatie called. He pointed up at the center mast, where Zanaya saw the source of the yellow—a set of fluttering canary-colored robes, rigged up to the flag line.
Her eyes widened. Turning back down to the pirate, she pressed harder. “The ambassador. Where is he? Where’s Tyria?”
The pirate gurgled something. Zanaya forced herself to let up the pressure. “They be—”
A door on the deck below creaked open. “Is everything all right?” asked a familiar voice.
Zanaya felt a wave of relief wash over her. Releasing the zebra, she raced down the stairs, skidding to a halt at the bottom. She couldn’t help but beam at the sight of the blue pony in a khaki uniform standing before her.
Tyria’s face broke into a joyous smile. “Zanaya!”
The two embraced, Zanaya clutching her as tightly as she could. What horrors had the poor mare gone through? Any number of awful things could have happened to her sweet, timid friend. Her uniform was torn and tattered, victim of who-knew-what torments.
Zanaya exhaled a shuddering breath. “I was starting to think you were dead.”
“Not for lack of trying,” Tyria said, chuckling.
Zanaya blinked in surprise at the joke, pulling back. “How’d you escape?”
“Ah…” Tyria mulled something over, grinning. “Seaponies.”
While tilting her head in confusion, Zanaya heard hoofsteps as someone new joined them on the deck.
“Hello, Staff Sergeant,” said a short, gray little pony as he emerged from the cabin. Zanaya stared, fascinated, at his wings and horn. She’d never seen a pegacorn before. He looked healthy and normal enough, she supposed, not at all like the strange mutants she’d heard described by Equestrian sailors. A wary feeling flitted through her when she spotted the unmistakable mark of the Pit Vipers on his shoulder.
He strode forward, slowing as he brushed Tyria’s side. The two shared a half-lidded look, smiling. Zanaya raised an eyebrow. Apparently her friend had been busy during her captivity.
Wheatie’s shoulders sank as though relieved of a great burden. “Oh, thank the Sisters. It’s good to see you alive, Rye.”
“You too, Wheatie,” said the ambassador, still smiling faintly. “I’m guessing you’ve had an interesting few weeks…”
Zanaya cleared her throat. “Not as interesting as yours, it seems.” She glanced back at Tyria, who seemed completely unconcerned by the circumstances that had led them all here. “Seaponies?”
“Long story,” said Tyria, making a later gesture with her hoof. “We need to talk to the Marquis, Zanaya.”
Straight to business? thought Zanaya, bemused. “That might be tricky.”
“We expected as much,” said Rye, frowning. “How are things in the city?”
“Not good,” said Wheatie, his posture relaxing. “When you two disappeared, we went looking for you. Never even got close to finding you, but we found plenty of trouble to compensate. Tatius Gableclaw was in on the whole thing; he’s been shipping the pirates barrels of explosive blackpowder.”
“Oho, so that’s what his little meeting was about,” said Rye, thoughtfully.
Zanaya nodded. “He put us on the trail that led to Ambassador Milliden. The ambassador was in cahoots with the Dromedarians, some plot to seize control of the city.” She smiled with a little pride. “Now thoroughly foiled, though.”
“Let’s hope so,” said Tyria. “But I doubt Viridian’s going to give up that easily.”
Rye jerked upright. “That’s right—Viridian, we know who he is. Breyr Veldrimmor, the former thane of Hoofnjord.”
Zanaya hissed. “Damn, now the Nordponies are involved?”
“No. He’s an exile. In fact,” said Rye dryly, “I expect King Eberhardt would be quite grateful if we brought him back to Saddlestead in chains. Assuming the Marquis doesn’t catch and hang him first. Or the camels have him assassinated for failing.”
Tyria snickered. “He’s made so many friends.”
“Speaking of which,” Rye said, looking back to Wheatie. “What’s the Marquis made of all of this?”
Wheatie shook his head. “Zahira’s gone completely paranoid. She thinks Princess Celestia is making a power play with the camels, trying to take over the sugar trade. Both nations are banned from Zyran territory. The port is locked down, she’s pulled practically the entire navy back to the city, and there are armed guards on every street corner. Our embassy is in ruins, thanks to Milliden’s bomb—”
“His what?” Rye leaned forward with an appalled look. “Sisters, did anyone get hurt?”
“Not seriously,” said Wheatie, rubbing his ribs with a wince of remembrance. “Even Zedya made it out alive,”
“Who?”
His face reddening, Wheatie said, “A courtes—erm, informant, who helped us investigate the ambassador.”
She’d been quite grateful, too, reflected Zanaya. And smart; she’d vanished after that dangerous night, going to ground hard. The Watch had been unable to locate her, to their consternation.
The pirates milled around on the deck, their captain coming down to join the proceedings. The big zebra looked off the ship’s bow at the approaching military vessels, which were still a few minutes off. “I think it be time for me and me crew to leave.”
Rye lifted a large sack from around his neck and threw it to the pirate with both forelegs, who caught it with an oof. “All yours, Zevan. But please, stay a little longer. Your testimony might be crucial. I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to protect you from Zahira.”
Grimacing, Zevan nodded. “You’d best be on the level, Strudel.”
“Have I let you down yet?”
“Ye sank me ship,” said the pirate crossly.
Rye waved a hoof. “And I got you a new one.” Zevan’s mouth scrunched up.
Tyria rolled her eyes. “Quit teasing him.”
“Oh, all right,” said Rye, grinning. He turned to Zanaya. “So, you must be the Watch detective I’ve heard so much about.” He offered a hoof.
Zanaya, who’d watched the proceedings with great interest, shook it. “A pleasure to meet you, Ambassador Strudel.”
“Do you think you can get us to the Marquis? This is a security matter of grave importance.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have much pull with Zahira these days,” said Zanaya, rubbing the back of her neck. “After we brought Milliden in—”
“So it was you,” said Tyria, her eyes lighting up as if to say Aha! “I hope you punched him.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” she said, giving Wheatie a sideways look with her eyebrows raised. “He’s rotting in jail right now, with Commissioner Zireena’s best guards watching him.”
Both Tyria and Rye paled. “Zanaya,” said Tyria, licking her lips nervously, “Has Zireena been in contact with the Marquis during this whole situation?”
“Nearly every day. She is in charge of city security, after all.” Zanaya felt a chill down her spine. “Why?”
Zevan laughed.
“Zanaya, she’s been working with the pirates,” said Tyria, all levity gone. “She’s been on Viridian’s payroll for years. All those times you’ve complained to me about red tape slowing you down—well, it wasn’t an accident.”
“That’s—” Zanaya shook her head, unable to believe it. “No, impossible. Tyria, I would have known.”
“Just like I would have known that Milliden was part of an international conspiracy to pull a coup,” said Tyria, raising an eyebrow.
Zanaya had no reply. The chill extended throughout her body as the implications settled.
Wheatie stiffened in alarm. “When that horn signal sounded, Zireena took a group to the Marquis’ manor.”
Rye’s wings twitched. “Then Zahira’s in danger. There’s still time to fix this, but if she dies, then we’re all screwed.”
The navy ships were nearly upon them. Zanaya glanced past them at the city, still feeling cold at the idea that she’d been working for a traitor. “We’ll have to be…” the words died on her tongue.
She lifted a hoof, and the rest of those assembled followed it up to the peak of Mount Karran. Smoke was rising from near the volcano’s caldera. That in itself was hardly unusual; the mountain belched fumes on a near-daily basis. But normally, it was a wide cloud, not a single rising pillar.
And normally, it wasn’t green.
“Zanaya,” said Wheatie faintly, “How long does it take to walk from Mercullius Square to that abandoned research facility?”
“About twenty minutes, if you gallop,” she said, staring in horror. “And it’s been about twenty-five.” All of them watched as the green cloud rose.
The silence was shattered by a thundering blast. The zebras and ponies clutched on to whatever railing was nearest as the ship rocked. Ahead, a massive gout of angry black and red billowed from the side of one of the naval ships. Another explosion ripped from the second ship, a colossal ball of ravenous flame consuming the entire side of the hull, sending shock waves through the water and rocking the Adder’s Bite again.
“Zahira pulled the whole damn navy here,” shouted Rye, as more distant booms joined the cacophony. “They’re all going to go down!”
The entire party staggered to the bow of the ship to view the two wounded military vessels. Both of them were rapidly taking on water, their crews buzzing about on the main decks. Zanaya could practically feel their panic. “Nearly a third of the navy is made up of conscripts or prisoners on work release. Most of them don’t know how to swim. There’s only one lifeboat on a standard military frigate…”
“Oh, hell,” said Wheatie. “And with so many more ships here than usual, most of them aren’t even in the shallow water in the bay. They’re going to drown.”
The sharp retorts of more explosions echoed over the water. Fireballs flared in the distance, peppering the massive conglomeration of Zyran vessels.
“We’ve got to help them,” said Rye, whirling away from the railing. “Come on, Zevan, let’s pull up on those ships and—”
A horn blast rang out across the water.
Tyria gasped. “Look! To the south!”
A second horn signal followed the first, as all eyes turned to see the appearance of dozens of black dots on the horizon. The third horn called out, entirely unnecessary.
“It cannae be Breyr,” muttered Zevan, “He must be hours behind us yet.”
“It’s not,” said Rye, darkly. “The Dromedarians have committed too much to this to let Zyre go without a fight. The losses are going to be tremendous without the pirates to soften the navy up for them, but they’ll pay that price for control of the Carriagibbean.”
“So it’s going to be a war after all,” said Wheatie, adjusting his helmet.
“No,” said Tyria firmly. “Not a full war. Not if we save Zahira, and hold the camels off long enough for reinforcements to arrive.”
Zanaya bit her lip. “What reinforcements? The whole navy is here, and—” another distant explosion interrupted her, “—and they’ll be lucky to survive the first attack at this rate.”
“Not the Zyrans.” Tyria locked her eyes on Wheatie. “We need the Equestrian fleet. Wheatie, you’ve got to fly out and bring them here.”
“What?” Wheatie shook his head. “They’re out in the Zerubian islands. That’s a six hour flight, and nearly a day coming back this way by boat. By the time they get here, it’ll all be over.”
“Motivate them to move faster, then,” she said. “Get the pegasi to whip up some wind, have the unicorns magick the oars into rowing by themselves, whatever you can.”
“I’m not running away from—”
“Staff Sergeant!” barked Tyria. Wheatie’s head jolted upright, his spine straightening into parade posture. “I’m making it an order. Go bring those ships.”
Looking stunned, he saluted. “Aye, ma’am.” His wings flapped, and he shot off the deck.
On his way up, he paused by the top of the mast, untying the yellow robes and tossing them back down. Rye caught them, shouting thanks. Then, so fast that Zanaya barely had time to blink, Wheatie was gone, rocketing northward. In moments, he was just a gleaming golden sparkle in the sky.
Good luck, soldier boy, she thought. Don’t be gone long. She returned her eyes to Tyria, blinking uncertainly. “You’re ordering war heroes around, now?”
Tyria’s smile was so slight that Zanaya almost missed it. “I outrank him.” Turning her head, she shouted, “Zevan!”
“Aye?”
“Forget the sailors for now. Get us inside the bay, as quickly as you can.”
“As ye wish,” said the captain, with a nod. He ran back up to the wheel.
Rye frowned. “We can’t just leave the Zyrans to drown, Tyria.”
“We’ll cut our lifeboats loose as we pass. Those that can swim can use them to save the rest.” Tyria was walking swiftly along the deck, the rest of them falling in step. “The rest of them out there… we can’t do anything for them right now.” She grimaced. “We’ve got to stop the camels from getting into the city.”
“Hold on,” interrupted Zanaya. “We won’t be able to sail in. Now that two alarms have gone off, they’re going to seal off the bay with the chain boom.”
“Somehow, I don’t think so.” Tyria looked up at the tallest tower on the edge of the cliffs guarding the bay. “That’s the building that the chain winches are in, right, Zanaya?”
“Yes,” said Zanaya, astonished at her friend’s behavior. “Along with a permanent staff of twenty marines.”
“Most if not all of whom are undoubtedly Breyr’s plants,” muttered Rye.
“Zab,” said Tyria, turning to one of the pirates. “I need the crew for this.”
“Hold on, now,” said the zebra. “We signed up to take you two to Zyre, not go fighting camels and Pit Vipers.”
Rye, fastening his robes on, said, “You realize that if you help save the city, that the Marquis is going to be beyond grateful. Forget amnesty, she’ll issue you all letters of marque.”
Zab chewed on that for a moment. “Assuming we live, of course.”
“Aye,” called Zevan from above, drawing all attention upward. “But we be this far in already. Let’s see if Miss Metrel can navigate through the storm, eh?” He grinned down at Tyria.
With a private smile, Tyria nodded once. “Which leaves one thing.” She looked between Rye and Zanaya.
“Zahira,” answered Zanaya.
“Right,” said Tyria. “You and Rye have to get to her and save her from Zireena.”
“Do you think she’s still alive?” Zanaya swallowed. “Zireena went after her nearly half an hour ago.”
“They’re not going to kill her yet,” said Rye. “Not until they’re sure that the coup has a real chance to succeed. Not until Breyr arrives.” He cast another dark look toward the horizon they’d come from. “I expect they’ve taken Zahira to a safehouse somewhere in the city.”
“I know a few,” said Zanaya. “The whole Watch has a bimonthly briefing on security procedures.”
“Then you’ve got a shot,” said Tyria. “Find her. Convince her to join you. When you’ve got the Marquis safely out of Zireena’s hooves, meet us at the chain tower. We’ll hold out there until Wheatie returns.”
“We’re coming up on the Zyrans,” said Zab. “Lem, Zivvit, get those lifeboats loose. And…” he sighed. “Get ready for a fight.”
The zebras dispersed to carry out their duties, leaving Tyria, Rye, and Zanaya alone on the deck. Zanaya eyed Tyria up and down, evaluating. Her friend looked… different. It was the way she was standing, Zanaya realized. Head raised, eyes sharp, shoulders set.
“That’s my girl,” said Rye, with a quiet grin. “I love it when you get assertive.”
“Well, somepony has to get this lot moving,” Tyria said, giving him an affectionate nuzzle. “I’d like to catch up with Zanaya while we have a minute. Can you help the zebras with the lifeboats?”
“Sure.” Rye kissed her. “Good luck.”
As he left them, Zanaya stared at her friend. “So… I take it your date went well.”
Tyria burst out laughing, covering her mouth with a hoof. “Zanaya, this has been the worst date of my life.” She removed the hoof, still smiling. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“How is he?”
Tyria watched the yellow-garbed stallion as he helped the pirates cut the lines holding the lifeboats. “He’s charming, when he’s not being the ambassador. And when he is… well, watch out.” Her smile hardened.
“Good.” Zanaya smiled. “You deserve it.” She glanced up at the city, drawing closer. “Let’s hope he’s good enough to get the Marquis to believe him.”
“Oh, he is. He can do magic with that tongue.”
Zanaya wisely decided not to touch that one. She leaned against the railing, looking southward. Tyria joined her, and they shared a moment of meditative quiet. The two watched the southern horizon, where the Dromedarian ships had begun to resolve against the skyline.
Zanaya gave a low whistle. “You’ve given us the easier job. Those camels mean business.”
“I’ve dealt with worse,” said Tyria, rubbing a pair of white lines on her neck. Zanaya blinked, examining them. Are those bite marks? Whatever had done that must have been… large.
“Even so, be safe, all right? For my sake.”
Tyria placed her hooves on the railing, breathing deeply. “I think…” she smiled. “I think safety’s overrated.”
Zanaya thought about her and Wheatie’s escapades over the past month and grinned. “You may be right.”
As the Adder’s Bite drew closer to the bay entrance, Zanaya was disappointed to see that Tyria and Rye had called it—the chain boom was still hidden beneath the water. It couldn’t be easy, after all.
All around, Zyran navy ships were foundering in the water, many listing so far to the side that their sails were touching the water, others sinking straight down. Zebras clung to driftwood and wreckage, calling out for help, but there were none to help them—not a single ship had been spared, it seemed. The Dromedarian ships were nearly upon them now. The crew of the Adder’s Bite would make it to shore with only minutes to spare.
Inevitably, Zanaya felt her gaze pulled back to the climbing tower of green smoke. Zireena had said that Milliden’s wood pile was being disassembled. Ha. More likely she added to it. Oh, gods, the witch hunt if they survived this was going to be legendary.
Inside the bay, the chaos was intensified. So many ships in close quarters had created a swamp of shattered wood and torn sails. Zevan steered them through the carnage, deftly avoiding the burning hulks. Zebras clambered across overturned frigates, trying in vain to organize.
After all that she and Wheatie had done, they’d only managed to delay the strike. Thanks to the traitorous Commissioner and Milliden, the city was still in grave peril. Zireena had much to answer for.
Zanaya’s face hardened. Wheatie had gotten the chance to punch his traitor in the face. She was looking forward to hers.