“See anything interesting?” I ask her.
“Snow,” she says, deadpan.
I wait for everyone to have their morning oats before I dare to speak. It is my experience that folks are more amiable when they’re not hungry.
“Yesterday was a rough one. I … apologize for not speaking about it last night. You all worked admirably. Short of seeing the future, there’s nothing we could have done to save the ship. The moment we anchored, we were sitting ducks.
“But we’re all here now. Alive with food and shelter. We’re going to be okay. Our yano bird will return to the queen. She will send more ships this way, and they’ll have a far easier time of it now that we’ve taken care of that beastie.”
A few shouts of raw! go up at the pronouncement.
“We need only survive until they get here,” I continue, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t still do the job we were sent to do.” I explain about the underground entrance and the men guarding it. “I want to get a better look at it today during the daylight.”
Dimella and I spend some time together talking strategy, but in the end, we decide it’s best if Kearan and I scope it out again. As always, I’d rather go it alone, but it’s not just me I’m putting in danger anymore by doing so. I have a whole crew depending on me.
Before the two of us head out, Philoria and Visylla approach me. I ache to see their saddened faces. Bayla’s death hit them harder than everyone else, for they knew her best.
“Captain, we’d like permission to go down to the water tonight and light a lantern for Bayla’s soul.”
“Of course. We should not delay. I will accompany you.”
They both nod before striding away, and Kearan and I take off.
The landscape isn’t terribly different during the day, though I swear it’s just as cold and difficult to see. The sun reflects off all that white snow, blinding anyone who dares to look at it. The plants we saw last night now have color to them, and these purple blossoms poke through the ground at uneven intervals. Kearan and I wear white to blend in with our surroundings. （I had to borrow clothes from some of the other girls, since I don’t own anything in a light shade.）
There isn’t much more to see at the campfire in the daytime.
New men have taken watch. The same number as before: ten around the fire, ten more keeping watch from the trees or surrounding foliage. They stare out at their surroundings with vigilance.
There’s definitely something down there they don’t want anyone to find.
Or perhaps people they don’t want broken free?
At first, I thought it wishful thinking to hope for Alosa’s crew to still be alive if they were captured, but if the natives have underground prisons for newcomers, then maybe we have a chance.
The crew and I find a new rhythm in the days that follow. I observe the natives, listening to them speak to one another, watching them exchange shifts guarding that entrance belowground. Dimella has a watch rotation all worked out so everyone can take turns keeping lookout. Instead of maintaining a sailing ship, we have to keep the camp stocked. We send out parties to collect firewood, go hunting, and scavenge for anything we might be able to use.
Everyone takes turns teaching Roslyn how to fight with her new rapier. She has a sparring buddy for every hour of the day to keep her occupied and out of trouble. Though she doesn’t know it, her fighting partners are whoever is charged with guarding her in that moment. I’m taking no chances with her.
Enwen always lets her win.
Dimella puts her in her place.
And I make her work until her limbs drop with exhaustion.
Chapter 12
“DO YOU THINK ALL the natives look like that?” Kearan asks, obviously referring to the sheer size of the men on watch, as we return to camp from another night’s scouting. “Or is there something dangerous in those underground tunnels?”
“We won’t know until we can get a look down there.”
“I don’t like our odds going up against them. I think we could win, but not without many losses.”
“I wasn’t planning on fighting them for access to the tunnel.”
“Then what were you thinking?”
“A diversion to draw them away.”
“How?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
A few days later, and I think we’re ready. We’ve observed that small clearing surrounding the never-dying campfire long enough to know when they swap guards or restock the place with more firewood and food.
Once I know the patterns, I feel confident striking.
I approach the crew just over a week after landing upon this frozen place. We’ve switched camp locations every evening, always keeping on the move.
I say, “Today, I want to get inside the cavern the enemy is guarding, but I’ll need help doing it.”
Before I can ask for ideas, Visylla perks up. “Perhaps now would be a good time for an explosion?”
“With what?” Philoria asks. “We didn’t bring much black powder. We’ll need it all for the guns.”
“That’s not strictly true …” Visylla kicks a barrel, and I hear a soft tink within.
Dimella rounds on her. “Are you saying you brought your hand bombs instead of more food?”
“Everyone else grabbed food. We needed protection, too! Besides, you can hardly grumble when the captain needs them.”
Both girls turn to me, looking for a verdict.
“Visylla, in the future, you will listen to your first officer. Dimella may discipline you as she sees fit. But today, we’ll use those bombs.”
KEARAN AND I SLINK between the trees like jungle cats. We’ve done this a dozen times now, but that doesn’t make us careless. If anything, we’re more cautions than ever. This has to go smoothly if we’re to pull an escape off.
Flowers pad my steps through the snow. It’s hard to believe that so much greenery survives in these temperatures, but I suppose almost anything can adapt. Maybe the type of flora here can only survive in a freezing environment.
As we approach the camp, it starts to snow. Little pinpricks of white make it through the canopy, brushing my head and shoulders. I hold out a hand in front of me to catch a large flake. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it snow. The northern islands in the Seventeen Isles sometimes have snow in the winter, but most of my time lately has been spent in the tropics.
When I come to a stop, Kearan doesn’t miss a beat. I crouch behind the brush, looking through icicle-covered branches to observe the lookouts in the treetops.
I haven’t seen the same men on guard duty twice yet, so their numbers are large enough to accommodate that, at least. I wonder how many live here and why our arrival was met with such hostility. Why did it have to result in Bayla’s death? Why am I stuck here now trying to keep twenty-three other souls alive?
There has to be a way to make up for all of it. If I can just save Alosa’s missing girls, then surely this will all be worth it. If I can still save more than I’ve lost.
Or maybe I don’t want to admit that I’ve bungled everything up and I never should have accepted this mission.
I shut out the doubts crowding my mind by replaying some of my latest kills. Knives driven through hearts, knives raked across necks, knives plunged into eye sockets. Every encounter ending the same way.