Page 41 of Vengeance of the Pirate Queen

And the churning water beneath the ship calms.

Until we reach the other side of the strait. Then the bubbles resume once more.

I climb the aftercastle, positioning myself next to Kearan.

“It’s a beastie of some sort,” I tell him.

“Aye,” he agrees.

“Too big to fit through that strait we sailed.”

“It had to go around, which means it’s sticking close to the water’s surface. Something that has to breathe regularly?”

“We’ve seen nothing crest the waves.”

“Perhaps it only does so at night, far out of our lanterns’ reach.”

“That means it’s enormous.”

“Yet it can sneak off with a single sailor in the night?”

I keep my voice pitched low as someone walks by in front of us. “Why wouldn’t it wreck the ship? Take us all out at once? It clearly knows there’s food aboard.”

“Maybe it has a small stomach. Wants to make its meals last.”

“Then how long before it’s hungry again?”

Kearan’s face grows solemn, for it’s a question neither of us knows the answer to. “Do we dare attempt to attack first?”

“We have cannons and a single ballista, and we don’t know what would happen if we make it angry.”

“So we wait?”

“We wait.”

INORMALLYKEEPNIGHThours as it is, but I can tell some of the crew have a hard time adjusting. Dimella occasionally has to wake up sailors who slump against the companionway or other hard surfaces of the ship. Too many are less alert, their internal monitors relaxing in the bitter evening air. Night is for sleeping. It’s hard to convince the body otherwise.

I can sympathize, but if I’m to keep everyone alive, I need the crew to try harder.

The reason I kept my theories about the beastie between myself and Kearan is because I thought that would keep everyone calm and levelheaded for the fight ahead, but it would seem they need a little more fear in them to stay alert.

That means I need to … make a speech.

As I survey the sluggish night crew from atop the aftercastle, I swallow back my distaste and push through my discomfort. “Listen up, you lot!” My sudden shout startles many, and Enwen nearly falls over from where he’s leaning against the railing. “There is some sort of sea creature following us. It’s already fed on one of our own. Look alive or you might be next.”

That does the trick.

Philoria, Bayla, and Visylla keep the cannons loaded at all times in the evenings. They’re cleaned and unloaded by the scanty day crew, then readied again at night. I have a sailor stationed at the ballista at all times, scouring the water in front of us.

Many hold their pistols in their hands for comfort. Some even get into the muskets from belowdecks. Visylla brings up her collection of hand bombs, and I welcome it. Better to be overprepared than under.

I have a brave crew full of good people. Only the best would volunteer for this mission in the first place. They prove their mettle in their commitment to stay course. Only Enwen’s superstitions get the better of him from time to time.

And then it happens finally.

A change.

The water stops churning, despite the fact there are no obstacles around.

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