Kitai reached out and touched a chain, running her fingers down the links. "And you see nothing wrong with that?"
"I don't like it," Tavi said, "but men like Demos choose what jobs they will or will not take."
Kitai gave Tavi a rather hard look. "Not that, Aleran. Do you see nothing wrong with the fact that this"-she flicked the chain hard against the ship's hull-"is not uncommon?"
Tavi blinked and stared at her for a moment. "Kitai…"
She turned back to Tavi, her eyes narrowed. "You told me that Nasaug called your kind monsters. So would my people if they knew you treated your own like this."
"Not everyone does," Tavi said.
"But everyone allows it," she said, her voice hard. She stepped forward until he could see her features in the dimness. They were green agates. "Is this what you are as well, Aleran?"
He met her eyes for a moment and felt her outrage like the heat of a fire on his face. He began to speak, but stopped. Instinct warned him that nothing he said would answer her question.
Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment and dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword. He reached out to it, sensing the strength of the steel, feeling its latent energy, partially beaten into shape at a Legion forge. Tavi pressed his senses into the sword, taking steady breaths, drawing his thoughts into focus and drawing the power of the sword with them, shaping it, aligning its matter, strengthening its edge.
Then he opened his eyes, stepped, drew, and swept the weapon in a single sweep and backstroke.
Sparks flew up, metal screeched, and the chains clattered to the flooring, the ends of the severed links aglow with heat.
Tavi sheathed the weapon in a smooth, practiced motion, and turned to Kitai.
The Marat girl lifted her chin, her eyes aglow. She nodded once, the motion deep enough to be almost a bow.
Tavi responded the same way, never looking away from her eyes.
"That," she said, "is my Aleran."
Tavi looked up to find that both witchmen had turned and were staring at him.
"If Captain Demos asks," Tavi told them quietly, "tell him to take it up with me."
The witchmen glanced at one another, and then nodded to Tavi in unison.
Suddenly, there was a surge of emotion from above, a sudden wave of sharply increased panic, fear, and anger. It crashed against Tavi, and his balance wavered beneath the force of it. His hand went of its own accord toward Kitai, landing on her shoulder, steadying himself, even as she shuddered and reached out to brace herself against his chest.
The witchmen both let out quiet moans of misery and crouched even lower in the water. They resumed their murmuring, though it was louder now, faster, almost frantic.
Above, on the deck, there was an agonized scream.
Tavi turned and sprinted for the stairs again, Kitai on his heels. He didn't draw his blade-a fine mess he would make of himself if he lost his balance in the ship's roll and gutted himself on his own sword. He came onto the deck to find it in frantic activity, men hurrying back and forth as the ship's officers shouted commands. All of them were crouching, darting from place to place, and casting frantic glances to port.
"Careful!" Araris called. He had his shoulders pressed up against the mainmast on the starboard side. "The pirates have a Knight Flora with them. Crow-begotten good one, too."
Tavi nodded and ducked to one side, putting the solid wood of the cabin between himself and the oncoming Mactis. He swept a quick glance around the deck and asked Araris, "Where is she?"
There was another scream, this time up in the rigging, and a man plummeted from above to land on the deck ten feet away. An arrow had transfixed his throat, bloodied point emerging from one side of his neck. His hips and one arm were bent at an unnatural angle, and the sailor made a few frantic gurgling sounds, feebly thrashing, as his blood pooled on the deck.
Araris drew his sword, his jaw tight with anger. "Not in the cabin. She must be forward."
The door to the cabin opened, and Ehren poked his sandy-haired head out of it, looking blearily around. "What? What's going on?"
There was a hiss, a cracking sound, and another arrow smashed through the cabin's door, just above its latch and so close to Ehren's hand that its haft touched the bare skin of his wrist.
Ehren peered owlishly at the arrow. "Ah," he said, and shut the door once more.
Tavi glanced at the arrow and recognized the distinctive fletching again.
"Crows take it," he snarled. "Iris the Hawk. Navaris and the rest of Arnos's thugs are out there."
There was another scream from the rigging, though at least no one fell to the deck this time.
Kitai leaned around Tavi and peered to port for a moment. "Four hundred yards at least. This archer is quite skilled."
Tavi called out to Araris, and told him what he had seen. The singulare let out a sulfurous curse. "How did they catch up to us?"
"They must have used Arnos's Knights Aeris," Tavi replied. "They could have learned the ship's identity, and it wouldn't be too hard to figure out where we're headed. They got in front of us, flew down the coast until they found a captain willing to intercept us."
"This is going to get complicated," Araris said. "Stay there. I'll go find Isana."
"We go together," Tavi said. He didn't give Araris a chance to argue-he just darted forward, moving quickly down the deck. He shot one swift glance off to port, to see the Mactis under sail. At this distance, he could make out the moving shapes of the crew, but he couldn't make out any details. That was good news, at least. It meant Arnos's woodcrafter couldn't pick out specific targets. She was shooting at motions and outlines, not at particular men.
Tavi went forward, crouched as low as he could get, hurrying as much as he could, and had no doubt that the motion looked more ridiculous than was probably appropriate for a Princeps of Alera on the edge of battle. An arrow flashed by, several feet away. One of the feathers must have been loose and dragged the shot wide, because it made an odd buzzing sound as it flew past him.
Tavi crouched even lower and moved even more quickly. To the crows with dignity. He felt more than willing to live with such humiliations, especially when he might not without them. The Mactis was steadily closing.
They reached the bow and found Isana there, crouched behind the wooden planking of the prow. Tavi rushed forward and threw himself down beside her. Araris and Kitai were hard on his heels.
Isana flinched as Tavi landed, but when she looked back at him, he felt a surge of relief flash through her, only to be replaced with renewed anxiety an instant later. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," Tavi said. "We've got a problem."
Isana lifted a dark eyebrow, her voice dry. "Oh, dear."
"Arnos's Knights are on that ship," Araris said, his mouth set in a tight line.
Isana's back stiffened. "I see. Can we escape them?"
Araris crouched and lifted his head up for a moment, peering over the ship's rail, and ducked down again. "I'm not much of a sailor, but I doubt it."
"Their captain isn't going to turn back because we're sailing into the Leviathan's Run," Tavi said grimly. "Navaris wouldn't let him."
"We have to fight, then," Isana said. "Can we beat them?"
Tavi glanced at Araris.
The man shook his head. "Not if we're outnumbered as badly as Demos believes. Navaris is extremely skilled. I'll have to focus on her completely."
"If we can't run, and we can't fight, what can we do?" Isana asked.
"We find some way to change the rules," Tavi said. He rose for a quick peek at the other ship, then glanced quickly at the sea ahead of them. He started to drop down again, when he froze, staring.