“I’m sorry, a what?” the crewman called down.
“They don’t have those in Albion, Captain,” Dent Skull Sally whispered.
Cross sighed. “It’s a furry, clawed animal. Small, but vicious and strong completely out of proportion to its size. It’s known for taking down much larger animals.”
“And that’s you?” the crewman asked.
“Aye.”
“I thought you just said you were the Carrion Crow.”
“I didn’t say ‘wolverine’ was the name of my ship . . . it’s a metaphor, son. You do have those in Albion, don’t you?”
The crewman looked around at the rest of the Crow’s people. “I’m sorry . . . who put this gentleman in charge? You all do realize his mind has gotten a bit . . . overripe, aye?”
“That’s it,” Cross growled. “I’m through dickering with you half-witted clods. We’re coming over.”
Four of the Crow’s crew hefted our plank off the deck and threw it across the space between the two ships, tilted upward to allow for the Flower’s height.
“Excuse me,” the Flower’s crewman exclaimed with a frumpled expression of disdain, “I don’t believe we actually invited you to come across.”
As if he hadn’t heard them, Cross marched up the plank, a handful of his crew keeping pace behind him. Our captain was not, in fact, addle-brained. Pretending to be so was a common tactic of his. It was all part of his plan, wherein I, unseen by any, would stride across the plank in between Cross’s men and women so the Flower’s crew wouldn’t notice the plank warping and bouncing under the weight of a man who seemingly wasn’t there. As my shipmates kept the Flower’s crew occupied, I’d stroll down to her vault, easy as you like. It was getting through the vault door and getting away with the storm magic that would be the tricky bit.
Just as Cross set foot on the Flower, the jaw-rattling thunder of an explosion knocked us about, half the crew falling onto their backsides. Cross himself remained on his feet, but frozen, with a look of pure bewilderment on his face. This was not part of the plan. As thick splinters of wood rained down, it became clear a cannon blast had erupted between the ships, but which had fired upon which no one could say. What came next was nothing short of bedlam.
Crew from both ships leapt the gap, weapons drawn. There was a heck of a row, men and women skewering each other with swords and all that kind of gruesome business. But you don’t really want me to disturb your imagination with such ghastly details, do you?
I moved slowly, and with much forethought, diligently plotting my course to the stairs so I might remain well outside the arc of swishing blades and recently disconnected limbs. In the same fashion, I moved down into the ship, flattening myself against staircase walls when crew rushed past me to join the fight. Every ship’s captain kept any magic they possessed behind both locked door and armed guards. But if fortune was on my side, the fighting above would draw all the guards away, and my axe would make short work of the lock.
Unfortunately, things did not go as planned. As I rounded the corner to the armory, I found myself staring at Five Finger Jack. In my haste I must have caused enough disturbance to make my ghost magic falter, for the look in his eyes made it apparent that I was no more invisible to him than he was to me.
“Blackheart . . . ?” he said, confusion overtaking his face.
You’re likely wondering what Five Finger was doing guarding the armory of the Flower of the Indus, or, indeed, how he even got there. At this point, I must confess that I’ve been a tad deceitful in my storytelling. I neglected to mention that I never joined my crew in their trip across the plank to the Flower, instead sneaking back down into the heart of the Carrion Crow. I also left out the bit where I had previously tied a string to the Crow’s plank and run it belowdecks, arranged so that upon our crew lifting that plank, a candle toppled into position to ignite the fuse of one of our cannons. Furthermore, every time I’ve mentioned “the plan,” I was referring not to Captain Cross’s plan to steal Lord Buckworth’s storm magic, but rather my own plan to distract the Crow’s men in a fight, drawing any guards away from the Crow’s vault.
Well, sometimes I was referring to Cross’s plan, I suppose, but which time I was referring to which plan is too much to bother with at this point. Either way, here we are now, so let’s get back to the story, aye?
Five Finger Jack narrowed his eyes and drew his cutlass. “You’re supposed to be breaking into the Flower’s vault. What’re you doing here?”
My grip clenched around the axe handle. Years of planning had gone to ruin for no reason other than Five Finger being such a simpleton he didn’t know that when a fight broke out, you were supposed to leave your post and join your shipmates. I had a weapon, but I’d never get through him that way. Five Finger was an impressive swordsman, especially considering that finger count was the total for both hands combined.
I resumed walking toward him, attempting to feign both urgency and nonchalance, and prayed he had even less wits than I credited him with.
“Captain sent me for the beast magic,” I said. “Quick, open the—”
“Beast magic?” Five Finger’s eyes narrowed further. “That’ll make you as likely to attack our own crew as the Flower’s.”
“Captain says chaos will be our ally.” I continued toward him. “No more time to talk, we’ll both end up in prison if we don’t—”
“Why’d he send you?” Five Finger’s eyes got so narrow I wondered if he could still see from them. “Who’s going to sneak down into the Flower if you’re running amok up top?”
This was a question for which I had no sensible reply.
I clutched my head in both hands. “Oh! The ghost magic. Something’s gone wrong. Quick! Find the captain! Tell him it’s all gone wrong!”
I became still and silent and transformed myself into a living ghost, invisible to all the senses. It would take a moment for Five Finger to get over the shock of seeing me disappear, but soon enough he’d scurry away to find the captain. I’d be inside the vault in seconds.
“Something’s gone wrong with the ghost magic?” Five Finger asked. “Is that why I can still see you?”
I suppose it should have occurred to me that a magic that only worked if you didn’t draw attention to yourself would fail to function if the other person already had their attention keenly focused on you.
I turned and ran.
From the pounding of boots racing up behind me, I knew Five Finger had given chase. I rounded the corner at nearly full speed, careening off the wall hard enough to hammer the breath from my lungs. In front of me, stairs led onto the Crow’s main deck, but even if I reached the top before Five Finger chopped me down at the ankles, I’d be in the open, nowhere to run or hide. I’d be caught and executed.
I stopped dead. For one blink of a moment, I was out of Five Finger’s sight. I prayed it would be sufficient. I threw my back against the wall, tightened my muscles against any movement, clenched my stomach to keep my lungs from drawing the breath they desperately desired, and willed myself invisible. Five Finger’s footfalls came round the corner, louder, bearing down on me. The wind of his movement swished no more than an inch from the tip of my nose. Next I knew, Five Finger’s boots were knocking up the stairs, disappearing into the clank of swords and the shouts of men at battle.