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As in the temple, he struggled against the urge to plead that if the goddess would only give him the chance to finish his task, he could still capture the boy. In all likelihood, excuses and assurances would only anger her further, and in truth, for the fearful part of him that a man kept hidden from the world, it was easier to remain silent in the face of her transcendent malice and disgust.

A colossal shark glided closer to him and opened its jaws. Umberlee’s eyes followed it. They were like immense black pearls, yet at the same time, whirlpools spinning down into annihilation.

Evendur steeled himself against the terror howling inside him. He meant to perish without letting it out. That, it seemed, was the only thing left to him.

Then, however, the shark veered off just before its toothy maw would otherwise have engulfed him. Had Umberlee really only ever meant to scare him? Or, at the final instant, had his display of courage blunted her fury? He had no way of knowing, nor, at this moment of reprieve, did he care.

“I made you my vessel,” the Bitch Queen said. “You are the fangs that tear, the jaws that clamp, the tentacles that snare and sting. Yet a child bested you. Fail again, and you will pray to me through endless eons to send a hungry beast to end your suffering.”

With that, she wheeled, and her monstrous entourage turned with her. The flukes of her scaly mermaid tail were as long as many a city street, and when she swept them downward, the motion created a surge that tumbled Evendur through the water.

Umara gave Anton the key, the saber and cutlass, and the silver flask containing what remained of the analgesic elixir. As he bent to unlock his leg irons, she drew her dagger and crouched down in the bilge water to cut Stedd’s bonds, while the reeking zombies rowed obliviously onward.

By the time she finished freeing the boy and helping him to his feet, Anton was rising, also. She frowned to see that despite drinking what remained of the elixir, he had difficulty straightening all the way up and flexing his fingers with their broken blisters.

He gave her a crooked smile. “If my condition distresses you, you should have come to your change of heart sooner. Or brought another dram of potion. You didn’t, did you?”

She shook her head. “There wasn’t any more.”

“Well, I’ll be all right.” The pirate drew his saber and cut at the air. “Once I move around enough to work the kinks out. What’s the plan?”

“One that I hope won’t even require you to fight. Kymas is a vampire-”

“Oh, splendid!”

“I hope that for us, it will be. It’s afternoon. He ought to be sound asleep in his coffin. I’m going to stab a stake through his heart and then cut his head off.”

“And afterward, the crew won’t think anything about it?”

“Afterward, I’ll be the only Red Wizard left aboard.” She smiled. “And where I come from, killing one’s superior is an acknowledged way of climbing the ‘great long ladder.’ ”

Anton smiled back. “It’s reassuring that you actually aren’t doing this because the boy’s blather drove you insane or, worse, moral.”

“Hey!” said Stedd.

Anton stayed focused on Umara. “Make me invisible again and I can come with you.”

“I thought of that, but no. For pure sneaking, one is better than two even if the second sneak is veiled in magic.”

“I suppose. Especially in the rain. Then what do you want me to do while you’re busy staking and beheading?”

“Just stay here. It will be as safe as anywhere. Come running if you hear a commotion. Or, if you see that it’s too late to help me, do whatever you can for yourself and Stedd.”

“All right. Good hunting. And thank you.”

“Thank me when it’s done.” She gave Stedd a smile, squeezed his shoulder, and headed for the companionway.

Her heart pounded as she stepped back up into the rain, agitated by the irrational fear that somehow, all the sailors and marines would perceive she’d just gone from being Kymas’s faithful lieutenant to his would-be murderer. But no one gave her a second glance.

She took a deep breath, looked around, and found Ehmed glowering at the crewmen laboring to repair the damaged side tiller. She beckoned to him as she approached, and he strode to meet her.

“Lady Sir,” he said, “how can I serve you?”

“You know,” she said, “what manner of being Lord Kymas is. So you know that unless he works magic to transcend his normal limits, he sleeps-and sleeps deeply-during the day.”

“If you say so. You’re the mage. You understand the nature of … of gentlemen like that better than I do.”

“I also understand,” Umara said, “why under normal circumstances, Lord Kymas prefers to keep his precise resting place a secret even from me. But unfortunately, our situation isn’t normal anymore. The ship could go down at any time.”

Ehmed frowned. “The men and I will get you to shore.”

“I believe you will if anyone can. Still, if we do sink, Kymas may well require my magic to save him. So I need you to tell me where his coffin is.”

The captain cocked his head. “How would I know?”

“Because it’s your galley. You must know where the secret compartment is.”

“I would if there was one, but there isn’t. I never saw a coffin come aboard, but I figured it was in my … I mean, in his cabin. Haven’t you seen it there?”

“No.” Nor could she imagine how he could have fit such a large object in amid all the clutter. “But you know what? I’m fussing over nothing. We aren’t going to sink, certainly not before nightfall, and when Kymas wakes, I’ll ask him where the box is.”

“That makes sense to me, Lady Sir.” Ehmed paused. “Is there anything else?”

“No, Captain, thank you.”

“Then I’d better get back to directing the men.”

Ehmed returned to the damaged tiller, and she made her way past a pair of mariners working a pump and followed the hose down into the cargo hold aft of the lower banks of oars. Despite the pump team’s dogged efforts, water sloshed around her feet and partway up her calves.

She was now underneath Kymas’s cabin, and she could imagine him retiring there at daybreak, then changing to mist and passing through some tiny opening down to this space, where his coffin actually resided. But when she whispered a charm and set a patch of bulkhead alight, she didn’t see it.

That didn’t actually surprise her. If the box was down here, it was surely either invisible or wrapped in illusion. She murmured a counterspell to strip such concealments away.

Nothing changed.

It was possible she simply hadn’t mustered the force necessary to disrupt the original enchantment, but she doubted it. Kymas was the more powerful wizard overall, but she fancied herself his equal at casting and penetrating veils.

If he wasn’t down here, he must actually be in the cabin. Somehow.

She climbed back topside and headed for the carved hatch under the still-drooping awning. No one would suspect anything amiss if she passed through readily. But if somebody noticed her having difficulty, he might realize she was entering without permission.

She turned the handle and pulled. The hatch shifted minutely, then caught in the frame.

So she whispered a word of opening. The lock clicked, and the hatch hitched open. She slipped inside and closed it behind her.

The magical candles and torches were still burning as they would for centuries unless some spellcaster went to the trouble to extinguish them. The greenish light gleamed on the rack of staves, Ehmed’s suit of half plate on its stand, the little metal automaton, currently draped motionless atop the sea chest as it awaited a new command, and all the rest of the jumbled articles Umara had seen on previous visits. Rainwater dripped through a pair of new leaks in the timbers overhead.