"Watch Commander Pierandra." Cobiah blanched. "She'll have us dancing on the gallows if she catches us."

"That's a problem," Isaye agreed, narrowing her eyes.

"Truce?" Cobiah offered tensely.

Mercurial as the sea, Isaye quirked her lips in a wry smile. "Done!" She tossed back her dark ponytail and lowered her dagger, impulsively reaching out to shake his hand. Cobiah wondered if she regretted that gesture afterward; he found it difficult to let go. Isaye spun on her heel and jammed her dagger into a belt sheath. "Cut the stays!" she called out, no longer caring if her voice carried. "We'll finish this fight later. Set sail toward the open sea!"

"Aye, Captain!" Sailors put away their weapons, scrambling to obey her command.

Eager to do his part, Cobiah looked toward his friends. "Sykox! Sykox, get off him!" Cobiah rushed to pull Sykox away from a man he'd been choking. The charr, still disoriented from the lightning, tried to focus his eyes on his friend's face.

"I'll get off 'im when 'e stops wriggling!" Sykox panted, smacking his dazed captive on the face with one sloppy paw. The blow was enough to knock the man senseless, and he slumped in the charr's grasp.

Cobiah shook him roughly. "Sykox! I need you to man the poles. Push the s.h.i.+p off the sand. The guard's coming!"

"Guard?" Sykox's eyebrows knitted together in a frown. "Commander Pierandra? Here?" Dropping the unconscious sailor, the tawny charr roared to his feet in terror. Around them, sailors rushed to unfurl the sails-but as they reached for the stays, the sound of bells grew stronger, changing from tinkling amus.e.m.e.nt to a throatier chime of warning.

"Pierandra will be here any minute, you lunk. We-have-to-move!" Punctuating his words with shoves, Cobiah half pushed, half guided the charr toward the stern of the s.h.i.+p. "Macha, hide the Capricorn! Do it now!"

"Um, Cobiah . . ." The asura's voice came from the forecastle. "I don't think our plan's going to work. There's a problem-"

"Macha, stop arguing with me!"

The watch commander and her guard raced up the sh.o.r.e, anger radiating from her with every step she took toward them. The soldiers rushed into the water, eager to reach their quarry even as the Capricorn's sails swelled and snapped the last ropes of her mooring.

Desperate to help the s.h.i.+p leave sh.o.r.e, Cobiah s.n.a.t.c.hed up a ten-foot length of pole lying by the s.h.i.+p's railing. He dropped one end into the water, feeling it thump solidly against the sand below the waves. "Sykox! Help me push."

The charr and the human leaned into their task, shoving the pole hard into the sand. Isaye grasped the pole as well, her hands above Cobiah's, and added her slender weight. The warmth of her body pressed against his made the task seem less arduous, and even in their dire straits, Cobiah couldn't stifle his grin.

"I'd advise you to stop doing that, Captain." Macha's voice was sharp, almost brittle.

"What? We've almost-"

"I said stop," Macha keened, her voice breaking with panic on the high pitch. Again, Cobiah heard the ringing sound of bells, but they were no longer soft or delicate. Instead, they intensified, erupting into angry peals.

"Cobiah?" Macha yelled, and his eyes were drawn to the front of the s.h.i.+p. Hovering over the Capricorn's forecastle was a wraithlike image whose regal demeanor spoke of ancient days. It was human from the waist up, though blue-skinned and transparent, as if made of wind and smoke. The creature's legs were entirely mist, rising from the s.h.i.+p's prow as smoke and fog cascaded over the water. "Remember that story about the Istani djinn? Turns out it's . . . kinda . . . true."

The mist crept over the Capricorn, rolling like morning fog from the djinn's ethereal body. It stretched a hand toward Macha with a stern glower. Before the fingers touched her, the asura scampered back and summoned magic of her own. Chains of light wove from her scepter and struck out toward the djinn, trying to capture it in their embrace. With a faint, wry smile, the creature s.h.i.+fted in the air. Macha's chains pa.s.sed through its transparent form like a net through water.

Isaye's mad elementalist, Verahd, hissed in menace. Keeping his bright eyes fixed on the djinn, he lifted a clawed hand from his staff and whispered an invocation of air. More lightning crackled about Verahd's outstretched fingers, playing hide-and-seek through the strips of black bandage woven around each of the mage's arms. At his call, whirling gusts of wind swirled through the mist, attempting to force it either to dissipate or to coalesce and be tangled in Macha's writhing chains.

In response, light flowed through the djinn's ethereal form. There was a flash like the sun through clear water. The sea around the Capricorn swelled, rising in great waves against the s.h.i.+p's hull, and with each cras.h.i.+ng wave, the boom and toll of chapel bells reverberated through the deck. Cobiah felt them echo deep in his body, shaking his bones with each furious peal. All around him, Isaye's sailors were knocked into the water as the sound swept the s.h.i.+p's deck clean. As they screamed, the djinn's smile grew.

"What is it?" Cobiah howled, grabbing a yardarm rope to keep his balance. The peals continued, so loud he thought he would be deafened. The sail tossed madly above them, torn between Verahd's gale and the buffeting swell of the djinn's magic. "Macha! Make it stop!"

"It's the s.h.i.+p!" Macha shouted, her voice barely carrying through the music and the wind. "The djinn is the Capricorn. The s.h.i.+p's alive-and it doesn't want to be stolen!"

The ringing of the mighty bell rose even farther, and as the sound rippled over the s.h.i.+p, Macha's chains shattered into thin motes of spinning light. Verahd's tornado of wind dissolved as well, delicate wisps of smoke collapsing into nothingness. The djinn gestured with a flick of its hand, and as it did, both magic-users were tossed over the side as if they were made of straw.

Isaye held on to the last. Silhouetted by magic, her grip on the mast slipped, and she was flung into the air by the pulse of the djinn's bells. Without thinking, Cobiah reached to catch her. Their fingers wrapped tightly together, and he clenched his other hand about the yardarm rope. Isaye's ponytail snapped in the gale-force wind, and Cobiah heard the masts creak and groan with the weight of the Capricorn's ire.

Turning to face the djinn, Cobiah ignored the rope biting savagely into his palm. Blood ran down his wrist, and his pale hair lashed at his eyes, nearly blinding him, but Cobiah stubbornly refused to yield. He raised his voice above the din and yelled, "As captain of this vessel, I order you-" In that instant, the mast line snapped.

Cobiah and Isaye tumbled, end over end, into the ocean.

The next few moments were a chaotic jumble. Seawater splashed everywhere, churned white by the forces that whipped it into a frenzy. Terror gripped Cobiah. Old memories stirred in him: another s.h.i.+p, a great wave, and a hundred sailors lost beneath the waves. He hadn't realized how clearly he remembered that day until it was echoed, and he was once more flung into the sea by a storm-wind. Unable to control his rising panic, Cobiah thrashed wildly, fear choking him as certainly as the ocean could.

A gentle hand gripped Cobiah's arm. He tried not to struggle as it dragged him upward. As his head broke the surface, there was another grip, this time on his shoulder. With monumental strength, a ma.s.sive paw hauled him out of the undertow and dropped him unceremoniously onto the sand. Isaye waded out of the water beside him, managing a smile.

Cobiah pulled himself to his hands and knees, coughing up water through a raw, salt-rough throat. Forcing open his stinging eyes, he looked out at the lagoon and saw the sleek shadow of the Capricorn sailing-without wind or crew-back to her harbor in the s.h.i.+pyard. "I couldn't get to you, Cap'n," Sykox lamented. "Lucky thing that girl grabbed hold and pulled you up. She's a real sc.r.a.pper, isn't she?"

Isaye lay on the beach beside him, panting in exhaustion. Her sailors were scattered up and down the beach, crawling out of the tide or collapsed on the dunes. Cobiah could hear the two magic-users spluttering and arguing somewhere nearby. It seemed that they'd all survived their humiliating withdrawal from the Capricorn.

Sykox slumped down onto the sand. The charr was waterlogged again, his fur sticking out like a half-drowned bilge rat's. All four ears hung limply, and a long strand of seaweed was tangled about his horns. The expression on his b.e.s.t.i.a.l features was somewhere between exasperation and despair. He looked up at the approaching watch guard. "No use running, I suppose."

"None at all," Cobiah agreed.

Watch Commander Pierandra marched up to them, sword in hand. From the tip of her jet-black boots to the top of the tabard over her glittering metal armor, Pierandra radiated fury. Her honey-colored hair was damp, and her skin was flushed with anger. Without hesitation, she lowered her sword and pointed the sharp edge into Cobiah's face.

"Good morning, Watch Commander Pierandra." Cobiah tried not to move, lest her sword waver and cut off his nose.

"You're all under arrest for grand larceny, piracy, and illegal commandeering. Surrender yourself to the guard for immediate execution of justice." She bit off the words angrily, her breath heaving from the effort of the run. Ten more guards moved to surround them, and more were headed toward them from the town. Cobiah held up his hands in surrender and watched the others do the same.

"I . . . aaah . . . eeeerk . . . can't stop . . . have . . . to . . ." Sykox shuddered. Before anyone could move, he started to shake violently, unable to control his instincts any longer. Water flew off the charr in thick splatters, drenching Cobiah, Isaye, the watch commander, and most of the others. When the urge finally left him, Sykox let out an aggrieved sigh.

Cobiah hadn't thought it was possible for Pierandra to appear less amused, but he'd been wrong. Dripping from head to toe, the watch commander clenched her hand on the hilt of her sword. "That is enough. By the authority given to me as watch commander of Port Stalwart, you are all found guilty of piracy. You will be hanged from the gallows until you are dead."

"Not many spellcasters have the intellectual fort.i.tude for a spell of that magnitude. The cosmogony of the sigil matrix has to be incredibly precise. Are you quite sure it works?"

"Extremely. I've done it on numerous occasions. You can rely on symmetry to stabilize it so long as the structure is ethericly ideal."

"Ideal?" The asura blinked. "How do you make that kind of a matrix conform to an ideal? By definition, its points of light are randomized-"

"Not randomized," Verahd corrected Macha gently. "Not arbitrary or accidental, either. Only inconsistent. Subjective. Once you take into account the factors that misalign the sigil's plane, you can predict the pattern."

Macha clamped her palms to her head. "But your theory precludes thousands of potential algorithms!"

"It's daunting at first, yes, but you get a feel for it." Verahd shrugged, pus.h.i.+ng his reddish hair behind his ears. It didn't stay there long, fluttering down around his face again the moment his hand fell to the drawing. "If only I had my staff. It's really quite relaxing to do once you know how. A pity magic can't be done without weapon-focuses. This really is much easier to understand if you simply see it done."

"I'm sure if you ask, Pierandra will gladly give you back your staff so you can teach. Maybe she'll give me back my pistols, too. I'm in the mood to hand some 'education' of my own to those guards," Cobiah grumped.

Exchanging a wearied look with his friend, Sykox leaned against the cold stone wall and rubbed a paw through the salt-clumped fur at the back of his neck. "Well, at least someone's having a good time." In another cell, the dark-haired sailor, Henst, sharpened a loose stone against the wall and grunted in bored agreement.

Their prison was underground, beneath the watch commander's station house. The walls were made of hewn earth reinforced with thick oak beams. Iron bars separated four large cells, with a small central hallway where prisoners were led down from above. There were two wooden cots in each cell, as well as a chamber pot with a lid. Thin windows, only six inches tall, allowed a fillet of morning light to illuminate each cell. The floors were hard-packed earth with a light covering of straw. Comfortable and humane, really, for a prison, thought Cobiah. They'd been here only a couple days while the guard readied the gallows. He'd stayed far longer in far worse.

The prisoners from the Capricorn debacle had been separated into three cells. Macha, Cobiah, Isaye, and two of her crew were in one of them. Verahd, Henst, and the other sailors were in the second, and Sykox was alone in the third. None of the thin cots could hold the charr, so he sat on the ground amid the hay and mourned his fate.

Two days. They'd been rotting in this cell for two days, with no sign of escape or release. Cobiah stood on the cot in his cell, leaning morosely against the shelf of his narrow, barred window. Yesterday had been sunny, and he'd been able to glimpse the Capricorn under full sail. All hands on board were waving and yelling during the casting-off celebration on the docks. Today, on the other hand, was dawning gray and cold.

"It's not so bad, Sykox," Cobiah said, trying to cheer him up. "At least they're feeding us."

"Human food." The charr slumped, and his tail smacked rhythmically against the floor. "What I wouldn't give to eat something that kicks when I bite it."

". . . You could apply the same aspect-ratio ideology to astronomical calculations, too," Macha was saying excitedly. She and the elementalist Verahd sat at the shared bars between their cells, heads bowed together as they drew in the dirt with bits of hay.

"I suppose you could," Verahd agreed. "Take the sigil plane and apply it to Tyria's horizon. Then find two points to triangulate instead of simply measuring the singular aspect of the sun's verticality . . ." Macha stared, utterly absorbed by the patterns he'd drawn in the earth.

Upstairs, the thick oak door to the dungeon cells creaked on its hinges. Heavy boots lumbered down the stairs. Four burly guardsmen carrying lengths of rope tromped down to stand in the central hallway. Behind them came Watch Commander Pierandra, thin lips twisted into a satisfied smile. "Tie everyone securely before you take them from the cells. As for the charr . . ." She drew a large pair of iron manacles from her belt and tossed them onto the ground in front of Sykox's cage. "He's too big to hang. Clap his arms and legs in irons, and throw him into the sea."

It was a relatively simple task to hold the human crew and Macha at swordpoint and tie their hands-simple, that is, when compared with the effort required to manacle a charr. By the time the guards were finished, their tabards were torn, their armor dented, and their faces bloodied by swipes of Sykox's claws. One had a concussion; another's head was wedged tightly between the cell bars; a third cursed energetically and hobbled on a twisted ankle. Though he fought valiantly, Sykox was finally cuffed and chained.

The prisoners were attached to a long strand of rope and then paraded out of the prison and through the town of Port Stalwart. Cobiah counted ten guards in all, including the two still nursing their wounds back at the watch commander's headquarters. Eleven, if you counted Pierandra. Taking a moment to size up the watch commander's graceful step and thickly muscled arms, Cobiah decided to round the number up to twelve.

Twelve. There were almost as many prisoners-if Isaye and her crew were willing to take the risk . . . Cobiah glanced toward the tall woman, admiring how her dark hair shone with a soft reddish undertone in the morning light.

Blinking, he snapped his head down again. Twelve guards. Their numbers were close enough. The guards were carrying weapons. They had armor, and their hands were free. The prisoners, on the other hand . . . What we have, Cobiah thought, is . . . is . . .

Two exhausted magic-users and a very annoyed charr.

Cobiah sighed under his breath. "We're doomed."

A rough gallows had been erected at the end of the dock closest to the guardhouse. A dozen tall beams stood like scarecrows at the edge of the jetty, each bearing a short crossbar from which hung a length of rope. A man stood at the gallows, tying the ropes into thirteen-coiled hoop knots that sailors called the devil's window. Several locals gathered on the docks: fishermen and laborers, fellow sailors and local farmhands, all eager to see the show. Henst spat on them from his place in line, returning their jeers with taunts of his own. The rest of the prisoners marched quietly and kept their thoughts to themselves.

A knot caught in Cobiah's throat as they marched ever closer. He scanned the vessels in the harbor as they walked past each one, but the Pride was not among them. She must have been still waiting, hidden in their false cove near the harbor mouth. Good, Cobiah thought. My crew won't have to see this. More, they won't be fools and risk their lives trying to save us before we hang.

One by one, the prisoners were detached and moved to the individual gallows. Cobiah took his turn among them without complaint. Isaye was placed beside him, the noose sliding over her head and tucked beneath the thick mane of her hair.

She caught him looking and scowled. "If you hadn't gotten in our way-"

"In your way? We were there first."

"Your plan was stupid. Ours was better."

"So we should have just left? Excuse me, but I had a knife at my throat. I wasn't thinking about 'ladies first.' Especially not for one engaged in committing piracy."

"Successful piracy." She stressed the word. "I had a plan. We'd worked everything out, every detail. We had enough sailors to man the sails and an elementalist to create wind enough to blow us ahead of any pursuit. And you-what were you doing? Jumping and hoping there'd be a net to catch you?"

Stung, Cobiah protested, "It's always worked in the past."

"You are so shortsighted. How did you ever get to be a captain?" Isaye grumbled.

"By being shortsighted, of course," Cobiah retorted. The guard checking the knots hushed them as he moved past, but Cobiah ignored it. This might be his last few moments on Tyria, and Cobiah'd be d.a.m.ned if he'd let this woman go out with the last word. "I've sailed from here to Cantha. I know every cove from Rata Sum to the Splintered Coast, every s.h.i.+pping route from Port Stalwart to Port n.o.ble. I-"

"All that," Isaye said, s.h.i.+fting grumpily in her noose, "and you didn't take into account that the tide won't help you if you don't have the wind on your side as well? If we hadn't been there, you three would never have been able to get the sails down in time. I may not know your secret coves, but I know how to tell the exact minute the tide will turn. After Lion's Arch fell, I studied the new currents in the Sea of Sorrows until I knew them by heart."

This woman was absolutely infuriating! "We only needed the tide for a few minutes. Our s.h.i.+p was waiting at the harbor mouth to tow us out to sea. We had a chance . . . until the djinn came," Cobiah said mournfully.

"Yeah." Isaye's hazel eyes softened. "Until the djinn came." They shared a long moment, silently cursing luck, timing, and Istani djinn.

Watch Commander Pierandra blew a long, somber note on a hunting horn. The chilly sound echoed over the gray cove as the morning mist thickened. As the note faded away, Cobiah's sharp ears caught the sound of waves lapping against s.h.i.+ps' hulls, splas.h.i.+ng on rocks, and rolling up the sh.o.r.e. In half an hour, the sun would rise and burn away the fog. The town would rouse from slumber. Sailors would report to their s.h.i.+ps and dock-hands would begin the day's labor. Just a morning, like every other. Just another day.

Goose b.u.mps rose on Cobiah's arms as he realized it would be a day he'd never see. Guards stepped up from behind them, tightening the nooses. "The prisoners are ready, Commander!" one yelled.

Watch Commander Pierandra marched solemnly along the row, gazing at each prisoner in turn. Verahd muttered something under his breath as she pa.s.sed, and the watch commander snarled. "If you have a problem with your situation, pirate," she said, goading him, "all you have to do is jump. Maybe you can swim away."

Frowning, Verahd twisted his hands in the ropes and did not reply.

Reaching the end, the watch commander turned to face her prisoners. With a nod to the hangman, she prepared to blow a third and final note. When it sounded, the guards would push the prisoners from the edge of the dock, and it would all be over.

"Cobiah!" Sykox shouted in desperation. Twisting his head to the side, he could see the valiant charr being forced toward the water by three stalwart-looking guardsmen with spears. "I don't want to drown! I'd rather die fighting!" The charr roared again, slas.h.i.+ng at his enemies with manacled hands and hobbled feet, but he was little match for the long reach of their spears. Tears welled in Cobiah's eyes as he fought helplessly against his bonds.

"You really care about that charr, don't you?" Isaye murmured softly.

"Of course I care about him." Cobiah bit back something sharper. "He's in my crew. Would you feel any different if they were going to drown Henst?"

Isaye bit her lip and shook her head in silent understanding.

At the sh.o.r.e end of the dock, Watch Commander Pierandra raised the hunting horn, and Cobiah felt the sword against his side press in more deeply. Sykox's snarls and the clank of his chains filled the morning air, but Cobiah couldn't watch. He felt frozen, without breath, every muscle tensed as if for battle.

But the sound that pierced the slowly dissolving mist wasn't a hunting horn. Nor was it the ma.s.sive splash that Cobiah expected to hear at any moment from the end of the pier where Sykox was being pushed farther and farther toward the sea. Instead, Cobiah heard the sound of a mighty naval bell echoing across the water as a galleon burst out of the fog. Cobiah's heart leapt into his throat. He imagined the Pride coming to their rescue, or one of Macha's illusions, fooling their captors into giving them an opening for escape. But what he saw coming through the fog was none of those things.

Instead, the mist was shredded by a rotted black prow.

The s.h.i.+p was ma.s.sive. Her gunwale rose eighteen feet above the water, and her keel was sleek and sharp. Three huge masts, broken and splintered along their length, nevertheless rose like bristling wires from the center of a barnacle-covered deck. Magic held them aloft as wind caught in her festering sails. The galleon wallowed in the water, but her heading was true, and as she tilted to bring her broadside about, Cobiah could see the sickly green-gold of a bra.s.s figurehead guiding her over the murky waves.

Six arms rose from a woman's torso, two reaching up to the sky, two spread back against the s.h.i.+p in mute protection, and the lowest pair curling down at her sides. The smile on the figurehead's face may once have been lovely, but beneath the green tarnish and the blackened cracks in the bra.s.s, it had become the visage of a demon.

The s.h.i.+p in the fog was the Indomitable.

"Dead s.h.i.+p!" one of the guards on the dock screamed. He fell back, dropping his sword with a clatter onto the planking. "Dead s.h.i.+p ahoy!"

The first b.l.o.o.d.y red rays of morning crept through the mist, and Cobiah could see a second keel, then a third, then more bursting out of the fog: frigates and bilanders, scows and carracks, with the mighty galleon at the fore. It was a nightmare armada. The s.h.i.+ps were ruined, their hulls cracked and weathered, yet still they sailed on. The sailors on their riggings were blue with water, flesh sloughing away from still-moving bone. Hideous creatures swept past on spectral wings, tattered skin flapping in a twisted imitation of seabirds-but far more ma.s.sive in scale.

The undead armada bombarded the docked s.h.i.+ps of Port Stalwart with ferocious enthusiasm. The galleon's broadside pealed out like thunder. Heavy black cannonb.a.l.l.s launched through thick tufts of smoke obscuring her open portholes. Cobiah had little time to react, and even if he'd had the presence of mind to yell, the sound of whistling flight would have drowned out any orders he'd have given.

The shot roared into thunder as it struck, shredding holes in the moored s.h.i.+ps, the wharves, and the long dock on which they stood. Some went farther, cras.h.i.+ng into buildings by the sh.o.r.e and tearing into the city. Where the heavy iron struck wood, it exploded, casting chunks of timber and broken brick in every direction. The dock tilted to the side as several of the pylons holding it above water shattered out from under its boards. Cobiah heard the guards at the end of the wharf scream as creatures with tattered wings and fetid claws swooped down and s.n.a.t.c.hed them away. Several of the guards broke and ran, dropping their weapons in a panic to reach the sh.o.r.e before the dock capsized into the sea.

"Isaye!" Cobiah called. "The sword by your foot. Kick it to me!"

She looked down and discovered the weapon. Without hesitation, Isaye tucked the toe of her boot beneath it, flipping the sword into his hands.

Cobiah turned and let the weapon slap against his back, trapping it with his tied arms as it slid down his body. "Back up against me. Cut your hands loose on the blade," he said in a rush. "Hurry. It'll take them nineteen seconds to reload." She spun, bending as far forward as her noose would allow so that she could reach back with her tied hands. There was a sharp exclamation as Isaye blindly found the sword's edge. Drawing the ropes across the blade, she was free.

Isaye wrenched the noose from her neck. "How do you know how long it takes that galleon to reload? Every s.h.i.+p's timing is different," she gasped, reaching to help Cobiah get free.

"I know that s.h.i.+p," Cobiah said grimly.

Isaye cut him free, and as she did, a second peal of gunfire sounded from the galleon. This time, there were echoing booms from several of the smaller s.h.i.+ps in the harbor. The sailors of Port Stalwart were beginning to fight back. Still, looking at the size and number of their enemy, they wouldn't be fighting for long.