“Daylight is such a remarkable thing, isn’t it, Mister Reese? The gods know, I see so little of it. Oh, and there’s Korbal…”
Emancipor turned to where Bauchelain was pointing. There, in their wake, flew a single crow amidst a dozen wheeling seagulls. The black bird dipped and glided on the wind like a torn piece of darkness.
“He’s tireless, is Korbal Broach,” Bauchelain said, smiling fondly.
Tireless. Oh.
“I should warn you, Mister Reese. I have sensed something awry with this ship. The captain, she seems disinclined to provide details as to our destination, and then there’s the oddity of the nails, Mister Reese, the nails holding this ship together…”
He went on, but Emancipor had stopped listening. Destination? Damn you, Bauchelain-you say eastward, as far as anyone’d go. So I done what you said, damn you. And now, here I am… trapped. Beyond Tithe Strait lay the open sea, stretching… stretching away, for gods-damned forever, Bauchelain! That’s the ocean out there, dammit!
“Mister Reese?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you anticipate this journey to last very long?”
Forever, you bastard. “Months,” he snapped, his jaws grinding together.
“Oh my. This could prove… unpleasant. It’s the nails, you see, Mister Reese… they may affect my scribed circle. As I was saying, the iron’s aspected, in some mysterious manner. My concern is that Korbal’s child might well escape…”
Emancipor clamped his mouth shut. He felt a tooth crack.
His laughter, when it burst out, set off the seagulls astern. Their wild, echoing cackling ended abruptly. Sailors shouted. Emancipor fell to his knees, unable to stop, barely able to breathe.
“Unfortunate,” Bauchelain murmuered. “Even so, I had no idea seagulls burned so readily. Korbal so dislikes loud noises, Mister Reese. I do hope you succeed in restraining your odd mirth, soon. As soon as possible, Mister Reese. Korbal is looking agitated, very agitated indeed.”