KNOT AND VINE were fast and efficient, moving from bar to nailshed to bar, seeking silently and collecting their fellows. They said little to Nailer as they worked the Orleans. The rest of the crew were regular people, not half-men at all. Wu: tall and blond and missing fingers. Trimble: thickly muscled, with forearms like hams and a tattoo of a mermaid on one bicep. Cat, with his green eyes and steady stare. Reynolds, with a long black braid running down her back, short and stocky and with a pistol in her belt.
Reynolds was the first located and she took command. At each venue, all she said was “Nita” and the drunken crew sobered or dropped their whores and came away until they were a fast-moving knot of muscle and bare steel cutting through the drowned city’s revelry of sailors and traders.
It was astonishing to watch how efficiently they moved. An entire team mobilized instantly at the invocation of Lucky Girl’s name. Astonishing to see the value these people placed on her. Until recently, Nailer had mostly thought of her just as a rich girl who bought the muscle she needed, but here was something else, this clustered tribe of weaponry and purpose. Total loyalty. More intense even than crew loyalty in the ship-breaking yards.
Reynolds pointed them to scouting locations. “Anyone seen Kaliki and Michene?”
Heads shook. She smiled tightly. “Good. Keep your eyes out for anyone you’ve seen on another of the company ships. We know Pyce’s lackeys are around and they’re hunting, too.” She turned to Nailer. “Where is she?”
Nailer pointed out the drowned mansion that over-looked the Orleans waters. “Up there. In one of those rooms. Where the trees are growing out of the roof.”
Reynolds nodded at Vine and Knot. “Go get her.” She waved at Wu. “Bring the skiff around.”
Nailer said, “I’d better go, too. We saw some other half-men before. Pyce’s. They were hunting for her. She’ll think you’re with Pyce.”
Reynolds hesitated.
Cat shrugged. “Captain Candless believes him, right?”
“Go,” she said.
Nailer ran to catch up with Knot and Vine. “She’s up here,” he said breathlessly. He slipped ahead of them, leading.
They sloshed into the collapsing house, water splashing around them. Rotten stairs creaked as they made their way up to the squat. The house was strangely silent. No one was in it at all. None of the other slum dwellers, none of the other scavengers and dock laborers. It should have been full of the snoring bodies of coolie laborers, all exhausted and unconscious from their day shift work. Instead, there was silence. Their own room was empty except for the rusted bed and its springs.
Nailer came down the stairs to the flooded main floor, shaking his head, followed by the half-men. “I don’t get it. She’s-”
A shadow in the waters moved, sending ripples. Knot and Vine growled.
“Lucky Girl?” Nailer called softly. “Nita?”
The shadow resolved into a thickly muscled form, slumped against a rotting wall, water up around its waist as it sat, breathing heavily in the darkness. One hard yellow eye opened, flaring like a lantern in the darkness.
“Your father has her now,” the shadow rumbled.
“Tool!” Nailer rushed forward.
Blood smeared the half-man’s muzzle and more black blood ran sticky down his chest, slashes from machete cuts. His cheek was laid open with claw marks and one eye was completely closed with a swelling bruise, but it was Tool nonetheless.
“And you didn’t fight for her?” Captain Candless stared at Tool, incredulous. “Even when your patron wished her protected?” They were all on the Dauntless, a huddle of demoralized sailors standing around Nailer and Tool, as Tool explained what had happened.
“The boy is not my patron,” Tool rumbled. He daubed at the blood still oozing from the cut above his half-closed eye.
The captain scowled and stalked over to Dauntless’s rail. Dawn was just breaking the sky into pale gray, illuminating the floating docks and the distant mist-shrouded structures of drowned Orleans. “They said they were taking her to a ship? You’re sure?”
“I am.” Tool turned his gaze to Nailer. “Your father was disappointed that you weren’t with Lucky Girl. He wanted to keep the ship waiting while he hunted for you longer. The man has plans for you, Nailer.”
“And you just sat and listened while all this went on?” Midshipman Reynolds demanded.
Tool blinked once, slowly. “Richard Lopez had many half-men, well armed. I do not lunge into battles that cannot be won.”
Knot and Vine curled their lips at Tool’s answer and growled guttural contempt. Tool didn’t flinch, just looked at the pair. “The girl is your patron, not mine. If you enjoy dying for the sake of your owners, that is your business.”
Nailer felt a thrill of dread at the half-man’s words. There was a challenge there, and these other half-men, Knot and Vine, sensed it. Their growling rose. They started forward.
The captain waved them off. “Knot! Vine! Go below. I’ll handle this.”
Their growls cut short. Their stares were still hard, but they turned away and went down through one of the clipper’s gangways, disappearing belowdecks. The captain turned back to Tool. “Did they say the name of their ship?”
Tool shook his huge head.
Midshipman Reynolds pinched her lip, thoughtful. “There’s a couple ships that might be down here. We’ve got Seven Sisters on the north-south passenger run. The Ray running charter. Mother Ganga carrying iron scrap down to Cancun.” She shrugged. “No one else scheduled down here until harvest season when the grain comes down the Mississippi.”
“The Ray, then,” the captain said. “It will be the Ray. Mr. Marn was quick enough to declare confidence in Pyce when Nita’s father was forced aside. It must be the Ray.”
Nailer frowned. The list of ships bothered him. “Are there any other ships on your list?”
“None that would be carrying half-men as crew.”
Nailer chewed his lip, trying to remember. “There was a ship, another one, or a different name at least, that chased Lucky Girl into the storm. It was a big ship. Built for the north… North Run, maybe?”
Reynolds and the captain looked at him, puzzled.
Nailer scowled, frustrated. He couldn’t quite remember the name. North Run? North Pole Run? “Northern Run?” he tried. “North Pole?”
“Pole Star?” the captain prompted, suddenly interested.
Nailer nodded uncertainly. “Maybe.”
Reynolds and the captain exchanged glances. “An ugly name,” Reynolds muttered.
The captain looked hard at Nailer. “Are you sure? Pole Star?”
Nailer shook his head. “I just remember that it was a ship for crossing the pole.”
The captain grimaced. “Let’s hope you’re not right.”
“Does it change anything?”
He shook his head. “Nothing that concerns you.” He glanced at Reynolds. “Even if it is Pole Star, they shouldn’t know that we’re their enemy yet. None of you did anything to identify yourselves onshore.”
“Except you,” Reynolds observed dryly.
“Our late lieutenant is hardly going to complain.” The captain paused, thinking again. “We can take them. With a bit of trickery and their trust, it can be done. A bit of trickery, a touch from the Fates-”
“-and a blood offering,” someone muttered.
The captain grinned. “Anyone on the Ray or Pole Star we can trust?”
The others shook their heads. “They’ve been shuffling crews,” Reynolds said. “I think Leo and Fritz might have ended up on the Ray.”
“And you trust them?”
Reynolds smiled, showing black teeth from chewing betel nut. “Almost as much as I trust you.”
“Anyone else?”
“Li Yan?”
Cat shook his head. “No. If she’s there, she’s gone over.”
Nailer watched, not comprehending. The captain glanced at him. “Ah, boy, you’re in an ugly fight, you are. A bit of a contested leadership right now in the shipping clan.”
“Rook,” Trimble said suddenly. “Rook would stay loyal.”
“Is he on Pole Star?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it, then?” When no one else spoke, the captain nodded. “Well, then. We’re hunting for Pyce’s traitorous lackeys and we’re going to take their ship and we’re going to free Miss Nita, and take back our company from the usurper.” He nodded at the crew. “Get us under way. Reynolds, you’re promoted now that poor Henry took the plunge.”
Reynolds grinned. “I was doing his work anyway.”
“Wouldn’t have gotten rid of him if I didn’t know it.”
The crew scattered to their jobs, running to release the lines on the ship and raise the anchors.
Tool heaved himself upright. “Hold the ship,” he said. “I will not be joining you.”
Nailer turned, surprised. “You’re leaving?”
“I do not crave death on the seas.” The half-man’s sharp teeth showed briefly, a feral smile. “If you’re wise, you will join me, Nailer. Walk away from this.”
The captain watched, curious. “Who is your patron, then?” he asked. “Not the boy, not Miss Nita. Who, then?”
Tool regarded him steadily. “I have none.”
The captain laughed, incredulous. “Impossible.”
“Believe what you wish.” The half-man turned and shambled for the dock.
Nailer ran after him. “Wait! Why can’t you come with us?”
Tool paused. He scanned the crew, then turned his fierce one-eyed gaze on Nailer. “I told Sadna I would protect you. But I will not protect you from foolishness. If you choose to risk yourself on the sea, it is nothing to do with me. You have a new crew, I think. My debt to Sadna is repaid.”
“But what about Lucky Girl?”
Tool looked at Nailer. “She is just one person. These people think she is infinitely valuable. But she is just one more who will die, if not now, then later.” He nodded at the bustle of the ship. “Come with me, or stay and risk yourself with these ones. It’s your choice. But you should know that they are fanatics. They will die for their Miss Nita. If you go with them, be sure you are willing to do the same.”
Nailer hesitated. With Tool, he could be safe. They could go anywhere.
Nita’s face intruded on his thoughts, her smug look when she teased him about not eating with a fork and knife and spoon. Contrasted with that, her frantic urging that he get medicine for his shoulder when he was still nothing but a ship breaker to her. And then, finally, the look in her eyes when they hid beside the boardwalk. Her hand on his cheek…
“I’m going,” he said firmly.
Tool studied him. “So. You bite like a mastiff and never let go. Just like your father, then.” Nailer started to retort, but Tool waved him silent. “Don’t argue the obvious. Lopez never let anything stand in his way, either.” Tool’s teeth showed briefly. “Be certain that you aren’t biting something bigger than you, Nailer. I have seen hunting hounds corner a great Komodo dragon, and they died as a pack because they didn’t have the sense to retreat. Your father is more than a dragon. If he catches you, he will slaughter you. And this merchant vessel is no warship, no matter what its captain foolishly believes.”
Nailer started to answer, tried to say something full of bravado, but something in Tool’s eyes stopped him. “I understand. I’ll be careful.”
Tool nodded sharply and turned away, but then he paused. He crouched down, his great head leaning close. His remaining eye regarded Nailer, and his breath was laced with the stench of combat and blood.
“Listen to me, boy. Scientists created me from the genes of dogs and tigers and men and hyenas, but people always believe I am only their dog.” Tool’s eyes flicked to the captain, and his sharp teeth gleamed in a brief smile. “When the fighting comes, don’t deny your slaughter nature. You are no more Richard Lopez than I am an obedient hound. Blood is not destiny, no matter what others may believe.” Tool straightened again and turned away. “Good luck, boy. And good hunting.”
The captain watched the half-man limp down the gangplank. “A strange creature, that one.”
Nailer didn’t answer. The anchors were rising. The gangplank reeled inward and sealed itself into a compartment in the side of the clipper. Already Tool was disappearing down the dock. Nailer felt suddenly alone. He wanted to call after Tool. To run after him… He looked around at the bustling crew, all of them working at jobs he didn’t understand, all of them crew, all of them knowing one another and familiar with one another’s work. He felt terribly out of place.
Pale sails unfurled, rippling in the breezes. The ship’s boom swept across the deck and crewmen ducked under its swing. The sails filled with air and the ship heeled slightly under their pressure. It began to move, urged forward by the increasing breezes of the dawn.
The captain motioned at Nailer. “Come below, boy. I want a look at you.”
Nailer wanted to stay on deck, to watch the activity, to see if he could still spy Tool on the docks, but he let the captain guide him down the narrow steps to the cramped interior of the ship.
The captain opened a door to his own cabin. A small bunk filled most of the space. A window peered out the stern. In the increasing light, the ship’s wake curled white behind them, a spreading vee in the still gray water of morning. The captain nodded to Nailer that he should fold down a bench. He released a seat of his own, nearly filling the room.
“Space is at a premium,” he said. “We’re for cargo. Not a lot of comfort.”
Nailer nodded, even though he didn’t know what the captain was talking about. The ship was divine. Everything was clean and ordered. No one seemed to sleep in a room with more than three other people. The hammocks were all strung tidily. Nothing was out of place. It wasn’t like the ship that Lucky Girl had come off, but it was damn close.
“Tell me, Nailer, where did you come from, originally?”
“Bright Sands Beach.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s up the coast,” Nailer said. “A hundred miles, maybe.”
“There’s nothing up there…” The captain frowned. “You’re a ship breaker?” When Nailer nodded, the captain made a face. “I should have guessed from your ribs and work tattoos.” He studied Nailer’s marked skin. “Ugly work, that.”
“It pays, though.”
“How old are you? Fourteen? Fifteen? You look so starved, I can’t tell.”
Nailer shrugged. “Pima was sixteen, I think. And she was older than me…” He shrugged.
“You don’t know?”
Nailer shrugged again. “Doesn’t really matter. Either you’re small enough for light crew, or you’re big enough for heavy crew, and either way, if you’re too stupid or lazy or untrustworthy, then you’re neither, because no one will vouch for you. No. I don’t know how old I am. But I made it onto light crew, and I made quota every day. That’s what matters where I come from. Not your stupid age.”
“Don’t be testy. I’m just curious about you.” The captain seemed about to say something more on the topic, but instead turned to the subject of Richard Lopez.
“The half-man said your father was hunting you?”
“Yeah.” Nailer described the beach and his father, the way things ran on the wrecks. Described how his father dealt with people who opposed him.
“Why didn’t you just go along?” the captain asked. “It would have been easier for you. More profitable, certainly. Pyce has no hesitation about buying loyalty. You would have been rich and safe if you’d just sold Miss Nita.”
Nailer shrugged.
The captain’s face turned hard. “I want an answer,” he said. “You’re going against your own blood. Maybe you’ve got second thoughts. Maybe you’d like to work out a truce with your father.”
Nailer laughed. “My dad doesn’t give anyone a chance for second thoughts. He cuts you first. He talks about family sticking together, but what he really means is that I give him money so he can slide crystal, and make sure he’s okay on his binges, and he hits me when he wants.” Nailer made a face. “Lucky Girl’s more of a family than he is.”
As soon as he said it, he knew it was true. Despite the short time he’d known her, Nailer was sure of Nita. He could count the people on one hand who were like that, and Pima and Sadna were the ones who topped that list. And surprisingly, Lucky Girl was there, too. She was family. An overwhelming sense of loss threatened to swallow him.
“So now you want revenge,” the captain said.
“No. I just-” Nailer shook his head. “It’s not about my dad. It’s Lucky Girl. She’s good, right? She’s worth a hundred of some of my old crew. A thousand of my dad.” His voice cracked. Nailer took a breath, trying to master himself, then looked up at the captain. “I wouldn’t leave a dead dog with my dad, let alone Lucky Girl. I have to get her back.”
The captain studied Nailer thoughtfully. Silence stretched between them.
“You poor bastard,” the captain murmured finally.
“Me?” Nailer was confused. “Why?”
The captain smiled tightly. “You understand that Miss Nita belongs to one of the most powerful trading clans in the North?”
“So?”
“Eh. Never mind.” The captain sighed. “I’m sure Miss Nita would be pleased to know she inspires such loyalty from a ship breaker.”
Nailer felt his face turn hot with embarrassment. The captain made him sound like a starving mongrel, tagging at Lucky Girl’s heels, hoping for scraps. He wanted to say something, to change the captain’s impression of him. To make the man take him seriously. The captain saw a ship breaker, tattooed with work stamps and scarred with hard labor. A kid with his ribs showing through. That was all. A bit of beach trash.
Nailer stared at him. “Lucky Girl used to look at me the same way you’re looking at me. And now she doesn’t. That’s why I’m going with you. No other reason. Got it?”
The captain had the grace to look embarrassed. He glanced away and changed the subject. “Lucky Girl. Again with the nickname,” the captain said. “Why that?”
“She’s got the Fates with her. She came through a city killer and everyone else on that ship was dead. Doesn’t get much luckier than that.”
“And your people value luck,” the captain said.
“My people. Yeah, ship breakers like the lucky eye. Not much else to hang on to when you’re on the wrecks.”
“Skill? Hard work?”
Nailer laughed. “They’re nice. But they only get you so far. Look at you. You got yourself a swank ship and a swank life.”
“I’ve worked very hard for what I have.”
“Still born swank,” Nailer pointed out. “Pima’s mom works a thousand times harder than you and she’s never going to have a life as nice as what you got on this boat.” He shrugged. “If that ain’t being born with the lucky eye, I don’t know what is.”
The captain started to answer, then stopped and nodded shortly. “I suppose even our bad luck looks good to you.”
“Unless you’re dead,” Nailer said. “That’s about it, though.”
“Yes, well, I don’t plan on being dead quite yet.”
“No one does.”
The captain grinned. “I’ve got myself a regular oracle here.” He stood. “I’ll have to ask you to throw bones for me sometime. In the meantime, I can at least foretell that I’m willing to keep you aboard.” He looked Nailer up and down. “We’ll need to get you cleaned up and find some clothes and a decent meal for you.” He urged Nailer out the door and into the squeezeway beyond. “And then we’ll see about getting you trained with a pistol.”
“Yeah?” Nailer tried to hide his interest.
“Your half-man Tool was correct in one thing. If we’re going to bring Miss Nita back to us, there will be a fight. Pyce’s people won’t let her go easily.”
“You think you can take them?”
“Of course. Pyce took us once unawares, but we won’t make the mistake of underestimating him again.” He clapped Nailer’s shoulder. “With a little luck, we’ll have Miss Nita back and safe in no time.”
The ship was starting to dip into deep water, the waves churning under it as it made its way out of the safety of the bay. Nailer swayed unsteadily in the passageway, trying to keep his footing. The captain watched him. “You’ll get your sea legs soon, don’t worry. And when we’re up on the hydrofoils, it’s almost like standing on dry land.”
Nailer wasn’t so sure of that. The deck came up under his feet and sent him stumbling into a wall. The captain watched amused, then strode down the corridor, untroubled by the surge and roll of the deck.
Nailer staggered after. “Captain?”
The man turned.
“Your guy Pyce might be bad, but don’t underestimate my dad, either. He might look just like me, all skinny and cut up, but he’s deadly. He’ll kill you like a cockroach if you don’t watch him.”
The captain nodded. “I wouldn’t worry too much. If Pyce’s people haven’t killed me yet, your father won’t either.” He turned and led Nailer up onto the deck.
Wind ruffled Nailer’s face as they came up into the dawn. The sun’s light increased, a golden wave reaching across the ocean. Dauntless buried herself in the glittering waves, slicing for deeper waters.
Hunting.