Steel (13 page)

“Maybe I should find him first then, right?” That was always a good fencing strategy—take the offensive.

“He’s got a camp,” Read said, lowering her voice even more. “Somewhere on the coast, no one really knows where. He doesn’t even come into town for supplies. But walk straight east of here until you find the shore again. Then go south. But chances are you won’t find anything at all.”

“Thank you,” Jill said, though when Read scowled she wished she hadn’t.

“If I see Marjory, I’m telling her where you’ve gone.”

Jill turned and slipped out of the tavern quickly. Heads turned, following her progress. So much for being secretive.

Outside, away from the lights and noise, she looked into the trees behind the tavern, and up at the sky. She may not have had the stars worked out after spending weeks on a sailing ship at sea, but she could judge direction by the position of the waning moon overhead. She knew which way east was, and started heading that way.

She held her rapier close to her leg to keep it from knocking and getting tangled up in vegetation. Progress was slow—without a path, she had to pick her way around tangled shrubs and crawling vines.

She couldn’t get lost, she told herself. This was an island—if she walked long enough she’d simply reach ocean again. But she felt like she was walking far too long, past when she should have reached Blane’s camp. Read hadn’t said how far away it was.

All this assumed she continued walking in a straight line. She couldn’t navigate by the moon and stars anymore—the sky was hidden by the tall, reaching canopy of the forest. After what felt like an hour of thinking the trees all looked the same, she wondered. She studied a grove where three trunks grew close together, surrounded by a dense thicket, tiny white flowers growing over it on vines. When she set off again, she made sure to walk in a straight line—how hard could it be? She fenced, which meant training on straight lines, fighting on straight lines. If nothing else, she knew how to walk in a straight line.

Except there was the grove again, and she was sure now it was the third or fourth time she’d seen it, the trees, thicket, and flowers together.

Nothing seemed fantastic to her anymore, and a horrible idea occurred to her. She’d stepped out of one strange time loop, the one that had brought her to the historical Bahamas and the land of pirates, and into another—a loop of endless wandering in this cool nighttime forest.

Instead of continuing forward this time, she turned around and started walking back the way she’d come—the way she thought she’d come. She could get back to Nassau, back to the pirate tavern, ask Mary Read what she’d done wrong or find someone who could really help her and not lead her astray. If anyone in this world could really help her, and that was the trouble, wasn’t it? How did you trust a pack of pirates? Henry wasn’t around to ask—and he’d always been happy to answer her questions. She missed having someone to trust. And yes, she realized. She trusted him. Maybe she should have asked him to come along.

She walked faster, determined to get out of the trap.

However focused she was on the way ahead, she saw it when a man stepped out of the undergrowth to her left. He loomed forward, arms outstretched as he lunged for her, and she skittered away, putting her hand on the hilt of her sword.

A pair of men appeared behind her, another pair in front of her, and she was surrounded. They leered at her as if this was a game, as if she was an animal they had hunted down and cornered, and now the real fun began. She could try to dart away, try to run and duck out of their reach, but they had placed themselves with just enough space for her to think she could escape. To encourage her to escape so they could have the pleasure of capturing her. It was a feint to try to draw her into a stupid move, like she’d done in fencing a hundred times. She didn’t fall for it, but kept her place, circling, trying to keep the half dozen of them in view at the same time. She was too tense to be frightened, too ready to fight her way out. Time enough to be scared later.

Then they looked away from her, and that made her even more nervous, because they’d turned their attention to a new figure who’d stopped outside their circle.

This man was tall. He carried a lantern, the light of which emphasized the lines and crags of his face, his trimmed beard, and his grinning eyes. His tailored coat looked soft and rich, like velvet, and his breeches were leather. He might have seemed rich, but instead he seemed complicated, the richness of his clothes and the shining gold rings in his ears and chains on his neck contrasting with the worn leather of his gloves and boots. His thick, straight hair was tied in a tail with a red ribbon. He had a worn, well-used sword on a hanger at his belt—but the sword was missing the tip, the last six inches or so.

This was Edmund Blane.

You could lose a fencing bout before ever stepping onto the strip if you let your opponent intimidate you. If he had a reputation, and you let the reputation daunt you before the fight, you’d most likely lose. Fencing was as much a mind game as it was about physical skill.

She felt herself being daunted and tried to tell herself it was reputation, the stories she’d heard about him and fear left over from the battle at sea.

“Come along, then,” he said in a soft, calm voice—a tone that surprised her, and made her even more wary. “We’ll go where we can talk.”

He turned and walked away, not waiting for her response, not caring if she had one. His men fell in around her, an obvious escort for a prisoner.

Well. This was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?

In silence, they continued. Blane and his crew didn’t seem to have the problem of not being able to walk in the straight line that Jill had struggled with. In moments, they left the forest and entered a rocky clearing.

Something crazy was going on, then. This was why no one could find them—unless Blane wanted to be found. Not that it made her feel any better.

In some ways, this seemed like a typical pirate camp, like the one that the
Diana
’s crew had made when they careened the ship on Jamaica. A pair of cook fires burned and formed the center of the camp; men were working repairing ropes, sails, tackle, any number of items; the smell of rum on the air was evident. But the atmosphere was subdued, taut. No one sang, no one laughed. They talked in low, anxious voices, and when Blane appeared they all fell silent and looked at him. Cooper’s crew looked on her with respect when she passed by, maybe with fondness, maybe even some love, but always respect. Blane’s crew turned wide and hungry eyes on him; they respected him and his power, but they obeyed him because they were afraid of him.

They were preparing weapons, sharpening blades on a whetstone, cleaning muskets and lining them up in a long, dark row.

Jill kept her back straight and reminded herself that she could use the sword she carried, that none of them had thought to take away from her. At least, she was pretty sure she could.

The clearing overlooked a cove, a sheltered inlet on the coast. The
Heart’s Revenge
was anchored a little ways off, a fearsome ship lit by lanterns and flickering shadows, its masts naked and skeletal. Blane stopped at the edge of the camp, before the overhang dropped off, a steep slope to the narrow, sandy beach below, and looked out at his ship for a moment. Jill waited.

“Where is it?” Blane asked, still looking outward.

Jill swallowed; she hadn’t had any water to drink in hours, and her throat was sticky. If she asked for a drink, they’d only give her something with rum in it. She wasn’t going to drink any rum here.

“Where is what?” she said, knowing what he was asking about.

“The sword. You’re here because you found the missing piece of my sword.”

“How do you know that?”

“I made that sword. I know everything about it, and you’re connected to it. Now, where’s the shard?”

Even broken and useless, he still carried the sword because it was important. Because he needed it, and he needed it whole, because it had power. And if the broken piece of steel had brought her here, maybe the sword it had come from could send her home. Somehow.

Before she lost her nerve, she said quickly, “If you know everything, then you know how I got here, and you know I don’t belong here. I need—I want to go back home. Can you help me? Can you send me back?”

“Perhaps. If you can tell me where the piece is.”

It wasn’t like he didn’t already know so much, or that he could do anything differently if she told him. But saying where it was—telling him directly—would be betraying Captain Cooper. Jill couldn’t do it.

“If you know everything about it, then you already know,” she said, her voice shaking a little. She wasn’t a very good liar. “Why ask me?”

He paced, hand hooked over the hilt of his sword, wry smile on his lips, polished boots crunching dirt underneath. “You could have lost it. You could have thrown it back into the sea. You could still have it. You could have given it to someone.” He stopped and looked at her, eyebrows lifted. “Marjory Cooper?”

Jill didn’t say anything.

“And she still has it? I’d have expected her to throw it back to the sea, as she did the last time. Can you tell me: Did she? Or did she keep it?”

He didn’t know where it was. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have fled the battle at sea last week. He’d have smashed the
Diana
to pieces, boarded her, and taken it. On some level, he must have been afraid of Cooper. Captain Cooper had stopped him last time by getting rid of the rapier shard. He was being careful because he didn’t want her to do something like that again.

But he thought he could use Jill to get it.

“I don’t know. Why would she tell me anything?” She tried to sound surly instead of scared.

“Because you’re her protégé, I gather. Her apprentice. Why wouldn’t she tell you?”

“I’m not anything to her,” Jill said, and she wasn’t entirely certain that was a lie.

“Oh, but you are, and you don’t even know why, do you? She didn’t tell you why you’re so important, did she?” He laughed softly. “I know her. She’s too soft. Her reputation says otherwise, but I know her.”

Jill thought of Jenks and knew that Cooper wasn’t soft. Blane didn’t know her; he only thought he did. He was arrogant. “She hates you. She’s looking for you.”

“And you must not think much of her if you’ve come looking for me instead of keeping your lot in with her.”

“I just want to go home,” she said.

“My dear, what happened to you was a mistake and I’m sure I’m sorry for it. But I need that sword.”

Maybe, she thought, Captain Cooper and the
Diana
hadn’t been meant to fish her out of the ocean at all. Maybe, if Blane had been behind the bizarre time warp, he was supposed to find her first. Or if he hadn’t caused it, he’d known that the shard had returned to his world. She’d emerged with it in that exact spot, where Blane had destroyed the
Newark
—had he been looking for her? Was she supposed to have been on the
Heart’s Revenge
the whole time? As if there was a reason that all this was happening in the first place. She thought of what those first chaotic, confusing days had been like, and imagined herself among these men instead, without Abe’s smile and Henry’s joking. Blane’s crew didn’t seem to have any women among them at all.

She was glad that hadn’t happened. She was glad the
Diana
had found her.

So what did she do now? She needed a moment to think.

“Why did you bring me here? Can you send me back or not?” she said. Tried to say with some authority, as if she could persuade him.

“I didn’t bring you here,” he said, amused. “I was simply looking for the piece of my sword.”

But he couldn’t have brought it back without someone hanging on to it—didn’t he see that? It had been lying buried at the edge of the ocean for centuries without being washed back to him. He could have just brought it back—but someone had to carry it, and she was the one unlucky enough to pick it up. And now she was bound to it. She felt it like a touch in the back of her skull.

“I don’t belong here,” she said.

He looked at her askance, curious for the first time rather than just annoyed. “Just how far away did it land when Marjory threw it?”

“A long way away,” Jill said quietly.

He wasn’t going to help her. This had all been an accident, and she didn’t have a part to play at all.

He studied his ship for another moment, then turned to her, donning a bright tone. Bright, but false. “Tell me—what is your name?”

“Jill,” she said.

“Tell me, Jill—do you think Marjory will give me the piece in exchange for you? Would she do that to keep you safe?”

She didn’t have to think about it. “No. I don’t think she cares about me at all.”

“Then I think we’re done here,” he said, and waved a gesture at her two guards.

They grabbed her arms and held tight. One of them held a rope he didn’t have before, while the other wrenched her hands back. They bound her wrists behind her while she thrashed like a beached fish, uselessly.

They dragged her to the edge of the overlook, their intentions clear. With her hands free, able to reach out and brace herself or slow her fall, she might survive being thrown over the edge. Tied up, she’d tumble down until she broke.

She screamed, threw her weight back to try to anchor herself, but her two captors were stronger. Don’t parry, she thought. Don’t fall into a battle of strength—use your brain.

“Fight me!” she shouted, twisting to direct the words to Blane. “I challenge you to a duel! Fight me!”

Blane raised his hand, and the two men stopped their progress toward the edge. Jill slumped in their grasps and sighed. She’d bought herself a few more minutes, then. Maybe.

“You fight?” he said. “With a sword?”

“I’m not just wearing it for decoration,” she said. “And I’m pretty good.” That part was pure bluster.

But Blane took the bait, because he was arrogant. Jill read him right.