Focus, she told herself as she swam up to the Lioness, its masts repaired and captain satisfied he was about to win. She planted her hands on the hull. Barnacles, crusted thick, fluttered their feathers. Bubbles slipped from her lips and skated toward the sky. She fumbled with the satchel tied at her hip, almost dropped the first corkscrewed iron that was within, then swore at her clumsiness and lost more bubbles to the sea.
Focus. Shanna was depending on Vivia to get this right. All of Noden’s Gift, all of Vivia’s crew, and even blighted Yoris who didn’t deserve her help but was getting it anyway—for as Jana had taught her: We rule everyone, not just those who agree with us.
In seconds, Vivia had the drill fastened to the tarred planks. At the right command, it would spin. It would pierce. It would sink.
Breathe, her lungs reminded her once she was done, and though her mind and witchery wanted to continue on her mission, her body had the good sense to obey. She briefly shot to the surface. Briefly let air and gray dawn gulp over her. All around, the Dalmotti navy groaned and listed.
Carry me? Vivia asked the water, and the water obeyed, towing her down once more, away from the warm pink and gold upon the waves and to a second spot, on the opposite side of the Lioness. Two drills for that warship, followed by a smile for the water, who was excited at the storm to come.
* * *
It was dawn when Stix and Ryber reached Nubrevna, the sun an indigo smile upon their backs as they ascended a narrow switchback that led from the tide and turned the limestone cliff blue. Ryber moved behind Stix, tired and wary and rechecking her cards endlessly.
They never changed. Always she drew the Queen of Hawks, the Queen of Foxes, the Giant.
“I hope you’re right,” Ryber said as they finally crested the cliff and an empty stretch of rock spread before them. Green forest clutched at a strip of untended road, and morning crickets hummed, vibrating sea mist that beaded on Stix’s skin.
A lone figure stood at the cliff’s edge a hundred paces away, her red coat billowing on the breeze and her spyglass trained on the horizon. Stix had reclaimed her spectacles from the arena, though now the metal was truly bent and the edge of one lens cracked. It broke Kahina into a hundred tiny pieces.
“I’m definitely right,” Stix said, and she patted Ryber’s arm. The girl’s sleeve was damp, despite Stix’s best efforts to keep their small, stolen craft dry. The water had had a mind of its own, and the more Ryber had tried to stay dry, the more spindrift had seemed to find her.
They had sailed all night, Stix’s sight returning with each wave. With each influx of new waters and ancient song. Welcome home, the sea said. And the Paladin souls within her purred like the orange tabby. Stix’s sight returned too, bit by bit, but it was clear that using too much magic came at a price. It was a warning for her and the entirety of the Witchlands.
When at last they reached Kahina, Stix glimpsed what the Admiral studied: a Dalmotti blockade near the Origin Well. With unhurried ease, Kahina closed her spyglass. Face-framing curls had fallen from her bun, and they bounced with the tidal wind.
“You aren’t the Exalted One called Lovats,” Stix said.
“No.” Kahina rubbed at her jade ring. “Which means you are, I suppose, indeed Lady Baile.”
“It would seem I am.”
Kahina sighed, a dramatic huff. “So much chaos could have been avoided if you had only played nice with me from the start.”
“I could say the same to you. Rhian would never have killed so many people.”
“Rhian would never have been a pirate either, but we needed a navy for the cause, so I acquired one.” Kahina shrugged, baring a sidelong smile.
“Where have you put the blade and glass?” Ryber blurted with none of her usual poise. Her jaw cut a hard slant, her silver eyes had turned to steel.
But Kahina only smiled more widely. “You will forgive me if I do not reveal them quite yet, Sightwitch. We have only just become allies, you know. And as broken as they are, they are all we have against what is coming.”
“And what is that?”
“I think you know.” She dipped her head toward the diary at Ryber’s hip. “What is it your order sings? When the sky splits and the mountain quakes, make time for goodbyes, for the Sleeper soon breaks.”
Stix frowned; she really should read Ryber’s diary, she supposed. “And where are the rest of the Six?” she asked.
This prompted another sigh from Kahina, heavy and frustrated. “The Fury has vanished, Dysi is dead, Saria refuses to pick a side, and the one called Corlant isn’t who he seems. But our cause is not lost, Water Brawler. So long as I remain and you remain, we can fight to the splintered end.”
Stix’s lips pursed at those words. They tickled with familiarity—or maybe it was simply Ryber’s gaze locked on her face that tickled. “And what of the one who betrayed us? The king with the silver crown?”
“He is still out there, playing his own game until there is nothing left but chaos.” Kahina slid her pipe from her pocket. Overhead, a lone gull cried its scree, scr-scree, while in the jungle, cicadas buzzed into wakefulness and welcomed the day. “You want to go after your queen. As do I. But until the Sleeper rests, we are no use to anyone.”
“No,” Stix said, a small pinch gathering between her brows. “I understand that now. And yet.” She rubbed at her chest, an ineffectual movement for the enormity of what swelled inside her. Like a firepot in a birdcage just waiting to go off.
“And yet,” Kahina agreed. “Here you are, and here I am, driven by the same need to always keep the Goddess-chosen rulers safe.”
“Oh,” Ryber murmured, a breathiness to the word, as if she finally understood why Stix had come here. Then her cards began whispering while she flipped them out one by one. “The Queen of Hawks, the Queen of Foxes, and the Giant.”
Kahina nodded at that, tapping her bowl against her ring. Ash floated on the breeze. “It is almost time for the battle to begin here. After that, we will have to leave. Sirmaya depends upon us. The entire Witchlands depends upon us.”
Stix squinted out over the dawn-bright sea, the cracks in her spectacles distorting each splash and wave. “Your ships are out there, then?”
“Near, and when we are finished aiding our rulers, my Red Sails will pick off any remaining ships. But until that moment…”
“We fight,” Stix finished.
“We fight,” Kahina confirmed. Then she waved her pipe at the Dalmotti navy, floating obliviously upon the waves. “’Tis a fine day for destruction, don’t you think?”
* * *
A light rain misted the dawn, though sun warmed Vivia’s back as she rocked upon the deck of the Lioness. She wondered if she’d find a rainbow in the southern sky. She didn’t turn to look. Didn’t take her eyes off Captain Kadossi before her. To her right, Vaness stood tall and impeccable, dressed once more in her golden gown. Vivia too had donned her finest clothes, red broadcloth as bright as the rising sun, silver buttons winking.
They would turn themselves in looking like the rulers they were.
“Welcome aboard,” the captain said, his mustache twitching in time to his nose. A fresh shaving cut marred his otherwise flawless chin. He was a handsome man, young and less weathered by sun than the sailors and witches clustered around him—which meant he was not an opponent Vivia wanted to cross. In Dalmotti, only pure merit earned rank.