Fengel started. "What? You can't! I've called for quarter!"
Mordecai smiled. "I think I can, and I will."
"No." Natasha tapped her lower lip with one finger, smiling.
Mordecai frowned. Of all the times for this to come into play. "That's foolishness. Let's kill him and be done with it."
"I think not."
He sighed. "Captain, you yourself suggested it just the other night! He took the damned ship! Just off him and be done with it, and whatever miserable latent feelings—"
"Enough," said Natasha, voice low and deadly. "Remember Mordecai, who is in charge here. I'm sure you do. Why don't you tell me?"
Mordecai ground his teeth. "You are. Captain."
"And don't you forget it." She turned back to her husband, golden eyes flashing. "But you. You did steal my ship. And made me a laughingstock back in port." She grinned. "I think I'm going to have a little fun. Don't worry, Mordecai, they'll pay." She turned back to her crew. "Bind them. And someone find a net from down in the cargo bay."
Mordecai watched, angry, his arm aching, as the men scurried to obey her orders.
Chapter Ten
The world turned.
Lina watched it spin through the rope mesh of the cargo net. At the back of her head swelled a throbbing goose egg, a constant reminder of their struggle and loss. She'd thought she'd been quick enough, clever enough, to avoid getting hit. She had been wrong.
"Harridan!" yelled Captain Fengel. Lina winced at his voice, strident and close. She felt him shift directly below her in the pile, pulling himself up against the net they were all balled into. He thrust an arm through the mesh and shook his fist at the dimly visible shape of the Dawnhawk, fast retreating on the horizon. "Slattern!" he continued. "You besotted, hair-brained wench!"
Lina realized that in other circumstances she would feel giddy. Fengel was just below her, she could smell his sweat and cologne and feel the hard lines of his officer's coat. But she was weary, she ached, and there was a hollow in the pit of her stomach. Her new home was gone, along with her knives, her new pet, and even some of her new friends. Why? Why did we surrender? Were things really going that badly?
She lay atop the pile of pirates, dangling out over the ocean in a cargo net hung from the bow of the Copper Queen. The dark ship sagged above them, creaking and groaning, an uncertain anchor in the sky. Below them roared the ocean, its susurrus backdrop to the groaning and grumbling of her crewmates. Their mood was low. Some had lost crewmates, some were wounded. Many wondered aloud why Fengel had called for quarter.
Lina had just stowed her new pet belowdecks when she'd heard the call to arms. She'd raced out of the storage lockers near the furnace-room and armed herself, coming back up to the deck just in time to see Natasha's crew close in. Then the battle was joined, and she'd been gratified to find that in the press and fury she didn't back down; in fact, Lina found she liked it.
Things were going well then. So well that when she'd heard Fengel's call Lina had been confused. Only when it became clear what was going on had she been afraid. Fengel's harpy of a wife herded them all atop a cargo net laid out on the deck and Lina’s fear had turned to sick terror when they'd been forced at gunpoint to fling themselves over the edge. Embarrassingly, she'd lost her lunch. It was then that they'd found that drowning wasn't their fate. At least not right away. The cargo net was tied by a heavy rope to the other airship, the Copper Queen. Natasha's men flew away laughing, leaving them to dangle over the Atalian sea.
Goddess above. What a bitch.
Fengel quieted, panting, as the twilight glimmer on the horizon faded. Lina tried to get comfortable. She lay at an awkward angle, atop both her captain and a knot of muscle and hair that she deduced to be Henry Smalls.
"Miss Stone," said Fengel. "You are an excessively bony individual."
"Sir!" cried Henry.
Her captain fell silent. "My apologies, Miss Stone," he said. "I find myself somewhat vexed at the moment."
"It’s all right, sir," she said.
"I am rather upset. And being stuck in this net is not helping my disposition."
"I've got my knife still, sir," said Henry Smalls.
Captain Fengel made a disgusted sound. "And what would we do with it? We cut this miserable net too much and we all run the risk of being dumped into the ocean."
"Aye sir. But we could make a small cut near the top. Miss Stone's up top, and she could probably slip through and shimmy up to the ship. She's small enough." The groaning and rustle of the massed crew beneath her fell silent. Lina couldn't see them, but she could almost feel their gazes turn upward.