The Blinding Knife(233)

“Roughly, here, in one hour. If more ships rush in, one league east of the eastmost ship. Ironfist and I have the binocle, we’ll find you. If we go down, Watch Captain Blunt has another pair. If you’re completely separated, work your way down the Atashian coast until you can find safe passage back to the Chromeria. Asif?”

A young man with a shaven head said, “Sir, I assume that every drafter we see is a target of opportunity as well? To keep knowledge of the sea chariots out of their hands?”

There was a pause, and Kip realized what the young man was asking. Did they specially set out to kill every drafter, because there was no way to take them prisoner—you couldn’t disarm a drafter.

“Just seeing the chariots won’t be enough for them to mimic them easily. Don’t put yourselves at risk. Low priority, but yes. Each of you is more valuable to me alive than having fifty of them dead. Got it?”

They understood. They weren’t primarily elite warriors, they were elite guards whose ranks had been decimated by the battle at Garriston. The Blackguard itself needed them alive.

“Then let’s go sink some pirates.”

The Blackguards gave a cheer, only Cruxer forgetting to join in, looking wide-eyed and tight-strung.

Gavin drew his priceless dagger-pistols and turned to Kip. “Would you hold these for me?”

Kip scowled, remembering how he’d nearly dropped them into the sea last time.

“Joking, Kip. Joking.”

Kip grinned.

“This is for you.” Gavin handed Kip a bundle.

Unwrapping it, Kip found it was a belt with a pouch meant to be worn across one hip, like a holster. In the pouch were seven spectacles, in spectral order, each in its own velvet-lined half-pocket. There were little runes in silver sticking out next to each pocket so that you could tell by feel which spectacles you were about to draw.

Kip looked up at his father, wide-eyed. The spectacles alone were worth a fortune, but this looked old.

“Do your best not to lose the sub-red and the superviolet. We don’t know how to make spectacles like those anymore,” Gavin said.

Drawing the sub-red and putting them on, Kip gasped as he saw what Gavin meant. Usually you had to relax your eyes and let them lose focus to see the heat of things. With these glasses, Kip could see in the sub-red spectrum and the visible spectrum at the same time.

“You’ll still have to relax your eyes to draft sub-red, but it makes finding good sources much easier.” Gavin buckled the belt onto Kip and showed him how he could draw a pair of spectacles quickly, flick his wrist to snap the earpieces open, and put them on. Then he flicked the spectacles to one side, which snapped one earpiece closed, and then hooked the other in, letting the pouch close the other and hold it firmly.

Gavin gave Kip the binocle and said, “You can draft when we get into the fight, but I want you to keep an eye out. It’s easy to get tunnel vision. Even for me. I’m going to be steering and drafting and shouting orders and dodging fire and magic. You keep your head about you. If another ship is bringing its guns up to rake us with a broadside, I might not even see it. Head on a swivel, got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Kip didn’t know what else to say, how to thank his father for the spectacles, but Gavin didn’t seem to require anything. He went to the pipes and motioned forward. With everyone on their own, the big skimmer picked up speed quickly.

In no time at all, they were hurtling across the waves at incredible speed, with the Gargantua getting bigger and bigger all the time.

Ahead of them, Kip saw the stern gunports yanked open, and big, big cannons pushed out the holes.

“On my signal,” Gavin said. “Wait for it. Wait for it!”





Chapter 99




As usual, Liv woke next to Zymun. It was early, and the young man’s breath was even, regular. He was a heavy sleeper. Their tent wasn’t large, barely tall enough to stand in, and they slept on piles of furs and blankets on the ground. Liv rolled over, careful not to disturb Zymun. He insisted she sleep naked, and sometimes he liked to start his day the way he liked to end it. It was flattering to be desired so much, but sometimes she thought she simply happened to be the most convenient way to sate his hungers.

She blinked, aware of some change in the atmosphere, a freer brush of the wind than a closed tent should allow.

The Color Prince stood outlined against the morning light in front of the open tent flap. He held up a finger so she didn’t speak and wake Zymun. He motioned that she was to come with him.

A wave of shame went through her. She felt like a whore, caught by her father with a boy she didn’t even love. The feelings crested, and she quickly drafted superviolet. It was like the first puff of ratweed in the morning, except the luxin made her think more clearly. The feelings were the vestiges of small-town religiosity. Besides, the Color Prince believed in freedom, free choices. She was young. She could do whatever she wanted. There was no need to feel shame here.