Forty-Six Revelations

FORTY-SIX

Revelations

MARY

S ix hours later, Helena Fisher sank into a chair at another table beside Sam, letting her unbuttoned jacket fall open with a long sigh. Charles, Ben and the Uknaras had yet to join us, but the table was immaculate, plates and cutlery laid out on a crisp white tablecloth, rounds of toasted bread topped with savory preserves and cheeses set between two bottles of wine and steaming oysters. Willoughby had held nothing back.

I bit back a smile as, under the table, I heard the clatter of the other privateer captain kicking off her boots. I didn't know her well, but she was Sam's closest friend, and I enjoyed watching the two of them.

"Are you in your socks at my table?" Samuel inquired.

"Captain Rosser," Fisher said, gesturing to her open coat and finely embroidered waistcoat, complete with lace cravat. "I am in the company of trusted friends. And I am as near to a pirate as a Letter of Marque will permit. Thus, I have decided to embrace the life."

Sam looked like he was trying very hard not to beam. The expression was painfully endearing.

"Well," he said, snagging a bottle of wine from her hand before she could pour. He filled her cup himself. "At least let me be a proper host."

Fisher relented. Sam filled all our cups and sat back down.

"I want to know all that's befallen you and Hart ." Fisher sobered slightly, the events of the past years leaking through her ease. Hart used to be her ship too, I recalled, back when she and Sam had been first and second officer, and they'd shared the cabin that was now mine. I'd heard several members of the crew greeting her earlier with enthusiasm.

"But before that, and before the rest of our company arrives," Fisher nodded to the table, "let me say—I am in Renown because a Mereish man-o'-war harried us out of the Free Channel. We were cruising rather near Mereish waters, I admit, but that ship tailed us far over the line. I've already reported to the Admiralty. But what did I see when we sailed in? The flag of the Admiral of the North ? Samuel, why is your uncle here?"

"Admiral Rosser's presence is not of particular note," Sam began. "His ship was undergoing repairs, and he intended to head north next week to rejoin the North Fleet in preparation for the Tide— that is, general preparations for the expected tide and the usual vulnerabilities that arise with it. But there is more to the situation, I am afraid."

Sam began to recount recent events. Over the course of the tale the Uknaras joined us, along with Charles and Ben, Ms. Skarrow, and Mr. Keo. Enisca and Maren had elected to keep to themselves, Maren ensconced in research and Enisca doing Saint knew what with her time. She might be ashore again for all I knew, and had gently rebutted my overtures of coffee and sweets earlier in the day.

Sam held nothing back and concluded, as the plates were cleared and cakes and coffee put out, "By our calculations, we have sixteen remaining days to prepare for the second Black Tide and the arrival of the Mereish Fleet. If I might offer a suggestion, Helena—stay here. Offer yourself to the Admiralty before you are pressed into service. Secure a written contract. You will receive better compensation and share of the prizes than if they are forced to press you. I will send you with a letter for my uncle."

"I see… and I appreciate that."

"There is not enough time to recall the North Fleet, or even the entirety of the South," Ben put in over the delicate layered cake on his plate and a mug of steaming, spiked cardamom coffee. "Once these buffoons get their wigs on straight, there will be an uproar. How did they take word of your pursuit in the channel?"

"Evasively," Fisher replied. She added cream to her own coffee and stirred. "I suppose I could flee before we are conscripted, but that seems rather cowardly, and I do appreciate prize money."

"There will only be prize money if we survive," Charles, who had taken the meal as an opportunity to don his new rose-and-cream ensemble, said from next to me. He'd been quiet so far, and I noted a fresh weariness in his eyes. I'd been so focused on Sam in recent days, I had thought little of my friend and how the pressure of recent events might affect him, along with the ever-increasing activity of his ghisting. "I've half a mind to head for the South Isles and impose myself on Demery again."

"That is…" Sam had one hand on the table, small fork forgotten between his fingers. "That is not unwise. I begrudge no one who wants to evade this fight. I will also be offering my crew the choice to stay or go their own way."

He looked at Olsa and Illya and added, with a touch of regret, "There is no need to involve yourselves in our conflicts."

"We know," Illya said, scraping the last smears of chocolate from his plate.

"We will remain on board but not fight," Olsa said. She glanced at Skarrow and Keo and stopped there, but I caught her meaning— she would remain to see Ben and Sam through the healing ritual. "We are Usti, and the involvement in the battle would not reflect well, given the current rumors."

Sam nodded and the conversation went on, but my mind lingered on the Uknaras. For the first time, I had time to truly contemplate what Faucher's accusations and their position in this conflict meant for the Usti couple. I rarely thought of them purely in terms of their heritage—they were simply friends, allies with whom we had faced great challenges, and who had proven their loyalty many times.

Despite that loyalty, a thread of unease worked its way up my spine. Yes, Olsa staying aboard was practical; she wished to be involved in Sam's and Ben's healing, and her advice would be invaluable. But what would she, an Usti, do with all she had learned? Was it not the Usti's hunger for Mereish knowledge, their hunt for Monna, that had initiated recent events?

Across the table, I recognized the flicker of premonition in Olsa's Sooth eyes. Her bare hand rested on the tabletop and I—Tane—felt a thrum through our ghisten connection. It was wordless, quizzical, and reassuring.

I offered a small tug of a smile. I was being foolish. I trusted Olsa nearly as much as I trusted my own mother.

Within me, Tane shifted.

But can we trust Enisca?