Page 98 of Foul Days

“Well, no, most likely not—”

“It doesn’t matter why we’re going to the palace,” Kosara said. “What matters is: do you want your compass back or not?”

Blackbeard’s eyebrows were two rain clouds hanging low on the horizon. “I’ll take you to the palace if you give me my compass now.”

He must have been taking them for idiots.

“No way,” Kosara said. “You’ll take us there, and you’ll bring us back, and then I’ll give you the compass.”

“Extortionists. The lot of you. Come back tomorrow—”

And give you enough time to prepare a trap for us? “We have no time to lose,” Kosara said. “We have to go now.”

“Are you joking? In this weather?”

Kosara looked up at the pale sky. She thought she felt a drop of rain on her face, but it could just as well have been sea water. It seemed like a mild winter day, for Chernograd. The old rascal was obviously stalling.

“Do you want your compass back, or should I try to find another sea captain to give us a lift? I’m sure plenty would be happy to get their hands on the compass.…”

Blackbeard harrumphed. “I should have let the rusalkas eat you. Wait here.”

He turned around and disappeared into the lighthouse. A minute later, he returned, garbed entirely in yellow oilskins, with a wide-brimmed hat hanging low over his eyes. He led them around the lighthouse, down to a stone jetty where his ship was moored.

It wasn’t some kind of pleasure yacht or a simple fishing vessel. It was a proper ship. Two tall masts stretched towards the sky, their sails flapping in the wind like overexcited ghosts. The figurehead depicted a bare-chested rusalka: her golden scales caught the light of the winter sun, and emeralds shone in her hair. Her face was human and her eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance.

“All aboard!” Blackbeard shouted. There was nothing left of the tired old man now—his eyes gleamed like rusalkas’ lanterns. He grinned from ear to ear, flashing a set of teeth plated in gold and precious stones.

“Shush!” Kosara said, her gaze darting to the pale bodies floating behind the stern. “The rusalkas.”

Blackbeard rolled his eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid? They can’t get you while you’re on my ship.”

“Oh,” Kosara said. She had, in fact, thought he might be stupid—or losing it in his old age.

She looked around. The ship seemed empty—only the fog floated above the deck, thick and white as milk. However, as soon as Kosara and Asen climbed up, the sails dropped sharply. The wind grew stronger, whistling between the rigging. The ship glided across the water.

“Where’s North?” Blackbeard asked.

Kosara pulled out the compass and pointed towards the horizon where dark clouds gathered.

“Safina,” Blackbeard shouted to no one in particular, “right standard rudder, heave ho!”

The ship began to turn. Up on the quarterdeck, the wheel spun on its own. A flock of seagulls cawed, hovering behind the stern.

As the ship moved through the bay, it cut its way through a group of rusalkas. One of them reached a hand out. There was a scream. A seagull disappeared.

A minute later, the waves spat out a small assortment of bird bones, picked clean. Kosara shivered.

“Safina,” Blackbeard shouted again, “ease your rudder left ten degrees, old salt, ten degrees!”

The wheel turned again. For a moment, as the wind dispersed the fog slightly, Kosara could swear she glimpsed the dark silhouette of a woman behind it. She blinked, and the woman vanished.

“Safina, steady as she goes!”

It took them a few hours to clear the bay. The waves grew higher, smashing into the hull of the ship, making the wood creak and groan. The deeper into the sea they sailed, the more the sky changed. The stars grew brighter, flickering and shifting around, rearranging themselves in constellations Kosara had never seen before. The sun set and the moon rose enormous, hanging low over the horizon like a rusalka’s lantern.

Blackbeard changed as well. After a few swigs from his hip flask, he got chatty. He told them stories about his past voyages, the strange islands he’d found, and the sea monsters he’d slain. Kosara listened politely, though she wished they’d go inside and warm up. If only Blackbeard was willing to share whatever was in his hip flask.…

Finally, he must have heard her teeth chattering. He led them down to the hold, through a maze of barrels and boxes. The smells of salted fish and pickled gherkins competed with each other, hitting Kosara in waves.

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