Page 51 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

“There is land in the Downs, good land. Save us, and it’s yours,” Kit continued.

“I have the high seas at my feet. Land is not what I need,” Harlowe said. “What I need is seafarers.”

“With your guidance, I wager we could beoutstandingseafarers. I come from a long line of cartographers, you know.” An outright lie. “And Arteloth used to sail on Elsand Lake.”

Harlowe regarded them with dark eyes.

“No,” Loth said firmly. “Captain, Lord Kitston is uneasy about our task, but we are duty-bound to enter Yscalin. To see that justice is done.”

With a face like a skinned apple, Kit seized him by the jerkin and pulled him aside.

“Arteloth,” he said under his breath, “I am trying to get us out of this. Because this”—he turned Loth toward the lights in the distance—“hasnothingto do with justice. This is the Night Hawk sending us both to our deaths for a pennyworth of gossip.”

“Combe may have exiled me for some ulterior purpose, but now I stand on the brink of Yscalin, I wish to find out what happened to Prince Wilstan.” Loth placed a hand on his shoulder. “If you want to turn back, Kit, I will bear you no ill will. This was not your punishment.”

Kit looked at him, frustration etched on to him. “Oh, Loth,” he said, softer. “You’re not the Saint.”

“No, but he has got balls,” Melaugo said.

“I’ve no time for this pious talk,” Harlowe cut in, “but I do concur with Estina on the subject of your balls, Lord Arteloth.” His gaze was piercing. “I need people with hearts like yours. If you think you could weather the seas, say it now, and I’ll put it to my crew.”

Kit blinked. “Really?”

Harlowe was expressionless. When Loth kept his peace, Kit sighed.

“I thought not.” Harlowe dealt them a cold stare. “Now, get the fuck off my ship.”

The pirates jeered. Melaugo, whose lips were pursed, beckoned to Loth and Kit. As his friend turned to follow, Loth gripped his arm.

“Kit,” he murmured, “take the chance and stay behind. You are not a threat to Combe, not like I am. You could still go back to Inys.”

Kit shook his head, a smile on his lips.

“Come now, Arteloth,” he said. “What little piety I have, I owe to you. And he might not be my patron, but I know the Knight of Fellowship tells us not to leave our friends alone.”

Loth wanted to argue with him, but he found himself smiling back at his friend. They walked side by side after Melaugo.

They had to descend on a rope ladder from theRose Eternal. Their polished boots slipped on the rungs. Once they were settled in the rowing boat, where their traveling chests waited, Melaugo climbed in with them.

“Hand me the oars, Lord Arteloth.” When Loth did, she whistled. “See you soon, Captain. Don’t leave without me.”

“Never, Estina.” Harlowe leaned over the side. “Farewell, my lords.”

“Keep those pomanders close, lordlings,” Plume added. “Wouldn’t want you catching anything.”

The crew roared with laughter as Melaugo pushed away from theRose.

“Don’t mind them. They’d piss themselves before they ever did what you’re doing.” She glanced over her shoulder. “What made you offer up your services as a pirate, Lord Kitston? This life’s not like it is in songs, you know. There’s a little more shit and scurvy.”

“A stroke of brilliance, I thought.” Kit shot her a look of mock hurt. “I take the Knight of Courtesy as my patron, mistress. She commands poets to beautify the world—but how can I, unless I see it?”

“There’s a question I’d need a few more drinks to answer.”

As they drew closer to the shore, Loth took out his handkerchief and pressed it to his nose. Vinegar and fish and acrid smoke formed the rotten posy of Perunta. Kit kept up a smile, but his eyes were watering.

“How refreshing,” he managed.

Melaugo did not smile. “Do keep those pomanders,” she said. “Worth having, if only for comfort.”

---