Chapter Eight

Anastasia was grateful, almost despite herself, that the crew left her alone.

It gave her time to clean the cabin, carefully turning Maurice’s blood into another fetish, and start studying the books in greater detail. She had no idea how long she’d be able to hold onto them – if the textbooks weren’t banned, they should be – or what would happen when she jumped ship. There was no way she could go back to the free state, not when she had no idea what had happened to Avitus. Was he dead? Did he think her dead? Or had he escaped in time to save himself?

And even if he is dead, she reminded herself, Circe might note the explosion and wonder if I caused it.

She scowled as she stared down at the textbook, her eyes passing over the words without actually seeing them. Circe had been beside her, unseen and unremarked, for two years. She knew everything Anastasia could do … would she wonder if Anastasia had freed herself? Or would she dismiss the possibility. Death magic was very dangerous, and Avitus hadn’t been the most stable and balanced of men. He might easily have blown himself up, taking Anastasia with him. Circe might even have counted on it. The disaster would bury her tracks and remove a potential threat without her ever breaking her word and risking retribution from the gods. Or magic itself.

It was hard not to feel ashamed of herself, as she put the book aside and lay down on the ghastly bunk. She had been lazy, lacking the motivation to develop her magic or fighting skills or anything else she might need to defend herself, let alone secure her position. She wanted to believe Circe had been foolish to let her go, after dumping her thousands of miles from home, but she had to admit it wasn’t that foolish. The old Anastasia had been too lazy and spoiled to do much of anything about it, and Circe had every reason to assume she’d fade into obscurity or slavery or simply become tainted with dark magics, ensuring she could never return to claim the throne. If she turned up looking like Avitus, would they even believe her when she told them who she was? Or …

The curse tightened. She found herself struggling for breath. She couldn’t tell them anything.

Not until I get rid of the curse, she told herself. And I don’t even know where to begin.

She closed her eyes, allowing the gentle rocking to lull her to sleep. Her dreams were nightmarish, grim renditions of just what would have happened to her if she hadn’t frightened Maurice away. She wasn’t that ignorant of how babies were made, not after she’d had her first blood and her mother had given her a lecture that had been cringey and embarrassing for both of them, but she’d never so much as kissed a man, let alone seen one naked. The dead bodies had been bad enough, a live one was worse. The thought of him actually managing to force his way inside her … her stomach churned as she hovered between the waking world and the dreaming, reminding her that she was on a ship crewed by cutthroats, rapists, and other monsters who didn’t have the excuse of being inhuman. She had heard enough horror stories to be almost painfully aware of what would happen, if they realised how weak she was. If she didn’t learn to defend herself …

A sharp knock on the door brought her back into the waking world. Anastasia staggered to her feet, cursing the rocking under her breath. She had never been on a ship before and her stomach was twisting unpleasantly, as if she was both hungry and on the verge of being sick. The books talked of sea-sickness, but … she braced herself, brushing down her outfit and forcing her face into a stern, regal, expression before she unbolted the door. The young man on the far side couldn’t meet her eyes. She would have found it amusing if she hadn’t been all too aware she was bluffing. He could be at her throat in an instant, or worse, if he knew she couldn’t defend herself.

His voice was nervous, as if he thought she’d turn him into a toad for showing a hint of disrespect. “Captain’s compliments, Lady Sorcerer, and he … ah … invites you to join him in his cabin.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Anastasia lied, silently thanking her mother for teaching her some lessons she hadn’t understood at the time. “Lead the way.”

The young man bowed and turned away, leading her back the way she’d come. The corridor felt darker somehow, darker and thinner … the lanterns were largely gone. She tried not to show her discomfort as the deck shifted under her feet, the motion convincing her the boat was caught in a tempest before they clambered up the ladder and onto the deck. There was no sign of any storm: the sky was blue, the wind was mild, the sea was an endless watery desert, stretching out as far as the eye could see. The crew were running around the deck, the officers bellowing commands she didn’t understand. A handful of men were sitting on the deck, sharpening their swords. They looked at her and then looked away, their faces pale. Anastasia guessed they knew she was a magician. She hoped they never realised how weak she truly was.

She kept her face blank, somehow, as her guide led her up another set of stairs and into the captain’s cabin. The captain was sitting at a table, a meal of bread, cheese, meat and something she didn’t recognise laid out in front of him. Anastasia felt her stomach growl, not just because she was hungry. Avitus had only ever fed her gruel and water. She’d searched the shop when he was out and found nothing else, not even a secret stash of sweets or other little treats. The meal on the table might be bland and boring, but right now it looked like a feast. If she ever got home, she promised herself, she’d never complain about the food again.

“Please, be seated,” Captain said. “We have much to discuss.”

Anastasia tried not to show how hungry she was. There had been no time to pack any food, no time to snatch anything beyond the books, money, and a handful of potions. She didn’t want to beg and yet …

“Oh, and eat,” Captain added. There was a hint of something knowing in his voice. “It is always a pleasure to have a lady at my table.”

“Thank you,” Anastasia managed. The bread was hard, the cheese plain, the meat unflavoured … it was still the finest meal she’d had in weeks. She had a nasty feeling he’d make her pay a price for the dinner and … she just hoped it was one she was able to pay. “It’s very kind of you.”

Captain poured two tankards of wine and passed one to her. “A toast! To good winds and gentle seas!”

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Anastasia winced, inwardly. She wasn’t much of a drinker, although alcohol had been served at every banquet she’d attended since she’d hit puberty. Her father had warned her of the dangers of getting drunk in public, giving her a number of horror stories about youngsters who’d done just that and never managed to live it down, even if they spent the rest of their lives without a single drop. It would be bad enough getting drunk at home, where someone could take care of her, but here …? There were spells to remove alcohol, she’d been told, but she didn’t know how to cast them. Even if she did, she wasn’t sure she could get them to work.

She took a little sip, then put the tankard down. The wine was sharp and unpleasant, nothing like the rarefied liqueurs of her kingdom. Rockfall was renowned for its wines and they fetched high prices throughout the Allied Lands, while this wine … it tasted as if someone had mixed alcohol with vinegar and declared it a pleasant drink. It wasn’t something she wanted to drink. She needed something that wasn’t likely to affect her judgement.

“Magicians rarely indulge, I suppose,” Captain said. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything else.”

“No water?” Anastasia couldn’t stop herself. “Or juice?”

“No.” Captain shrugged. “I suppose we could put a bucket down and get some saltwater, if you can cleanse it.”

Anastasia had the nasty feeling she’d fallen into a trap, although she couldn’t see the jaws. The captain was testing her and … she cursed, once again, her own folly. The Court Wizard had tried to teach her dozens of spells that would make her life a little easier, and safer, and she’d rejected his teachings. She wondered, suddenly, if the doddering old man was still alive. Circe would see him as a threat, the one person who might notice the cuckoo in the nest, and deal with him before it was too late. If she was wearing Anastasia’s face, she could walk right up to the old man and put a knife in him effortlessly. He’d have no time to react before it was too late. Or …

Captain shrugged, and smiled like a cat playing with a mouse. “I suppose you’re wondering why I called you here …?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” Anastasia said. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to engage in meaningless conversation, although the stakes were a great deal higher. If he was picking at her cover story, he might pull it apart … and who knew what would happen then? She put a bored expression on her face and leaned forward. “What can I do for you?”

“A few things do suggest themselves,” Captain said. His eyes roamed up and down her body, lingering on her chest. Anastasia felt her skin crawl. She’d worn more revealing dresses in court and yet, she’d never felt so naked. Or vulnerable. “I want you to find something for me.”

He reached into his pocket and produced a vial of blood. “This belongs to a sailor,” he said, passing the vial to her. “I want you to find him for me.”

Anastasia blinked. “Might I ask why?”

“You took my money,” Captain said. There was no give in his voice, no hint he feared pushing her too far. “That means you do as I say or walk the plank. After my crew have had their fun.”

Anastasia thought a very unladylike word, not daring to say it out loud. He knew she had some magic, assuming Maurice had told him what had happened when he’d tried to rape her, but … how much? How many of his actions had been subtle tests, to determine just how much of a magician she truly was? A full-fledged sorceress – hell, even a student or apprentice with a year or two of training under their belts – would have no trouble removing the alcohol or blasting a would-be rapist into atoms or finding employment that didn’t involve sailing on a pirate ship. He knew she wasn’t what she claimed to be, even if he didn’t know what she was. And that meant …

She took the vial, gritting her teeth. It wasn’t that hard to use someone’s blood to track them down and … ice washed through her veins as she found herself wondering just how Captain had gotten his hands on the vial in the first place. She doubted it had been extracted willingly. He snorted rudely, his eyes never leaving her. If she didn’t do it, she doubted he’d give her a second chance. And she really couldn’t defend herself.

The spell sparkled to life, an eerie tingling sensation nearly pulling her to her feet. She could feel something tugging at her as if the blood wanted to return to its owner, pulling her in its wake. Her skin crawled, again … she had to bite her lip to keep from standing and walking straight into the bulkhead. She had the nasty feeling that the vial would fly from her hand and smash itself if she let it go.

“Well?”

Anastasia’s mouth was dry. “Thataway.”

She pointed. Captain nodded and rang his bell. Maurice appeared, his eyes cold and hard. The flash of anger she saw cross his face, as he saw her, chilled her to the bone. He would hurt her, if he got the chance, and he wouldn’t give a damn about his own life as long as he had a chance to take her down. She wondered, grimly, just how badly he’d been humiliated. Courtiers who embarrassed themselves, or wound up on the losing side of petty and pointless struggles for power and influence, tended to take it personally, particularly if salt was rubbed in their wounds. It was why her mother had cautioned her against being too direct, certainly in public. She doubted the pirate crew was any better, where such things were concerned. His comrades would sooner laugh at him then offer sympathy.

“Order the helmsman to alter course,” Captain ordered. He babbled out a stream of instructions Anastasia couldn’t follow. “I’ll be on deck shortly.”

Maurice nodded and withdrew, casting one last dark look at Anastasia. Captain seemed not to notice. Instead, he took a map from a drawer and laid it on the table, drawing a line with his finger as a dull sensation ran through the deck. Anastasia felt her stomach heave and cursed herself under her breath, trying to keep her eyes on the chart to keep from thinking about it. The paper was very different to the one she’d seen earlier, even though the outline of the northern continent was nearly identical. She couldn’t even begin to understand what it meant.

“The timing is going to be tight,” Captain mused, more to himself than to her. “But if we can catch her …”

Anastasia leaned forward. “Catch who?”

“Our prey, of course,” Captain said. He stood. “Keep your hand on the blood, and come with me.”

The deck shifted again as Anastasia followed him out of the cabin and up another ladder. An officer was standing by the wheel, controlling the rudder as he bellowed orders to the crewmen adjusting the sails. The ship was picking up speed, the wind propelling her onwards … Anastasia stared over the waters and saw nothing, not even a hint of fish following in their wake. Captain took the wheel, motioning for her to stand beside him. Anastasia felt dangerously exposed as the blood pulled her onwards. She had the unpleasant feeling it was actually tugging the pirate ship towards her target.

Her mind raced, trying to think of a way out. The pirates weren’t on a random cruise. They had a specific target in mind, which meant … she didn’t know. Where had they gotten the blood? What was the real goal? She wanted to go back to her cabin and dig into the books … perhaps there was a way to use the blood to signal its owner, to warn him that a pirate ship was bearing down on his vessel. But if he’d given up the blood willingly … she told herself, once again, that she damn well should have practiced her magic. She wouldn’t be in such a state if she had the power to teleport, or fly, or defend herself.

Yeah, her thoughts mocked. Circe would have cut your throat if she saw you as a real threat.

A sailor high overhead shouted something, a word she didn’t recognise. She looked up and saw a man standing in the rigging, holding on with one hand and pressing a telescope to his eye with the other. The sailors below took up the cry: some drawing their cutlasses and waving them in the air, others, more practical, checking the two cannon or the longboats. Captain chuckled humourlessly, a sound that promised no mercy to his quarry, as he adjusted the wheel. Anastasia felt her heart sink. They were sailing right towards another ship and she had led them there.

The other ship looked tiny, but she was growing larger all the time. She looked bigger than the pirate ship, yet … somehow, Anastasia was sure she couldn’t defend herself. Her eyesight was good and she couldn’t pick out any cannon, let alone any magicians … she glanced around, trying to think of something she could do, but nothing came to mind. If half the stories she’d heard were true, the pirates were about to unleash hell … and it would be her fault.

Captain patted her rear, the feeling making her skin crawl once again, and then nodded to Maurice. “Take her back to her cabin and lock her in,” he ordered, briskly. “And then report to the boarding party.”

Anastasia felt her heart sink. Captain had guessed the truth. She made no resistance as Maurice took her arm and pulled her back down the steps, into the corridor and back to her cabin. His breathing was coming in fits and starts, twitching like a young courtier who wanted to ask a damsel to dance and yet didn’t quite dare. Somehow, she was sure he didn’t have dancing in mind. If he tried again, after convincing himself it was safe …

Maurice opened the door, pushed her inside and then slammed it closed. She was surprised he didn’t come inside, but … she told herself to be grateful as she heard the lock clicking. She needed time to think and that meant … she reached for the vial, feeling the pull yanking her forward. Captain hadn’t thought to take the blood back, which was an oversight. Perhaps … she heard a cannon boom and cursed under her breath. She didn’t have much time.

She drew the second fetish from her clothing and stared down at it. If the spell went wrong …

Do it, she told herself. You won’t get a second chance.