Faline wrestled briefly with her conscience, then knelt next to the stove and leaned close to the kindling. “Ignis,” she said with a snap of her fingers.

The fire erupted and burned rapidly. Argus stared, dumbfounded. “You know…” he said. “Have you always had the ability?”

“I didn’t until a few years ago,” she answered. “My Grandmama had the gift as well.”

“Gift, you say? Guess your experience was different than mine. I was chased away because of it.”

“Oh, my Mama didn’t much care to have a strega in the family, as she used to call me. But I wasn’t chased away because of it.”

“Why then?”

She struggled with whether to say more, but decided not to. “I can’t say.”

“Guess we all have our secrets then,” Argus acknowledged.

Faline nodded. Some more than others.

“Well, finish getting the vegetables ready. I’ll go fetch some more salted beef. The water has to boil really well before it is clean enough to use.” He leaned close to her. “Don’t worry about your Old Ways. Your secret is safe with me. But just remember, the rest of the crew better not find out what you can do, or you’ll be in great danger.”

I’ll add that to the list. “I understand.” Should she tell him she was a girl? No, now wasn’t the time or the place. One secret at a time.

“Come on, then, make yourself useful while you’re at it.” Argus led her toward the storeroom, grumbling about the crew eating him out of stores. He squinted at a crate lid, tracing the markings with a thick finger before giving up and moving on to count the contents by hand. Without thinking, Faline read it aloud. “Salted pork. Third batch.”

He went still, then turned to stare at her. “You can read that?”

Too late to take it back. “A little,” she admitted.

Argus said nothing for a long moment, then grunted and handed her the ledger stick. “Well. Don’t go telling the crew that either. A boy who can read is nearly as strange to this lot as a boy who can conjure fire.” He shook his head, muttering to himself as he hefted the barrel of beef onto his shoulder. “What in the Creator’s name did I get stuck with?” He slipped out of the galley doorway that led toward the storeroom.

Faline walked over to the large pots of water on the stove. The water was mostly clear. It wasn’t brackish, but it had a distinct odor. Filthy and undrinkable was the most charitable way to describe it. Though the stove was lit and heat was beginning to seep into the vats of water, it would take a long time for the water to heat up enough to be sanitized and suitable for cooking. She glanced over her shoulder, just to make sure Argus wasn’t there. With a stirring motion of her hand, she whispered, “Purgo,” followed by “kokwoh.” The water immediately cleared and began to bubble. As soon as she finished, Argus frog-walked in with a barrel.

“Okay, I’ve got the beef. Once the water finishes boiling clean, throw everything in and we’ll let it boil for an hour, longer if anything is spoiled.” He wandered over to the vats and peered inside. At each one, he sampled the water and checked the temperature. As soon as he was done, he turned and gave her a narrowed-eyed look. “Did you do something to the water?”

She hesitated, but then confessed, “I cleaned them and set them to boil using the Old Ways.”

Argus frowned. “I appreciate wanting to help, but if we weren’t in a rush, I would be angry as a bear. Having the ability is one thing; using it without raising questions is quite another. But for now, thanks. This should get us going. Now promise me you won’t use the Old Ways unless I give permission.”

For a moment, she almost agreed immediately, but Grandmama’s voice in her head whispered, Give him what he wants, when he wants it, but only for your purposes, not his. “Yes, I agree,” she said.

Argus cocked his head slightly. “Okay.”

They prepared the stew as planned, and the crew filed by for food and drink. In the pitch darkness that surrounded the ship, the men shuffled along, grumbling and fighting off fatigue from the day. Instead of ale, Argus had Faline brew up a harsh-smelling mixture of ground-up beans strained through a piece of cloth. It smelled so bad she wasn’t sure if it didn’t count as poison.

“What is this stuff?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Kaff,” Argus replied. “It’s a bean from southern Finn. Smells like hell, but it’ll perk you up like an owl.”

“Does the crew drink this stuff willingly?”

“Yeah, well, it does keep them from tripping over themselves, especially at night. Of course, the side effects can be nasty.”

“What side effects?”

“The shits for one thing, and the jitters for the other. Still, it’ll keep you alert, and therefore, alive during a raid.”

She made the rounds with the pot of Kaff. Most of the crew shook their heads, but some took it willingly.

Duncan eyed her as she filled his cup. “So, you’re coming with us.” She nodded and kept her eyes focused on the cup. “You ever gut a man, watch as what he is pours out onto the floor?” She shook her head, no. “Well then, this will be a learning experience.”

“Careful, Duncan,” Lukas said, not looking up from his own cup. “Wouldn’t want Tripps to hear about your first raid.”

Duncan’s jaw tightened. “Watch it.”

“What was it you did?” Lukas mused, tone light. “Pissed yourself, wasn’t it? Before you’d even swung a blade.”

A ripple of laughter went through the nearby crew. Duncan whirled, and the motion sent a swash of Kaff spilling over his cup and down his leg. He cursed and stamped his foot, which only drew more laughter.

“You lie,” Duncan snapped, color rising up his neck.

Lukas fixed Faline with a look and winked. She smiled back. Soon, she and Argus finished serving the crew and set to clean up. As she was doing so, Lukas appeared at the galley entrance.

“You need to come with me,” he said, motioning to her. She looked to Argus, who waved her away.

“Just you bring him back alive,” Argus said, wagging a finger at Lukas.

“I’ll do what I can, no guarantees.”

As Faline followed Lukas topside, he spoke in low tones. “You ever done anything like this before?”

“No,” Faline admitted.

Lukas sighed. “I thought as much.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Stay close to me. It will be easy to get lost if you’re not careful.” His hand squeezed her shoulder. “Damn, you’re scrawny. We’ve got to get you stronger.” Then he let her go. “Come with me and let’s get our equipment.”

A queue of crewmen stood under dim lamplight, shuffling slowly forward. The men said very little, most yawning or scratching themselves. Eventually, she and Lukas reached a large chest, next to which Iago squatted. He grabbed a package from the box and shoved it into each crew member’s hand.

When it was Faline’s turn, he paused with a glare. “Are we taking children now?”

Lukas shot back, “Just give him something to protect himself. Captain’s orders.”

Iago spat on the deck. “Piss on the Captain. I ain’t no wet nurse.”

Lukas reached into the trunk and pulled a belt and a short sword from it. “Here, strap this on,” he said, jamming the bundle at her.

She stared at the contraption, not at all sure which way to put it on or tighten it.

Iago burst out laughing, which drew stares in their direction. Her face heated up at the growing sense of humiliation. Grandmama’s sharp voice from earlier whispered in her mind, He’ll pay for this.

Lukas tugged her away from the crowd, closer to the deck rail. He yanked the belt and sword from her hands and knelt. With quick and efficient movements, he wrapped the belt around her hips and strapped the sword loosely to her leg.

He bobbed and weaved as he did so, the lamplight making his hair look luxurious and full. She resisted the urge to touch it. His hands slipped around her hips and tugged forward so she brushed up against him. A strange, wobbling feeling came over her, and she felt a bit lightheaded.

Lukas stood and gave her a curious look. “What’s the matter?”

“Huh,” she said, suddenly snapping back to reality. “What do you mean?”

“That strange look on your face. Are you nervous?”

“Yes, I guess so,” she stammered, trying to figure out what she felt. It wasn’t nervousness, though, but something else. Several men rushed past them and dropped a rope net over the rail. Her ears caught a splash.

Lukas pulled her closer to the railing and pointed down toward a small rowboat, as it bobbed close to the side of the vessel. “Follow me.” He put a leg over the side, grasped the netting, and began moving rapidly down.

Faline also put a leg over the side and tried to step down onto the netting, but the ship rolled. She stepped into the empty space and slid down the net until she could grab hold. Her muscles screamed, and her arms trembled, as she swung from side to side. With a loud thump, she slammed into the side of the ship and nearly lost her grip altogether.

“Move hand over hand,” Lukas said, to snickers from those already in the small boat.

She tried, but then glanced down, sweating and shaking with fear, trying to judge how far she had to go. A couple of hands grabbed hold of her legs.

“Let go already,” Lukas hissed. Guffaws nearby drowned out the sounds of the sea lapping against the hull.

She closed her eyes and let go. A brief and very disturbing feeling came over her, but the hands bracing her held firm and guided her into the boat. She opened her eyes to find Lukas holding her close, his face close to hers. Her hands on his chest, she could feel his heartbeat as he held her around the waist. The odd feeling manifested itself again, but he quickly pushed her into a seat opposite him. An oar handle appeared in her hands. “Here, make yourself useful.”

A dull thump came from an oar thudding against the side of the ship and pushing on it. “Stroke,” Lukas cried out. Oar tips dipped into the water, dug into the water, raised, slid forward in their mounts, and began again. The distance between the ship and the small boat began to grow, and the dim lamp light of the ship disappeared into the distance as they got further away.

Soon all they could see was a pin prick on the waves, while the rolls of surf, exertions of men rowing, creak and groan of the oars filled their ears. All around, there was nothing but darkness. The cadence for rowing had died off, but the rowing pattern was established. She couldn’t see where they were going, since she faced the sea.

As she settled into rowing, she hastily sketched out her plan. Her best bet was to run off just as the raid started, taking advantage of the confusion. After hiding out for a few days, she’d try to get help from the locals or somewhere else nearby, if necessary. Lukas kept intruding into her thoughts, sapping her ardor to escape. What was the matter with her?

“Oars up.”

She pushed down on the oar, the tip raised up, and the surf caught the keel and dragged the vessel further. The boat shimmied from side to side as men leaped out into the surf, pulling it farther on.

Lukas tapped her on the shoulder, “Stow the oar, and jump over the side. It’s only waist-deep here.”