Red Seas Under Red Skies: The Gentleman Bastard Sequence, Book Two (Gentleman Bastards 2)

‘Only for them, if I have my way,’ said Zamira.

The captain and her lieutenant stood at the taffrail, staring at the faint square of white that marked their pursuer’s position on the horizon. Locke waited with Jean a few steps away, at the starboard rail. Drakasha had nudged the ship a few points south, so that they were travelling west-north-west with the wind fine on the starboard quarter, what she claimed was the Orchid’s best point of sail. Locke knew this was something of a risk: if their opponent was the faster, they could lay an intercepting course that would bring them up much sooner than a stern chase. The trouble was that such a chase to the north could not last; unlimited sea room existed only to their west.

‘I’m not sure we’re gaining any ground, Captain,’ said Delmastro after a few minutes of silence.

‘Nor I. Damn this jumpy sea. If she’s a three-master she may have the weight to carve a better speed out of it.’

‘Captain!’ The cry from up the mainmast was even more urgent than usual. ‘Captain, she’s not falling away, and ... Captain, beggin’ pardon, but you might want to come and see this for yourself.’

‘See what?’

‘If I ain’t mad I’ve seen that ship before,’ shouted the watchwoman. ‘I’d swear it. I’d appreciate another set of eyes.’

‘I’ll take a look,’ said Delmastro. ‘Mind if I fetch up your favourite glass?’

‘Drop it and I’ll give your cabin over to Paolo and Cosetta.’

Locke watched as Delmastro went up the mainmast a few minutes later armed with Zamira’s pride and joy, a masterpiece of Verrari optics bound in alchemically treated leather. It was a few minutes more before her shout fell to the deck:

‘Captain, that’s the Dread Sovereign!’

‘What? Del, are you absolutely sure?’

‘Seen her often enough, haven’t I?’

‘I’m coming up myself!’

Locke exchanged a stare with Jean as Zamira leapt into the mainmast shrouds. A buzz of muttering and swearing had arisen among the crewfolk on deck. About a dozen abandoned their chores and headed aft, craning their necks for a glimpse of the sail in the south. They cleared away in alarm when Drakasha and Delmastro returned to the quarterdeck, looking grim.

‘So it’s him?’ said Locke.

‘It is,’ said Drakasha. ‘And if he’s been looking for us for any length of time, it means he sailed not all that long after we did.’

‘So ... he could be carrying a message or something, right?’

‘No.’ Drakasha removed her hat and ran her other hand through her braids, almost nervously. ‘He opposed this plan more than anyone else on the council of captains. He didn’t sail as long and as far as we did, to risk his ship within spitting distance of Tal Verrar, to deliver any message.

‘I’m afraid we’ll need to postpone our previous conversation, Ravelle. The point is moot until we’re sure this ship will still be floating at the end of the day.’