The Far Wild

49 - A Long Swig Of Rum

* * *

Senesio

Well, shit. I made sure my back was to the others, made it look like I was checking to see if we’d been followed. Out of sight of everyone else, I clenched a fist around the grip of my sword.

Losing Elpida was inconvenient. Just... damned inconvenient.

I sucked in a long breath through my nose, focused on the sound of the air, the feeling of it filling my chest.

Losing Elpida was a blow.

It wasn’t that I’d really cared for her or anything. Wasn’t that I was mourning her death. Oh ho, not at all! I was Senesio Suleiman Nicolaou! A hero, damnit! Heroes didn’t have time to worry over every lost companion. It was the curse of a great man to soar above the rest, to watch others fail and fall short. But ancestors above, if anyone was supposed to make it, it had been Elpida, right?

The guidemaster practically lived in the Far Wild! The wildfire of a woman whose scars held more stories than most libraries, whose punches could fell trees, whose grit and determination... had been snuffed out. Boom. Just like that.

“Figure out where we’re going and what we’re doing.” Suni’s voice faded in from behind. “Senesio, is anyone following us?”

“That would be a foolish decision,” I said, venom dripping in my words. For a moment I could see myself going back to the river. Finding the skyship. Climbing aboard and painting a bloody damn mural of—

“Ahem.” I coughed, got my voice under control. “That is to say, I’m quite sure we’ve lost them.”

“There’ll be time to mourn the dead later. Right now, we need a plan,” Maritza said.

I let my hand slip from my sword’s grip as I turned, facing the others.

“Our esteemed helmswoman is correct.” I strode into the middle of the remaining survivors. “You know the old saying, adapt and overcome. Our little expedition has gone a smidge off course, and the Bospurians might think they have the upper hand, but they’ve made one critical mistake.” I paused a second, drawing out the moment, then smiled my grimmest smile. “They’ve left me alive.”

“That’s well and good, but we need an actual plan,” Theo said. “Unless you’re planning on murdering every man on that skyship and commandeering it for yourself.”

“As a matter of fact... ”

“I don’t see why anything has to change,” Suni said simply, quietly.

Theo crossed her arms. “We just lost our best fighter in Gabar.”

Well that’s far from true, I thought, but now probably wasn’t the time.

“How are we supposed to get into the Bospurian camp without him?” Theo continued. “And we’ve lost Elpida, the only one who actually knew how to get to the camp.”

“Well, normally you’d have a point there,” I said, extending a hand toward her. “But lucky for us, among my many, many skills is an unrivaled sense of direction. Why, my internal compass is more accurate than most actual compasses.”

“We don’t need a compass,” Suni said, then pointed through the canopy. “The sun’s moving that way.” She traced its arc with one arm. “Which means that’s west.”

Theo scowled. “I know which direction the sun sets.”

“So then, why do we need a new plan? We continue south. Find the banyan grove, then the Bospurian camp.”

“And then what? Then we steal a skyship with only us five? A soldier, a charlatan, a helmswoman, an engineer, and a naturalist’s apprentice?”

I smiled at her doubt. Oh, but how I thrived on it. I’d been doubted my whole life.

“You underestimate us,” Suni said. She slapped me on the back. “This is not a charlatan. In the blistering deserts of Mercer, they honor him as the Tamer of Serpents.”

Wait just one moment. Where had she heard that before? I’d never used my official introduction with her—

A smile crept onto my features. She’d read my book! Or, at least, the beginning of it! I’d thought she’d forgotten the copy I’d given her, or ignored it, maybe.

“In the rain-soaked peaks of Teshkai, they know him as He of Great Thoughts. Even on the lawless Ghenti steppe he has a name. Fear is what they call him, for that’s what he inspires in the hearts of those savage nomads. This is no charlatan. This is Senesio Suleiman Nicolaou.”

“Suni,” I said, brimming with pride. “Well, you’re quite right.”

She’d a speech coming, I could feel it. Rousing speeches were a skill every hero had to learn.

“That’s Senesio Suleiman Nicoloau,” she said again. “And I’m Suni Koudounas, naturalist’s apprentice. Some say I don’t belong out here, can’t cut it. But I chose Lekarsos for my apprenticeship, studied under the greatest naturalist this side of nowhere, and have faced down everything the Far Wild has thrown at me and come out stronger for it.”

She pointed to Maritza next. “That is Maritza Paraskevou, twenty-year veteran of the imperial Cyphite navy and master helmswoman of the Stormcrow. A fearless woman who’s seen more battles and sailed more seas than the saltwind itself.

“That is Demetrias Vostis, engineer extraordinaire and smartest man this side of the empire. A genius who builds miracle machines so marvelous the ancestors themselves are jealous.”

Lastly, she pointed at Theo. “And you’re Theodora Cristofi, the soldier who faced the horrors of the Thick and came out fighting; who led our attack on the Needlethroat and sent it limping home. And most importantly, the soldier who’s going to make Kyriakos the proudest damn sergeant this side of the empire when you show those Bospurian cowards the potency of sharpened Cyphite steel!”

Ha! I fought to restrain applause. Look at Suni! Following in my footsteps! Sure, not the best speech ever, but it’d been a start. We’d work on it. The most important part of giving a speech was believing it, or at least convincing everyone else you believed it, and as far as that was concerned, well, the look in Suni’s eyes didn’t leave any room for doubt.

Suni produced Elpida’s flask from a pocket and took a long swig of rum, her expression calm, determined.

I shook my head as a smile crept onto my face. “Normally I’d have something to add, but, well.” I shrugged, then nodded to Suni. “What she said.”