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not
really
gray. Right? I mean, deep down, I must be quite a fellow. The buccaneer with the heart of gold, eh? Good ol’ Uncle Burn?”
    I couldn’t help smiling myself.
    Then his smile vanished.
    â€œYou’re wrong.”
    He leaned forward in his chair, his voice low. “I’m a pirate. I rob men for a living. When I have to, I kill them. I’ve ended more lives than I can count. Most of them not guilty of anything worse than foolishness. And if you think I’m good . . . you’re a bigger fool than any of them.”
    He didn’t say it like he was angry. He said it like he was sad.
    â€œFor the record, you’re absolutely right about Pembroke. That man might just be the devil himself. But the fact of the matter is . . .”
    He leaned back again with another deep sigh.
    â€œI’m neck deep in the devil’s business. And so is everybody else who might help you. Unfortunately for your fantasies of justice, right now the only man on the Blue Sea with a ghost of a chance of taking down Roger Pembroke is
Li Homaya.
And at the moment, he and I are on opposite sides of the chessboard.”
    I thought about
Li Homaya.
He’d been the rightful ruler of Pella Nonna—but he’d left the city before the Rovian invasion, taking his two warships with Ripper Jones to hunt down my uncle.
    â€œHe doesn’t know, does he?” I asked. “He has no idea Roger Pembroke took Pella from him?”
    â€œNot a clue,” said Healy.
    â€œBut if he did—wouldn’t he stop hunting you? And turn right around and go take his city back?”
    â€œI’m sure he would.”
    I was on the edge of my seat, my voice rising with excitement. “So all you have to do is get a message to him! And then he’ll—”
    My uncle cut me off with a sharp laugh. “Son, any message I send to
Li Homaya
is going to be written on a cannonball. When next I cross
that
filthy Short-Ear’s path . . .”
    His jaw tightened, his eyes turned dark as coal—and as I looked in them, I finally saw the pirate who’d ended more men than he could count.
    â€œ. . . I’m going to kill him dead. Try to find some good in that.”
    I couldn’t.
    â€œThink I’d better go help with the pump” was all I could think to say.
    â€œI think you’d better.”
    I stood up and walked to the door.
    Then I turned around. There was that one other thing I needed to be sure he understood.
    â€œThank you—”
    â€œThere’s no need—”
    â€œâ€”for saving my life. Again. And my friends’ as well.”
    The darkness left his eyes. He nodded, just a little.
    I turned to leave.
    â€œWait.”
    He was standing up, his eyebrows bunched together in a frown.
    Twice he started to open his mouth, then stopped.
    â€œEgbert . . .”
    â€œEgg. Please. I hate the name Egbert.”
    â€œI would, too.” He looked at his feet and sighed again. All those sighs were unnerving. He wasn’t the type for it.
    â€œI remember when I met you . . . ,” he began. “Pembroke was offering five thousand silver for your life. And I thought it was an awfully steep price for a fruit picker’s boy.”
    He raised his eyes to meet mine.
    â€œBut I’ve just paid ten million gold for you.”
    For the first time, my brain fully registered the enormity of what he’d done.
    The tears came so fast I didn’t even have a chance to fight them.
    â€œOh, Savior’s sake! Don’t do that!”
    â€œSorry . . .”
    â€œNo, no—there’s no tears on this ship—we don’t—honestly, stop!” He was dashing around the room in a mad search for something to plug up the waterworks.
    â€œI’m sorry . . .”
    â€œStop saying—just—don’t—
please
!” He finally found a handkerchief, and