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a longboat would be more efficient than
one, and it heartened her that Five had known exactly what to grab.
She knew how to sail and navigate in theory but had never been out
of sight of her islands.
    “ One thing’s a mite
peculiar,” Agarik mused.
    “ Just one?” Everything
thus far struck Tikaya as peculiar.
    “ He didn’t take a pen or
paper.”
    “ What do you
mean?”
    “ You need to do some
figuring to account for the errors and adjustments that come with
using a sextant. Not many could do ‘em in their head and keep them
straight from day to day without a log.”
    “ Maybe he forgot,” Tikaya
said, though she already had a hunch Five had a background in
mathematics. Maybe he could do the calculations in his head and
remember the results.
    The corporal grunted noncommittally. He
seemed as curious about the mystery prisoner as her.
    More footfalls rang on the deck. Now
who?
    “ Your duty, Corporal,” the
captain said, eyes cool as he descended the steps. “It is not
here.”
    “ Yes, sir.” Agarik ducked
his head and trotted away.
    This time, Bocrest wore his black uniform
jacket with a handful of badges and medals adorning the breast. A
fresh bruise swelled on his temple, and dried blood crusted on his
chin beneath a swollen split lip. Had someone whaled on him as part
of a training session? Or maybe he had already started questioning
Five, and it wasn’t going well. Either way, the bumps would
probably not improve his personality.
    Nonetheless, she lifted her chin and met the
captain’s eyes. Bravado would likely get her further than meekness
on this ship.
    “ Well?” Bocrest asked.
“You working with us or are my men taking target practice on your
family members?”
    It was a moment before she could unclench
her jaw. The man had the diplomacy of a stinging jellyfish. “I will
help you, captain,” she said, forcing a civil tone, “but I can’t
work in this dark pit, and, surely, if you expected me to translate
this language, you brought some basic references and primers.
Hodtolk’s? Fisher and Grist? Merk’s Hieroglyphics Compendium? More
samples of this writing would help as well. And I’ll certainly need
better lighting, paper, pencils, a table. I’ll also need the
freedom to walk around. That’s when I do my best thinking.”
    Tikaya expected denial, especially over her
last request, but after glaring at her for a moment—it seemed his
normal way of looking at people—he said, “I’ll get you paper and
better lighting. You may have one daily exercise period. Beyond
that, pace your cell if you need to ‘think.’”
    He started for the hatch.
    “ One more question,
captain,” Tikaya said, wondering if he would answer it honestly or
not.
    “ What?”
    “ Suppose I succeed in
translating this language, in helping you with whatever your
problem is. What happens to me then?”
    Bocrest eyed her over his shoulder. “If you
succeed, your family will not be harmed. You? As far as the emperor
and thousands of dead Turgonians are concerned, your deeds during
the war condemned you. I suggest you enjoy your last project.”
    Tikaya leaned against the cold metal wall
for support. She wished he had lied.
     
    * * * * *
     
    When Tikaya stepped out of the hatch, the
sun made her blink. She stumbled and almost crashed into the guards
escorting her outside for her exercise session. Nobody offered a
steadying hand.
    Wind gusted across the deck, tugging at her
braid, and slapping her dress against her legs. When her vision
recovered, the sun told her they traveled northeast. Endless sea
stretched in all directions, so she could only guess at their
position and goal. Though the briny breeze stole the stink of
burning coal, the black plumes streaming from two smokestacks
suggested the furnaces burned at maximum capacity. Full sails made
use of the wind as well, and Tikaya wondered how fast they traveled
under the combined power. Perhaps she imagined it, but the sun
warming her cheeks felt less