placed, but she noticed that he kept shifting to expose his left side.
“Sixteen.” She didn’t bother to keep her voice low and gravelly.
Rolfe swore. “Arobynn sent a sixteen-year-old to deal with me?”
“He sent the best of the best. Consider that an honor.”
With a growl, the Pirate Lord lunged.
She danced back, swinging up her sword to block the blow he aimed for her throat. She didn’t need to kill him right away—just to distract him long enough to prevent him from further organizing his men. And keep him away from the ships. She had to buy Sam enough time to disable the chain and the catapults. The ships were already turning toward the mouth of the bay.
Rolfe launched himself again, and she let him land two strikes on her sword before she ducked the third blow and slammed into him. She swept her foot, and Rolfe staggered back a step. Not missing a beat, she pulled out her long hunting knife, slashing for his chest. She let her blow fall short, ripping through the fine blue material of his tunic instead.
Rolfe stumbled into the wall of a building behind him, but caught his footing and dodged the blow that would have taken off his head. The vibrations of her sword hitting stone stung her hand, but she kept hold of the hilt.
“What was the plan?” Rolfe panted above the roar of the pirates rushing toward the docks. “Steal my slaves and take all the profit?”
She laughed, feinting to his right, but sweeping for his unprotected left with her dagger. To her surprise, Rolfe deflected both moves in a swift, sure motion.
“To free them,” she said. Beyond the chain, beyond the mouth of the bay, the clouds on the horizon began to color with the light of the coming dawn.
“Fool,” Rolfe spat, and this time feinted so well that even Celaena couldn’t avoid the rake of his sword across her arm. Warm blood seeped through her black tunic. She hissed, darting away a few steps. A careless mistake.
“You think freeing two hundred slaves will solve anything?” Rolfe kicked a fallen bottle of liquor at her. She knocked it aside with the flat of her sword, her right arm screaming in pain. Glass shattered behind her. “There are thousands of slaves out there. Are you going to march into Calaculla and Endovier and free them, too?”
Behind him, the steady strokes of the oars propelled the ships toward the chain. Sam had to hurry.
Rolfe shook his head. “Stupid girl. If I don’t kill you, your master will.”
Not him giving the luxury of a warning, she threw herself at him. She ducked, twirling, and Rolfe barely turned before she slammed the pommel of her sword into the back of his head.
The Pirate Lord crumpled to the dirt street just as a crowd of bloodied and filthy pirates appeared around the corner. Celaena only had time to throw her hood over her head, hoping the shadows concealed enough of her face, before she took off at a run.
It didn’t take much to get away from a group of half-drunk battlecrazed pirates. She only had to lead them down a few twisted streets, and then she lost them. But the wound on her arm still slowed her considerably as she ran for the watchtower. Sam was already far ahead. Releasing the chain was now in his hands.
Pirates raged up and down the docks, seeking any boat that was in working order. That had been the final leg of her journey last night: disabling the rudders in all of the ships along the docks, including Rolfe’s own ship, the Sea Dragon —which honestly deserved to be tampered with, given that security on board had been so lax. But,despite the damage, some pirates managed to find rowboats and piled into them, brandishing swords or cutlasses or axes and shouting profanities to the high heavens. The ramshackle buildings blurred as she sprinted toward the watchtower. Her breath was ragged in her throat, a night of no sleep already taking its toll. She burst past pirates on the docks, too busy bemoaning their ruined boats to notice her.
The slaves still
“Sixteen.” She didn’t bother to keep her voice low and gravelly.
Rolfe swore. “Arobynn sent a sixteen-year-old to deal with me?”
“He sent the best of the best. Consider that an honor.”
With a growl, the Pirate Lord lunged.
She danced back, swinging up her sword to block the blow he aimed for her throat. She didn’t need to kill him right away—just to distract him long enough to prevent him from further organizing his men. And keep him away from the ships. She had to buy Sam enough time to disable the chain and the catapults. The ships were already turning toward the mouth of the bay.
Rolfe launched himself again, and she let him land two strikes on her sword before she ducked the third blow and slammed into him. She swept her foot, and Rolfe staggered back a step. Not missing a beat, she pulled out her long hunting knife, slashing for his chest. She let her blow fall short, ripping through the fine blue material of his tunic instead.
Rolfe stumbled into the wall of a building behind him, but caught his footing and dodged the blow that would have taken off his head. The vibrations of her sword hitting stone stung her hand, but she kept hold of the hilt.
“What was the plan?” Rolfe panted above the roar of the pirates rushing toward the docks. “Steal my slaves and take all the profit?”
She laughed, feinting to his right, but sweeping for his unprotected left with her dagger. To her surprise, Rolfe deflected both moves in a swift, sure motion.
“To free them,” she said. Beyond the chain, beyond the mouth of the bay, the clouds on the horizon began to color with the light of the coming dawn.
“Fool,” Rolfe spat, and this time feinted so well that even Celaena couldn’t avoid the rake of his sword across her arm. Warm blood seeped through her black tunic. She hissed, darting away a few steps. A careless mistake.
“You think freeing two hundred slaves will solve anything?” Rolfe kicked a fallen bottle of liquor at her. She knocked it aside with the flat of her sword, her right arm screaming in pain. Glass shattered behind her. “There are thousands of slaves out there. Are you going to march into Calaculla and Endovier and free them, too?”
Behind him, the steady strokes of the oars propelled the ships toward the chain. Sam had to hurry.
Rolfe shook his head. “Stupid girl. If I don’t kill you, your master will.”
Not him giving the luxury of a warning, she threw herself at him. She ducked, twirling, and Rolfe barely turned before she slammed the pommel of her sword into the back of his head.
The Pirate Lord crumpled to the dirt street just as a crowd of bloodied and filthy pirates appeared around the corner. Celaena only had time to throw her hood over her head, hoping the shadows concealed enough of her face, before she took off at a run.
It didn’t take much to get away from a group of half-drunk battlecrazed pirates. She only had to lead them down a few twisted streets, and then she lost them. But the wound on her arm still slowed her considerably as she ran for the watchtower. Sam was already far ahead. Releasing the chain was now in his hands.
Pirates raged up and down the docks, seeking any boat that was in working order. That had been the final leg of her journey last night: disabling the rudders in all of the ships along the docks, including Rolfe’s own ship, the Sea Dragon —which honestly deserved to be tampered with, given that security on board had been so lax. But,despite the damage, some pirates managed to find rowboats and piled into them, brandishing swords or cutlasses or axes and shouting profanities to the high heavens. The ramshackle buildings blurred as she sprinted toward the watchtower. Her breath was ragged in her throat, a night of no sleep already taking its toll. She burst past pirates on the docks, too busy bemoaning their ruined boats to notice her.
The slaves still