stairs. He stared down at the deck, avoiding her eyes. âI didnât know he would be so fast.â
Ruby nodded and clapped him on the back. âNow we do know.â It sounded hollow. She couldnât think of anything else to say.
CHAPTER 13
- Butter of antimony
- Prussic acidâdo NOT jostle. Remember last time.
- Reverberatory furnace (two)
- Slaked lime (one bucket)
- Tin salt (as much as you can carry)
âShopping list, Aubrey Smallows, apprentice Tinker
T he corner was cozy. Better yet, it had the advantages of cornerhood. The walls pressing into Cramâs shoulders were solid and fixed, and the wood of the deck was equally solid on his bum and his feet. He snuck a look up to make certain that the ceiling hadnât sprouted spikes or that there wasnât some wild-eyed bogeyman staring down at him. It seemed trustworthy for now.
But Cram was coming to believe that objects werenot necessarily what they appeared to be on this mad vessel. First, the crew of genial boobs and pirate shams had snapped into a band of hard-bitten toughs when they kenned the crown was coming for them. Then the hold had opened its secret doors and cabinets to hide them from the boarding party of sea demons that were after his new master. What could a young man trust if he couldnât trust the seat under his, er, seat?
Cram had fled the deck. He was not proud of it, but it had been the savvy thing to do. That mad girl had rallied them to battle against whatever force of nature that man Rool was. Cram had been ready to do his part: a knock on the noggin from behind, a well-placed trip to tip the balance of a fencing match. He was ready to scuffle his share. But when Lord Athen turned tail like a flushed rabbit, he could see the tale of the ticket. It was every boy for himself, and Mam always said the last to run is the first to get nicked. Quick and quiet, he had tucked down the stairs, shot the latch on the door (not his proudest moment), barred it for good measure, and hunkered down behind a barrel in the deepest shadows of the unlit galley.
That was when it all turned ipsy-dipsy.
He had slunk behind the barrel to shield himself better from the doorway, in case the wild man might open it, but before he could catch his breath, the barrel wood under his hands had wriggled. Shifted, slightly, and then it hadnât even felt like wood anymore. It had been more like skin. Or something in between. Wood skin. Then just skin, and there had been a big man in the dark in front of him, whoâd pinned him by the throat with one hand and whispered thunderously into his ear, âWhere is Ruby Teach?â
Cram had entertained, for the tiniest of moments, lying to this barrel shade, this kitchen monster, but the strength in the beastâs hands had wrung all thoughts but self-preservation out of his head. âUp top,â he had squeaked, and as quick as a stoat after a mouse the hands were off him and the door tore open. The light had framed, just for a moment, the bizarre picture of the back of a huge naked man holding an iron stewpot. Then heâd disappeared up the steps.
That had been hours ago, and the rest of the galley had remained reassuringly solid. Cram, however, wasnot a trusting soul. He had grown up in a neighborhood somewhat south of trust. So he had rebarred the door, hunkered down in his corner, and waited.
The sounds of a ruckus had filtered from above a few moments after the barrel man had bounded up the stairs, but after that it had remained eerily quiet.
Until the door rattled. Cram jumped and cursed under his breath. The demon had come back for him. It had finished off his companions and most like was still hungry. Both of the others didnât have much meat on them, so it had come back for the main course.
The manly thing to do would be to grab a chair or a weapon, rip open the door, and sell his life as dearly as he could.
He put his hands over his eyes and tried to keep as