"Who's in?"

"Slate, maybe Carmine... we're meeting in the carpenter's hold halfway through this watch."

"Is Halfblue going to be there?"

"Probably."

"Hm... I'll give it a miss. These old bones... I can't crawl about the ship dodging the officer of the watch like I used to. Give Onion a few months, you'll have likely friend for gaming and sneaking. When you're young you can do such things and work the next day, but me..."

"You don't like Halfblue, do you?"

Crow paused.

"Not a question of liking, though I must say I do not. It's his eyes. One blue and one brown? It's an omen."

"He can't help the way he was born."

"More's the pity. I tell you, a god or devil spat him in the eye, and either way he's not a man to gamble with. You said cards?"

"Perhaps."

"Playing with the Fortune Deck is foolish at best. With one who's been god spat..." Crow shook his head. "Not for me."

Ironbones shrugged.

To Halfblue, playing cards was like fishing. You had to know when to let the fish go a bit, when to resist its pull. Knowing when to say "that was the big one that got away" was also key; but tonight, Halfblue felt lucky. He'd won big in Aurora, the city where they picked up that runt named after a vegetable. Tonight, Ironbones was his fish, and the tattooed man would not get away.

A game of "Godlike" has five go-arounds. Each go-around, a player can try to get cards from the other players, can draw and (of course) can raise the ante. Slate was out, having made a few attempts to get Seasons, but no one was giving them up. She wasn't a good player, but Halfblue was unwilling clean her out, because her carpenter's hold was one of the few private places on the ship. Carmine was still in, but Halfblue figured her nerves would crack soon. The stakes were rising, and she was not skilled at bluffing.

Ironbones was a crafty one. Played very safe - usually went out early. Once in a blue moon would bluff with a face like stone - but he'd done that once tonight, and staying in this long, building up the pot as big as it was - no, Halfblue knew he had a good hand. Halfblue's own was not that strong, but he didn't intend for that to make a difference.

Keep your face blank, he told himself. Wring every penny out of the lanky bastard.

"Third go-round," he announced. "I'll not raise, and I'll give either of you the Hermit for the Soldier."

Both shook their heads, and Halfblue thought he saw Slate's eyes dart to the face-down cards she'd thrown away. Now he knew where the Soldier was.

"No? Then I'll pass."

"I'll raise a silver half-moon," Ironbones said quietly. The wooden bowl clunked and rattled as the heavy coin fell among the copper. "I pass."

"I'm out," said Carmine, placing her cards face down.

"Fourth go-round," Halfblue intoned. "I'll see that half-moon and pass."

Ironbones squinted at him.

"I hear you won a lot in Aurora."

Halfblue shrugged. Ironbones looked down at his cards; War, The Dragon, The Fool, Striking the Dragon's Tail and Summer. It was an excellent hand - a Sphere with a Fine Pair. If Halfblue had the same, with Winter or Autumn, he would lose. But Carmine had offered Winter in exchange for the Priestess, and Slate had taken it. Ironbones made up his mind, reached up and pulled the heavy gold ring from his ear.

Carmine gasped, and Slate's eyes widened. Most of the sailors wore gold earrings. It was their hope that if they died at sea, the gold might pay for a proper burial. In the flickering lamp-light, the ring looked sunset-red.

"I raise and pass," Ironbones quietly said.

Halfblue said "Fifth go around," and smiled. "I raise five gold crowns."

Both women swiveled their heads and stared as the thick coins clunked in the bowl. Five crowns was a season's wages.

Ironbones blinked. "I can't match that."

"Damn pity. You going to withdraw?"

"I..."

"I think you have to," Slate said uncertainly.

Halfblue flipped his cards face up. "A fine pair and a poor pair. Time to pay for your follies."

Carmine flipped her hand up and put in a coin. Slate showed hers as well, but did not have a folly to pay for. Ironbones was still silent, staring at the bowl.

"Ironbones? Let's see your hand."

"This isn't mately play," he muttered. Halfblue shrugged.

"Give him the ring back at least," Slate said. "It's his burial. Give him that at least."

"Why should I? If I'd been unable to cover his ring, I'd have lost, wouldn't I? Wouldn't I?"

"I asked if you'd won in Aurora. I knew you were good for it."

"You're just angry that you tried a trick on me, and I made it work on you."

"That's a lie!"

"Keep it down," Carmine hissed. "You don't want windsman Spider hearing us in here, do you?"

"You take that lie back, Halfblue, or I'll knock your teeth down your lying throat!"

"Fine. You didn't try to trick me; you just played your cards foolishly."

Ironbones stood and struck. Halfblue raised an arm and ducked, and then the two women were on Ironbones. Carmine twisted his left arm behind his back while Slate lunged around his waist and tried to grab his right.

"If the captain catches us brawling," Slate hissed, "It's a lashing and no rum. You know that, Ironbones."

"Just be glad you've got women between us." Halfblue's face was scarlet, and even in the candle light there was a dark bruise on his arm. He swept his winnings into a wooden cask. He didn't quite run, but he walked fast.

Ironbones made to shake the women off. They held on to let him know that they could fight him, but let go quick enough to leave him his pride.

"It's not a mately way to play," Ironbones said.

"No it's not, and he's a right bastard for doing it."

"I had the better hand."

"No one made you bet your ring."

"I had the better hand. That money is rightfully mine."

Carmine ran her hand over his forehead. "There's rights and wrongs unearned every day. Today was your wrong day. That's all."

"My wrong day... hm. Perhaps. Perhaps tonight is my night for wrongs as well."

It was early in the morning but still before dawn, and Onion was kneeling in the privy. He'd dreamed of his home, a farm on the plains, but in his dream the ground had started to ripple and toss like waves on the water. He'd barely made it to the head before spewing his supper. He could taste salt beef and sour vomit in his mouth, and more than anything else he wanted to be home.

He tried not to cry, but was unable to stop himself. Then he heard feet hit the floor as someone left a hammock, and he tried to at least muffle his sobs.

It was very dark in the men's crew quarters, with the door closed and the porthole shuttered. A few touches of moonlight crept through cracks, but as he peeked through the door, Onion could barely see the hammocks.

Squinting, Onion made out the tall silhouette of Ironbones, and he tried again to stop crying. The room the male sailors shared was perhaps four paces long, and he would have to squeeze past the older man to get to his hammock under Crow. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Ironbones was bending over - Onion thought he might be stretching, and he heard the other sailor's knees crack.

Then he heard the voice of Halfblue.

"Coming thiefly in the night, eh?"

"What?"

"I knew you'd try this, you spindly..."

There was the slap of flesh on flesh, and in the dim light Onion saw Halfblue lunge from his berth, shoving Ironbones backwards.

"Keep it down, damn you..." said Crow as the tall man stumbled into his hammock.

"Leave off!"

"I wasn't...!"

Onion shrank back into the stall. How common was this?

Then there was a blood-curdling scream.

"I'm cut! I'm cut!"

"Who? What the...?"

A shutter slammed open, and in the moonlight Onion caught a glimpse of a bloody knife and a mismatched pair of blue and brown eyes.

"Help! Ironbones is killed!" Crow flung open the door to the deck as Onion staggered out of the privy.

The tiny room became dim as two sailors crowded in from the deck. Crow was still shouting.

"Back off, you damn fools! He's breathing hard enough without your stench! More light! Someone get the captain! And find that bastard Halfblue!"

The sailors ran back onto the deck. As they cleared the doorway, moonlight streamed in. Onion saw Crow clutching Ironbones' hand. The tattooed man's breath came in sharp, jerky gasps. His chest was covered with blood.

Halfblue crouched under the port ballista, cold and exhausted and furious.

Damn him. He was trying to rob me. I know it. I only did what was right. He got what was coming to him. Damn.

He was still holding his fishing knife. The blood on it, and on his arm, was drying, becoming sticky.

I hope they can't smell it. The windsman - can he work some sorcery to find me out? If he does, I'll have a sharp point waiting for him!

But Halfblue knew he was afraid of the wind caller. The captain was a regular man, though fearsomely strong. The first mate was reputed to be deadly with the sword, but it was the windsman that Halfblue really feared.

Beneath him, he could still hear commotion in the crew quarters. To the back of the ship, he heard the alarm bell sound. He tried to remember if windsman Spider was the officer on watch.

What can he do? Call up winds - sometimes. Nothing a man with a plate of beans can't do.

In the darkness of his hiding place, he giggled a little. His left hand clutched a casket close to his chest. He had hidden it there after the card game.

He can calm the winds - sometimes. Not much good in that three day gale, though. No, his spirits did us no good at all then. And he's weak. That's a fact. Doesn't have to put in any long pulls, and couldn't if he had to, no doubt on that.

But another part of Halfblue's mind was certain Spider took privileges because he could. The wind caller knew spirits, knew magic, had talismans and incantations and invisible powers. Although the captain could snap a man's arm like a twig (Halfblue had seen it done), and though the first mate's sword would give her a long reach on his knife, it was the windsman, the sorcerer, that Halfblue really feared.

If I don't find another hiding place soon, they won't need magic. They'll realize where I fled, soon enough.

Cautiously, Halfblue snuck a peek around the corner. Nothing. All he could hear was the commotion below him - still shouting.

Now's the time to do it, while they're watching Ironbones die.

Damn him.

The captain burst from his cabin as the alarm bell sounded, clad only in a nightshirt. As he heard the crew's cries, he seized a gaff pole and strode towards the men's quarters.

"Damn me, there better be some brawlers here, because I have a mind to beat hard!" he bellowed. The crew swept away from him like water running on a tilting deck. Only Crow and Ironbones stayed still.

"I'm cut! I'm cut!" Ironbones kept saying.

Seeing the injured man, the captain tossed his pole aside and called for the surgeon. She answered him from up in the rigging.

"Leave off the sails and get down here before he dies!"

At that moment, Lightwing emerged from the officers' quarters. In one hand she held a sword, its sheath and belt in her other hand.

"Is it pirates?"

"'Tis a brawl, and Ironbones is hurt hard."

She sheathed her weapon and shouldered past the captain as the doctor dropped down onto the deck. The alarm bell ceased as the windsman strode down from the aft deck.

"Get back, all of you. Pull him up on deck."

Onion and Crow complied with the order as Ironbones moaned piteously.

"Can you do anything for him?" the captain asked.

"It's a vicious cut... I think it's his kidneys and vitals." Blood poured over the doctor's hands as she examined the wound, and Ironbones groaned as she pushed the wound closed again.

"I'm cut!"

"Yes you are, and quite badly too, but I always said you were born to hang and it will take more than a cut to do you in."

"I don't want to die," Ironbones said.

"Death is only a change of lives," Lightwing said to him quietly. His eyes, wide and delirious, locked on hers.

"Have no fear," she said gently, and kissed him on the forehead.

His breath stopped just as the doctor looked at Crow and mournfully shook her head.

Windsman Spider considered himself a fraud and a coward, and he was proud of being spectacularly good at both. He had also been a thief and, briefly, an apprentice shaman. Having learned just enough to get into trouble, he'd stolen his master's talisman of spirits and run away.

Since that time he had given up stealing and become, for better or worse, the wind caller for the Merry Cask. He knew that the crew regarded him as powerful and mysterious, so he was careful to know more than they thought and to tell very little of it.

He was also careful to show up late for any fights. Not only was that part of being an outstanding coward, it also preserved his reputation. Nothing dispels an aura of mysterious power faster than a firm whipping.

"What happened here?" he demanded.

There was some muttering - Halfblue, Ironbones, a knife...

"Don't all speak at once, damn you. Who saw it?" Even in the wan moonlight, he saw the new sailor pale slightly. "You! Uh... Onion. You saw it."

The boy turned paler.

"Come here. Don't worry, boy, I won't hurt you," he said in a voice that made a lie of his words. "Tell me what you saw, exactly."

"I saw... first I heard Ironbones fighting Halfblue, and Crow was shouting. Then I saw Halfblue go out the hatch."

Halfblue, Spider thought. Yes, he wasn't on watch, and he was in that 'secret' game in Slate's room with Ironbones.

Spider had always found it convenient to know about things that were concealed from him.

"May I see the body?" he asked the doctor and Lightwing. Lightwing bit her lip, then nodded.

"I'll trust you not to desecrate it," she said.

Old habits die hard, Spider thought. He still wondered what her childhood had been like, growing up in Roundwander's mortuary Tender family. Still, no time for that now. To Spider's way of thinking, it was time for cheap theatrics.

He bent over the body and gently pried the jaws open.

"Aballa cadam cadab salla ata condua," he intoned, then inhaled, then closed his eyes. He listened to the fearful muttering of the crew for a moment, then opened his eyes.

"Ironbones and Halfblue had an argument over money... they were gambling earlier... one of them beat the other..."

One way or the other that's likely true... and neither of them is in much of a position to call me liar.

"After he stabbed Ironbones, Halfblue fled out the hatch."

Spider groped his way between the hammocks and pushed on the hatch. It swung free, unlatched.

So far so good... did he just jump in the sea? Unlikely; these are shark waters, and Halfblue is no fool.

Spider stuck his head out and looked down, then up.

Down and fore there's a hatch to Slate's hold. He'd have to have a rope tied off somewhere to make it. Putting it here would have been tricky and there'd be witnesses, questions... or, if he made a good jump up, he could grab the forecastle rail... maybe hide under the ballista. That's where I'd hide, anyway.

"I'm going to try to call up Shanarak, the shark spirit, to find where he went. Who's with me?"

"I am," Crow said bitterly. Two other crewman volunteered as well. The captain fetched his grapple pole and nodded.

Spider started caressing the golden sphere of wires and beads that he wore around his neck. He'd stolen it from his shaman master, and knew that he had only the vaguest grasp of its powers; but he had successfully called and calmed minor spirits with it in the past, and the crew knew it.

I hope I don't call anything by mistake, he thought. He was pretty sure that if there was a shark spirit, its name wasn't 'Shanarak'.

"Shanarak, hunter, smeller of blood... there is a murderer aboard. Find him for us, and there will be blood for you. Find him for us, and your children will feast..."

Abruptly, he charged up the stairs to the forecastle. With a dramatic motion, he pointed at the giant crossbow.

"There! Look there."

Two sailors with cutlasses flanked it to the fore, while the captain and Crow went aft.

"Come out, you murdering wretch!"

The two groups converged.

There was no one there.

Halfblue prayed, to no heaven in particular, that Slate had left the portholes to her quarters unlatched. He needn't have worried.

As the carpenter, Slate had the privilege of sleeping in the carpenter's hold with her tools, caulks and lumber. It was cramped, and down in the hold near the foul-smelling bilge water, but it was privacy nonetheless. One of the first things she'd done upon signing on to the Merry Cask was to cut portholes in her hold for relief from the bilge reek, and she left them open whenever the night was calm.

Halfblue had cut a length of line and looped it around a rail. Now, knife between his teeth and cask inside his shirt, he slung his legs through the porthole. Spine cracking, he pulled himself in.

He was alone; Slate had been awakened by the alarm bell, and was on deck with the rest of the crew.

Pausing only to set the knife aside, he released one end of the rope and wound the other around his arm. Unthinking, he licked something sticky from his teeth. Then he realized it was dried blood. In an instant, his head was out the hole.

Look at me; puking like a landlubber. No time for this.

Quickly, he shut and bolted both portholes. Only then did his situation sink in.

What to do... merciful goddess of whores and rogues, they'll kill me! That fat captain will lash me bloody and throw me in the sea as meat for the sharks!

Desperately, he tried to think of a way to convince them that it was Ironbones who was guilty, that the tall bastard had deserved it...

Never. We weren't even supposed to be gambling... Could I stow away until landfall? What would I eat? I could catch rats in the cargo hold, hide in there... no, that's madness, they'll find me pat if the smell doesn't drive me mad. If only I could get to the longboat. There's freedom. The Great Cold Current goes right past, a royal road to the Monkey Islands. Even with calm winds and a crew of one, a longboat could make it in a week. Once there, I can eat monkeymeat until some ship takes on water there - maybe a Twist Mountain slaver or even an Imperial warship... then to civilized lands with a fortune.

Halfblue did not know it, but his knuckles were white as he clutched his cask.

But first I have to get off this ship and stop them from following me. I'll have to sink the ship.

"Are you sure you didn't call up some trickster spirit by mistake?" the captain demanded irritably.

"He was here," Spider declared. "Look at the bloodstain."

"Hm."

"I say we break out the crossbows and search the ship top to bottom."

"Belay that. I don't want my crew running around in the middle of the night, scared and uncertain, shooting at anything that moves. I want him found, but found by the officers."

Damn me, thought Spider. I need some way to keep the captain between me and that bloodstained lunatic. What would I do? I'd hide.

"He'll either hide or flee. I'll take some men and guard the longboat, you and Lightwing can search the likely bolt-holes - the cargo hold, the bilges..." Spider leaned in and lowered his voice. "The smuggling compartment."

"You think Halfblue knows about that?" the captain murmured.

"We can't assume he doesn't. Keep in mind that he'll want something with access to potable water, food..."

"Do you think he'll try for a longboat?"

"I wouldn't set guards if I didn't."

Though it isn't bloody likely, Spider thought with satisfaction as the captain set off belowdecks.

Halfblue's arms were thick with muscle, but they were still sore as he cut into the ceiling of Slate's chamber. He was used to tying lines and hauling cargo, not drilling. The sawdust was falling in his eyes and his neck was sore from staring up at the ceiling, but eventually the drillbit punched through the seasoned wood.

Next, he took one of Slate's fancy lamps - it seemed she bought some such gaudy gewgaw at every port - and bent the slender neck down hard. Oil spilled on his hand and he swore. Then took the lid off and, pressing the opening against the hole, blew hard into the neck. A bubbling spatter and then a hiss followed.

Not much oil, but a fire's a fire, and in the larder too, he thought as he applied a lit lamp to the oil soaked hole. He watched it burn for a moment, then grabbed a heavy mattock and the longest chisel he could find.

The woman named Exact was a fine sailor, but she counted herself only a moderate fighter, so she set her lantern down and opened the door to the mess hall with great caution. Holding the door with her foot and standing well back, she peeked within.

Nothing.

Holding her cutlass up before her face and guarding her belly with her elbow, she took a guarded step. She glanced to the left and the right.

Still nothing.

The mess hall was tiny, and once she had (carefully) looked under the tables, she was satisfied that Halfblue was not hidden within. Then she noticed something that made her heart surge with fear.

There was a dim light, flickering in the crack under the door to the larder.

"He's here! Come quick, he's in the pantry!"

She backed against the wall, holding her lamp high as Lightwing and Carmine rushed into the mess hall.

"Don't fight and we won't kill you!" Carmine shouted as she kicked the door open.

The three stared in horror for a moment, and then Exact shouted.

"Fire! Fire! All hands, get water! Get help, get buckets!" The cry spread quickly, and the sailors leapt to respond. A renegade crewman was strange and disturbing, but a fire among their provisions was terrifying. Lightwing took charge of organizing a bucket brigade.

"Seawater only! Try to save the fresh, but use it before you let the provisions burn!"

Captain Large heard the cry as he was searching the aft cargo hold. Immediately he lumbered to the deck, shouting for all hands to quench.

"Where's Spider?" he demanded. "See if he can't witch those flames down! He's supposed to be officer of the watch, dammit! And if you find that rat bastard Halfblue, try to take him alive - I want to flog that devil before the sharks gnaw his bones!"

"Captain!"

"Spider! What the hell are you doing here and not at the fire!"

"Lightwing's there..."

"You should be! You're officer of the..."

"Captain, I think we need to find Halfblue! She's got the fire under control, but I think he's trying to sink the ship!"

"What?"

"I doubled the guards on the longboat. He'll try to sink her and escape there. I'm sure of it."

Large locked eyes with the wind-caller. He hated to think any of his sailors could actually try to sabotage his ship, but in his gut he knew Spider was smarter than he.

"Where do you think he'll go next?"

"The bilges. He'll try to hole her."

Slogging through the dimness of the bilge, Halfblue paused.

If I don't do it, they'll kill me. It's me or them.

Still he hesitated.

What did they ever do for me? Nothing. Take Goldenleaf for example - always slacking and making me do half his work for him. Said he was a better rigger than me and got made boatswain - lying bastard. And Ironbones, he just got what he deserved for trying to cheat me. Acting so indignant, so hurt, so righteous - then trying to rob me in the night. They're as bad as those snotty merchants in Aurora - but I showed them that I wasn't just some flimsy-legged sea dog.

He wedged the chisel between two boards. The foul, stagnant water came up almost to the chisel head. Halfblue had sailed in ships where the bilge was knee deep - the Merry Cask had a better carpenter than most - but still he hoped it was deep enough to hide a hole.

Slate the carpenter. I saw no mold or damp in her chamber. She could keep this hold dry as a vulture's claw if she did her duty, but it's easier for her to let us lowly seamen work the pump.

With all his might he struck. Sparks sizzled in the water. Then he reached down and wrenched the chisel out. A low fountain of cold seawater was his reward.

I'll get away from this damned floating prison and make a name for myself. I'll be Halfblue the gambler, with a silk cloak and a feather in my hat.

He worked his way towards the aft, pausing every now and again to pound the chisel. It became harder as the water slowly got deeper.

Get away from stuck-up lady first mates and creepy weakling sorcerers and fat swinish captains who drink away their days while honest men work...

He saw moonlight suddenly, as the hatch to the deck opened. Then it was dark as the captain's bulk eclipsed the light. He shrank back among the crates and barrels as the captain, the wind caller and two more sailors entered. Each sailor was carrying a lamp; double shadows danced in their red light.

"Spread out," commanded the captain. "Mind the bilge. He'll try to hole her there if he hasn't already."

"We're too late!" cried one of the sailors - Crow, by the sound of his voice.

"They're small holes," said another voice - Slate. "A few pegs will put them right. We're taking water, but slow..."

Quietly, Halfblue wedged himself behind a stack of crates and pushed. The line securing them went taut, and he put the hammer in his left hand as he drew his knife.

Steady... come a bit forward, my bad gambler...

Then he slashed the ropes, pushed hard, and heard Slate cry out as the crates fell towards her.

"Look out!"

Her lamp crashed, went out. Halfblue sprang to the top of a pyramid of chests, saw the captain and the quartermaster rushing towards Slate. He flung the chisel across the hold, towards the front of the ship.

"Over here!"

Lunging and scrambling, he made towards the steps. The stairway to the deck came out by the longboat, he could make it free and clear...

Then the wind caller stepped right in front of him.

Both men were startled. Halfblue had a hammer in his left hand, a knife in his right. Spider was holding a cutlass like he didn't know what it was for.

Then Spider spoke in a booming voice, and his left hand reached for the odd twists of wire around his neck.

"Ahotek of wind and fire, strike this man with..."

Halfblue drove the hammer into the sorcerer's stomach. He pulled Spider off the steps as he heard splashes behind him, and then Crow's voice as he lunged up the steps.

"Damn your god-spat eyes!"

Cold hard pain struck the back of his thigh, and when Halfblue looked down he saw a knife stuck in his muscle, but he was on the deck, right by the longboat. Goldenleaf was staring at him, gape mouthed, with Onion behind.

"Die, you treacherous swine!" shouted Goldenleaf, and lunged with his cutlass.

The thrust hit the center of Halfblue's chest - and was stopped by the heavy cask beneath his shirt. With a half-mad laugh, he swung the hammer, breaking the blade, then slashed with his other hand as Goldenleaf staggered back. Pressing his advantage, Halfblue swung overhand and hit Goldenleaf with the butt of the hammer.

Freedom, he thought, nearly delirious. Just have to launch the longboat. Bandage my leg. Set the sail...

As he stepped over Goldenleaf's crumpled form, he felt something falling on him, wrapping around him. He turned and saw it was Onion, flinging a coil of rope with a twist of his wrist.

"Damn you lad," snarled Halfblue, but the thick cord was pulling his arm to his body, pinning it. He tried to cut the cord, but his pinned arm had no leverage. He pulled hard, but the boy wrapped his end of the rope around a cleat and yanked. Halfblue staggered, then fell out of the longboat and facedown on the deck. In an instant, Onion was on his back, looping the cord around his throat.

Halfblue tried to draw in air, but his lungs convulsed in vain. A dark red rim formed around his vision, creeping in. He tried to move his arms, but they were pinned, and his whole body felt heavy as lead. He could hear nothing but a roaring, pulsing in his ears, beating in time with the throbbing pain in his leg.

Then the red rim closed all around him and there was nothing.

Onion flinched when he felt a touch on his shoulder, then turned and saw that it was Lightwing.

"He's dead," she said quietly. He nodded and let go of the rope. With a groan, Goldenleaf sat up.

"Great Neptune, Onion, what did you do to him?"

Onion looked up and saw other sailors, curious, staring.

"I just... didn't any of you ever rope a calf?"

Goldenleaf laughed.

"Did you always strangle the calf on your farm?"

"Damn my eyes! I don't believe I see the gang of you gawking and laughing when the ship is breached!" At the sound of the captain's voice, the sailors leapt up and began passing buckets for the fire, working the pump, changing the ballast and generally being busy.

Onion stood up too, but Lightwing held him back.

"Onion - he killed Ironbones. He would have killed you, and Goldenleaf and everyone else aboard. You know that, don't you?"

Onion nodded.

"You feel all right?"

He nodded again.

"I'm going to help with the breach then. But come see me tomorrow."

He nodded a third time and she ran off.

Onion had never killed anyone before. He didn't want to look at the corpse, but his eyes kept sneaking back to it. Then he remembered Goldenleaf's cutlass blade, stopping at the bulge under Halfblue's shirt. He couldn't believe he was doing it, but he somehow found himself rolling the body over to look.

Halfblue's eyes, blue and brown, bulged from his face. So did his tongue. Onion looked away, but pulled the dead man's shirt open.

Seeing the coffer, he opened it and looked inside. He looked over his shoulder, and quickly hid the box in the longboat. Then he went down to help pump out the ship.

Part 2