The Dragon Round Read Free

Jeryon’s, striped blue and white, is the smallest. It’s also set at the bottom, the most easily replaced.
    Jeryon says, “Steady as she goes.” He slides down the stern ladder and orders the sail and banners brought down, as he would before a storm. They’ll slow, but their profile will be smaller. Better to lose an hour from their schedule than to be seen and lose their schedule entirely.
    Livion stands on the foredeck between the galley’s two harpoon cannons, bulbous iron vases mounted on steel tripods bolted to the deck. A dozen single-flue irons are stacked beside each, and a metal barrel with powder sits on the main deck, given some cover by the foredeck. Trust ships can whale if it won’t affect their schedules, which means Jeryon rarely allows it. But on this trip the cannons are meant only for defense.
    When they’d set out, Livion told the crew that the Trust believedAydeni privateers would attack them. The sailors had thought that far-fetched, regardless of the rumors spreading through the Harbor. None had imagined this alternative.
    Beale, a harpooner with arms as thick as his weapon, says, “Will we fight?”
    â€œIf we do, we’ll be ready,” Livion says. “I’ll take the larboard cannon.” Beale nods.
    Topp, a crossbow loader, says, “It would make a rich prize.”
    â€œFor one ship in a hundred,” Livion says. “And the one in a hundred men on it who survives. You know what happens to the other ninety-nine. Let’s not push our luck.” He heads for the stern deck.
    Beale says, “I can’t think of a ship that’s done it.”
    â€œSo someone’s due, right?” Topp says. “One good shot, and you could get promoted to mate.”
    â€œAnd I’d make you a harpooner so you can see how hard it is,” Beale says. “It would be an interesting shot though.” He swivels the starboard cannon, aiming over the horizon. “A whale’s a cow compared to that.” When Topp doesn’t respond, he realizes the captain is coming toward them. Topp is already pulling crossbows from compartments under the foredeck. Beale loads the cannon, but the captain takes no notice of either of them.
    Solet and Livion watch Jeryon pace fore and aft to the beat of the oars. It’s maddening, his precision, but it’s better than watching the shadow slowly approach.
    Solet says, “You’ve been through this before, haven’t you?”
    â€œYes, but not with one so big,” Livion says. “We still lost the ship.” He glances back. “Twenty-five minutes. Could be twenty.”
    â€œIf we could beat it, though,” Solet says, “would we render it? No one’s getting a share this trip. Only the captain gets a bonus. But we’d all get a taste of the render.”
    â€œWe can’t beat that,” Livion says.
    â€œWhat if we did beat it?”
    â€œWe couldn’t render it,” Livion says. “Not with our schedule.”
    â€œWhat’s a few extra hours?”
    â€œThe flox kills quickly. Maybe ten people the first hour, twenty the second, and so on.”
    â€œMaybe so,” Solet says. “Maybe not. What’s a few people you’ve never met against a fortune you’ll never see again?” he says.
    â€œI’d be happy just to keep my life,” Livion says. “Again.”
    â€œAnd what’s your life now against what it could be?” He looks at Livion. “Stop thinking like him,” Solet says. “Think like the owners. The Trust would also get a share of the render. An immense share. The dragon’s share. Your woman’s father wouldn’t just bring you into the family business then. He’d give you a piece of it.”
    â€œThe only way to get it, though,” Livion says, “would be to betray the captain. And mutiny never pays out in the end.”
    â€œNot mutiny,” Solet