The Dragon Round Read Free Page A

says. “Opportunity.”
    Livion steps away. He should have Solet broken down to sailor. He would if what he said didn’t ring true. His monthly would never satisfy Trist, and to her father anyone below captain is a ship’s boy. And would the flox spread so quickly? People had been staying indoors. The city guard had been keeping the streets clear. Victims had been isolated. And all the tales he’s heard about the plague’s virulence, they could be just that, tales. Tristaban, though, she’s real.
    Did he just see a flap? A grue clutches his spine.
    While pacing, Jeryon keeps his head down and his eyes up so he can read Solet’s big mouth and expressive lips. He’ll deal with the second mate in a moment.
    He enters the poth’s cabin. Drenched sailcloth cloaks the barrels and crates, many of which are under the table, and it’s anchored by the casks of water. He nods and notices the packets in a crate by the door. Another crate holds various tinctures and pills.
    â€œBandages,” Everlyn says. “I never travel without some. And medicine. I could prepare better if I knew what we were facing.”
    Jeryon says, “Burns.”
    She plucks some bottles from the table. “Salves.”
    â€œAnd you’ll need a saw,” he says. “The carpenter will bring you one. And some cord and pins for tourniquets. Ever performed an amputation?”
    Some color drains from her face. “No,” she says. “My skills are herblore and midwifery.”
    Jeryon smirks. “It’s not hard. Except for the bone. And the screaming.”
    Everlyn draws herself up. Color pumps into her cheeks. “I’ve pulled dead children from the living, and living ones from the dead. I’m not afraid of a little screaming.”
    â€œWe’ll see,” he says. “Stay here.”
    â€œI think I could better serve the ship on deck.”
    â€œHow many lives have you saved while you were dead?” Jeryon says. “Stay here.”
    He starts out, but turns in the doorway. He surveys the table and crates of cured shield. “All that you’ve done,” he says. “I won’t let it go to waste.” Then he leaves.
    And that’s the limit of Hanoshi gratitude , she thinks. It’s not about you. It’s about what you’ve done for me .
    Everlyn takes out the skull bottle and toasts the closed door. Wine shouldn’t go to waste either.
    On the stern deck Jeryon says, “Where did it go?”
    â€œInto the sun,” Livion says.
    â€œLet’s give it a moment. You’re on the oar. If we’re seen, use your whistle to direct Tuse. It won’t matter how much noise we make at that point.”
    â€œWhat about me?” Solet says.
    â€œLarboard cannon,” Jeryon says. “A good commander leads from the front. If you want a ship of your own, you’ll need that experience.”
    Jeryon sees fear flicker in Solet’s eyes. Good , Jeryon thinks, let him wonder why I’m putting him on the cannon. Solet has his faults, but everyone knows he’s better at the oar than Livion, who’s the better harpooner .
    After Solet heads forward, Livion says, “Should I drop the rowers to regular time?”
    â€œNo,” Jeryon says. “That was the mistake your last captain made, thinking the danger had passed.”
    Solet passes through the rows of crossbowmen lined up against the foredeck as he mounts to his cannon. They fidget. Their fingers flex. “Keep your fingers off the triggers,” Solet says. “I don’t want anyone shooting his own foot. Or mine.”
    He looks past the stern deck. How long can it hide inside the glare of the sun? Could it be that smart? Or has it turned away?
    Beale gestures at his cannon with his firing rod. The bent tip glows red. “Should we unload?” he says.
    â€œYou’ll know when it’s time.” Solet swivels his gun absently, its