The black flag billows just above the horizon. Even through the smudged and salt-stained lens of the spyglass, the skeletal bones on the flag form a hand extending a middle finger.

  “Yep. Pirates.” I slap the spyglass closed and flip it end over end toward the ship’s captain. “But I don’t see how it’s my problem. I paid you for transport. That includes protection.”

  The ship’s captain stands straight but still lays his hands on the deck rail for support. A split in the jacket seam stretches down the shoulder, revealing his white undershirt. “I won’t be negotiating. Blood will chum the sea today.”

  “I won’t risk my mercenaries to protect your cargo,” I say.

  “Mercenaries? You, the brute, and the girl? We can use every blade, but don’t speak as if you’re commanding an army here. If we lose today, they will assume you’re part of my crew.”

  The waves break gently against the hull of the ship below, and white caps gently form across the ocean. It’s a lovely backdrop for a clash on the water.

  “Ten percent of the cargo’s profits, and you will have the Blood Coins help.”

  “We’re dropping you off at the next port. I’m not saving up your proceeds for the next time we never meet. Ten percent of the proceeds at the next port. That’s it.”

  “Twenty percent.”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Fifteen and free fares for the three of us.”

  “Fine.”

  We push our fists together as a sign of agreement. The magic between us is faint. Just a whisper. I can tell if he’s a powerful match for me in a fusion, and this one wasn’t. Not that I expected there to be some font of energy, as most matches are weak, but I wouldn’t mind a surprise.

  I walk the deck back toward midship, where Ulfgar and Nimue wait. The planks underfoot squeal like dying animals. The ship has long outlived its intended lifespan, and it needs maintenance from keel to stem.

  Ulfgar's hands clench tightly, the whites of his knuckles visible. Excitement runs through him like a child. Nimue stands by him, calm and expressionless.

  “Next time, don’t look so excited to fight. It doesn’t help with negotiations,” I say.

  “I can’t help it. It’s been too long,” Ulfgar says.

  “I just let you beat the tar out of me a week ago.”

  “Let me?” Ulfgar’s expression shifts from excitement to anger.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Are we killing pirates, or not?” Nimue asks.

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  “Yes, we are.”

  “Vrek, yeah!” Ulfgar pumps his arm into the air.

  “However, you are not.” I slap Nimue on the shoulder. “You’re to stay below deck until it’s done.”

  “Sure, boss,” she replies.

  That was easy.

  Too easy.

  Nimue lifts the iron ring of the hatch, slides into the darkness below, and lets the heavy wood slam shut behind her.

  “What’s the plan?” Ulfgar asks.

  “Look big and tough during the negotiations. Pirates run away most of the time, even when they don’t get bribe money.”

  Ulfgar places a hand on my shoulder. The magic there is strong, but not overwhelming. He closes his eyes. “I hope they fight. Then we can find out our fusion.”

  “A ship in the middle of the sea might not be the best place to find out.

  A sturdy chain necklace hangs from my neck under my tunic, with my father’s blood coin at the bottom. Each disc is far too heavy to bring them all, even though it would be of great benefit to me to pick between all available spells. It would be too difficult to ensure I’m touching one and not another, too. Maybe one day I can find a way to bring more along, but for now, I’m content carrying one with which I’m familiar.

  The sailors begin a steady routine to prepare. Flammable objects are stored below decks. A young deckhand sets up a net that could fall on an unsuspecting marauder near the main mast. Clever. As the pirate ship approaches, all fighting hands stand on deck so that the captains can size each other up.

  The sailors aboard our ship look serious. Not scared, but concerned. There’s a furrowed brow on one woman as she grips the hilt of her cutlass till her knuckles turn white. Another’s fingers tremble as they reach for arrows to fill a quiver.

  They need inspiration. One thing Father used to say is that some of the most powerful magic in the world is courage.

  “Everyone!” I lift a fist. “Don’t fear. The Blood Coins are with you.” I touch my father’s memorial disc.

  Vashar.

  Starting from my amulet, liquid steel rolls in waves over my body. The ship’s bow groans loudly under the increased weight. I walk up the stairs to the forecastle at the front of the ship for a more prominent position, each stomp splintering the nails underfoot.

  “A wizard,” one sailor says.

  I won’t correct them.

  “Hell yeah,” another says.

  With the crew emboldened and a man made of steel staring them down, surely these pirates will sail off, leaving us unharmed and with my full 15% intact.

  The pirate ship pulls alongside ours. Gaunt faces stare at us with tightly defined muscles along the top deck. These men are hungry. Strangely, their clothing seems two sizes too big for their bodies. They won’t be sailing away from here without the cargo, whether we give it to them willingly or with a sharp, cold cutlass blade biting into our necks.

  Still, I must try.

  “I suggest you set off back the way you came. We won’t be dealing today.” My voice is deeper than normal, and echoes like a dragon speaking from within a metal cave.

  “Metal skin? Neat trick.” Their captain emerges from the forecastle. A tangle of white hair flows over pale, teal skin. Her gills flutter, and her nose, just two holes, opens and shuts.

  A siren. I don’t know which variety. But either half the men on our ship will come to her aid, or her scream will pierce into our minds, forcing us to our knees, blood flowing from our noses and eyes. I’m not sure which I prefer.

  She continues, “We’ll be using you as an anchor after we’re through. Get ‘em, mates!”

  Her mouth opens wide, fangs pointing down. Instead of a song or high-pitched scream, she belts a war cry. All of the pirates grow in size, their skinny frames packing on new muscle from some otherworldly source. Their clothes fill in and tighten as the new mass forms beneath them. They jump the gap between the ships, place ladders between for bridges, swing across ropes, and the sound of metal clanging erupts into the air.

  The captain was right. These waters will be chummed today.