Stormbreak (Seafire #3) - Natalie C. Parker Page 0,63
rounding on Caledonia and directing his steps back toward the main deck. “We have a lot to discuss.”
* * *
>><<
Leaving the Deep Cut, they immediately found themselves on the deck of the strange, flat ship that extended outward from its anchored point on the Bone Mouth. But as they walked, Caledonia realized this wasn’t a single ship at all, but several. She was crossing from the deck of one ship to another, each connected to the next by a combination of griphooks and broad sheets of metal welded in place. Unlike the Assault Ships that composed the rest of the Net, this was more of a building stitched together entirely of ships. The whole thing must have covered a square mile of shallow waters.
Tassos led them inside the megaship, its mazelike corridors rivaling the chaotic weaving paths of Cloudbreak. Stairwells led to hallways and more stairwells, taking them up and down and up again as they moved deeper inside the mysterious structure. Caledonia did her best to ignore the small alarm singing in the back of her mind as she admitted she would not be able to retrace their steps to the surface. Tassos could be taking them anywhere. Straight to the hold or worse.
Finally, he led them down a narrow corridor and into an isolated room at the end. Cepheus was already inside, along with two men. One was old and grizzled, bearing a shock of pure white hair pulled into a bun at the back of his head and tanned skin so long tortured by the sun that it had turned leathery, wrinkles digging into his face and arms like deep crevices. The other was younger with shoulders and fists that matched those of Sledge.
“This is Tug,” Tassos said, gesturing to the bludgeon-fisted man standing beside a long table cutting the room in half. “And that’s Heron. You’ve met Cepheus already.” He paused and said, “This is Caledonia Styx.”
“The infamous Bale Blossom. Well, isn’t that a hell of a thing.” The white-haired man had taken a seat across the room, back pushed against the wall, and showed no interest in standing to greet their semi-hostages.
“This is Pisces,” Caledonia began, eager to get these strange pleasantries over with. “Sledge, Oran, and Nettle.”
“Oran.” Tug’s voice was an ominous rumble. “Fiveson.”
The word was more than a title. Caledonia had heard it used in many different ways in the time she’d known Oran. It had been a curse and a threat. Spoken by Tug, it was both.
“Is it too much to assume you already have a plan?” Tassos asked, bracing his hands against the table.
“I’ll have one soon,” Caledonia countered, moving to stand across from him. “But first I need everything you have on the Holster: the harbor, the city, everything.”
Tassos sucked on his teeth as he considered his response, clearly weighing the benefits of withholding his intel against making actual progress. Finally, he gestured to Heron, who produced a map so expertly rendered, Caledonia could perfectly imagine the gasp that would have dropped from Lace’s lips. Her wide, blue eyes would have consumed the unmarred paper, the careful markings of latitude and longitude. Before Nettle, Lace had steered their crew through rough and clear waters alike, and she would have exclaimed over the degree of detail inscribed in every inch of this map. Even Caledonia recognized it for the prize it was, though she did her best to hide that from her current company.
“The Holster,” Heron said with a small flourish.
The map zoomed in tight on the western side of a peninsula where the shoreline scooped gently inward, creating a protected valley for the city of the Holster. In the center was the harbor, and the cartographer had taken great care to illustrate the series of breakers that limited ingress and egress. Beyond that, the western seas extended to the edge of the page. A small arrow in the upper left corner indicated how many miles to Cloudbreak, and a similar arrow in the bottom left did the same for the Bone Mouth.
Plucking a pouch from a nearby chest, Heron began dropping small metal ships into the harbor. “The harbor itself holds a full cohort of ships. Probably seventy-five at any given time. The rest”—he paused to place several metal blocks in a row— “are outside of these breakers.”
The breakers were evenly spaced, meaning only a few ships could pass into the harbor at once. Not unlike the metal islands in the waters of Cloudbreak. A barrier, but not a complete