Stormbreak (Seafire #3) - Natalie C. Parker Page 0,64

barricade. This was information they’d had, but seeing it mapped out like this brought new clarity.

“Can we bomb them?” Pisces asked.

“Sure.” Heron bobbed his head. “But they run deep. No guarantee you won’t gouge your hull trying to pass over one. Might be better to just leave them where you can see them.”

Caledonia nodded. “What else?”

“The gun towers.” As Heron spoke, he marked the towers with a jab of his finger. “All five are on high ground, outside of town, and impossible to target without putting your ships within range of their damned powerful guns.”

“One for every son,” Oran added, settling in at Caledonia’s shoulder. “Aric built them as we were named.”

“We protect him as we protect each other.” Tassos gave the response as though reading a script, and for a fleeting second Oran and Tassos shared a look thick with history.

“We won’t get anywhere near the Holster without taking them out first.” Tassos looked back to Caledonia, expectant in a way that bristled beneath her skin.

“How long does it take to sail to the Holster from here?” Caledonia asked.

“Only a day,” Cepheus answered. “Less at full throttle.”

“Good. Then we have some time to prepare,” Caledonia said, eyes tracing the distance from the breakers to the gun towers and all the way to the tip of the southern peninsula.

“How much time do we need for that?” Cepheus stood at Tassos’s elbow, arms crossed and hip cocked to one side.

Caledonia shrugged. “A few days. Maybe more.”

“Is that a problem?” Pisces asked.

“It’s not a problem.” Tassos nearly growled his response.

But Caledonia knew it was.

“How much Silt do you actually have?” she asked.

The look Tassos gave her might have gutted a lesser person. As it was, Caledonia let it wash over her to reveal what truly lay beneath it: fear.

“Enough,” he ground out. “Now, do you have a plan or not?”

“That depends on how many ships we have to work with. How many can you spare from the Net?”

“The Net isn’t something you just take apart, Bale Blossom.” Heron leaned back in his chair, dragging a finger along the lower portion of the map where the Net butted up against the southern tip of the peninsula. “Wasn’t designed that way.”

“But you just sailed the Deep Cut in and out,” Pisces protested.

“Wouldn’t be much of a Net if it was easy to dismantle,” Tug answered.

“Aric couldn’t have a single Fiveson in command of more ships than him,” Oran added.

“What does that mean?” Caledonia asked.

“The stationary ships have no engines,” Cepheus offered. “No engines and about five anchors each. We can pull the planks and trawling nets in for a storm, but the ships themselves don’t move.”

“So.” Caledonia drew a careful breath as she prepared her next question. “How many sailing ships do you have at your disposal?”

“You’ve seen it for yourself.” Tassos threw a hand in the air.

It took Caledonia a second to understand his meaning, and when she did, she felt her chin drop. “You’re telling me that the ships I saw today are your entire fleet?”

“Forty-three in all. I had a few more before Lir came at me, but then, so did he.”

Caledonia tried not to focus on the numbers. She’d expected Tassos to have more; she’d expected the Net to be more of a resource. But she needed to consider what she did have: sixty-two ships, hundreds of soldiers, and not much time before Tassos’s diminishing supply of Silt made both irrelevant. Silt aside, she had as many ships as she’d had in Cloudbreak, and she’d been ready to attack then. She could do it again now.

“How many ships does Lir have?” Caledonia asked. “Last count we had was near two hundred.”

“He did have that many and he brought them all to my doorstep!” Tassos shouted, a wild glint in his eyes.

“You held off two hundred ships?” Caledonia asked, disbelieving.

“Didn’t have to. Not for long.” Tassos smirked. Cocky and amused. “Because I have something he wants almost as much as he wants me dead.”

“The rig?” Caledonia asked.

“No.” Tassos rose to his full height, looming over her with an excited smile. “His brother Donnally.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The storm that rose in Caledonia’s ears was like no other.

She felt her body turning to vapor, her mind to wind, her blood to rushing rain. There was nothing connecting her to the world except the song of Donnally’s name tossed on the turbulent waves of her mind.

Then she felt Pisces tapping a foot against hers. Heard Oran saying something in unforgiving tones. Saw the satisfied twist of