She decided to take a chance. “Your ship. On loan.”
He straightened his tall frame, gingerly smoothed back his dark hair, and folded his arms across his chest. He gave her a considering look. “On loan?”
“We took back the Jerle Shannara, Aden. Big Red and me. But we lost Hawk in the process, and someone is going to pay for that. I already told this to Donell. The witch marooned us. Now I intend to do the same to her. If I could, I would kill her. But leaving her trapped here with her rets works just as well.”
He nodded slowly. “You want me to help you?”
“I want you to stay out of the way.” She paused, reconsidering. “All right. I want you to help me. It might not be a bad idea, given what this voyage is likely to end up costing you otherwise. But even if you don’t, I want your word that you will stay out from underfoot. I already have control of Black Moclips anyway.”
Aden Kett glanced at Donell Brae, who shrugged. “I only saw one other man.”
She laughed. “You don’t think I came aboard with just one man, do you? That would be madness!”
“The kind of madness you prefer,” Kett suggested. “There’s not much you wouldn’t risk, Little Red.” He gave her an appraising look, and she held his gaze. “Anyway,” he said, “I’m not going to turn Black Moclips over to you just because you ask.”
“It’s only on loan,” she reminded him. “I’m borrowing her just long enough to find my friends and get us to the coast. Then you can have your ship back, and no one will be the worse for it.”
“The witch might not see it that way.”
“The witch might not be around to find out.”
He grunted. “I wouldn’t want to bet my life on that. And I would be.”
“Tell her you had no choice. Or just leave her behind and sail home. This fight isn’t Federation business anyway. It’s between the witch and the Druid. It’s about something that doesn’t concern any of us. All Big Red and I care about is the money.”
He saw the lie in her eyes or heard it in her voice; she couldn’t tell which. But she knew he didn’t believe her. “What matters is that we’re different, Little Red,” he said. “You’re not a soldier; you’re a mercenary. I’m an officer of the line. I am expected to obey the orders I’m given, not change them to suit my mood. Nor am I allowed to change sides in the middle of an engagement. They call that treason.”
She studied him, letting the words hang in the silence. She saw his eyes flick briefly to where his weapons hung in their harness from a peg. “If you look that way again,” she said quickly, drawing his eyes back to her, “I’ll kill you before I have a chance to think better of it.”
She felt Donell Brae tense and immediately tightened her grip on his arm. “Don’t do it,” she warned.
Then footsteps sounded in the passageway outside, sudden and unexpected. Instantly, commander and pilot exchanged a second glance, this one filled with unmistakable meaning. “Commander?” a deep voice called out.
Donell Brae swung around quickly to grapple with her, but she was already moving. She knocked aside his upraised arm and hit him as hard as she could in the temple with the butt end of the dagger. As he went down, she leapt over him, intercepting Aden Kett in midstride as he reached futilely for his weapons. She slammed him back against the bulkhead and knocked him to the floor. Straddling him in fury, she pressed the dagger so tightly against his throat that she drew blood.
“Commander!” The knock at the door was rough and urgent.
“The only reason I don’t kill you here and now is that I think you are a decent man and a good officer, Aden.” Her face was so close to his she could see the terror reflected in his dark eyes. “Now answer him!”
Kett, pinned to the floor and gasping for air, swallowed hard. “What is it?” he called toward the door.