“Stay right here where they can see you clearly when we get closer,” said Jessep. “Begging your pardon, ma’am. But that’ll help . . . distract them.”
Helga’s smile was a very crooked thing. ” ‘Distraction’ is one way of putting it. But how are they supposed to get a good look at me? We’re back in the stern, First Spear. Sorry, ‘Special Attendant.’ ”
” ‘First Spear’ is just fine coming from you, ma’am. Think I prefer it some, to be honest.”
Helga nodded. ” ‘First Spear’ it stays, then, at least between you and me. But my point is—if you really want them to get a look at me, shouldn’t I be up in the bow?”
Jessep shook his head. “That’d be suspicious, ma’am. A lady’d be either way back at the stern or . . .”
“Cowering in the hold,” finished Helga, “like as not screaming her head off. Speaking of which—”
She took three quick steps and leaned over the hatch. In the semi-darkness below, she could see Polla’s pale face staring up at her. Despite the paleness, which was more the product of spending days in the ship’s interior than anything else, Polla didn’t seem especially worried.
“It’d help if you all did some screaming,” said Helga. “When the time comes. I’ll give you the signal.”
Polla nodded. Then, gave her own version of a crooked smile. “No problem. Won’t be the first time any of us have faked it. Although there’s probably no need to mention that to my, ah, husband.”
Helga chuckled. Then, chuckled again, hearing Ilset’s outraged hiss. “I never faked anything! My husband—”
“Oh, shut up, will you?” groused Polla. “If I have to listen to another paean of praise about your precious Jessep, I swear I’ll . . .”
The rest faded out as Polla disappeared. Helga straightened and went back to Jessep. The middle-aged former First Spear had a very smug look on his face. Apparently, the injury to his head hadn’t affected his hearing any.
“Okay,” she said. “Now what?”
Yunkers shrugged. “You and I just stand here looking like a rich merchant and his beautiful daughter. With our personal bodyguard.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at Lortz. Helga’s personal weapons trainer, looking relaxed if none too happy, was standing near them in full weapons and armor.
“Nothing else for us to do, really,” Jessep continued. “Thicelt’s an excellent shiphandler, as he’s made obvious by now.” He nodded in the direction of one of the soldiers lying on the deck. “My nephew Uther’s as good a First Spear as any you’ll find, and he’s led at least four boarding operations that I know about. Other than that . . .” He winced slightly.
“Other than that, there’s the question of what my hot-blooded and eager young brother wants to do.”
At the moment, judging from the evidence, what Trae mainly wanted to do was curse the fates. Such, at least, was Helga’s interpretation of his grimaces and gestures. The words themselves were difficult to follow, since there really weren’t too many strung together in coherent clauses.
Eventually, as the string of swear words shortened, she was able to make some sense of it. Trae, it seemed, was most unhappy with the decision to end the long stern chase.
By then, he was standing in front of Helga herself and making his sentiments known.
“Dammit, Helga, I wanted to try them out! How in the name of all that’s holy am I supposed to get any experience with the guns if—if—you stupid idiot!” His arms were waving about rather wildly now. “Turn the ship back around! I was just about to set the clamps!”
Yunkers hesitated, apparently reluctant to get into a fierce argument with a Demansk scion. Helga, for whom Trae was simply a younger brother, had no such compunction.
“If your precious guns are so finicky they can only be used under perfect conditions,” she snarled, “then we might as well have left you behind.”
As always, an attack by his older sister brought out the imp in Trae.
“You’re just being nasty because these stupid pirates are getting in the way of your rut. For shame. Mother brought you up properly, too. Tried to, anyway.”