I used the stiff wool blanket to prop up a piece of wood to look like a body against the tree and put the man’s hat on top. Up close it was obviously a trick, but from a distance I hoped a vigil would think the man was still tied up here. Less than ten minutes later I passed Erick’s bed as I entered the sleeping quarters. Harlowe’s watch was stored under the bed, and I was tempted to take it and hide it.
But I couldn’t. Not yet. However, I silently vowed to get it back before this was all over.
The following morning, I was one of the first at breakfast, though it was interrupted by another group of pirates who had gathered nearby and were jeering at whatever was happening in the center of them all. I hurried forward, concerned that Tilagon had been captured again. Fink stood near the outside of the group, though he was too short to have a chance at seeing anything.
“What’s going on?” I asked him.
“They just grabbed the boy who tied up that sailor last night. Devlin said he must not have tied him good enough because the man got away while we slept.”
I pushed my way forward. Devlin had fashioned a switch out of a tree branch and was beating the curly-haired boy with it. The boy had crouched into a ball to protect himself but still yelped whenever Devlin hit him.
“Stop it!” I darted forward and grabbed Devlin’s arm. “You don’t know he did anything wrong. Maybe Tilagon was just good at knots.”
“If he’d done it right, nobody could escape.”
“Lots of people can escape knots.”
Devlin shook my hand off him. “Like who?”
It was smarter to back off, but by the glare in Devlin’s eyes I figured it was already too late. “I can.”
Devlin forgot about the boy still on the ground. A wicked grin crossed his face when he looked at me. “I want to see that. Tie him up.”
“What?” I scowled. A couple of pirates grabbed me but I squirmed free. “I haven’t done anything wrong.” At least, not for a few hours.
“No one’s accusing you,” Devlin said as the pirates got hold of me again. “You made a claim and I’m testing it.”
Despite my struggles, they bound my hands behind me and made several knots before I was pronounced finished. It wasn’t a big problem. I’d held my hands wide while they tied me and had already found one end of the rope.
I’d learned how to untie knots soon after entering Mrs. Turbeldy’s orphanage, thanks to the pranks of several older boys who liked to tie us younger ones up in an attic and claim we weren’t hungry for supper. One evening, I figured out I could undo the knots with some nimble fingers and a lot of patience. Then it was time for some revenge. They awoke the next morning tied to their beds while the rest of us went to breakfast. The pranks stopped, and my skills with knots had only improved since then.
Except that with a tilt of his head, Devlin now had me dragged toward the stables. I dug my boots into the dirt path to slow the men on either side of me, but two others joined them and picked up my legs. They carried me into the corral and dropped me directly in front of the water trough. I shook my head at Devlin. “Don’t you dare. I never said —”
“Raise a hand when you want air. If you can.”
And he dunked me face-first into the trough. His foot landed on my back, pressing me down. I didn’t bother with fighting. It wouldn’t do any good and would cost me air. So I arched my back to keep the rope as dry as possible. Every bit of water it absorbed would make the rope thicker and knots tighter.
My fingers worked as fast as they could, deciphering each knot’s shape and worming their way between the loops. I was making progress, but far too slowly and it was hard to concentrate. I hadn’t gotten a complete breath before Devlin pushed me in, and my lungs already ached.
I found the next knot, but it was higher on my wrists, and I couldn’t maneuver my arms at this angle. I couldn’t untie this one while I was submerged.
It was beyond my wanting to breathe now. I needed to breathe. The end of my life could be measured in seconds if I didn’t get free.
Against my will, my lungs finally exploded and I sucked in a mouthful of water. My body jerked up, instinctively moving toward air. Then the foot was removed and Devlin yanked me out of the water and dropped me against a tree. I continued coughing on water as it choked its way out.
Devlin crouched down to face me. “You’d better learn fast that if you interfere with someone else’s punishment, it’s going to become yours. Especially when you make such wild claims.”
al hours passed before everyone settled in for the night. The sleeping quarters for pirates began at sea level as a large hut butted up against the cliff. The steep wall provided some protection but the other three sides were left open to the air. There was a second hut stacked above the one where I slept. It was slightly less exposed to the breeze rolling off the sea, and so was used by the pirates of higher authority. A single room was stacked above that, but I didn’t know what it was for. Devlin and Agor and other senior pirates had their own private quarters at the top of the cliff.
Sneaking out of the hut was fairly simple. Apparently, pirates slept in much the same manner as they lived during the day, loud and hard. The bigger trick after I left was to get off the beach and back up to the top of the hill. Directly behind us, the earthen cliff was too steep for a safe nighttime climb. Stairs were carved into the more gradual hill a little farther down, but they seemed well guarded, so instead I moved up the shore and did some scrambling across an old rockslide to get up top.
I was surprised that Tarblade wasn’t better guarded than what I saw up there. A few vigils were making rounds, but it was as if they knew nobody would be foolish enough to attack them so they expected little danger. Still, I moved cautiously as I made my way toward the captured navigator.
Tilagon was asleep beside the tree, his head tilted so far forward it was nearly touching his chest. I wondered how he could sleep like that, when even in the most comfortable of beds I often had trouble sleeping at all. At least they’d given him a blanket. Devlin would’ve wanted him to be healthy enough to travel in the morning, before they killed him.
The knot binding Tilagon’s hands was nearly halfway undone before he awoke. I whispered that if he made a sound we were both dead and he quickly closed his mouth. When the ropes were untied, I helped him move his arms back from around the tree. He gasped with the stiffness in them but relaxed again once they rested on his legs.
“You?” he hissed when he recognized me. “You’ve come to kill me?”