Running Close to the Wind

by Alexandra Rowland

Avra prided himself on a single scanty fistful of common sense, and he was rather pleased to have correctly assessed the captain of this vessel as a man too sensible to put up much of a fight when boarded by pirates.

“No,” Oskar moaned again. “Fuck.” “You seem a bit concerned,” Avra said.

Markefa paused, the lid half pried off, and raised an eyebrow at the captain. “What?” Teveri snapped. “Swears on his own dick, Captain,” she said, a little reproachful. “Oughta hear a man out when he swears on his own dick, no?”

“Then I opened up the safe in the pedestal—” “How did you know there was a safe in the pedestal?” “Tripped on the rug, banged my knee on the corner of it, accidentally triggered the mechanism to open the hidden panel.” He clasped his hands together. “You know. A lucky break.”

“I’ve always been hungry,” Teveri snapped. “So you have,” said Black Garda, smiling. “That’s the energy that comes into port with your ship. A hunger. A little wildness. Like a dog that ran into a tree as a puppy and keeps getting weirder and crazier every year.” Her smile broadened. “This is also a compliment, of course.” “Of course.”

Here we are—for now, for at least today, it said. Here we are, as splendid as we can manage, because we might not be here tomorrow, because we won the right to do what we are doing on the tip of a blade—and because they should know, all those people out there in the world, that we were here and proud and free and that they couldn’t and can’t do a thing to stop us.

“I will not stand to be flirted with.” “You have started knife fights for less,” Avra agreed.

“Cat seemed like a lovely sort of person. How long have you been friends?” “Half an hour. Also eight years.”

“Teveri told me to look after you today, which I would have already done, because you don’t know about the cake competition and that’s a good way to get physically injured or killed.” Julian raised his eyebrows. “Apparently I know far less about this cake competition than I was assuming.”

Witness Amita, I am troublesome. And troublesome people, as we all know, are not something that institutional power wants to have to deal with.