On Discord Isle Read Online Free PDF Page A

below, and you can stop Sarah and Jane from killing each other. Then I’ll tell you what I think.”
    The two officers looked at her, then at each other. Lucian shrugged. “All right. I probably shouldn’t be up here anyway.”
    They all stood and left the cupola, ignoring Gabley’s terrified cries. Lina scratched the back of Runt’s head, her stomach sinking. What she was about to suggest could get her strung up. But we can’t keep going on like this. She moved to clamber down the rigging.
     

Chapter Three
     
    Natasha clawed her way back to consciousness.
    The bitter details of half-remembered dreams washed against her thoughts like coastal flotsam after a storm. She pushed them aside, uninterested in the gibberingly insistent feeling that there was some sense to be had, that if she’d just focus a little harder, some fog-logic truth would be recalled. It was never worth the effort.
     A fine coating of fur covered her teeth. Her tongue was thick in her mouth. Worse than either was the horrible taste filling the back of her throat and crawling up into her sinuses, the aftermath of too much rum.
    She smacked her lips and grimaced, reached down for the bottle that should be just within her grasp. Her fingers brushed only the wood of the deck and the drawers built into her bunk. Natasha turned her head to look and saw nothing.
    Ye Goddess. I’ve finally done it. I’ve drunk myself blind. A bitter thought crossed her mind. Fengel always said I’d do it one day.
    The thought of her co-captain was like an iron nail across a chalkboard. She pushed his criticism away and considered her predicament. This makes things difficult, but there’s no reason I couldn’t still command. Hmm. My fighting days are done, and maintaining crew discipline will be troublesome. I could just fire off a pistol now and again at random. Pretend that whoever I hit I’ve been displeased with. Yes. That should suffice. Now, where’s that bottle?
    Belatedly she realized that she wasn’t blind; her eyelids were simply closed, and would not open. Quick testing with her fingers revealed them to be glued shut by tears, fine grit, and kohl. A bit of work removed the offending debris, and Natasha opened her eyes.
    She immediately regretted the act. Daylight streamed in from the windows directly above the captain’s bunk. It filled the room, skull-splittingly over-bright. Natasha groaned and threw an arm over her face.
    The world refused to leave her be. The taste in her mouth, the light in the room and a suddenly insistent need to use the privy all pressed in upon her. Natasha considered going back to sleep, but she could almost hear her father’s voice, chiding her for rising late.Grumbling to no one in particular, Natasha narrowed her eyes and pulled herself slowly into a sitting position.
    The captain’s cabin of the Dawnhawk was sumptuously spaced for an airship. A holdover from their nautical forebears, Natasha had expanded the design of the room when she’d commissioned the vessel. A wide bunk, big enough for two, sat just beneath the stern windows. Tasteful cabinetry lined the walls, holding clothing, weapons, and other such sundries. A large table dominated the middle of the cabin, nailed in place.
    There was surprisingly little clutter about the room, a sign of Fengel’s influence. The man could not abide disorder, fussy old maid that he was. What was home without a little mess? Only a few things hinted that anyone lived here; her boots, sword belt, the pillows near the door where she’d apparently thrown them, and a pile of the errant rum bottles laying on their sides in a corner, where they must have rolled away from her bunk in the night.
    Natasha brightened. She stalked over and grabbed up one of the latter. It was sadly empty. A quick check revealed the same for the others.
    “Fengel,” she croaked, “hoist yer ass from that bed and go get me a drink. Whatever time it is, I need breakfast.” Her stomach rumbled. “And some