Venture to Uncertainty (#1)

18 | The Loyalty of Uncertainty (Pt. 2)

Silta didn't act like the threat everyone knew her to be as she came up to the General. She walked like she was his old friend, having the acquaintance they talked about. She made a signal with her fingers for Archer to follow, so he glanced at Lyra and shrugged before doing as he was told. Archer hadn't anticipated the General wanting to talk; everyone knew better than to play mind games with her.

The General instructed his remaining men to lower their guns. They'd shot a few times, but reloading was hard when your hands were shaking from stress and action—something crisps didn't often come across. And as Silta said, pistols were inaccurate in motion. As long as you kept moving, chances were you'd avoid the bullet.

"You've stolen a lot from me," the General began cautiously.

"Cannons and gunpowder are simply things," she replied. "You took something a lot more valuable from us."

"I took your crew member only in retaliation," he said.

She grinned. "I hate ports," she said suddenly. The tone of her voice had changed, causing Archer to pay close attention. He was only a few feet from the General now and might have to act soon.

"You know what happened to me in the last port I was at?" Silta said. "The contact that's supposed to be on my side got excited about that bounty that's on my head. You know the one?"

Archer squinted. Sure, she was talking about something that had no connection to what was happening now, but she did nothing without reason.

"I know the one," the General said.

"The contact pointed a pistol at my head. Can you believe that? What a shame. While my own crew member was only a few steps away."

She was trying to tell him something. The port, the contact, only a few steps away—and there it was.

In Port Marcel, when Shiv had turned on them, Archer had taken a step forward and nobody had noticed; Silta was telling him to do the same thing now. Something about Archer allowed him to appear somewhat insignificant to the enemy. Perhaps it was his lack of a reputation, or even the morality that seemed so obvious. It was the same concept, over and over again. Disregard the whole without ever glancing at the details.

He took one, small pace towards the General. Nobody noticed.

Silta smiled. "Tell me, General. Do you want the bounty, or just the honour?"

The General did not smile back. Archer took another step. Silta was slowly letting the bow fall further and further down her shoulder until she could reach it with her hand.

"I want to do what's best for the Cobalts," the General said. "What my King asks of me."

Another step. The bow slid a little more.

"Speaking of, have you seen my father lately?" Silta asked.

There was a long, gruelling pause as Archer took his last step.

"You're stalling," the General said.

"Smart man," Silta said, her voice soft like honey. She dropped the bow into her hands, nocking an arrow, fingers practiced and quick. Archer darted forward as she let the arrow fly, wrenching it out of the cushion on the throne where she'd aimed it. He spun around, bringing the arrow to the General's neck, pulling him back to the throne before either of the guards had processed the situation.

Because they couldn't kill him. They needed a trade—the General for Lyra.

"Being smart," Silta said, taking a step forward, "doesn't mean much if you're not the smartest, love." She took another step, eyes bright and focused. "Then you're not clever. You're just behind."