The Black Lung Captain - Chris Wooding [109]
Frey had to restrain himself from picking a book off the shelf and flinging it at her. A heavy one, with sharp corners.
“Haven’t you had enough of revenge yet?” he asked.
“Not while you’re alive,” she said. “Speaking of which: give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”
Frey recognized that line. He’d asked her that very same question in Mortengrace, Duke Grephen’s stronghold, with a sword at her throat. Part of him wished he’d done her in then, but another part—some absurd, ridiculous part—was glad he hadn’t.
Damn, he hated her. But, damn, how he loved to do it.
He sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “We both know you won’t kill me. There’s no point to it. The sphere is gone. You’ve already been paid for its delivery, I assume. So where’s the profit?” He raised an eyebrow. “Besides, you’d miss me.”
Trinica laughed, and it was genuine this time. Frey knew the difference. This one made him feel warm. “You’re remarkably sure of yourself these days,” she said. “And what about my men who were killed? The damage you’ve done?”
“It’s all in the game, Trinica,” he said. “You don’t get to be a terror of the skies without taking a few knocks. You know that; don’t pretend you don’t. Besides, it was mostly Grist, if you think about it.”
“No doubt you had a hand in it.”
“No doubt I did. Tell you what: forget killing me for a minute. I’ve a proposition.”
Trinica raised an eyebrow. “A proposition? And such a strong bargaining position you have. I can hardly wait.”
Frey took a mental deep breath. It was a proposition, alright. A plan that Frey had formulated during those few hours he’d spent in the Delirium Trigger’s brig. Usually he’d discuss his ideas with his crew, but this one he kept to himself. He knew what they’d say. He could see a hundred ways in which it was a bad idea. And yet he’d been itching to tell Trinica ever since he’d walked into her cabin. It had taken an effort to stop himself blurting it out the moment he sat down.
She’s a snake, Darian. Just remember that. It doesn’t matter what you once had. The way she was at Kurg, that shows how much she thinks of you. She’ll turn on you if you let her.
“The way I see it, we have no reason to fight. But we do have a common enemy. And he has something we both want.”
Lightning flashed and slow thunder rolled outside. Trinica leaned forward over her desk. She made a cradle with her knitted fingers and rested her chin in it. “Darian,” she said, amused. “You’re surely not suggesting we join forces? After all we’ve done to each other?”
“You and me,” said Frey. “We’ll find Grist and get that sphere back.”
“And why would I want to do that, if I’ve already been paid for retrieving it?”
“Because you’re the dreaded pirate Trinica Dracken, and Grist just gave you a lashing like you haven’t had in years. Your crew will talk. The moment this craft gets into dock, everyone’s going to know how the Storm Dog beat you.”
The slightest flicker of anger passed over Trinica’s face.
Gotcha, he thought.
“I make it a month at least before the Delirium Trigger’s up and ready for a fight again, even at the best workshops in the land,” Frey said. “Grist’s trail will be cold by then. But the Ketty Jay can be running in a matter of hours. Soon as we get some new windglass for the cupola and Silo gets his hands on that bloody engine.” He paused for a moment to let that sink in. “The Ketty Jay can’t take on the Storm Dog. But the Delirium Trigger can. And with me on your side, next time it’ll be you who has the element of surprise.”
She watched him carefully, sizing him up. Her contact lenses made her irises black, turning her pupils huge. An illusion calculated to intimidate and unsettle. But Frey knew what color her eyes were underneath.
“You’ll never find him without me,” he said. “And I’ll never beat him without you. I know the man and you don’t. I need your contacts; you need my aircraft.