Ferra knew guns the way she knew dragons, from stories, so the biggest weapon she ever handled was a crossbow.
Nine pearl-cannons swung toward the Unsinkable II in one slow, terrible, silent line, their muzzles lined with glowing teeth. The fog behind them boiled with pale lantern light, a floating city of black masts, rigging, and rotten canvas.
"That's the Maiden's Toll in the middle, the one with the weeping figurehead," Sazame said, climbing onto the rail, "sink her and the rest scatter."
"Sink her with what?" Ferra asked, her gauntlets clanking together.
"Your idiot, I assume."
Hajin cracked his knuckles with a grin that stretched up to his bloody nose, one foot planted on the bowsprit. His coat hung in ribbons, the Chain already humming at his wrist like a kettle about to burst into song.
"We go straight at them," he said.
"Our boat is slow, Baron Bastard, we'll be shot to kindling before we cross half the gap," Sazame said.
"Then we'll be fast kindling."
