I swallowed hard. Crash was the last word I wanted to hear.

Mal leaned over the lip of the cockpit, trying to get a better view of the gigantic guns positioned at the foremost points of the hulls.

“Those guns,” he said. “They have multiple barrels.”

“And they’re gravity fed. No need to stop to reload. They fire two hundred rounds per minute.”

“That’s—”

“Impossible? The only problem is overheating, but it isn’t so bad on this model. I have a Zemeni gunsmith trying to work out the flaws. Barbaric little bastards, but they know their way around a gun. The aft seats rotate so you can shoot from any angle.”

“And fire down on the enemy,” Mal shouted almost giddily. “If Ravka had a fleet of these—”

“Quite an advantage, no? But the First and Second Armies would have to work together.”

I thought of what the Darkling had said to me so long ago. The age of Grisha power is coming to an end. His answer had been to turn the Fold into a weapon. But what if Grisha power could be transformed by men like Sturmhond? I looked over the deck of the Hummingbird, at the sailors and Squallers working side by side, at Tolya and Tamar seated behind those frightening guns. It wasn’t impossible.

He’s a privateer, I reminded myself. And he’d stoop to war profiteer in a second. Sturmhond’s weapons could give Ravka an advantage, but those guns could just as easily be used by Ravka’s enemies.

I was pulled from my thoughts by a bright light shining off the port bow. The great lighthouse at Alkhem Bay. We were close now. If I craned my neck, I could just make out the glittering towers of Os Kervo’s harbor.

Sturmhond did not make directly for it but tacked southwest. I assumed we’d set down somewhere offshore. The thought of landing made me queasy. I decided to keep my eyes shut for that, no matter what Mal said.

Soon I lost sight of the lighthouse beam. Just how far south did Sturmhond intend to take us? He’d said he wanted to reach the coast before dawn, and that couldn’t be more than an hour or two away.

My thoughts drifted, lost to the stars around us and the clouds scudding across the wide sky. The night wind bit into my cheeks and seemed to cut right through the thin fabric of my coat.

I glanced down and gulped back a scream. We weren’t over the water anymore. We were over land—solid, unforgiving land.

I tugged on Mal’s sleeve and gestured frantically to the countryside below us, painted in moonlit shades of black and silver.

“Sturmhond!” I shouted in a panic. “What are you doing?”

“You said you were taking us to Os Kervo—” Mal yelled.

“I said I was taking you to meet my client.”

“Forget that,” I wailed. “Where are we going to land?”

“Not to worry,” said Sturmhond. “I have a lovely little lake in mind.”