Musket-fire was still coming from the front of the boat, so Marcus ran in that direction, hunching over again to avoid poking his head up. He saw Raesinia and Andy, lying side by side, aiming through the gaps in the rail while exposing themselves as little as possible. Once they fired, they slithered back to accept a fresh musket from George the Gut, who was reloading as fast as he could. Maple was down, lying slumped against the rail, and Zimona was pulling at the back of her sister’s dress in tears. Walnut, beside her, hacked at the arm-thick lines tying the boat to the pier.

“Leave those,” Marcus told him. “We’ll never get the anchor up anyway. Get her out of here!”

Walnut nodded and pulled Maple’s deadweight away from the rail and out of sight of the musketeers below, Zimona trailing in his wake. Marcus watched the big woman’s limp, dangling arm and thought, Get the job done first. He lay down and pulled himself up beside Raesinia to look at the pier.

As he’d guessed, there were close to a dozen Patriot Guards down there, taking cover among the stacks of barrels and coils of rope that littered the pier. One lay in plain view, obviously dead, while another crawled determinedly away from the boat, trailing a slick of blood from his leg. The rest were loading and firing as fast as they could, a thick haze of powder smoke already hanging over the pier like a dirty cloud lit from within by muzzle flashes.

“A couple tried to climb up the ropes, but Andy bashed one over the head,” Raesinia reported. “The other jumped into the water.”

“I think they’re trying to keep us busy while they figure out what to do,” Andy said.

“Fine with me,” Marcus said. He flinched at the sound of a pistol shot, muffled by the wooden deck. Nell must have found something. “You two keep this up. I’ll go help Viera.”

He had only a moment to reflect on the absurdity of using the queen like a common ranker. Shuffling back from the rail on his elbows, he looked over his shoulder at Walnut, who had dragged Maple to safety. The big man caught Marcus’ eye and shook his head; Zimona was bent over her sister’s corpse, sobbing. Damn. Marcus pointed at George, indicating that Walnut should help load—he would make too big a target at the rail. Walnut nodded, patted Zimona on the shoulder, and loped across the deck as Marcus ran back toward the stern.

Nell was emerging from the stairway, a smoking pistol in one hand. “There was one left,” she said, beaming at Marcus. “But I got him.”

“Good work. Is Viera already down there?”

“With Brask,” Nell said.

“Help Andy and Raes,” Marcus ordered, and went down the stairs himself.