“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of pirates educating themselves this way.” I watched the men rush to various posts in perfect synchronization, their movements graceful as dancers. Their preparation awed even me. But the silence was eerie, especially knowing that wicked song had infected the air all around, but we couldn’t hear it.

“I don’t understand. How are they immune to the song?” young Dara asked. Her wild ringlets grazed my neck, her quivering chest pressed against my side. My father had rescued a nine-year-old Dara after her drunken mother sold her to a brothel to settle a debt. He’d paid the money owed and brought her back to The Freedom, where she’d worked with our cook, Hannah, for the past five years. As the youngest on our ship, I’d wanted to keep her close and protected on this unsavory debacle. However, had I guessed we’d be attacked by sirens, I would have left her to the safety of The Freedom and my all-female crew.

“They aren’t immune,” Krinny said, pointing to Lanard. He fumbled to roll small balls of wax to plug his ears. It was a common defense many used to stifle the song. Not a foolproof remedy, but it helped. It also explained the need for a silent means of communication amongst the crewmen.

The boy’s fingers slipped, and he lost his grip on one ball, sending it skittering over the deck. As he reached for it, his eyes glazed over. He pivoted in the opposite direction like a puppet on strings, his limbs jerking mechanically.

“Where’s he going?” Dara’s voice trembled.

“Stay here,” I said, clutching her shoulder. “Do not move.” I looked over her head. “Lianna, watch her. Protect her with your life and keep away from the perimeter.”

I darted forward, pausing only to cup the fallen wax plug into the palm of my hand. Lanard had managed to shuffle to the starboard side. He wasn’t alone. Already, men were vaulting the rails and flinging themselves overboard, chasing the enticing song to watery graves. Whether they hadn’t secured their earplugs quickly enough or the protection was simply inadequate, I couldn’t say. Lanard hiked a leg over the gunwale. I wouldn’t reach him in time.

Ever the theatrical one, Krinny jumped onto the stacked crates above me and grabbed a rope hanging from the masts. She swung herself out over the water, looping back around in an arc. Her boot heel kicked Lanard square in the chest, sending him careening backward to the deck. His rear landed with a thud right in front of me.

“Nicely done,” I yelled in her direction.