“Oh well, maybe they won’t shoot us out of hand,” he said. “At least not at first. Remind me of my supposed name and title?”

“Martin Suresword, Terror of the Syndical Sea.”

“Ludicrous,” said Hereward. “I doubt I can say it, let alone carry on the pretense of being such a fellow.”

“There is a pirate of that name, though I believe he was rarely addressed by his preferred title,” said Mister Fitz. “Or perhaps I should say there was such a pirate, up until some months ago. He was large and blond, as you are, and the Syndical Sea is extremely distant, so it is a suitable cognomen for you to assume.”

“And you? Farnolio, wasn’t it?”

“Farolio,” corrected Fitz. “An entertainer fallen on hard times.”

“How can a puppet fall on hard times?” asked Hereward. He did not look back, as some movement on the bow of the xebec fixed his attention. He hoped it was not a gun crew making ready.

“It is not uncommon for a puppet to lose their singing voice,” said Fitz. “If their throat was made with a reed, rather than a silver pipe, the sorcery will only hold for five or six hundred years.”

“Your throat, I suppose, is silver?”

“An admixture of several metals,” said Fitz. “Silver being the most ordinary. I stand corrected on one of my earlier predictions, by the way.”

“What?”

“They are going to fire,” said Fitz, and he pushed the tiller away, the skiff’s mainsail flapping as it heeled to starboard. A few seconds later, a small cannon ball splashed down forty or fifty yards to port.

“Keep her steady!” ordered Hereward. “We’re as like to steer into a ball as not.”

“I think there will only be the one shot,” said the puppet. “The fellow who fired it is now being beaten with a musket stock.

Hereward shielded his eyes with his hand to get a better look. The sun was hot in these parts, and glaring off the water. But they were close enough now that he could clearly see a small red-clad crowd gathered near the bow, and in the middle of it, a surprisingly slight pirate was beating the living daylights out of someone who was now crouched—or who had fallen—on the deck.