Flux

afternoon it was given to him, as Ennek blushed and smiled after Miner pulled it on, that was the afternoon Miner had begun to believe that the man truly cared for him.
    Ennek had loved him, in fact. Miner knew that now. Ennek had risked everything, had given up his entire life for Miner’s sake. And look where that had gotten him—dead at the bottom of the sea. As dead as Camens, the only other man Miner had ever fallen for, the man who was also a Chief’s younger son, and who had been executed at his own father’s orders.
    Miner vowed that as soon as he could manage it, he’d be dead as well.

Chapter Two
    h

    I t seemed to take the pirates a long time to unload the cargo from the Eclipse and bring it on board their own ship. Perhaps they weren’t in any hurry with the Eclipse ’s crew subdued.
    Miner had heard stories of pirates back when he was a Guard, and he knew that wise captains would hand over their goods instead of risking death for all. Sometimes it meant financial ruin, but in most cases the shipment was insured. And the pirates themselves rarely used more violence than necessary because if they did, the polises would gather warships against them or, more simply, place tempting prices on their heads. When Miner was very young—perhaps seven or eight—all of Praesidium had been humming with news about a pirate named Ran Ao Liu who had been terrorizing ships all up and down the coast. Several of the polises had, for once, set aside their differences and promised a bounty large enough to make an entire ship’s crew incredibly wealthy. Many merchants had abandoned their regular shipping routes and taken up arms, and Ran Ao Liu was caught within months. His crew members became bond slaves in Praesidium and Olicana and Vinovia, but Ran Ao Liu himself was executed painfully in front of cheering crowds at the Keep. Miner’s father had been there to see it but Miner, thankfully, had not.
    Miner didn’t know whether methods of managing pirates had changed much in the last centuries, but he had the feeling they hadn’t. The small part of his mind that wasn’t completely numb was pleased about that, because Captain Eodore had been kind to him and Ennek, and even after seeing the collar on Miner’s neck, had tried to save him. Miner hoped the Captain came to no harm.
    As for himself, Miner no longer cared what happened. His limbs were cramped from the uncomfortable manner in which he’d been bound, his head ached from the repeated blows it had received, and his arm stung from the shallow slash of the blade. But all of those pains were trifles compared to the tearing agony in his heart.
    He’d only just gotten Ennek, and now Ennek was gone. Everything else was immaterial.
    The sky had grown dark by the time a group of pirates took any notice of him. By then, they’d stowed most of the stolen goods below the decks, and he could hear some of them off somewhere in the ship, drunkenly celebrating their victory. But four of them remained to loom over Miner, rumbling and spitting at one another in their strange tongue. He now knew how a steer must feel when taken to market.
    After a while, one of the men—his old friend Red Shirt, he realized—hunched down and used a knife to cut the rope that attached Miner’s ankles to his wrists. Miner groaned slightly as the men straightened his bent legs and then twisted him around until he was flat on his back, his arms still tied uncomfortably behind him.
    “How many old you?” asked one of them. The one with the black shirt who, Miner suspected, was the captain.
    Miner didn’t answer at first, but then Red Shirt kicked him savagely on the bicep, just where the sword had cut him. Miner hissed and then set his jaw. “Three hundred and twenty-six,” he said, more or less accurately.
    The captain frowned, clearly trying to translate the numbers in his head. When he finished his calculations, his scowl deepened and then he kicked Miner as well, aiming for Miner’s side instead. “How many?” he demanded.
    What difference did that make, Miner wondered. Perhaps it affected his sales value. “Twenty-six,” he said.
    That made the pirates jabber at one another for several minutes. Then the captain looked down at him again. “What you bad?”
    Miner stared at him blankly.
    More slowly and very loudly, as if Miner was some sort of dim child, the captain repeated, “What you bad? You slave. Why?”
    Oh. “Treason,” Miner replied.
    He wasn’t surprised when