Okay, not good. Hitch did himself a favor and kept his mouth shut.

Zlo removed the point of the blade from Hitch’s chin. “I will skin you like rats and throw you back to your friends.” This time, he touched the knife to the meat of Hitch’s shoulder. He looked straight at Hitch. What he was going to do was plenty clear before he even started.

Hitch braced and stared right back.

The blade sunk into his skin. Pain razored all the way down to his fingertips, sharp at first, and then just as deep. Warm blood welled up against his jacket sleeve.

The pain gathered in his throat, stopped up his lungs. But he forced it back down, right to the hot center in his stomach. He kept his gaze on Zlo’s.

The man curled his lip. He left the tip of the blade in Hitch’s arm. “I see. You are very brave man? You feel no pain, is that it?” He looked over his shoulder into the corridor, then stalked across the room to where Taos lay hogtied. Zlo kicked the dog in the soft of his belly.

Taos’s eyes whitened around the edges. He thrashed and cried past his gag.

Hitch lunged at Zlo.

One of the men holding Hitch turned the knife in his arm.

Pain ripped through him again, and this time he couldn’t stop the yell.

Jael yanked away from her captor. “Stop it! Ti zlodei!” She only got one step before her knee gave out under her. She twisted and caught her shoulder against the wall, then came back up glaring.

Zlo surveyed her. “Well, and what has happened to you?”

She jutted her chin.

He approached and grabbed her elbow. “You walk like old woman.” He levered her hands up. Tied together behind her back like they were, they bent at a sharp angle that would have hurt even somebody with healthy joints.

She gasped and tried to wrench free.

Zlo pushed harder. He thrust his face into hers. “This is what you get, worthless nikto. You betray me? You choose Groundsmen over people of your own blood?”

“You wanted to bring me to death!”

“You have brought your friends to their deaths. I will let you watch maybe, before it is your turn.” He pulled her arm up farther, then bent her fingers back.

A cry gurgled in her throat. She arched her back, teeth clenched.

With a scream, Walter twisted away from his captor. He hurled himself at Zlo’s legs and landed two hard kicks.

Zlo shoved him back and someone caught him from behind.

Again, Walter twisted loose and dropped to his knees. He closed his teeth in Zlo’s calf, so hard the click was audible across the room.

With a bellow, Zlo kicked him away. “Parazit!” He lurched at Hitch, ripped the knife free, and turned back to Walter.

The hot center in Hitch’s belly exploded. Everything around him went red hot. Blood rushed in his ears. The hole in his arm seemed to ignite in a gout of pain. All of it funneled into strength.

With a roar, he jerked free of his captors. He hurled himself at Zlo and managed to hook his good shoulder in the small of Zlo’s back, right where his kidneys should be.

Zlo’s back arched, his head flinging back. He hit his knees and practically bounced. His head came back up, and Hitch brought his own down hard. He cracked his forehead against the back of Zlo’s skull. More pain shattered through him, starting in his head and radiating down through his limbs. Blackness and stars swam in his vision.

But if Zlo was still conscious, Hitch would hit him again, so help him. He reared his head back for another go. He’d beat the evil swine’s brains to a bloody mush, even if he had to beat his own out right along.

Hands scrabbled at his back and his arms. They hauled him to his feet, and his arm sockets screamed in protest. A few hard blinks cleared his vision.

Zlo had managed to prop himself on his hands and knees, but his head hung down and he swayed.

Hitch braced against his captors and jumped off the floorboards with both feet. His booted heels caught Zlo in the hip and spun him halfway around. The mugs hanging onto Hitch lost their grip for a second, and Hitch gained a few forward inches. Enough to land another kick square on Zlo’s nose.

The man sprawled again.

Somebody jabbed fingers in Hitch’s shoulder wound.

The whole room spun, and every thought in his head got smashed flat under the weight of pain.

When finally it let up, Zlo was dragging himself to his feet. He glared at Hitch, eyes huge and unblinking. He backhanded a wash of blood from under his nose and clenched his knife in the other hand. If ever anybody’d had homicide in his eyes, he did right now.

It was a look Hitch had seen a few times before, in barroom brawls gone bad. But this was the first time he’d ever seen it while tied up and stabbed, with no Earl in sight to watch his back.

He kept his feet under him, fighting the restraining arms that held him.

Zlo reeled closer. He spat blood to the side. “Now, I will take out your guts.”

“No!” Walter screamed.

Jael fought against the men who held her. “Zlo! Do not do this. You cannot do this! You said fault was mine. So kill me—kill me and let them go! They are no part of this!”

He kept coming.

Hitch looked him in the eye. “C’mon, then.”

Beneath their feet, the floor heaved. The whole ship jerked like a tail-shot Jenny. It listed hard to port and bounced in the turbulence. In the corridor, everyone smacked into the far wall. Hitch pitched forward, and his guards clawed at his sleeves to keep their grip.

From far back in the ship, the propellers whined—and then silence.

It… worked? He had to forcibly tighten every muscle in his neck to keep from looking back at the busted pipes. In the excitement, Zlo and his pals hadn’t noticed them. And now, with any luck, the damage would be good and done.

Zlo shoved back to his feet and hollered at his men. His gaze snagged on Hitch and he hesitated. He tightened his fist on the knife.

Then _Schturming_’s tail end slewed again.

Zlo bared his teeth and waved the prisoners away. “And you,” he said to Hitch, “you will get my blade, every bit of it, later.”

At this point, later was almost as good as never. Hitch let a long breath fizz past his teeth. He looked at Jael.

She closed her eyes in relief and gave him a little nod.

They were bundled down the hall into what might be a navigation room, judging from the charts spread all over the high table in the center and the scrolls sticking out of racks along the walls.

Their guard—a fidgety kid in a striped coat—latched the door from the inside and posted himself in front of it. He swallowed twice, then pointed at the floor. “You will sit to ground, all of you.” He studiously avoided eye contact with Jael.

Wind whistled against the porthole in the far wall. The floor slanted prow-ward now, and the ship bucked in the gale like a fresh-broke colt.

Walter scootched down against the wall beside Hitch. He cradled Taos’s head in his lap.

“Are we going to crash?” he whispered.

That was a mighty good question. “Of course not.” Hitch exchanged a look with Jael on his other side.

She shook her head.

This was not how the plan was supposed to go. Of the two present options—get gutted by Zlo or crash in a fireball—neither was too appealing. He glanced sidelong at Walter. This was supposed to have been a rescue. At the moment, it looked a whole lot more like Custer’s last stand.

Walter stared up at him.

Hitch forced a tiny grin. “It’s going to be okay.”

The boy snuggled into the crook of his arm.