Beneath a Burning Sky (The Dawnhawk Trilogy Book 3) by Jonathon Burgess

it supported. Far up above hung the Skydocks and its airships, likewise reflecting the glow of the Yellow Lantern Terrace from their great, soft gas-bag envelopes. Tropical birds called in the distance, and the occasional breeze brought earthy jungle scents.
    “Omari,” sighed Fengel. “I already have far too many animals aboard my ship to take care of, including a scryn, a bird, numerous diverse pirates, and a wife. You were in such a hurry to be rid of us. I can’t be held accountable that this animal decided to follow you.” He looked up as a shadow fell across the table. “Yes, what is it?”
    One of the waitresses had appeared, a tankard of ale in hand. “Here ya go, captain.”
    Fengel shoved the cat away again and took the drink with a frown. “Obliged. But I don’t remember ordering another.”
    She jerked her head back inside. “Compliments of Captain Blackheart, who’d like you to join her.”
    “Oh.” Fengel glanced back to where Natasha sat, surrounded by a gaggle of hapless local admirers. “Tell her I’m just fine out here, but thanks.”
    The waitress raised her eyebrows. “Not unless you’re tipping in diamonds, Captain. Everyone who gets caught between the two of you gets shot or set on fire.”
    Fengel watched her leave in mild vexation. The complaint wasn’t entirely true. No one’s been set on fire since the wedding .
    He returned to his drink while Omari harangued him, trying to appeal to his reason in vain. Fengel ignored her to watch a flickering light up along the Skydocks. Someone was either playing with a lantern or sending covert signals back down to the town below. The latter was more likely. Some skullduggery was always going on in Haventown—shipboard politics, say, or some crewman trying to slip their doxy aboard. Fengel rather looked forward to hearing about it later.
    A shadow fell across the table. Glancing up, he saw his wife glaring malevolently down at him. Butterbeak squatted on her shoulder, mirroring her black gaze.
    “Leave,” she said without looking at Omari.
    “But I’ve got to do something with this cat—”
    Natasha grabbed the animal roughly. Then she turned and threw it across the taproom. Cubbins sailed through the air with a yowl and landed on the surprised face of Allen the apprentice Mechanist, who shrieked in surprise and pain. He collapsed beside the bar as the cat savaged him while Lina Stone and Michael Hockton both stared.
    Natasha turned back to face Omari. “Leave,” she repeated.
    The other woman took the hint this time. She slunk away from her seat, which Natasha promptly occupied. Her parrot took flight, more interested in the chaos near the bar.
    “I bought you a drink,” she snarled at him. “I was being nice. It doesn’t happen often. You were supposed to pay me back by coming over and joining me.”
    Fengel gave this a distracted shrug. “I...don’t usually drink with anyone, here.”
    His wife gave him a look that would have set sailcloth aflame. Then she relaxed abruptly, the fight going out of her, leaving her looking weary. “Horseshit,” she sighed. “You’re still hung up on that meeting with my father.” Natasha took his mug and quaffed from it. Then her eyes popped wide. Gingerly, she removed a long orange cat hair from between her lips. “You think that wasn’t awful for me too?” she asked sourly. “Two weeks ago I killed a man with his own trousers. Yet my father still treats me like I’m five years old, with a head full of dragons and dashing princes.” She shook her head. “You can at least admit you’re still troubled over it.”
    A piercing screech startled them both. Fengel glanced back to see Butterbeak fly past Lucian’s table. The malevolent, absurdly colored little thing defecated in Lucian’s tankard just as Fengel’s first mate was about to take a drink. Lucian cursed and dropped his tankard, then took a swing at the parrot. It dodged, screeching again as it flew up into the rafters.
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