Lyra's expression hardened as she pulled out a spyglass and extended it. "Damn. Imperial patrol vessel. They shouldn't be this far into neutral waters."
I took the spyglass when she offered it, focusing on the approaching ship. It was smaller than I'd expected—not one of the massive Imperial galleons, but a swift cutter designed for speed rather than combat. The kind used by Imperial Probability Trackers for pursuit.
"They're following us," I said, lowering the glass. "Following me."
"Impossible," Lyra replied, but her tone lacked conviction. "We've been sailing for three days, and I've been masking our probability signature. They shouldn't be able to track us."
"Unless they're not tracking the ship," I realized. "They're tracking me. My probability wake."
Zephyr appeared beside us, his expression grim. "Captain, they're signaling. Demanding we heave to for inspection."
"Ignore it," Lyra ordered. "We're in neutral waters. They have no authority here."
"They won't care about authority if they want him badly enough," Zephyr nodded toward me. "And that ship is faster than we are. They'll catch us before nightfall."
I calculated rapidly, assessing options and probabilities. The Imperial cutter had the advantage of speed, but the Tempest's Gambit had a head start. If we altered course, used the probability currents to our advantage...
"There," I said, pointing to a distortion in the probability field to the northwest. "A current flowing northeast at high speed. If you can reach it, it will carry us faster than they can follow."
Lyra looked at me sharply. "You can see the currents?"
"As of recently, apparently."
She exchanged a glance with Zephyr, some unspoken communication passing between them. Then she nodded. "Zephyr, prepare the crew for current-riding. We're going to make a run for it."
As Zephyr moved away, barking orders to the crew, Lyra turned back to me. "Only navigators can see probability currents. It's a talent you're born with, not something you can learn or develop."
"Add it to the list of impossible things I'm doing lately," I replied, watching as the crew scrambled to adjust the sails. "Along with floating figurines and being tracked across open water."
Lyra's eyes narrowed in thought. "The Imperials shouldn't be able to track a probability wake across water. The currents should disperse it, mask it."
"Unless they have something—or someone—that can cut through that interference." I thought of Seraphina's smile as we escaped. "Someone who knows exactly what they're looking for."
The ship heeled sharply as Lyra spun the wheel, changing course toward the probability current I'd identified. The blue-green sails snapped taut, catching the wind at a new angle.
"If we can reach that current, we might be able to lose them," Lyra said, her focus now on navigation. "But we need time."
I looked back at the Imperial cutter, calculating distances and speeds. They were adjusting course to match ours, but they hadn't yet realized our destination. We had maybe twenty minutes before they figured it out.
"I can give you time," I said, an idea forming. Not a good idea, necessarily, but the best of limited options.
Lyra glanced at me, wariness in her eyes. "How?"
"By creating a distraction. Something to slow them down."
"You're still recovering from probability debt," she pointed out. "Another major manipulation could be dangerous."
"So is getting caught by Imperial Trackers." I straightened, feeling strength returning as adrenaline coursed through me. "I just need to create enough confusion to delay them. Nothing too extreme."
She studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Do what you need to do. But be careful. We need you conscious when we reach the Isle of Contingency."
I moved to the stern of the ship, where I had a clear view of the pursuing cutter. It was gaining on us, its sails bright white against the blue sky. I could feel the probability field around it—structured, orderly, the way Imperial vessels always were. Their mathematicians calculated everything, from the optimal tension in the rigging to the exact angle of the sails.
That made them predictable. And predictability was something I could work with.
I reached into my pocket for my dice, then remembered I'd lost most of them during the escape from Alea. All I had left was the Chaos Die—too dangerous for this situation. Instead, I focused on the probability field itself, reaching out with my senses to feel the patterns and flows.
The manipulation would be harder without a physical focus, but not impossible. I just needed to create a small disturbance in the probability field around the Imperial ship. Something to disrupt their carefully calculated systems.
I closed my eyes, concentrating on the probability currents flowing between our ships. I could feel the Imperial mathematicians on board the cutter, their rigid calculations creating a stable bubble in the probability field. All I needed to do was introduce a little chaos into that order.
I reached out, twisting the probability field slightly. Not enough to cause real damage, just enough to introduce uncertainty into their calculations. A 2% increase in the probability of sail tension fluctuations. A 5% increase in the likelihood of unexpected wind gusts. Small adjustments, compounding on each other.
The strain was immediate but manageable—nowhere near as severe as the manipulation in Alea. I could feel the familiar cold fire in my veins, the connection between my consciousness and the probability field. But there was something else too—a resonance, as if the field itself was responding to my touch more readily than before.
Through half-lidded eyes, I watched as the effects manifested on the Imperial cutter. Nothing dramatic—just a series of small misfortunes. A sail suddenly billowing wrong. A rope snapping at an inopportune moment. The ship yawing slightly off course.
But the cumulative effect was what I'd hoped for: confusion, delay, disruption of their pursuit. I could feel their mathematicians scrambling to recalculate, to compensate for the unexpected fluctuations in probability.
"It's working," Lyra said beside me, watching through her spyglass. "They're falling behind."
I nodded, maintaining my focus on the manipulation. The strain was growing, but still within my limits. Just a little longer...
Then I felt something unexpected—a counter-manipulation from the Imperial ship. Someone was pushing back against my adjustments, reestablishing order in the probability field. Someone skilled.
Seraphina.
I could feel her touch in the probability field, precise and methodical. She was identifying my manipulations one by one and neutralizing them. It was impressive work—and it meant my distraction wouldn't last much longer.
"We need to hurry," I said to Lyra, my voice tight with strain. "They have a skilled mathematician on board. She's countering my manipulations."
Lyra nodded, turning to shout orders to the crew. The ship surged forward as they adjusted the sails again, squeezing every bit of speed from the wind.
I maintained my focus on the probability field, now engaged in a subtle duel with Seraphina. For every fluctuation I introduced, she stabilized the field. For every uncertainty I created, she calculated a compensation. It was like playing chess with probability itself as the board.
And she was good. Better than I remembered. Her calculations were elegant, efficient, wasting no energy on unnecessary adjustments. If this had been a fair contest, she might have matched me.
But I wasn't playing fair. I wasn't just calculating probabilities—I was creating improbabilities. And that was something no Imperial mathematician, not even Seraphina, could fully counter.
With a final push that sent pain lancing through my skull, I created a cascade of small improbabilities around their ship. Nothing dangerous—I wasn't trying to harm anyone—but enough to thoroughly disrupt their pursuit. Knots untying themselves. Navigation instruments giving contradictory readings. The probability compass spinning wildly, unable to get a fix on the currents.
I felt Seraphina's frustration through the probability field, her calculations faltering as she tried to account for too many variables at once. And beneath the frustration, something else—a kind of grim satisfaction, as if this was confirming something she already suspected.
"We're approaching the current," Lyra called out. "Brace yourselves!"
I broke off my manipulation, staggering slightly as the strain caught up with me. Not as bad as before—no nosebleed this time, just a throbbing headache and trembling hands. I was getting stronger, or more efficient. Not sure if that was reassuring or concerning.
The ship shuddered as we hit the probability current—a fast-flowing stream of heightened potential in the otherwise chaotic sea of probability. To normal perception, nothing changed. The water looked the same, the wind felt the same. But I could feel the difference—the ship was now riding a river of accelerated probability, moving faster than should have been physically possible.
I turned to look back at the Imperial cutter. It was falling behind rapidly now, unable to follow us into the current without a navigator's guidance. I could just make out a figure at the rail—blonde hair catching the sunlight. Seraphina, watching us escape. Again.
And just like before, she didn't look angry or frustrated. She looked... satisfied.
"That should buy us some time," Lyra said, coming to stand beside me. "But they'll report our position and heading. There will be others."
"There always are," I replied, still watching the receding Imperial ship. "How long until we reach the Isle of Contingency?"
"Three days, if we can stay in this current." She studied me with those sea-green eyes. "That was impressive work back there. Dangerous, but impressive."
"It was necessary."
"Yes." She paused, then added, "But there's something you should know about the Isle of Contingency. The Probability Sages don't just study probability—they guard its secrets. They're selective about who they share knowledge with."
"And you think they'll share with me?"
"I think they'll be very interested in you." Her expression was unreadable. "Whether that's good or bad remains to be seen."
With that cryptic statement, she returned to the helm, leaving me to watch as the Imperial cutter disappeared over the horizon. I couldn't shake the feeling that Seraphina had let us escape. Again. That this was all part of some larger calculation.
The floating figurine in my cabin. The expanding awareness of probability currents. The wake I was apparently leaving in the probability field. And now Seraphina, tracking me across the Probability Sea with a smile on her face.
None of it made sense. But I had a feeling the Probability Sages might have answers. Whether I'd like those answers was another question entirely.
I turned away from the stern, looking ahead to the northeast, where the Isle of Contingency waited. Three more days of sailing through the Probability Sea, with its distorted currents and unpredictable patterns. Three more days to prepare for whatever awaited me among the Probability Sages.
And somewhere behind us, Seraphina and the Empire, calculating their next move in a game I didn't fully understand.
The odds weren't great. But then again, when had they ever been?