“I do wish you would stop bringing me such interesting new injuries,” Holloway sighed at me.
The physicker threaded a fresh needle, as I helped Strahl gingerly shuck his bloody undershirt. Ugly gashes showed along his skin, and I knew he’d soon be subjected to several nasty medications, given the rusty metal that had pierced him.
“Nonsense,” I replied, in a voice far more cheerful than I felt. “I’m just trying to keep you busy, sir. We wouldn’t want to put you out of a job by being too safe now, would we?”
Miss Hawkins, so recently free of the sickbed in the corner of the infirmary, had returned to it once again. Her nausea had passed more swiftly this time, and she seemed overall less physically wretched… but the veins of her right arm were red and livid, and I had the sense that the trials in Old Pelaeia had left a far more lasting mark upon her psyche than upon her body. In fact, she had barely said a word since we’d returned.
Aesir—none too steady himself—had nonetheless insisted on keeping Miss Hawkins company as Holloway dosed her with more of the diluted Seelie aether. The younger MacLeod now sat next to her, holding her good hand as she curled into the thin pillow beneath her head.
I knew Holloway had things under control with Strahl, so I nodded once at them both and headed over to speak with the bedridden aethermancer. Miss Hawkins looked dazed and haggard, and I knew it wasn’t all due to Unseelie aether.
“Your device worked as intended,” I observed quietly. “I would have thought you’d be at least somewhat pleased.”
Miss Hawkins swallowed, and I saw her tighten her hand on Aesir’s. “I didn’t realise…” She trailed off, looking shell-shocked. “I thought I knew how terrible it was. But I was wrong.” She looked away from me. “Wraithwood. He was there? He did… all of that?” Tears pricked at her eyes. “How many more echoes did he leave behind there?”
I frowned. “I thought it was common knowledge by now,” I said. “Wraithwood and Verdigris led the charge on Pelaeia, after the bombs fell.” I glanced at Aesir questioningly.
“Well, aye, ah figured it was common knowledge an’aw,” Aesir said. “But ah was there, so… no like ah spent much time askin’ other people questions about it.”
Miss Hawkins jerked her hand abruptly from Aesir’s grip. Horror crossed her features, before she could fully suppress it. I realised then that no one had thought to tell her just how Aesir had lost his arm.
Hawkins opened her mouth—but she failed to find the words she was searching for. Finally, she shook her head and said, in a small voice: “I think… I need to speak with you, Captain Blair. Privately.”
Aesir frowned. There was far too much concern on his face for Miss Hawkins—a near-stranger—given the severity of what he’d just relived. But it occurred to me belatedly that Aesir probably needed someone else to focus on, to distract himself from the obvious. Everything from his earlier flirtations to his current consideration was a helpful excuse against examining his own state of mind too closely.
I wasn’t sure just what would happen, once that excuse was no longer available.
“Would you mind going to the galley and finding something bland for Miss Hawkins to eat?” I asked Aesir.
Aesir nodded slowly, and pushed himself to his feet. “Need tae stretch ma legs, in any case,” he assured us both. “Ah’ll be back.”
He headed for the door of the infirmary with only a hint of reluctance. As it closed behind him, I pulled at the nearby curtain to afford some privacy to my conversation with Miss Hawkins. I’d barely sat back down, however, when the aethermancer spoke to me.
“We need to leave,” Miss Hawkins said. “Now.”
I rocked back at that, as though she’d slapped me across the face. “Now?” I repeated incredulously. “Miss Hawkins, I have a wake to attend. And—for that matter, several of my crew are going to want to be there, too. I’m sure your business can wait one more day—”
“Captain,” Hawkins interrupted, “your Oath to me—”
“—was to take you anywhere!” I snapped. “And I will take you anywhere you want to go, Miss Hawkins. But you never specified the haste with which I was required to do that.”
Hawkins flinched, and I immediately regretted my tone. I hadn’t meant to be quite so harsh—but the day’s events had unravelled me, and my nerves were raw and strained.
I took a deep breath and subdued my voice, with effort. “If you tell me why,” I added carefully, “you may find me more amenable.”
Hawkins swallowed. She cast one last glance in the direction of the door, beyond that curtain… and sighed.
“Someone else stole the schematics for that device,” she explained softly. “The real device. What I have here is merely a small-scale prototype. If they receive that shipment of Unseelie aether… they’ll be able to use the machine.”
I scratched at my jaw, frowning. “And that’s… bad?” I asked warily. “What would they be able to do with it, other than banish echoes?”
Miss Hawkins shivered as she forced herself upright. A long, slow-burning panic danced beneath the surface of her face. I felt it radiating from her, as she searched for the strength to speak her fears aloud. “Captain,” she continued, “that device was built to forge a connection between an aethermancer and a fetter. I needed that connection, in order to fully discorporate the entities trapped there.”
“Right,” I said, nodding slowly. I knew there was a terrible twist coming, of course, but I had yet to see the problem.
“With that connection,” Hawkins told me, “a less ethical aethermancer could control those entities, rather than set them free.”
My mouth went dry.
I replayed the evening’s events in my mind. I remembered Hawkins, standing at the centre of that twisted black net of aether; I remembered the dozen or so threads, each connecting her to a different echo.
I tried to imagine how differently the night could have gone, if she had been as false as I had feared. Those echoes had piled onto Strahl; without Miss Hawkins’ intervention, he surely would have died. And then, she would have been free to turn those tattered spirits upon the rest of us.
My horror must have showed on my face—for Miss Hawkins nodded ominously. “I felt it,” she whispered. “In that moment when I gained control of them… the Unseelie aether made them docile, unthinking. Like blank slates for my will.”
Silence fell between us.
“...I take it back,” I said. “I didn’t want to know about this.”
Hawkins clenched her jaw. “I need to get to Morgause,” she told me. “I have to stop this.” She took a breath. “I loved Jonathan like a father. I know he wasn’t a good man, but he gave me… everything. I know how much this meant to him. I know how horrified he would be at the idea of someone using his invention to commit another horrible act.”
Miss Hawkins had already confided in me that the stolen Unseelie aether was headed to an Imperialist faction. The Avalon Imperium hadn’t hesitated to raze Pelaeia. I knew with certainty that the empire’s remnants would have no qualms about using this device for terrible ends.
I wanted nothing more than to stay just one more day. I needed to be at Dougal’s wake. I needed to remember him with others, to remind myself of the long life he had led, and of the difference that he’d made in my life. But that was purely selfish of me. Dougal probably hadn’t wanted this wake at all. In fact, he’d told me what he wanted from me, several years ago, and I had made him a promise from my heart.
This can’t happen again, I thought.
“Just get me to Morgause as swiftly as you can,” Hawkins urged me. “I can handle the rest, Captain. I will handle the rest.”
I rubbed a hand across my tired face. “I’ll talk with the crew,” I told her. “We’ll leave as soon as we can.”
I left her to rest behind the curtain. Holloway was still stitching up the last of Strahl’s gashes; as he looked up at me, I sighed. “I need some air,” I told them both. “I’ll need to talk with everyone soon, though.”
I departed the infirmary in search of Aesir MacLeod and the cold night air.
* * *
The evening was haunted by Pelaeia’s mournful shrieks—but tonight, at least, I knew that the voices in that chorus were a handful fewer. The idea gave me a small amount of solace.
A few minutes after I made it to the starboard railing, I heard steady, plodding footsteps behind me. Aesir leaned his mechanical hand against the wood with a soft thunk. He joined me in silence for a time, as we both looked out at the great valley beyond Pelaeia. It wasn’t always easy to enjoy the great beauty of the world with a dead mountain howling at your back… but we tried anyway.
“I take it you left some food for Miss Hawkins,” I said finally.
“Ah did,” Aesir agreed. “Even looked like she might keep it down.”
Well. At least there was that. I didn’t expect Miss Hawkins would have an easy time of things in Morgause if she was still poisoned with Unseelie aether by the time we arrived.
“Ah’ll want tae tell Chief Crichton about what we managed,” Aesir added. “Though… ye know, I’m no even sure she’ll believe me. She sure won’t believe you.” He glanced at me sideways. “Nae offence intended.”
“No offence taken,” I assured him. I gave a dry laugh. “I was there, and I barely believe it myself.”
Aesir nodded dimly. “It, uh…” He hesitated. “It wasnae any better the second time ‘round, Blair. But we… we did something. That matters.”
A dull hope flickered behind his eyes. I felt horrible knowing that I had to quash it.
“Miss Hawkins… shared some troubling news with me,” I told him. “I’m Oathbound to see her to her destination, and time is of the essence.” I swallowed. “I desperately want to stay for the wake, Aesir. But what she’s asked for is more important. I’m sorry.”
Aesir turned an incredulous look upon me. “But her machine, it… it works,” he sputtered. “What’s mare rottin’ important than that? We finally let an aethermancer into Old Pelaeia—one who knows what she’s doin’ there—an’ she’s just… leavin’?”
“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted. “I keep hoping someone will ask me to make an easy choice this week. Hasn’t really happened yet.” I rubbed at my face. “I have every confidence that her request will turn into yet another disaster, if it makes you feel any better. We’re certainly not going sight-seeing. But I’m going to make certain that she lives, so she can come back here and finish what she started.”
Aesir ran his good hand through his hair; the pale blaze along his right temple was bright in the moonlight. A loud, frustrated sigh escaped him.
“Fine,” he said.
I frowned at him. “Fine?” I asked. It was in no way the answer I had been expecting.
“Let me join yer crew,” Aesir said, without skipping a beat.
“That is—not fine,” I stammered quickly. In fact, I surprised myself with the swiftness of my response.
Aesir’s cool expression dissolved into anger. “Ye need an outflyer, Blair,” he argued hotly. “An’ if this business is dangerous, then ye need one even more’n ye did before.”
“Aesir—” I tried.
“Ah’ve got ma own ship,” Aesir insisted. “Bought it off one ae Uncle Dougal’s old squad mates fer a real sweetheart deal. Ah mean, granted, she still needs a few tweaks—but if ah can salvage a few parts from Dougal’s ship, ah know ah can have her up in the air in no time. You’n Miss Hawkins need ma help.”
“Aesir, if this is about trying to impress Miss Hawkins—” I began warningly.
Aesir rocked his head back. “Impress Miss Hawkins?” he sneered. “Ye think ah’m doin’ this tae chase a skirt?” He placed his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to stare into his eyes. “I told ye, Blair—either Old Pelaeia goes, or ah dae. An’ if ye’re no stayin’ tae fix Old Pelaeia, then that means ah’m goin’. That means ah need a ride… an’ you’ve got one.”
Aesir released my shoulders to stand upright once again, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his greatcoat.
Aesir was right, though I hated to admit it. We had made plenty of dangerous enemies in the last week alone, and flying without an outflyer pilot left me feeling plenty vulnerable.
But the idea of bringing Aesir with us—of giving him an expressly dangerous role on the ship—made my stomach twist with nausea. I felt, suddenly, as though I had a weight on my chest. I leaned into the railing, gulping in a few quick, surreptitious breaths. The sky above us spun, and it took a second before I felt able to speak at all.
“How many hours of combat flying do you have?” I asked him tightly. I already knew the answer to the question—and I saw in his face that I was right to ask it.
“Well, ah’ve… plenty of hours of flying,” Aesir replied evasively.
“How many aircraft have you shot down?” I pressed, talking over his cagey response. Aesir grinned triumphantly, opening his mouth to reply, but I lifted a finger. “In an outflyer,” I added.
Aesir’s grin faded to a glower, and he closed his mouth.
“You’re not experienced enough,” I told him hoarsely. “We’ve picked up some terrible enemies, Aesir. There won’t be any time for learning on the job. Red Reaver’s people took down Dougal, and he was one of the best pilots in the Coalition. What do you think they’ll do to an amateur, if they catch up with us?”
I’d raised my voice a bit too loudly. Some of the crew on the evening watch glanced our way, clearly eavesdropping. I sucked in another deep breath, trying to still the sky that still wavered above me.
“Red Reaver,” Aesir murmured. The name penetrated his stubborn anger. I heard a healthy dose of trepidation in his tone. “That’s who shot him down?”
I nodded, working my way through the knot in my throat. “Not… Red Reaver herself, obviously,” I said. “But we helped steal her fuel and downed one of her ships. She’ll be after us, even if we do somehow manage to drop off Miss Hawkins without incident.” My voice trembled, despite my best efforts. “I’m barely keeping myself together right now, Aesir,” I told him. “I know I can’t stay for the wake, but I’m trying my best to do what Dougal would have wanted otherwise. He wouldn’t have wanted you on the Rose, with all of this trouble gunning for us.”
Aesir stiffened at that. I glanced at him too late, and saw an unexpected fury in his eyes.
“So that’s it, then,” he said coldly. “The old man kept me fae leavin’ when he was alive. An’ now, ye won’t let me go wae ye because he’s dead.” He slammed his mechanical hand into the railing, in a way that made the wood creak dangerously. “First, he said ah couldnae survive without an arm. Well, ah fixed that, Blair. An’ you know what he said then? He said Pelaeia needs you here. He said ah was part of a community.” Aesir spat over the side of the railing. “Dougal wanted out, an’ he got out. But he was too much of a coward tae let me do the same—because he couldnae handle it. An’ what I wanted never did figure in.”
The sheer vitriol in his tone made me quail. The stars above me swam again with anxiety. I gulped in another steadying breath. “Aesir, I… some of the crew will likely be staying for the wake,” I managed. “We’ll be coming back for them, once I take Hawkins to Morgause. We’ll… we can talk about it again, when we get back—”
Aesir jabbed a metal finger into my chest. “An’ now we’re on tae the empty promises,” he snarled. “Yer just like ‘im, Blair. Bet ye must be real proud ae that.”
He whirled away from me—and stalked for the gangplank. Soon, his long legs took him off the Rose and out into the night.
I watched him go, feeling helpless and confused. Helping Miss Hawkins was so clearly the right thing to do… but everything else I did seemed fraught with unintended consequences.
Aesir couldn’t know how wrong he was. At that moment, I wasn’t proud of much of anything.
* * *
Though it was the last thing I wanted to do at that particular hour, after the evening that we’d had—I called an emergency officers’ meeting.
I held the meeting in the engine room, mainly so that we could avail ourselves of the heat at the mechanical heart of the Rose. The engine room was much like its custodian, Mr Finch: forever impeccable, and ceaselessly hardworking. Thick steam pipes ran across the walls, connecting up to the multitude of careful additions our chief engineer had made to the original ship. There was a music to the chamber, made up of rattles, hisses, clanks, and thrums, contrasted against the gentle creaking of the ship’s wood. An aetheric core purred soothingly at the centre of the room, from behind thick sheets of silver-lined steel.
The heat from the steam pipes seeped slowly into my limbs as I sat down to wait for the rest of my officers. I rubbed at my hands, wincing at the growing pain in my fingers as cold numbness finally gave way to better circulation. Given the lateness of the hour, Mr Finch had yet to replace our stores of tea—but he fished out the very last of his personal stash of chai as a matter of principle, steeping it with water from a kettle he’d boiled upon the surface of a pipe.
Mr Finch set out a lovely ceramic cup for me and poured it halfway full. I closed my hands around it gratefully, settling my ratty, fingerless gloves against its warm surface. The spicy scent of the tea tickled pleasantly at my nose. I distantly noted the long crack running down the side of the cup. I was, unfortunately, the primary cause of broken crockery on the Iron Rose—a fact which Mr Finch well knew, and which he had prepared for accordingly by giving me something already partly broken.
“You’ll find this more savoury than your usual floral preferences,” Mr Finch advised me loftily. “If you can’t abide the strength of flavour, I’d advise a bit of sugar.”
I hadn’t had a taste for tea, until Mr Finch had joined the crew; I’d always thought it was an acquired taste. Mr Finch, of course, had acquired more than enough taste for all of us combined. He only seemed to forget his habitual peevishness, in fact, when he was recommending new flavours of tea to his fellow crewmates. His careful, drawn-out plan to addict us all to his personal vice of choice had worked—as evidenced by the petty change currently in his pocket.
Holloway had cleaned himself up in the time it took for me to call the meeting. The physicker joined me first, carrying some of the leftover biscuits and marmalade. Mr Finch poured Holloway a slightly larger cup of tea, evincing his subtle fondness for the only other well-mannered gentleman aboard our vessel. Mr Strahl appeared not long after Holloway, leaning against the wall just next to the door; livid bruises had begun to creep along his skin, peeking out from beneath his loosened shirt.
Miss Lenore Brighton joined us sleepily, sitting upon a wooden step ladder as primly as she could manage while still blinking awake. Evie and Little came last of all. I felt a faint stab of envy as Evie leaned himself back against Little’s broad chest, using his husband’s heat to ward off the cold. I’d never desired a relationship of the sort that they shared—my ship was and always would be my only love—but sometimes, by the Everbright, I did desire the convenience of a large human heater.
As Mr Finch doled out the last of the tea for the latecomers, I took one last sip… and settled into the unpleasant business before me.
“Let’s cut to the quick, shall we?” I said. “I’m already falling asleep. I know I’m not the only one.”
Lenore yawned delicately behind one hand. Evie shook himself, and forced himself to sit up a bit within the circle of his husband’s arms.
“Today, a small group of us ventured into Old Pelaeia with Miss Hawkins,” I began, “in order that she might prove a scientific claim. She did prove that claim. Miss Hawkins used the device that she brought aboard with her, along with a small amount of Unseelie aether, to successfully banish several of the echoes in Old Pelaeia.”
Little straightened in shock. Evie blinked quickly, suddenly fully awake. Lenore narrowed her eyes with contemplative suspicion.
Holloway’s monocle slipped from his eye and fell into his teacup with a wet plop.
“Unfortunately,” I continued, “the device in Miss Hawkins’ possession is merely a prototype. An Imperialist faction has stolen her research, and may have built a fully developed model from her schematics. They do not intend to do anything benevolent with that device. Miss Hawkins says that she intends to stop them, and I believe her story.”
Evie, Little, and Holloway had barely begun to grapple with all of the implications regarding the echoes of Old Pelaeia. All of us had lived, both physically and spiritually, in the shadow of that mountain. I was careful not to describe just what a proper villain might do with Miss Hawkins’ machine, of course—much as I trusted my crew, that seemed like a secret best kept by as few people as possible.
But Lenore pursed her lips. “That’s fine and dandy for Miss Hawkins,” she said, “but what does any of that have to do with us?”
“As some of you are already aware,” I continued carefully, “Miss Hawkins’ assistance in New Havenshire came at a price. I swore an Oath to see her to any destination she desired. That destination is Morgause.”
“That’s… where Barsby wanted us to ship his cargo, wasn’t it?” Evie asked slowly. The expression on his face suggested he had yet to fully digest everything I’d said—but his mind worked ahead of him anyway, picking out connections.
“In return for holding some of us hostage,” Lenore said, with a disdainful grimace. “Not that such a plan would have worked out very well for him.”
I nodded at Evie. “Barsby is tied up in this misery too,” I answered. “He’ll be trying to get the rest of his cargo to Morgause, however he can. But our business—er, Miss Hawkins’ business—is with Barsby’s client.” I glanced at Mr Finch. “I know we didn’t have the chance to refuel in New Havenshire. How low are we on fuel? Could we make it to Morgause?”
Mr Finch frowned deeply. He pushed to his feet, wandering towards a nearby bulkhead, above which were affixed several large tubes, each with their own dangling strings. Mr Finch reached up for one in particular, pulling it down to reveal a neat—if outdated—map of the continent.
Mr Finch snatched up a ruler from a neatly kept cubby, measuring out from Pelaeia to Morgause, at the heart of the duchy of Mavra. He scribbled a few calculations on scrap paper, while the rest of us sat in foreboding silence.
Finally, he said: “At best… if the weather is with us… we could make the trip fairly quickly. At worst, we could still stretch the fuel by using float and sail. But… in either case, we’re going to have a problem. Either we refuel in Morgause, or…”
Mr Finch trailed off grimly.
Or Morgause becomes the end of the line, Little finished, with a dour flash of his fingers.
Mr Finch sighed. “I did have a chance to inquire about refuelling here, before I was conscripted into Miss Hawkins’ endeavours,” he muttered. His tone did not sound positive.
“Pelaeia’s kept rather minimal stores of aether since the war,” Holloway observed quietly.
Mr Finch nodded. “Understandably,” he said. “But it’s worse than that, I’m afraid. There have been rumblings in the south—significant delays in trade. Something has disrupted the supply chain of aether leading north. Aether is suddenly very scarce.”
“That doesn’t bode well,” I muttered. I reached up to rub at my face. “But there’s nothing for it. Miss Hawkins needs to get to Morgause, posthaste. I’ll drop her off, and we’ll figure out some aether afterwards.”
Little cleared his throat. Evie coughed lightly into his hand.
I arched an eyebrow at both of them. “Yes?” I asked.
Little smirked tiredly. With all due respect, Captain, he signed, we all know you’re not just dropping off Miss Hawkins.
“I—” I paused, still trying to parse his meaning. Slowly, I knitted my brow. “I have no intention of involving myself in Miss Hawkins’ affairs any further than I already have,” I said adamantly.
Evie sighed long-sufferingly. “Wil,” he said patiently, “I have known you for over twenty years. You are patently incapable of uninvolving yourself.”
It’s your best and worst quality, Little agreed.
“If I’m not mistaken,” Lenore observed, “we’re currently discussin’ a matter which would cause grief for both Barsby and a bunch of rotten Imperialists.” A cold, cunning glint came into her eyes. “I can’t say as I’m not tempted to involve myself.”
“I am not dragging us all into Miss Hawkins’ dangerous affairs,” I reiterated stubbornly.
“You are,” Strahl grumbled, “and it doesn’t much matter. What’s the first rule aboard this ship, Captain?”
I sucked in a deep breath.
“The Avalon Imperium deserved to die,” Holloway said softly. He rubbed gently at his tea-covered monocle. “We all agreed when we came aboard, William.”
My stomach twisted into a knot. The tea in my cup had tasted almost sweet at first—but now, it left a burning taste at the back of my throat. Maybe I should have used some sugar, after all.
I was going to get involved in Miss Hawkins’ affairs. I’d tried to convince myself otherwise—mostly so that I could convince the rest of the crew to stay out of it themselves. But everyone here knew me far too well.
“We brushed up against Imperials in Lyonesse,” Strahl said. “You acted like a fool then, too. I know it’s not my job on this boat to think, but give me some credit, Captain.”
“We’d have to leave before Dougal’s wake,” I observed. I said it with an eye towards Little, Evie, and Holloway. And I did see flinches at the suggestion. “But anyone who wants to stay for the wake can do so. We’ll return after Morgause, as soon as we can.”
An awkward, painful silence followed.
“I’m coming,” Strahl told me. “Obviously.” He fixed me with a flat gaze. “We keep Syrene out of this, though. She stays on the ship at all times.”
There were heavy implications which Strahl didn’t speak among the rest of our company.
At least one Imperial nobleman in Lyonesse had recognised Strahl. Strahl had swiftly repaid that recognition with unrepentant murder; it was why he’d been set to be hanged in the first place. But whoever Strahl had been in the Imperial Army—however important he might have been—Syrene was another matter entirely. Strahl had called Syrene a symbol of the Imperium. If Imperialists were ever to get their hands on her, he’d told me, the consequences could be dire.
“I’m still coming with you, Wil,” Evie said softly. He forced a smile at me. “Elfa is still in Pelaeia; I saw her today. She can handle Dougal’s wake.”
I knew what it cost him to say the words. But I also knew that steady look in his eyes. He wasn’t going to budge.
What time should I get us ready to depart? Little signed. I didn’t bother asking him for clarification; if Evie was going to Morgause, then surely, his husband was going as well.
“As soon as we possibly can,” I sighed. “I thought about waiting until morning, but…” I shook my head helplessly. “The clock is ticking.”
Lenore shrugged. “Ain’t none of us sleepin’ with all that racket outside anyhow,” she said. She pushed up to her feet. “Count me in. Purely outta spite, of course.”
I glanced at Lenore curiously. There was a small smile on her lips that suggested her decision wasn’t… purely out of spite. But Miss Brighton rarely liked to admit such things out loud.
“There are more interesting injuries in your future, I’m sure,” Holloway sighed heavily. He cast a glance at Mr Finch. “And you won’t be getting far without an engineer.”
Mr Finch looked down into his teacup, forlorn. “No,” he said piteously. “No, you really will not.” At first, I thought Mr Finch’s miserable expression was evidence of his unwillingness. But then, he said: “I suppose we won’t be buying any more tea before we leave.”
I blinked.
“Mr Finch,” I remarked, “I must take a moment, amongst all of this madness, to openly admire your dedication to supplying us with tea. It really is unfathomable.”
Mr Finch shot me a look of mild irritation. “All things are possible with a good cup of tea, Captain,” he scoffed. “I detest attempting the impossible without it—but one must make do, when extraordinary circumstances threaten.”
I smiled helplessly at him. “I meant it as a compliment, Mr Finch,” I assured him. “You keep reminding me lately that you’re far more than a meek, retired academic. Only a proper Fool would be brave enough to worry over tea at a time like this.”
Mr Finch grimaced. “I’ve never been especially fond of the Lady of Fools,” he muttered.
“Every one of the Seelie has their place in our lives,” Evie assured him gently. “The Lady of Fools grants us courage in the face of difficulty. Proper Fools accomplish great things, Mr Finch.” He disentangled himself from Little, offering a hand back towards his husband to help him up in turn.
A heavy weight had settled onto my shoulders over the last week. But that weight lightened somewhat at the realisation that everyone from my dearest, oldest friends to my rough and recent crew had volunteered to leap into this stupidity right alongside me.
I tried to clear my throat surreptitiously—but a small, un-Captainly sniffle escaped me, nevertheless.
“I’ve never had a problem waking anyone up,” Strahl observed dryly. “Miss Brighton and I will rouse people and spread the word. Give us an hour, and the only people left on board will be the ones coming with us.”
“I’ll clean up this mess and prepare us for departure,” Mr Finch declared.
Officers filed out of the engine room, one by one. But Holloway remained in his seat, staring down into his teacup. Though Holloway had volunteered to come with me, I knew that the grief of Dougal’s passing still tore at him deeply in a way that Evie, Little, and I might never really understand. The idea of leaving before Dougal’s wake surely didn’t thrill Holloway any more than it thrilled me.
Lenore paused on her way through the door. Her lips curved into a concerned frown. And then—to my surprise—she doubled back to place a gentle hand on Holloway’s arm.
“After all this excitement, I don’t figure I’ll be sleepin’ anytime soon,” Lenore told him. “Once we’re in the air… you mind if I impose on you a bit? I thought I might borrow one of your books.”
Holloway looked up at her, blinking. “Oh,” he said. He cleared his throat quickly. “Erm, yes. Yes, of course. By all means.”
“Much obliged, Horace,” Lenore thanked him gently.
She turned her head to raise an eyebrow at me. Belatedly, I realised that I had stopped to stare.
I turned away quickly, knowing it was a bit too late to pretend I was minding my own business. I draped my knitted scarf around my neck and pulled back on my mittens, heading for the door.
Evie fell into step just next to me, as I left.
“Wil,” he said quietly, “about Dougal’s wake…”
I flinched. “I know,” I mumbled. “I know I asked you to speak for him—”
“That’s not what I wanted to say,” Evie cut me off. There was an odd tone to his voice. “I was thinking… when all is said and done, maybe those of us on the crew ought to remember him his way. It might be nice if we poured some drinks and shared some stories, just between us.” He smiled tiredly. “I think in this case, I’d like to remember him as myself, and not as a halcyon.”
I slowed, staring at him. My heart clenched in my chest.
“I’d…” My voice broke slightly, before I recovered it. “I’d really like that, Evie. I think that’s a perfect idea, actually.”
Evie looped an arm around my shoulders. I leaned into his embrace with a hard, exhaled breath.
After a few moments, Evie pulled back to look down at me. “You’re so cold,” he observed, wrinkling his nose with apprehension. “You should ask the gunnery ladies for another jumper.”
“I’m already wearing three,” I grumbled. “Goblins weren’t meant for cold weather, Evie.”
Evie rubbed at my hands with a rueful smile. “I suppose it’s a good thing we’re headed to Morgause, then,” he said. “Less snow and more smog.”
I pictured the soot-stained skyline in my mind—as clear as the day I’d finally flown away from it, on the deck of the HMS Caliban.
“Yeah,” I mumbled ironically. “Home, sweet home.”