CHAPTER EIGHT

For all that life in Cloudbreak felt slower than life at sea, Caledonia never seemed to stop moving.

Every morning began with a spar followed by reports that could either last a few minutes or several hours, and after that there were strategies to consider, rounds to conduct, and readiness drills to run. Today, Caledonia had been surveying yet another improvement to the lifts when the horn sounded in the triple beat pattern that signaled a drill and not a live attack. In this specific scenario, the idea was that Bullet ships had been spotted ten miles out and Cloudbreak’s citizens had a matter of minutes to get their fleet on the water and ready to engage.

Tin had arrived at Caledonia’s side a moment after the horns and together they’d raced into the western mountains, through the cherry orchard and work camp to the caves where the Luminous Wake was docked. They ran every drill as though it were real, so after racing to the ship, they took her out, sailing through the narrow canals at top speeds. If Caledonia ignored the towering walls and treacherously shallow passages, it was almost like being at sea. The drills were always over too soon, and as she disembarked Tin was already at her elbow, repeating Caledonia’s schedule for the rest of the day.

Oran joined a step behind Tin, his skin slicked with sweat even as circles deepened beneath his eyes. If she wanted Hesperus and the rest of Cloudbreak to trust Oran, she had to be seen trusting him. Acting as Caledonia’s proxy in her absence meant acting as her second in her presence. His days were filled with as many administrative tasks as hers, and his nights with all the work no one knew about except her. The long hours were beginning to take their toll.

Caledonia could hear Pisces, still on deck, shouting at the crew. “Folly, Shale, you were faster than last time, but still too slow. Far, I don’t care if you’re already on board, the minute we hit the deck, I want you reporting to Tin. We need to know who’s accounted for and who isn’t. Remember, this is a battle scenario! I know it’s a two-mile run between here and town, and that’s why I want you running the trails every morning and twice more right now, let’s go!”

She was going hard on them, but the truth was, they’d done well. They were the only crew with so far to travel. Keeping the Luminous Wake in the interior docks ensured it was protected, and put them in position to flank any attacking ships by exiting the canals far south of the harbor. It also meant speed was essential. But every time they did this, they got a little bit faster.

“Tin, we’ll check in on the barracks later,” Caledonia said, choosing the cramped stairwell over the lift.

“Captain?” Tin asked, jogging at her heels.

“If the crew is running the trails, so are we.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Caledonia paused, turning to Oran and stepping closer so that her words were only for him. “You should head back to town. You could use the rest.”

He responded with a one-sided smile. “If you’re running, I’m running.”

“Oran,” she breathed, guilt gnawing at her lungs. “Don’t make me order you.”

“Don’t make me refuse an order,” he responded, still smiling as he moved around her and jogged ahead.

They were already panting by the time they reached the top of the stairwell. The rest of the crew followed just behind, racing up to the top of the stairs, where they gathered in a group, stretching out muscles in preparation for the run. Pulling up the rear were Pisces and Far, Far’s array of black curls pulled away from her face in a wide ponytail. The woman rarely joined them for this kind of exertion. Judging by the look of resignation on her face, Caledonia suspected Pisces hadn’t given her a choice.

“Mary sisters, take the lead!” Pisces called.

The air was cold up here and the rocky ground dry and steep. The Mary sisters led them down through the work camp, picking a trail that darted briefly through towering pines and then along the edge of the cherry orchard before diving upward once more and curling around the northern edge of town. They moved all together, a stream of dusty footsteps and encouraging whispers.

Caledonia started at the rear of the group, jogged steadily at Pisces’s side. Then she shifted, moving from one person to the next and saying their names as she went: Pax, Vera, Hildegard, and Deri. Oran stayed in the corner of her sight, jogging always a few paces away. Soon she’d reached the Mary sisters, still driving along like the tip of a needle. At the very front was Lurin, the second eldest of the five sisters. Her sandy pale cheeks were pink with effort, but her eyes were brimming with energy.

“Keeping us steady, Lurin,” Caledonia called. “I’m surprised I don’t see you lapping the ship more often.”

Lurin laughed along with her sisters.

“That’s only because we threaten to tie her to her rack,” Abrasin teased. “She would run a rut right into the deck if you let her.”

“Don’t hurt my ship, Lurin,” Caledonia warned.

“Noted, Captain,” Lurin responded quickly, her smile growing.

They looped around, retracing their steps and then turning down the trail back to town. By the time they arrived at the stronghold, they were covered in sweat and dust and the sun was dipping low in the western sky.

“Showers!” Pisces called. “And I want to see every one of you on that trail at sunrise or it’ll be twice again!”

“You, too, Tin,” Caledonia said, dismissing the girl. “Everything else can wait.”

Tin nodded, all too happy to take the opportunity for a quick shower, and Caledonia turned her steps toward the upper levels where Hesperus kept his office. Her muscles ached as she entered the spiraling stairwells and stepped into a slow jog. The stairwell was crowded with people heading to or from evening meals, shifts, or their quarters, but as she passed the fifth level, the traffic thinned until it was just her. The only people still on level six were the two guards standing outside Hesperus’s office door, and they let Caledonia pass without challenge.

Inside the wide chamber, Hesperus stood with his back to the door, hands braced low against his hips as he studied the harbor below.

“You smell like the mountain,” he said without turning.

“I’m certain I smell worse,” Caledonia conceded. “How did we do?”

“Better.” Hesperus jumped right into his reports. “Silver Fleet was all accounted for and on the water in seventeen minutes. A new record.”

“A new goal,” Caledonia murmured, glancing at the papers Hesperus slid across the desk toward her. “They beat their previous time by two minutes. What changed?”

Hesperus only shook his head. “Nothing but practice as far as I know. Amber and Cobalt Fleets came in at twenty-two minutes, just like last time, and Viridian at twenty-seven. You had the Luminous in play at thirty-one minutes, a new record for you, and the remainder of Red Fleet was ready in just thirty. They still have some trouble getting through the northern canals. Still, in this scenario, our first line of defense is on the water in plenty of time to meet inbound ships. I’m sure Sledge will give you a full report.”

Caledonia imagined the drill as she never could when she was on her own ship, separated from the bigger picture by all but a radio. That was the most challenging part of commanding a fleet: letting the action unfurl as it was planned to instead of under her direct control. They were getting better, faster. If Lir moved on her before she could move on him, they’d be ready.

“And before you ask, no, I didn’t sail with Viridian Fleet.”

She’d known this was coming, but she’d hoped her suspicions were wrong. “Hesperus, I need you to run the drill at least once. I know you know what to do, but there’s a difference between knowing and doing.”

Hesperus was already shaking his head, an argument ready in his deep ocean eyes. “It’s a moot point. I’m not running the drill because my place will always be on Cloudbreak. Nothing will ever convince me to leave. It’s that simple.”

“Yes, your place is here, and the likelihood of that changing is extremely small, but I would appreciate if you would run a damn drill at least once. Any of them. Pick one!” Heat colored Caledonia’s words and some distant part of her marveled at her ability to speak to the Sly King of Cloudbreak as his superior. “Please, Hesperus.”

A narrowing of the eyes was his only answer. Caledonia waited him out, expression unforgiving. For a moment, the silent battle raged between them, neither willing to move from their position. Then, finally, Hesperus sighed. He pulled out his chair and sat heavily, gesturing for her to take the seat opposite him. Caledonia relented, warily lowering herself into the old wooden chair.

“I have something for you.” Hesperus’s voice was tired, his eyes heavy as he reached into his desk drawer and produced a small pouch. He held it out for her. “A small token, but one I’ve been meaning to give you for a while.”

Curious, Caledonia tipped the contents into her palm, catching a small, black stone just large enough to sit comfortably in her hand. She turned it over, noting the way a resilient reddish hue revealed itself almost resentfully, as if unable to resist the light in spite of itself.

“It’s a garnet. Unpolished,” Hesperus explained. “I found that one on my first day in Cloudbreak and have carried it with me ever since. It’s always reminded me of how much more there is to this place than I’ll ever be able to discover, how much there is to protect for myself and others.”

It was a talisman. Several of her girls carried small symbols of the past that helped them look into an otherwise dim future. Even she carried one, though the knife sheathed at her waist was less hopeful than most.

“Hesperus, I—”

He held up a hand, brushing away the protest in her voice. “In a way, it’s always reminded me of you.” He lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug. “Though I am not enough of a poet to say why.”

There was a smooth spot on the top of the stone where Hesperus must have worried his thumb thousands of times. The rest was shrouded in a rough exterior, as though the only way to uncover the truths hidden inside was through the constant pressure of a friendly touch.

Caledonia could think of no better comparison for herself, though she was certain Hesperus didn’t recognize the perfection of his gift. He could not know that she had always imagined her girls as stones.

“Thank you, Hesperus. This is poetry enough for me.” She closed her fist around the gift and added, “Next time we run the drill, I want you with Viridian Fleet.”