The steamboat’s engine hummed under Lu’s feet. She stood at the bow, drawing Lake Regolith’s crisp air into herlungs. The evening sun was just beginning to fade, casting a hue of orange over the sky, and the water’s glassy surface reflected it in a rebound of flame and night.
“Vex will be there,” Ben said, standing behind her.
Lu’s chin dropped to her chest. The peace of the lake shattered.
Nayeli still hadn’t heard from him. He hadn’t returned to the sanctuary before they left. It shouldn’t have taken him so long. Something had happened, and Lu couldn’t contain her panic in a safe, quiet little box like she needed to. It took all her willpower to not beg someone, anyone, to let her go find him.
“In Deza,” Ben started, words as soft as the wind, “the Grace Loray holiday is celebrated with mass healing ceremonies. People pour out of infirmaries and line the streets as my father and his priests walk through the city, laying hands on them,cleansingthem. Whether it works or not, I honestly can’t say—disease does drop after this holiday. But Paxben”—there was a smile in Ben’s voice—“one year, he convinced me to pretend we had both gotten a plague. We painted ourselves in bright red spots and intended to sneak down to the ceremony, to make my father heal us. I don’t know what Paxben’s plan truly was—he was laughing too hard to explain. We both looked absurd, covered in blotchy red welts.”
A moment of silence, then Lu tipped her head, staring at Ben’s boots. “What happened?”
“My uncle caught us. And it turned out that the paint Paxben had found was for touching up statues in the gardens, meaning it could withstand rain, snow, wind—”
“No,” Lu breathed, and couldn’t help but smile.
Ben nodded. “It took four weeks for the red spots to fade.”
Lu laughed. It cut down to her toes. “He’s still just as careless.”
Ben shrugged. “But if there is a Pious God, I swear it must love him, for all he has survived. He will be fine. He’s resilient. And—we are, too.”
In the steamboat’s pilothouse, Lu caught sight of Gunnar, watching them. Near him, talking with a Tuncian raider, Kari slid her eyes, occasionally, to Lu.
“I have to believe so,” Lu whispered. “For all we have survived.”
And all we have yet to overcome.
Ben didn’t know how many people populated New Deza—but he suspected all of them were at the wharf.
Kari assumed Elazar would be deep in the port to give himself an upper hand, and that defensors would escort Ben and Lu far from the waterways. But as their steamboat approached the city, it became clear that Elazar had set himself up here. People packed the wharf, shifting bodies that clogged every free space Ben could see between the docks and the anchored steamboats. All of it concentratedaround the northern end—the military docks, Lu said.
The raider driving their boat plowed it down the second dock. At the end, a platform waited, wide planks of wood holding defensors along the back and priests in somber black robes. Banners and pennants fluttered in the evening breeze, carrying the navy and white of Argrid down the wharf and almost, but not quite, hiding the defensors lining the top of the tide wall.
Also on the platform, a line of Mecht raiders stood behind Ingvar Pilkvist. Ben hadn’t known the man before those village parades, weeks ago now, but he recognized again the vacancy in his expression that came with Menesia. How many memories had Elazar taken from Ingvar to convince this mighty stream raider Head that he was loyal to Argrid?
It was only slightly less horrible than what Elazar had done to Cansu, making Menesia’s effects delayed until triggered by his hymn. And then she had obeyed him. Utterly. She had murdered her own raiders at his feet.
What did Elazar have planned for the rest of this island?
Ben was so lost in searching for his father—Elazar was nowhere in sight, but he was here, he had to be—that Lu’s clipped inhale had him grabbing for a nonexistent sword.
“Tom isn’t here,” she whispered. She turned to look at Kari in the pilothouse. The expression that passed between them kicked Ben in the chest—a deep, meaningfulconnection of parent to child that he couldn’t remember ever experiencing.
As if dragged forward to cement the inadequacy of their relationship, Elazar ascended onto the platform, hands lifted to the heavens.
The steamboat shuddered to a stop. Raiders rushed to the railing, met by defensors with weapons out. Everyone hardened.
Ben had told Gunnar to stay in the pilothouse until things turned dire. He needed Gunnar here, but he needed Gunnarsafe, somewhere he couldn’t be used against Ben until they were all free to fight for themselves. But with his back to the pilothouse’s door, Ben felt the temperature increasing, steady and sure.
“Benat,” came Gunnar’s voice.
Ben pivoted enough to send Gunnar a weak smile. He couldn’t make himself meet his eyes.
“My son has returned to me,” Elazar’s voice boomed from the platform. The crowd was silent.
Velvet-soft peace fell over Ben. He took one step, another, crossing the deck to meet Lu, still at the bow. The defensors before them gave leery glowers, their pistols cocked at their sides, a few swords naked.
Ben grabbed the edge of the boat and leaped onto the dock. Lu followed, steadying herself on his arm.
