“Well, maybe theTouchstoneknows something we don’t,” he said. “I’ll take her to the captain. He can decide.”
I nodded swiftly. I would not beg. Not now. Not ever. But I didn’t want to go back to Hodgetown, broken as I was by the sea.
“The captain’s a hard man, but he’s fair,” he said, holding my gaze. “His decision will be binding. Is that understood, Bluemage?”
“Aye, sir.”
I moved to hop off the surgeon’s trunk, but the cabin spun as my boots hit the deck. I was forced to clutch the table’s edge so that I didn’t fall.
No one tried to catch me, for which I was grateful.
We moved to leave, and I threw a glance over my shoulder at Echo. He smiled at me, and I knew I’d found more kindness inmy few hours on theTouchstonethan I had in months spent on theDawn Watch. Then, I was out and into the dark hold of a companionway.
I paused at the sight of the stepladder and looked at my bandaged hands, unsure if they would hold. The mate was already up, and he glanced down at me from the rungs. I could have sworn he was smirking.
“They have ladders on a Navy ship, Blue?”
I swore at him and reached out to take the rung.
Fire. Fire and wood.Fire and wood and ships and trees and snow and feathers and branches and rings and flash and boom and blackness—
“And the ladder?”
“Like wisps of patterned char.” I recognized the voice, but it was speaking as if underwater. “Buck and Ben have begun repairs.”
I opened my eyes, blinked to clear the ripples from my mind.
“Are you certain she is not simply a firespinner?” came a voice to my far left, soft-spoken but deep, the kind of voice that didn’t need to raise itself to be obeyed.
“No red threads in the sash. Besides, the runes are still burning,” the first voice replied.
Fahr. That’s right. His name was Fahr.
I was in another cabin this time, large and well-lit, and I knew it was the captain’s quarters. The great cabin, it was called, with fine furniture, ornate lanterns with sweet-smelling wax. Dozens of maps were spread out across an old wooden desk. Books and journals were crammed on shelves between the bones of theship’s hull. I noticed a cyrproppedin the corner—the fabled golden pikestaff of aRhi’Ahrwarrior. Odd. At the far end of the room, there was a wide bank of port windows with mullioned glass and a man with his back turned, silhouetted in sunslight.
“She’s awake.” Fahr peered down at me. “Ensign Renn, did you mean to set fire to the hatch?”
I was seated in a wooden chair, my arms wrapped across my bosom in slings. I had no idea how I’d gotten there or when.
“Ensign Renn?”
I looked up at him.
“No, sir. I—I don’t know what happened, sir.”
He turned to the silhouette. “Shall I stay?”
“I will call for you when we are done,” said the man in that same low voice. “And please, have Worley bring in a bottle. I aim to sleep tonight.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Dismissed, Mr. Fahr.”
Before turning to leave, the mate held my gaze again. His eyes spoke volumes, but I just didn’t know the words. Quietly, he slipped from the room.
I sat, simply breathing in and out, marshaling my thoughts, deadening my fear. There was a rap at the sliding panel of the door, and a thin man slipped in. He set a bottle on the desk, poured a glass, and passed it to the man at the window.
“Only one, mind, sir,” said the steward. “The spirit’s right savage.”
