Zoya leaned against the rail, considering her response. "I've been on this crew for six years. Joined when I was nineteen and stupid enough to think I could handle the Deep Gallery. Cypher saved my life on my first run, pulled me out of a collapsed portal that should have killed me. I've stayed ever since."
"And the others?"
"Omri's been here the longest. He was crew for Cypher's late captain before staying on with Cypher. Jask joined about eight years ago, Knives and Tor about the same time as me. Vic's the newest, besides you two, only been with us three years."
"You're all loyal to him."
"He's earned it. Cypher's hard, but he's fair. He asks a lot of his crew, but never more than he asks of himself. And he's kept us alive through situations that should have killed us a dozen times over." She glanced at me. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm trying to figure him out. He's so..." I gestured vaguely, at a complete loss for how to describe someone like him.
She laughed. "Thathe is. But he has his reasons." Zoya's expression was sympathetic. "Give him time. He's not as cold as he pretends to be."
Every interaction with Cypher felt like hitting a stone wall. He never gave more than was absolutely necessary, never showed vulnerability or warmth. But I supposed I didn't know him well enough yet. If this crew trusted him, I would too.
As we sailed, I was content to stare into the far distance of the Gallery, trying to imagine how many more portals existed out there beyond our reach. Sometimes, if I stared long enough, I could almost convince myself that I saw movement in the dark. Not ships or creatures, but bigger things, or maybe just the slow shifting of the void itself, like some ancient animal turning in its sleep.
The first wayfarers must have been mad, launching themselves into the unknown with nothing but crude skiffs. No charts. No experience. Just the darkness, and the promise that somewhere out there, new worlds waited.
Some called the Gallery a realm in its own right. Others mused that it was only a tributary, a tiny offshoot of something much bigger. The thought of larger Galleries, nested inside each other, rivers within rivers, made my stomach twist uneasily.
Cypher emerged from below deck hours later, a steaming mug in his hands. He climbed the stairs to the helm deck and nodded to Zoya. "How's she doing?"
"Better than we expected. She's got good instincts." Zoya stretched. "I'm going to grab some sleep. You've got this?"
"I've got this." He nodded, dismissing her.
She left, and suddenly I was alone with Cypher. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the creak of the ship and the whisper of currents against the hull.
"You're doing well," he said finally. "With the navigation training."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. We're only two weeks in. Things will get harder."
Of course they would. I adjusted our heading minutely, keeping us on the course Zoya had shown me. Cypher moved to stand beside me at the rail, looking out into the darkness. This close, I could smell him—leather, pipe smoke and soft herbal tea.
"Why did you agree to this job?" I asked. "Gideon said you usually turn down work like this."
He shrugged. "I needed the money."
"Everyone needs money."
He was quiet for so long I thought he wasn't going to answer."I have debts. Obligations. Things I need to settle."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer you're getting." He took a sip from his mug. "Some advice? Don't get attached to this crew. Don't get attached to me. When this job is done, we'll go our separate ways. That's how this works."
I leveled a glare at him. "I'm not a child. I know how business relationships work."
"Do you? You're looking for a hero. A captain who's noble and good. You want someone to protect you and make everything alright for your family." He turned to face me fully. "I'mnotthat person. I'm an opportunist who takes jobs for money. I'll get you to Nytheris and back because that's what I'm being paid to do. But don't mistake professional competence for something more. We aren't friends, and neither are my crew your friends."
"And you supposedly deduced my needs, wants and intentions in two weeks?" He was awfully presumptuous, and irritating, I realized.
He laughed softly. "I know that look in your eyes, scavenger. I've seen it before, on people who didn't survive to regret theirmisconceptions." He put his mug on the rail. "You want some advice that will actually keep you alive? Learn to trust your instincts. Stop second-guessing yourself. And stop trying to figure me out, because you won't like what you find."
The days turned to routine.Wake before dawn, breakfast in the galley, navigation training with Cypher, watch rotation, sleep. I learned the ship inside and out. Learned which boards creaked, where the warm spots were when the engines were running hot, which sections of rail had the best view. Click explored every corner as he scuttled from shadow to shadow, spying on the crew.
