Page 189 of The Space Between Stars

“And you’re a friend of the General Prime, are you?”

“I only just met him,” Niklaus said, finding it to be the least suspicious yet still-honest answer.

Mitek crossed his arms and gazed north for a long while. No one said a word. The only sound was the ocean crashing against the shore.

Finally, the raider bumped an elbow into the girl beside him. “Mefeeb?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “You know I can.”

“Yes, but I still don’t like it. You know the risks?”

“Life is one big risk, you told me that. Give me a shot?”

“I can’t promise it will change the rules, but it might improve your chances.”

The girl nodded firmly and with so much reverence, it shook Niklaus. Like he’d just told her he’d swim after her in a storm.

“She’ll take you,” Mitek said to Niklaus, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the pre-teen.

“She’ll… take me… to Steila?” The girl hardly looked old enough for a walk around town alone, let alone a sail up the coast into enemy-occupied territory.

Mitek nodded. “Good listening skills. You’ll need those, as it will be easier if you do whatever she tells you.”

Niklaus swallowed. “Right.”

Mitek pulled Mefeeb to the side. He spoke to her in low tones that he clearly didn’t mind being overheard by the group: instructions on discretion and a route that would get a skiff to Steila without being spotted from the city’s ocean patrol. “Don’t pass beyond the cliffs toward the harbor. Don’t, by any means, follow this traveler toward his query.”

The other men exchanged gratitude and farewells and low, unintelligible murmurings. Two of them stepped into the skiff to depart—Mitek’s companions, presumably. The others passed by Niklaus on their return into Thaligan.

Mitek gave the girl a hug and turned toward Niklaus expectantly. He stretched out a palm. “Whenever you’re ready.” He was not suggesting Niklaus hold it.

“I also have a writ from the General Prime to provide payment for passage. I don’t have any notes,” Niklaus explained earnestly. “Can we arrange to—”

The raider began laughing. Half mad, half jovial, it was almost contagious, had it not been so disconcerting. He wiped a tear from his eye.

“I’ll have my people contact his people,” he said, like they were in on a joke. But before delivering the punchline he stepped into the skiff with all the suaveness of a man who was used to finishing conversations. “Good luck, Niklaus. And forgive me if I cross the line, but I think you should know: if Thyatira really sent you to capture who I’m thinking of, he’s got it out for you.”

The skiff veered off, and Niklaus’s stomach reeled when he realized that they were gliding across the waves without sails or oars. He stared and stared until he saw, from a distance, Mitek’s hand on a lever lowered into the water. It was mechanical. It was powered by distortion. It was…

“You ready?” It was the girl—Mefeeb—looking at him like he was a target to be acquired.

“As much as I’ll ever be. Are you?”

“After a good piss and a bag of snacks. Ten minutes.” She spoke like the Shrokan recruits: jarringly coarse and almost too quickly to follow.

“Do you work for him?” he asked, tilting his head toward the departed raider.

“I wish. An errand here and an errand there is the best I get. But this one’s dangerous, so… if we don’t die, maybe I’ll get to.” The girl squinted an eye. “Don’t ask questions about him,” she barked. “I’ma take that piss now.”

“I’ll wait here.”

Niklaus looked out over the barren town. He considered taking the time to use the facilities himself, but didn’t feel the urge. He was fully equipped with food and water, and the stares from the few dock- and market-goers were untrusting at best, hostile at worst.

He stretched his legs, stiff from the days of walking but not nearly so much as they had been in the early days of the caravan. How strange it was that life had brought him here: on the edge of a war zone, about to embark on a sea journey with a child as his captain. He had no idea what the future held, but whatever that was—even if it was nothing—it was better than what he’d come from.

Mefeeb returned, a patched bag slung over one shoulder. She chucked it into the boat and pointed a dirty finger at him. “Listen good, eah? These are the rules: don’t try to rob me, because I’ve got nothing you want, don’t touch me unless we’ve capsized and yer saving my arse, and don’t pull your prick out unless your back is turned. I’ve got a dagger and tanka and I’m a damn good shot. Make one wrong move, and you’re hitting the deep’s bottom. You hear me?”

He was sure all of Thaligan had heard her. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”