Those she had landed on and among shrugged her off, and the flows of Once-City peoples surged around her, some tripping over Kindred in their haste to get to the tree or get inside or get to the other side of the docks. She was buffeted from all sides, her vision circumscribed by bodies moving past her.
Kindred let her head loll to the side, and through the thinned thicket of legs passing by, she saw Little Wing, body crumpled on the ground not far away. Relief flooded through her, and then fear as Little Wing lifted her head, eyes open, and found Kindred.
Her look was one of total hatred. Bloodied, broken, betrayed: she was rage, burning.
More bodies pressed around her, and Kindred pulled her arms up to protect her head, pulled her knees up to protect her abdomen.
And though pain screamed through her whole body and though darkness threatened to overwhelm her, Kindred stayed conscious, watching through the gap between her arms as Little Wing was lifted and bound, as fists collided with her face over and over, enough to drag her into unconsciousness, as she was hauled away.
Even as the movement around her calmed, Kindred stayed where she was, stilled by Little Wing, frozen by the memory of those eyes.
Guards climbed the great tree above and wrapped the burning branches in the sopping-wet material—a set of much-worn old sails, a few of them the color of Arcadian sheets.
Kindred heard the sounds of the Once-City saved, cries of relief and cheer sounding from those around her. Captain Caraway knelt beside her, apparently released from wartime responsibilities. Ragged Sarah appeared a moment later, and the two of them helped Kindred to her feet, though they had to support her. One leg refused to take any weight. Long Quixa and Cora the Wraith appeared through the crowd.
Little Wing was nowhere to be seen.
“I guess you made your choice,” Captain Caraway said, her arm around Kindred, staring at the wreckage around them.
* * *
Silent, Kindred surveyed the remains of the battlefield.
Vessels listed and burned, like strangers wandering the beauty of the Roughs. An Arcadian schooner, sails burned to nothing, mizzenmast a broken splinter angling sickeningly to port, devoid of crew save two sailors racing about, trying to right the vessel. A pirate ship, one of Morrow Laze’s, Kindred thought, approached from behind, the boarding bridges prepped.
Everywhere, the story was the same: Arcadian vessels were isolated and boarded, harried away from one another with precise magical attacks and then, with little fanfare, captured.
I pushed her. I pushed her and I didn’t mean for her to fall and get taken but I’m not done with this place yet. I couldn’t let her destroy it; I couldn’t let it burn. Not yet.
“Ebb!” Captain Caraway shouted, shocking Kindred out of her thoughts. She looked to see Ebb-La-Kem, swarmed by his usual retinue, walking by, snapping out orders. Seraph and a few of the other councillors walked nearby.
“Ah! Jane. Very good. Just the person I was hoping to see.” Ebb-La-Kem turned and approached them, his smile wide, his eyes mean. Next to him, Seraph was frowning.
“What have you done with Little Wing, Ebb?”
“Your quartermaster, Jane, tried to block our guards from scaling the tree and putting out the blaze. Your quartermaster, Jane, tried to kill every person in this city—including you and your crew. Your quartermaster, Jane, is mine now.” Ebb-La-Kem’s voice dropped as he spoke, getting harder and lower, anger dripping from every syllable.
“Without the interference of Kindred,” he said, favoring her with a nod and a smile, “we would all be burning. Little Wing tried to destroy this place, Jane. We’re putting her to death.”
He spoke as if it were a simple thing. Little Wing acted, and here is her consequence. The sun rises, and so the world becomes brighter.
Shock and anger rippled around the crew of The Errant. Despite her own act—despite being the one who had interfered—Kindred still felt like Ebb’s words were a knife in her gut.
Little Wing, put to death, her fire extinguished.
“When?” Captain Caraway asked, her voice quiet.
“As soon as I can manage it,” Ebb-La-Kem said, already beginning to walk away. “I have vessels to see to and a council meeting first. I need to take care of the citizens who aren’t trying to kill one another.”
And with that, he was gone. Seraph made to follow but then stopped and turned around, stepping into the circle of Kindred and the crew.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking around at each of them, his eyes lingering on Kindred for a long moment. “I tried to persuade him to just hold her, perhaps an extended time in prison or more menial labor, but he’s set, and he’s already gotten a majority council vote. I . . .”
He trailed off, looking down at his grubby hands.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, wincing at the inadequacy of those words.
He looked around again, his eyes lingering on Kindred’s, as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t.
“Fuck that,” Captain Caraway said. She turned to her crew.
“Sarah, get Kindred down for healing. The rest of you get back to Cruel House and wait for me. I’m not letting this happen. Little Wing may have lost her mind, but she’s still one of ours, and I’m not leaving her to their justice.” She walked off, following Ebb-La-Kem and the swarm of people around him.
They watched her go, and Seraph shook his head.
“She can protest until her voice dissolves. When Ebb-La-Kem wants something, he gets it, one way or another.”
“And so, they’ll just kill her?” Cora asked, disgusted. “How?”
Seraph looked down, unable to meet her eyes.
“The Sea. They’ll push her out into the Sea.”
Here was the Once-City belief, Kindred thought, played out in its most twisted way. Living in accordance with the Sea and dying in accordance with it too.
“Maybe the captain can—” Cora began, but stopped as Seraph shook his head.
“It’s done,” he said. “Ebb didn’t say this, but his guards were going to do it right now. If it hasn’t happened yet, it will soon. They won’t hold her for long.”
Cora’s mouth hung open as she looked around, complete disbelief. Sarah, her body aligned with Kindred’s, one arm threaded around Kindred’s waist, dropped her head.
Long Quixa, moving slowly, covered her mouth with an open hand.
“Little Wing,” she said, memorializing the quartermaster, closing her fingers around all that remained of her. Cora and Sarah did the same, and after a breath, Kindred did too.
“I’m sorry,” Kindred added, and she didn’t realize she was speaking in the language of the hearthfire until the words came out, language like a litany.