“No!”
“She let us eat and eat—some of us had thirds and fourths—all the while saying it was a captain’s secret, that she couldn’t tell us. But on her fourth bowl, Red Alay found a petal that hadn’t been mashed up completely, and she put it together.”
Ragged Sarah was laughing now, too, and Kindred waited a joyous moment before continuing.
“They raged, all of them. Oh, were they mad. Cursing and spitting and shouting, but the Marchess was calm through it all, just finishing her stew and smiling. And when the crew had finally calmed down enough to listen, she just said, ‘Tomorrow we find our windfall.’”
They walked down the street together, and Kindred let herself be moved by the great pleasure in sharing stories. Even Barque’s gloomy presence as he appeared at a crossroads ahead of them couldn’t dim her happiness.
“If he’s trying to keep watch on us secretly, he’s doing a shit-poor job,” Sarah said, laughing. And Kindred laughed too.
She threaded her fingers through Ragged Sarah’s and matched their steps so that they truly walked together, and continued her story.
“I woke up early that next morning—we rotated the hearthfire duties between a few of us and it was my turn. I walked up on to the deck just as the sun was coming up. The sky was shot through with it, new light catching in the clouds, and for a breath—gods, I remember it so clearly—for just a breath, I thought the Sea was on fire.
“I know it sounds mad, and I couldn’t explain it then or now, but I was so sure that somehow, the Arcadian magics had failed and the sun had caught on the edge of the world as it rose and set the whole Forever Sea ablaze.
“I thought I was alone on the deck, but the Marchess was there, halfway up the mainmast, hanging from the shroud. I turned around, ready to run back below and get someone, but I saw her there, and her face and hair were caught with that same fiery light.
“She looked down at me and said, ‘Here we are, my girl, on the edge of everything.’”
The sound of their steps filled the space between Kindred’s words, and she cut a look toward Ragged Sarah, who waited, smiling and entranced.
“It was a field of lilies, each one opening to the sun’s fire and answering in kind. I’ve never in my life seen so much color, so much life all in one place.”
Ragged Sarah laughed, pure joy.
“You must have had the best haul ever! The trade prices on lilies are some of the best, far better than coneflowers,” Ragged Sarah said. “Even with a ship as small as Revenger, you all must have been rich after a harvest like that. You filled the hull, didn’t you? Did you get it all or did you have to leave some behind?”
“We filled the hull, yes, and that payday was enough for several years’ worth of bad harvests. But for a while—I don’t know how long, but it felt like it lasted all morning—my grandmother and I stood there on the dock, just watching the sun rise over a field of fire.”
As they continued to walk together that morning, Kindred thought on her grandmother’s words: “Here we are, my girl, on the edge of everything.”
All her life, she had thought her grandmother meant the great vastness of the Sea, its forever always stretching toward and beyond the horizon.
But now, with everything that had happened, she wondered if the Marchess had been instead talking about a different edge—the edge not of a field but of a cliff.
An edge for teetering over, for tiptoeing along.
For falling.
* * *
Seraph found them while Kindred and Ragged Sarah were looking at a row of grass houses.
“Kindred!” His shout was jarring amid their quiet talk. “I was just over at Cruel House to deliver some excitement for you!”
He looked between the two of them for a moment, nearly exploding with the pent-up secret he held. Finally, he spoke.
“I’ve decided you’re ready to see the Once-City’s hearthfires!”
When Kindred tipped her head aside in confusion, Seraph laughed.
“Sorry—I know you’ve been looking at the hearthfires in our boats. I mean, I think you’re ready to see that other hearthfire issue you guessed at.”
Seraph tipped his head to the side, too, as he said this last. Kindred had been wondering when they would get around to that, her confirmed suspicion during their first meeting with the Council.
“I have some other hearthfires to tend to tonight, so I won’t be able to show you now, but tomorrow morning I should be ready to take you down.”
Down? Kindred wondered where a hearthfire that powered a whole city could be kept. Had she somehow missed it that first day as she walked out of her cell? Was it in the Forest somewhere?
“Unless, of course, you want to help with the hearthfires now?” he asked, as if realizing he had very nearly insulted Kindred by not asking her. “I have to say, it’s quite . . . bare-bones work.”
He grinned with wide eyes, letting his words sink in.
When neither responded, he nodded quickly and said, “Bare bones? Because I’m fiddling with hearthfires, but it will be simple stuff?”
He laughed, his wide eyes inviting them into his joy.
Kindred laughed, feeling her cheeks grow hot as Ragged Sarah looked on in wry amusement.
“Well, I’m off. We’ll get to it tomorrow morning—I’ll stop by and get you from Cruel House beforehand!” He patted Kindred on the shoulder before wandering off, his head moving around constantly, looking here and there, never resting, never satisfied.
“I can’t believe he’s on the Council,” Kindred said, watching Seraph walk off toward the central stairs.
“There’s always someone from the hearthfire keepers on the Council; it’s one of the rules. And since he seems to be the only one in charge, I guess it’s him. Everyone else is elected.”
“And you said you’ve never known there to be a pirate majority before?”
Sarah nodded, squinting her eyes up into the light reflecting down from the shields above.
“It’s rare, at least I remember it being rare, to have a pirate majority. I heard about it when I was a kid but never knew there to be one. Some here might benefit from the thieving and killing, but most of these people are interested in doing what everyone everywhere is: just living. Water and food—important, yes—were never too hard to come by—not as hard as they are now, for some reason—and most people found lives working as healers or teachers or weavers. The pirates were a part of this place, and some kids got in with them early and then never got out, but they were never the whole of the Once-City.”