“The crew of The Quisling is dead! The attack is happening now!”
“You’re lying,” Barque said, but something in Kindred’s voice had finally caught him.
Seraph finally did his part, and that great tolling rolled again—the same sound Kindred had heard during the last attack—echoing through the city, filling the entirety of the space.
As the city came to life around them, and as wardens and sailors and citizens raced about, shouting orders, Barque grabbed hold of Kindred, his eyes wild, the buds on his skin beginning to flutter open.
“What did you do?” he asked, his voice hard, his eyes searching her face. “How did you do it?”
Kindred recoiled as if she’d been slapped.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Did you sneak them in? Or send messages to Cantrev somehow? I know it was you, you and your old crew. All that fucking plotting you’ve been doing. I knew you were up to something. Now, how did you do it?” He was shouting by the end, his voice rising above the tumult around them.
The buds on his face and arms opened now, blue limned by white, and Kindred found their perfume intoxicating. She’d never been this close to Barque when the flowers were open, and she found herself pulled in by the smell, and even with the chaos, even with the realization of the impending attack, it took everything she had to stay sane and present.
“I didn’t do this,” she shouted back. “Why would I come and tell you about it if I had? How would I even communicate with them?”
“I don’t know!” Barque shouted back. “I don’t know how your mind works! But I know you did this. Somehow, you and the other Arcadians have fucked us all over.”
Kindred ground her teeth, but she saw it was pointless. Barque’s eyes were mad, and there would be no convincing him.
And if he thought her so guilty, she didn’t have long to act.
She looked around him, angling her body away from his, pulling at the grip of his hands on her arms. Boots were all she could see, a wave of them moving around her, people fleeing the fight or running to it.
Barque’s anger rolled off of him in waves, pulsing through his hands, creating a tide of the aroma coming from his flowers. He was frantic, out of his mind.
Stillness, Kindred thought. She breathed, feeling the prairie wind moving through her again, in and out, and with every bit of strength she had, she brought her knee up between his legs at the same time that she rammed her head straight into his face. She was aiming for his nose, hoping to break it or at least hit it hard enough to get him to release her.
Instead, she felt something soft and realized she had hit the flower blooming just below his eye.
Barque roared in pain, and suddenly he was off of her, his hands gone, and as Kindred rose, she saw him not clutching at his groin but rolling about on the ground, his hands to his face, to the wrecked flower now pasted limply to his cheek.
But Kindred couldn’t spare the time for him, and she raced off, not up to the battle but to Cruel House, hoping to catch the crew there, to warn them of the folly of their plan.
“Kindred!”
She felt her breath catch and hitch in her chest as Ragged Sarah ran toward her from the doorway of Cruel House. Kindred wrapped her in an embrace and realized how worried she’d been about Sarah, how anxious she’d been for her safety without even realizing it. Here, with Sarah in her arms, things were better. Not good, but better.
“What’s going on?” Sarah asked. “Cantrev? How could he get past the birds?”
“He came from the east.”
Sarah shook her head.
“That asshole. Of course he did.”
“Is everyone else inside?” Kindred asked, moving toward the door, but Sarah stopped her.
“No, they all went up except Scindapse. The captain got pulled up by Ebb-La-Kem, and Quixa and Cora went up too. They all think the plan is going to work.”
“Dammit,” Kindred said, slapping her hand against her leg. She turned back to Ragged Sarah. “We have to go for it. There are too many ships out there, Sarah. No one is going to win this battle. We have to go for it.”
“But you just said Cantrev’s coming from the east. We won’t be able to steal one of the ships, especially not if Cantrev’s fleet is what you’re saying it is. They’ll need every available vessel.”
“I’m not talking about that plan,” Kindred said, shaking her head.
Ragged Sarah frowned, and then, a moment later, recognition shot across her face.
“Kindred . . .” Sarah began.
“I’m going,” Kindred said. “I’m sailing it today.”
Sarah let out a breath and then said, very quietly, “To the unknown?”
And Kindred found she loved her all the more in that moment. She’d never met anyone who so easily moved with changes in the wind.
“What do we do?” Sarah asked.
Kindred thought for a moment.
“We need to get everyone else. I never told them about our plan; I thought we would have more time. But we can’t just let them die here, either from Cantrev’s attack or from some foolhardy plan. I’ll get Scindapse; you go get the captain and the others. Meet at the stairs. We should be able to fit.”
“Should?” Sarah said, skeptical, but she was smiling, and Kindred felt confidence buoy her up.
“Aye, should. See you soon.” Kindred leaned in to kiss Sarah, wishing it could last longer and knowing it couldn’t.
“Soon,” Sarah said, and then she was gone, one of many running for hope and sanity in the chaos.
* * *
Inside Cruel House, Kindred found Scindapse sitting up on her mattress.
“What’s going on?” Scindapse asked, her voice small, so young.
“Cantrev’s attack,” Kindred said. “We have to go.”
“Go where? What’s happening, Kindred?” Scindapse shrunk back on her mattress.
Kindred thought back to the curious, energetic girl who had taken to keeping the fire, who had joyed at finding her place among the crew. So like Kindred had been. Still held rapt by the delicate machine of this surface world.
Kindred did her best to speak as Captain Caraway did, mimicking the power and authority in the captain’s voice.
“Get up, Scindapse. The crew needs you, and so do I. Get up.”
It was as if a different person had spoken, one who had not spent her life merely part of a crew, one who had not spent her life in service but instead in power.