“It was a lifetime ago, Little Wing—”
“Do you know the pirates who did that?”
Sarah did not respond.
Little Wing’s hand slapped the table, the flat of her palm exploding against the wood.
“Do you?”
Ragged Sarah looked ready to break, though whether she would break toward anger or terror, Kindred didn’t know. She looked across the table at Kindred, eyes asking what she could not.
“Enough,” Captain Caraway said, her voice low and dangerous. She stood in the doorway. “We have enough against us without crew turning against crew. Little Wing, do you really think I would let someone on board my ship without making damn sure they were not a danger to my crew and vessel? She has my full confidence, and so, by extension, does she have yours.”
The captain stared at them all, one by one.
“Votes by sundown. You all have jobs to do.”
One by one, they stood and left the captain’s quarters. Little Wing first, the muscles of her jaw bulging as she walked out. Sarah went next, but not before looking at Kindred and saying, very quietly, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to leave all of that behind me.”
Kindred walked to the door last but stopped there, wishing she had a less tumultuous opportunity for this conversation.
“Captain? I hope it’s all right, but I need to talk with you about the hearthfire.”
Already, the words she had practiced, the easy tone in her voice, the confident, almost casual way she was going to hold her arms—already, all of it was dripping away from her mind, lost as Captain Caraway turned a distracted, harried look upon her.
“What is it? More problems like before? Or with . . .” She looked down at the dark cloth swaddling Kindred’s hand.
“Oh, no. No, no,” Kindred said quickly, moving her hand around behind her back. “All fine there. But if I’m now the senior keeper, we will need to find a junior keeper. To help. Not because I need it. But in case we’re chased again, and definitely when we reach the Roughs.”
It was all coming out garbled, little fragments of her logic, and the cracks running between them were glaringly obvious. She should’ve waited. Or said nothing. Maybe she could scuttle the whole idea and struggle through on her own, find some way to keep the fire with just one hand. Just long enough to reach . . . wherever they were going.
“It’s probably too much to think about right now,” Kindred said, filling the space with more words as the captain continued to stare at her, expression unreadable. “I’ll just keep on and we can figure something out once we settle on a course and reach our destination.”
“No, Kindred,” Captain Caraway said, putting a hand on her shoulder, her face clearing suddenly into resolution. “It’s a good idea. Better to be prepared. Shall I pick someone? Or would you like to? We’ve always put out a call on the Trade board in Arcadia for new crew in the past; I confess, I don’t know how best to manage it while we’re out at Sea.”
Excitement thrilled through Kindred as she tried to maintain whatever composure she already had.
She nodded, frowning at the problem as if she hadn’t already thought this through, as if she didn’t already have a plan.
“There’s a test my grandmother used to do, one that she gave me when I started keeping the fire. Just a basic aptitude test. I can run it for the crew and pick the best person based on that. If it’s all right with you, of course.”
The sounds of struggle filtered in through the partially open door, and the captain cocked her head, listening, her already divided attention split even further.
“That’s just fine, keeper. Do you have everything you need?”
Are we done? was what she was really asking.
“Absolutely, Captain. I’ll let you know once I’ve finished.”
“Excellent,” the captain said, already moving toward the door. “Have it done soon, if possible. And don’t forget: I need your decision by sundown.”
* * *
It had been a lie, in a way. Her grandmother had never given her this test, but she had seen the Marchess give it to others, the few new crew members who came aboard Revenger during Kindred’s time there.
First up was Long Quixa, her arm still in the sling Sarah had rigged up for her. Long and tall and thin, easily twice Kindred’s age, Quixa settled herself in front of the fire as Kindred had instructed, her willowy legs forming tight angles as she sat on the deck. She was always serious, Quixa, her blue eyes always seeming to take in more of the world than anyone Kindred had ever met. She said little and saw much.
“Good,” Kindred said, sitting opposite Quixa, across the fire. “Do you know the basics of the hearthfire?”
Quixa nodded after a moment of thought but said nothing.
“Can you tell me what you know?” Kindred said after a moment of silence.
“Yes,” Quixa said, and a horrible moment of silence followed that in which Kindred thought she would need to prompt Quixa again. She had worried about it being odd, her one of the youngest sailors aboard, testing the crew, many of whom were old enough to be her mother, and it was turning out exactly that way. But then Quixa spoke.
“The hearthfire is the beating heart of the ship. Its power keeps us afloat over the grasses below, and it gives us forward push as well as stability. Without it, the wind might push us forward thanks to the sails, but it would be no use; we would sink.”
“Yes, good,” Kindred said. “And a keeper’s job is to build structures of bone inside the fire to aid in those things.” She gestured to the arrayed bones in the bone closet; she had propped open the door. “Certain builds are better suited for certain actions, and a keeper uses her magic—and the magic of the fire—to shape the bones to those purposes.”
“Why do you build them in the fire?” Quixa asked, her eyes moving slowly over to the door of the bone closet, which she would have seen filled with the rows of bones. “Why not build them ahead of time and simply drop the appropriate build in?”
Kindred nodded and smiled. It was the right kind of question, and maybe, just maybe, it meant Quixa had some natural inclination with the fire.
“The bones need the magic of the flames to be joined together. Without it, there’s nothing to hold them. String or cloth would burn away before a keeper could get in to join the bones together in a true way.”
Quixa nodded slowly, chewing over Kindred’s response.
“But all of that comes much later. Right now, let’s just start with the basics. There are five rules to keeping the fire,” Kindred said. “One: speed in tenuous length. The longer and leaner the build, and the longer and slimmer the bones, the faster the ship will go. Two: solidity in bolstered support. In rough grasses or high winds or any other situation where you need support, a build that is bolstered on all sides will offer more stability to the ship. The same goes for builds where tight turns are needed.