“And five,” Kindred said to Scindapse, watching the young girl, barely seventeen, shift and fidget where she sat on the other side of the fire. “Never circumscribe the fire.”
“Okay,” Scindapse said, with a quick bob of her head.
Poor girl, Kindred thought. She has family back on Arcadia, and here we are, sailing anywhere but home.
Her voice, when she finally sang after some prompting from Kindred, was shaky and weak, but the fire flickered violet for just a moment, and Kindred felt, with some surprise, The Errant push forward, gaining speed in some small amount.
“Great,” Kindred said after Scindapse finished, her eyes squeezed shut against her own singing. “And now I want you to listen—with your whole body, if you can. Let your mind go quiet. And stop that fidgeting.” She gave the younger girl a smile that, with a self-conscious glance down at her hands, Scindapse returned.
“I want you to tell me if you can hear anything from the fire—words, a melody, anything. Ready?”
Scindapse nodded, and Kindred took away the bone again. The fire climbed high, and once more its song soared.
“Nothing,” Scindapse said after Kindred replaced the bone and the fire had settled back into its steady state.
“That’s all right,” Kindred said, smiling again. “You did a nice job.”
Scindapse nodded, stood, and walked off.
* * *
“Wints! Gwen! Check the grommets on the foremast sails! Step to!”
Captain Caraway ordered the ship with calm and ease from the wheel, seeing everything, always in control.
Kindred stood a few steps back, waiting for her to finish directing Wints and Stone-Gwen. Scindapse and Little Wing were working on the aft casting-fire basins, which had been damaged in their flight from Arcadia. As she waited, Kindred listened to Little Wing directing Scindapse, her tone kinder, more generous than usual.
Captain Little Wing, taking care of her crew.
“We only have a bit of sunlight left, sailors; let’s use it!” she said before turning to Kindred. The sun hung low in the sky, soon to crash through the horizon.
But first this.
“Cora, Captain,” Kindred said, stepping forward. “It’ll have to be Cora.”
“Fine,” Captain Caraway said. “Begin her training at once.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Kindred said. “I don’t expect it to take much of her time, so . . .”
A melody, familiar and frustratingly off, pulled at Kindred’s attention, and she forgot what she was saying. For a moment, she looked back toward the hearthfire still blazing happily amidships. But no one was there, and its melody, faint in the back of her mind, had settled back into something slow and staid.
“Keeper?” Captain Caraway stared at her, one eyebrow raised. “Are you all right?”
Where was that melody coming from? It was painful to hear, almost every note just slightly off, the tone splintering as the melody climbed higher, the voice weak and untrained, and—
“Scindapse!” Kindred said, nearly shouted, as she whirled around to see the young girl working away at one of the basins.
And singing to herself.
“What?” she said, startled, eyes wide as she looked up. Kindred almost tripped as she ran over to her, leaving Captain Caraway looking confused at the wheel.
“Sing that again,” she said, dropping to her knees in front of Scindapse, who, after a moment of silence, did.
“I thought you couldn’t hear anything,” Kindred said, unable to keep her voice from rising with excitement. “You said you couldn’t hear the fire!”
“I couldn’t,” Scindapse said, leaning back slightly. Next to her, Little Wing was watching with bemused interest.
“But . . .” Kindred started, tilting her head to the side and considering Scindapse. “But where did you hear that melody you were just singing?”
“I’m not really sure,” Scindapse said after a moment, shaking her head slightly. “It’s just in my head, I guess.”
“That’s the music of the flames,” Kindred said, leaning forward and putting her hands, one swathed and one not, on Scindapse’s shoulders, her grin wide on her face. “You can hear it too!”
“You keepers are all nuts,” Little Wing said, smiling and returning to her work.
“Captain,” Kindred said, standing and turning back to Captain Caraway, who was watching, her mouth still open in confusion. “Scratch what I just said. It’ll be Scindapse; she’s the new junior keeper.”
“Fine,” Captain Caraway said, looking between her and Scindapse and Little Wing, obviously weighing if this was something she wanted to ask about or not. Her other concerns won out as she turned back to the wheel. “Start as soon as possible,” she said over her shoulder.
“Aye, Captain,” Kindred said, before turning back to Scindapse. She could remember how Rhabdus had treated her right away, scornful of this new keeper, angry at having more responsibilities and angrier at having to share what she saw as her place on the ship.
Kindred would not be a teacher like Rhabdus; that much she was sure of.
“I’ll show you the basics now, but we’ll really begin after sundown,” Kindred told her, smiling wide.
She had a decision to make, and the dying light meant she had to hurry.
* * *
“Sarah,” Kindred called up the mainmast. “Sarah.”
At first, there was no response, even though Kindred knew Sarah was there. But she couldn’t shout for fear of drawing attention, particularly the captain or Little Wing’s, and so Kindred continued to whisper-call up toward the crow’s nest.
“Sarah. Ragged Sarah.”
She could hear conversation, low and quiet, coming from the wooden confines of the nest, and Kindred felt a twist in her stomach at the thought of someone being up there with Sarah, someone sharing her secrets.
“Sarah,” she called again, louder this time.
A wild-haired shadow extended from the cloud of darkness that was the crow’s nest in the gloaming.
“Kindred?”
“Can you come down? Maybe you’re busy, I—” Kindred began, but Ragged Sarah was already moving, her shape blooming from a shadowed head to all of her, plummeting closer as she dropped down the mainmast. As she did, several dark shapes, each the size of a fist and flitting almost faster than Kindred could see, darted out into the sky.