Little Wing stood solid, though, one hand on the broken wheel, both eyes on the Sea ahead.
“Just toss them overboard, Cora!” Little Wing roared, and Cora the Wraith tossed the armful of fractured fragments of timber and rigging she’d been collecting.
Little Wing returned her attention to Kindred.
“The pirate can’t save her? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“No,” Kindred said quickly, and then, “Yes. The captain’s wound needs more than any ship’s medicker closet would hold, and more skill than any ship’s medicker likely has. Sarah is keeping her alive, but she doesn’t have much time.”
“How much time? It’s going to take at least a span and a half to reach the Mainland from here.”
Hope died away in Kindred’s chest.
“I thought we sailed for the Once-City,” she said after a moment.
“The Mainland is safer, more known. We can make it; I’m sure of it.”
Little Wing paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet, ruminative.
“We sail under cursed skies. Five dead. Ship torn apart. Captain hurt bad.”
She turned to look Kindred full in the eyes.
“And you think I should sail us out into the Roughs toward a pirate city? Even with a ship in perfect fucking condition, the Roughs are dangerous.” She leaned toward Kindred and dropped her voice even further. “Even with a keeper fully capable of keeping the fire, the Roughs are dangerous.”
She glanced down at Kindred’s hand.
“I’m fine,” Kindred said. “I can keep the fire just fine.”
“I’ve pretended at being fine enough in my life to know what it looks like.” She held up a hand as Kindred protested. “I don’t blame you, keeper. I admire it, actually. We should break ourselves for this crew, this ship, this captain.”
Something Little Wing had said snagged in Kindred’s mind. A span and a half to reach the Mainland. Fifteen days, and well within the two span Ragged Sarah had promised for the captain to stay in her suspended state.
But Little Wing didn’t know that.
“Only a span,” Kindred said, cutting her eyes down as she spoke.
“What?”
“We only have a span for the captain. Sarah can only keep her asleep and alive for a span at most.”
“Shit,” Little Wing said, her voice a near-whisper. “Only a span? There’s no way we reach the Mainland in ten days. Are you sure that’s really right?”
“That’s what Sarah said.” Kindred spoke the lie quickly, hoping her face showed none of the nausea prickling her stomach. Would Little Wing see through her lie somehow? Could she tell, just as she could tell that Kindred had been lying about keeping the fire?
“There’s some healing that can be done at the Once-City,” Kindred continued, “something that Sarah says can heal the captain.”
“Kindred.” Little Wing’s voice went suddenly hard and she grabbed Kindred’s arm.
Caught.
Little Wing pulled her close, her grip on Kindred’s arm like stone.
“Are you sure that she’s telling the truth? Are you sure we can trust her?”
Ragged Sarah. She was talking about Ragged Sarah.
“Yes,” Kindred said, meeting Little Wing’s eyes and saying the only true thing she could think of. “I trust her. We can trust her.”
Little Wing looked toward the deck, where the crew, beaten down and almost broken, labored to bring the ship back into some kind of order.
“All they’ve been through, and I have to tell them that we’re sailing to the Once-City. Fuck. I’ll be lucky if they don’t mutiny.”
She released Kindred’s arm and, for a moment, she said nothing more, just stared out into the never-ending stretch of Sea dancing in the darkness. “I’ll tell them now, one or two at a time to soften it. Tomorrow, in the afternoon, senior crew will meet. You, me, Quixa, and the pirate. If we’re going to the Once-City, we’ll need a plan. I’m not going in empty-handed or empty-headed.”
Kindred nodded.
“I’ll go check on Scindapse at the fire,” Kindred said into the troubled silence between them, turning to go.
“Norther,” Little Wing said. “That’s what I named the ship—my ship—waiting on the Mainland. I saw in some old book when I was studying for the captain’s exam that norther was the name for strong winds back when everyone thought it was the breath of the gods. A norther came from Radicle, Best of the Gods, and was stronger and colder than all other winds.”
For a moment, a smile caught at the starlight on Little Wing’s face, but then it was gone.
“It’s stupid. But it was mine. My whole fucking life was back there on the Mainland. And now it’s gone. All of it.”
“Little Wing, we’ll get back to—” Kindred began, but Little Wing spoke over her.
“I would do anything for the captain. And I’ll do this. Because fuck Cantrev. And fuck those pirates. And fuck anyone that gets in my way.”
She looked up at their sails, limp in the low wind.
“But I think this might be our last voyage.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Oh, good,” Scindapse said as Kindred settled in across from her. “I couldn’t remember any of the rules you were telling me earlier. Or the builds, either. Except for the simple one. The first one you showed me.”
Child’s Build, it was called. The first build Kindred had ever learned, and the only one she had had time to properly show Scindapse.
It was simple: three bones, each of approximately the same length and width, leaning against one another in the fire. It was stable, solid, easy to build and maintain.
And Scindapse had made a mess of it.
Five bones instead of three, leaning in at different and precarious angles. Even as she sat, Kindred saw one of the bones begin to slide away, and she moved to catch it.
But Scindapse was faster. Singing a gentle song of just a few simple notes, Scindapse caught the bone and set it again against the build.
Kindred’s first span aboard The Errant had been tumultuous and exciting and scary every moment, but she would always remember her first build in the fire and Rhabdus’s snide, sarcastic comments, punctuated by slaps or shoves out of the way.
“You’re doing great,” Kindred said, smiling through the firelight at Scindapse. “Nice catch.”