Chapter 125
One magenta light rising out of the Current, whole, the giant gold knot glowing at its heart like a clasp. The Marka moored at its rim.
sprawled on the warm light, exhausted, together: closer than they've ever sat, leaning on each other without noticing. Kompis lies with his head on Mingus, gold script to his shoulders, a rag pressed to his nose.
eyes half-closed, eyes gold. He can feel every thread now, both ends: Vigolas's warmth, Rougeina's fierce quiet, Smurjan's three-in-one, Kali's noise, Drekk's stubborn grief, Trollmage's sleepy contentment.
sitting closer to Kompis than usual, glancing at him.
Oars. Three Severer skiffs, the last of them, come out of the dark one more time, shears raised, heading straight for the gold knot at the star's heart.
not even getting up.
The crew moves together, tied: no calling, no looking, everyone feeling where everyone else will be.
Rougeina Moth-Swaps to the first skiff.
Smurjan's Triple Pulse lands on the second.
Vigolas's Emerald Knuckle hits the third.
Tyst's silent shot snips every pair of shears in the air.
Kali has borrowed Drekk's sin, and swings his axe with him, both at once.
Mingus barks.
One heartbeat. Three skiffs overturned. Every Severer in the water, shears sinking.
in the water, clinging to their overturned skiffs, staring up at a crew that moved like one creature.
flopping back down on the warm light.
The crew prepares to leave. Orka sits on the rim beside the gold knot, hands in her lap, resting for the first time in twelve years. Her fingers are still grey.
sitting beside her.
shaking her head gently.
turning her split eyes on Vigolas, who is pretending not to listen.
wandering over, hands in his coat.
looking at him for a long time, the way she looks at a seam she's about to bind.
the grin flickering.
The rim of the Dawnstar, magenta light, the gold knot blazing behind them, the Current spread below like a sea of lanterns. Orka and Vigolas, facing each other. Her two balloons, joined by a gold "&" bridge:
And behind Vigolas, unseen by him but drawn for the reader: the whole crew, tied, gold threads running from each of them to him, glowing.
very quiet. In the Dawnstar's light, he can't hide what's on his face.
holding out her grey hand. He takes it. It's cold.
pulling away from the Dawnstar. Orka stands on the rim, hands down for once, waving one of them. The star behind her burns whole and magenta, and the gold knot glints at its heart.
at the stern, waving back, his four guns murmuring.
The crew asleep in a heap of blankets by the mast, closer than ever. Rougeina on watch in the crow's nest, her list unfolded in her lap: Baldr, Katriel and Wendlan crossed off. Below them, the next name: EDVAR.
on the name EDVAR. Her jaw tight.
A soft flap in the wind. Something small and pale drifts out of the dark sky and lands on the deck below the mast, as gently as a leaf.
Rougeina Swaps down to it. A folded slip of paper, sealed with a blob of red wax, neatly stamped. On the outside, in small, tidy, warm handwriting:
Delivered: to the daughter of the soldier-woman.
breaking the wax. Inside, the same tidy hand: an address, and nothing else.
The Routing Study. Glasheim. Come in — the kettle is on.
a signature, small and polite, and the faint ring of a teacup stain beside it:
— E. Solmunden.
(Rougeina's face, above it, is white with fury.)