Now she heard footsteps on the pavement outside and went to the door. Leftrin was striding through the empty streets, his hands stuffed under his crossed arms for warmth and his chin tucked into his chest. His gray eyes were narrowed against the sharp breeze. The cold had reddened his cheeks above his dark beard, and the wind had mussed his always-unruly hair. Even so, her heart warmed at the sight of him. The blocky ship’s captain in his worn jacket and trousers would not have merited a second glance from her during her days as a respectable Bingtown Trader’s daughter. But in the months of their companionship on board the Tarman, she’d discovered his true worth. She loved him. Loved him far more than she’d ever loved her cruel husband, Hest, even in the first heady days of her infatuation with the handsome fellow. Leftrin was rough-spoken and scarcely educated in any of the finer things of life. But he was honest and capable and strong. And he loved her, openly and wholeheartedly.

“I’m here!” she called to him, and he turned his steps her way and hurried to join her.

“It’s getting colder out there,” he greeted her as he stepped into the small shelter of the house. “The wind is kicking up and promising rain. Or maybe sleet.”

She stepped into his embrace. His outer clothes were chill against her, but as they held each other, they warmed. She stepped back slightly to capture his rough hands and hold them between her own, chafing them. “You need gloves,” she told him, uselessly.

“We all need gloves. And every other kind of warm clothing. And replacements for all the gear, tools, and food supplies we lost in that flood wave. I fear Cassarick is our only source.”

“Carson said he could—”

Leftrin shook his head. “Carson’s bringing down lots of meat, and the keepers are getting better at hunting in this new kind of terrain. We’re all staying fed, but it’s only meat; and the dragons are never full. And Carson’s tanning the skin off every creature, but it takes time, and we don’t have the proper tools. He can make stiff hides that work as floor coverings or to cover windows. But to make serviceable bed furs or leather to wear requires time and equipment we don’t have. I have to go to Cassarick, my dear. I can’t put it off any longer. And I want you to go with me.”

She leaned her forehead on his shoulder and shook her head. “I can’t.” Her words were muffled in his embrace. “I have to stay here. There is so much to document, and I have to get it done before it’s spoiled.” She lifted her face and spoke before he could launch into the familiar reassurances. Useless to talk about it. “How did your work go?” she asked, changing the subject.