Everyone groaned as they got up and headed for the shrouds.

"I don't get it," Jason whispered to Kira as they climbed. "They…they seem to like me."

"You're a good storyteller," Kira told him in a low voice. "And you told them a great story. They respect that."

"But they hated me before."

"No, they didn't respect you," Kira said. "Carry your weight, and you'll be accepted as one of them. Go beyond that, prove they can count on you, and they'll respect you. Keep working hard, keeping showing them the Jason they listened to tonight, and you'll be fine. Why didn't you ever tell me that you're a storyteller?"

"I'm not," Jason protested. "All I did was tell them a story that someone else came up with."

"But you did it really well. They wouldn't have listened if you had done a bad job of it."

They got the sails trimmed and went below to the dark crew quarters. Kira fell asleep almost instantly, but awoke when the first mate called for everyone about midnight.

She was worn out. But she felt good. None of them knew who her mother was, but she was working well enough to fit in.

Her mother. Kira wondered what was happening back on land.

* * *

Dorcastle.

Mari had been back to the city every year since the great siege. The only anniversary she had missed had been soon after the death of her son Danel, whose namesake had fallen at Dorcastle. Every other time she had held herself together through the commemorations, speaking with the surviving veterans of the battle, paying respects to the dead. Every time she had been a wreck afterwards, her sleep haunted by visions of fire and dead comrades.

The siege had ended nearly twenty years ago. It still raged inside her. She wasn't alone in that. Even lighthearted Alli would get moody around the anniversary of the battle at Pacta Servanda where she had helped smash the Syndari attack, and Calu never wanted to visit the spot where Mari had fallen at Dorcastle.

If only there were a way to explain it to Kira.

So many times had Kira confronted her after the anniversaries, tears running down her face. "Why do you go, Mother?"

The only words Mari had ever been able to come up with were never enough. "I go for the living, and I go for the dead."

"But it tears you apart!"

"Kira, if I didn't go, it would hurt far more."

Her daughter didn't understand. How could Kira comprehend that it was possible to be able to live and find joy and embrace the world while also carrying memories that sometimes were very, very hard to cope with? Especially when Mari herself found the words locked within her?

As the Rocs brought her and Alain to the city after another flight through most of the night, Mari looked down on the walls she had once helped defend and had never been able to leave.