She turned and looked back amidships. All of the keepers were on board tonight. Some of them were sitting on the roof of the deckhouse. They’d been playing dice until it got too dark to see the gaming pieces. Now Boxter was tormenting everyone by talking about the spice rolls his mother used to make. Sylve and Kase and Alum were huddled around a pile of rush roots, peeling the tough outer skin off the thick tubers and then passing them to Bellin who was chopping them into chunks for tomorrow’s breakfast. Thymara knew she should go and help them.

“Greft. Can we have a word with you?”

She turned at the sound of Tats’s voice. He and Harrikin were standing behind Greft. She hadn’t noticed him leaning against the railing not far from her. Lately he’d been quiet, withdrawn, and hostile toward the other keepers, and it had seemed wise to avoid him. Trust Tats to think it would be best to prod him out.

“You’ve already had several. Why stop now?” Greft replied sarcastically. His words were badly formed. She wondered if his lips were stiffening. She’d heard of that happening to heavily scaled people. It had been days since Leftrin had hit him. His mouth should have healed by now.

“We noticed you didn’t take the boat out today.”

“Didn’t feel well.”

“Well, yes, that’s what I thought. So Harrikin and I, we’re going to take it out tomorrow and see if we can’t get some fish or some of those water gophers that we saw a few days ago. Or even one of those gallators. The dragons seem to think they’re tasty. Any kind of fresh meat for the keepers and crew would be welcome.”

She noticed he wasn’t asking Greft if he could take it. He was telling him that they were going to do it. Harrikin wasn’t speaking, but he stood ready to back Tats up. Greft looked from one to the other. His voice was low and serious as he said, “Don’t like loaning my gear. No.”

“It’s keeper gear,” Tats said.

“And a keeper boat,” Harrikin added.

Greft looked from one to the other. “Gear was issued to me. I took care of it, stowed it right. That’s why I’ve still got it.” She marked how he said only the words he needed, and she suspected that speaking was painful, or an effort.

“Luck,” Tats insisted. “Just luck, Greft. You weren’t the only keeper who stored his gear tight. You were just lucky enough that your boat washed up where it was found. That’s all. It’s not fair for you to hold it back from everyone.”

“It’s mine.”

Tats lowered his voice slightly. “I seem to remember standing near an elk that Thymara had killed and hearing you sing a different tune about how things should be shared out.”