I follow the Tender through the streets, grateful for their emptiness this time. The wind wagon waits in the clearing just inside Powder Town’s defense wall. I show the Tender how it works, explaining the steering and the brake, the rigging and the sails. Her most trusted woodworkers shadow us, nodding in the glow of their lanterns. Building a fleet will take time, and the Tender plans to start first thing in the morning. If and when Harlie has recovered, she can help oversee things.

After I’ve explained all I can, and after the Tender has ordered everyone to get a good night’s sleep, I stagger to Cleo’s. I’m exhausted, barely able to keep my eyes open. When I duck into the small home, Asher is sitting at the table, waiting.

“Do you really trust him?” he asks. He doesn’t look at me when he speaks, just at his hands, folded in his lap.

“I trust that he wants to do the right thing,” I answer.

His eyes find mine. “I wish everyone would do the right thing, Delta. But if they did, the wastes wouldn’t be the way they are.”

“You were coming around to him when we were traveling.”

“His story seems plausible,” Asher says with a shrug. “That doesn’t mean I think the Prime’s entire plan should hinge on him. If he doesn’t blow the powder, everything becomes more dangerous. And if he betrays us and spills our plans, the General will aim to strike Powder Town before the Prime can build her fleet. Trust me when I say he can overrun this place in an instant. He outnumbers us.”

I lick my lips. Asher regards me quietly. Dark moons sag beneath his eyes.

“Let’s see what this test brings, with Ember,” I say. “We can go from there.”

He rubs his mouth, sighs. “I know you’re right to want to do this. I know the Prime is too. But I just . . . there’s a part of me that wants to stay here forever. In Powder Town. Forget about Bedrock. Just live where it’s safe. I’m so tired of loss. I can’t lose anyone else.”

“Neither can I, Asher. That’s why we have to do this.”

“I misspoke: I can’t lose you.” He’s staring at me now, as if I’m the last bit of water in the wastes, the only thing that will keep him alive. He stands, and the house seems suddenly small. “Before, it was different,” he goes on. “Before, if something bad happened, I could believe it was part of the gods’ plan, something that was meant to be, even if I couldn’t understand why. But now, if something happens to you, Delta, it will only be because of us—the people of the wastes, me.”

“Asher . . .”