“Getting the hang of it.” She swept off her den cap to let a surprise fall of black hair fan out around her shoulders, turning her face to the breeze to dry the sweat.

“Heard you have a lot of boats at Ladysmith’s.”

“Did. Lucky for us, they didn’t burn ’em all.”

“Every one of them will help. We’ve just three war canoes and one small motor. Unca Joe’s low on transport.”

“You’re a picker, right? You come across many boats free for the taking?”

“Um . . . no. And not because I ain’t looking.”

“Because storm after storm, there’re less of them, and no new ones being added. Your Grace is gonna be a hero.”

I rowed for a bit, thinking about boats, how many shapes and sizes they came in, how they made travel faster and easier in our watery world. “I got a buddy says we should remake Manhattan like Venice, where everybody gets around by gondola.”

Breakers snorted. “Make that past tense. Venice is under water. Long abandoned.”

“Oh.” Did Rubio ever mention that part? “But we do need more boats. We should be building them.”

“With what materials? You know anyone still handles fiberglass?”

I shrugged, not even sure what that was.

“The only boat I want to build is the one that’ll take me out of here.”

“To the Mainland?”

“Sure. Who’d want to stick around if they didn’t have to? I heard the Canada Rockies aren’t too overcrowded.”

I laughed. “You’re not getting there by boat.”

“Could if I had a good river map. The Great Lakes are a big inland sea now.”

Such idle chat was welcome. Almost let me forget the sad load we were towing. We floated along for a while, making good time on the tide. Up ahead, Rivera started singing as she paddled, until Poppy shushed her with a warning that others might be listening. Breakers stretched out her legs and leaned back on the transom, darkly graceful, one hand resting on her rifle.

“So. Glim, is it? You’re cute. Got a girlfriend?”

“Me? No.”

Again, the lopsided smile. “I’d take you in. Keep you safe.” She patted the rifle’s stock.

Was she joking? “That how it works at Ladysmith’s?”

“Sometimes.”

I was sort of flattered. “Thanks, but . . . y’know . . . not my line?”

“Sure about that?”

I had doubts about many things, but that was not one of them. “I’m sure.”

She shrugged. “No problem.”

And I could tell it wouldn’t be. “That mean you’re solo?”

“Umm. Lost mine in the firefight.”

My arms jerked in sympathy, breaking my rowing rhythm. “What? You mean . . . ?”

She nodded. “Got up to raise the alarm. Sniper took her out. One of the first to go.”

“Breakers, I am so, so sorry.”

“Yeah.” Another nod, slower. “Me, too.”