But by then the others had paused as well. They were all looking at me, and one by one they reached up to dim the few helmet torches that were still operating. We stood in darkness, a little group of explorers on the last twist of a spiral staircase.

Or we would have stood in darkness, had it not been for the light spilling from my faceplate. I looked at each of them in turn, seeing their wide, awed eyes swimming behind the glass and frets of their helmets.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘She’s got the glowy,’ Jastrabarsk said.

9

9

Rackamore had been right that the Iron Courtesan would be on its way back to Trevenza Reach. But that was a six-week crossing, on a ship that was no larger or more comfortable than the Monetta’s Mourn, and with a crew that was even more numerous and squabblesome. It should have been a hardship, but after all that had happened around the bauble I laughed off the ordeal as if I’d been born to the life. Prozor and I were treated kindly enough, but we still mucked in as best we could, anxious that we not be accused of freeloading an easy passage back to civilisation. It was pride, I suppose – both in ourselves and in the memory of our fallen friends. When we got our last glimpse of the abandoned Monetta, stripped to her bones, the bodies of her crew bound in what was left of her sails and committed to the Empty the way they’d have wanted, we’d both made a silent pact not to let any of them down.

We both cooked, and that was welcome – they had not had a good cook for several worldfalls – but it did not end in the galley. Prozor spent time assisting Quancer, bringing his auguries up to date, and sharing little glimmers of wisdom and practical advice. If she were auditioning for the job, though, I’d have known it.

‘I’m done with this, Fura,’ she told me, late one watch as we bunked together. ‘I was gettin’ that way before Bosa took another bite of us, but that was the last straw. I’ve been spendin’ time in the bone room, sweet-talking Restromel, their boney, havin’ her contact banks and so on on my behalf; places where I’ve squirrelled me earnin’s away over the years. I’m gettin’ set to cash in.’