‘Let me clarify my position,’ Rackamore said, leaning forward slightly – just the faintest degree, but enough to suggest an authority, even a menace, that I hadn’t picked up on until that moment. ‘I am Captain Pol Rackamore of the sunjammer Monetta’s Mourn. I run a tight ship, and I expect both excellence and unswerving loyalty from my crew. I do not promise them wealth. No captain can make such a promise, if the truth matters to them. But I will say this: while there is blood in my veins, marrow in my bones, and fire in my grey, you may trust your daughters with me. I have lost crew members, I have even lost a ship. But I have never lost a Bone Reader, and I do not intend to change my habits.’

‘It’s just six months,’ Adrana said.

The captain was looking at me now. ‘Assuming that the law – the Mazarile law – does allow for this assignment of guardianship, which we’ll know before we leave this dock, do you still wish to go through with this?’

I glanced at Adrana, at Father, at the bulge of the quoin in Rackamore’s pocket, then back to Father. He looked like he was about to faint, or worse. He wasn’t just grey now, he was starting to look see-through, like something drawn on paper and left out in the rain. I think he was still hoping to wake up and find this was all the result of too much strong drink and food.

‘I do,’ I said.

‘Her mind seems set,’ Rackamore told my father.

Father took a step back, almost like he was going to slump to the floor. One of the constables took him by the arm, and Father looked at the man with something between gratitude and resentment.

His voice was strained. ‘Where are you and your ship going, Captain?’

Rackamore gave a little grimace of regret. ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you, Mr Ness. Of course we have an idea of our itinerary. But the baubles we’ve chosen to visit are commercial secrets. There are other ships out there, other crews, and some of them would stop at nothing to jump our claims. I’m afraid it also won’t be possible for your daughters to send you much in the way of news until we complete this circuit.’

‘How long?’ Father asked, desperation clawing lines down his face.

‘A few months. I can’t be more specific than that.’ Rackamore looked pained. ‘I make no guarantees. But depending on our fortunes there is a fair chance we will stop at Trevenza Reach before we return to Mazarile. If that is the case, your daughters will have every opportunity to send a message home.’

‘Arafura,’ he said. ‘I beg you. I can’t make your sister change her mind. But don’t do this. Come back home.’