We hauled in at the first bauble. It was a straightforward job, in and out without complications. The bauble had already dropped its field when we arrived, revealing a wrinkly little walnut of a world, not even five leagues across, with surface features that lined up nicely with Trusko’s charts. The auguries were on the nail, and all the observations Prozor had made as we crept in closer led her to believe that the bauble was going to continue behaving itself. Trusko had an eight-day window for an operation that wasn’t expected to take more than twenty-four to thirty-six hours. We wouldn’t be loitering, either, no matter what loot turned up. To meet our appointments with the other baubles, we needed to be on our way sharpish.

The bauble team went out in their launch. It was Trusko, Gathing, and Strambli, with the rest of us left on the Queen Crimson to mind ship. From the galley’s vantage we watched the launch fall towards the surface, smearing our snouts against glass, the Congregation’s purple glimmer playing off the launch’s side.

‘You probably envy ’em it,’ Drozna was saying, directing his remarks at Prozor and me, but mainly the latter. ‘Thinking of all the glory of being the first to open one of those things. But you wouldn’t get me inside a bauble for all the quoins twixt here and Sunward. Lots of margin here, hours and hours of it, but it isn’t always so leisurely. Wouldn’t care to be inside one of them when the field starts thickening over again. Can’t be anything more shivery than that.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said.

‘Had much experience, have you?’

‘Enough,’ I said. ‘Ain’t seen the inside of a bauble, no. Bone Readers generally don’t. But tales aplenty, I’ve heard ’em.’ I glanced at Prozor. ‘Dicey stuff happens in baubles. And it isn’t just about being locked inside. Sometimes that’s the least of it.’

‘I wouldn’t believe all the tales you’ve ever heard,’ Drozna said, with a sympathetic look. ‘Sailors get bored on these long crossings. Not much to do except listen to the rigging and make stuff up. Rigging sings, did you know that?’

‘Here we goes,’ Tindouf said, tapping out the residue from his pipe.