And yet, even in her weakened state, the thought of driving her blade into his heart was dangerously alluring.

“You must be quite the catch if they were willing to spend so much time on you,” Sledge continued, lightly probing for additional information. “That, or Fiveson Lir feared the Steelhand’s punishment for losing you.”

A dark expression rose out of whatever memories were tethered to that name: the Steelhand. Caledonia wanted to ask, but that wasn’t the information she needed right now.

“Your bomb left a nice spot of damage in their tower, but I doubt it slowed them down any,” Sledge continued. “They got Electra back on her keel and tugged her carcass with them when they left. Leave no scrap behind, you know. Her parts’ll be transformed and back on the water inside a one-moon.”

Lir had been the first to tell her of Aric’s propensity for reclaiming destroyed vessels, and she found that she understood something more about the man who called himself the Father. Aric didn’t use ships, guns, or people without a thought about what he would need tomorrow or ten moons from now. He used them knowing he would need them in the future. Bullets were fed and cared for and, if they survived, eventually they would return to the Holster or one of the other eastern towns. They’d settle into a slower kind of violence and raise children for the Bullet fleet. Before, she’d only understood this as an oppressive manipulation—after all, they had no choice in the matter—but it was so much more than that. Aric’s power wasn’t the furious burning fire she’d once taken it for, but a garden like the ones he kept in his AgriFleet. Aric’s power had roots.

“You said you found my tow. Where is it?” Caledonia asked.

Sledge shook his head in wonder. “You’ve been on your feet for two minutes, and already you’re thinking about getting back out there? On a tow?”

“I’d take a boat if you had one to offer,” she replied.

It took him a moment to respond. His lips pressed tight together and he shifted to face her, eyes narrowed and studious.

“No boat,” he said finally. “But your tow is moored in a cave low on the cliffs. Hidden at high tide. It’s not an easy climb. We’ll take you when you can stand up without breaking a sweat.” A frown appeared. “Or sit for any length of time.”

She could ignore the words, but they didn’t change the fact that over the course of their conversation her body had weakened considerably. She was still upright, but there was a faint tremble in her sides that indicated it wouldn’t last much longer.

“Good. Thank you.”