Caledonia sat up suddenly. “But they were so far from his reach out here! They could have surrendered! They could have run! Why wouldn’t they choose that?”

Sledge didn’t answer.

Caledonia dismantled packages of Silt until she thought she’d never get the scent of it out of her nose and lungs. It was so strong that for a moment, she imagined she felt its altering effects. She paused, careful not to touch her face with her smudged fingers, and Sledge moved in close, placing a light yet steadying hand at her elbow and helping her toward the open porthole. After a few breaths of salty air, her mind cleared and she returned to her task with renewed speed.

Finally, every last pill had been freed from its packaging and tied inside a cloth bag. Sledge stayed at her shoulder as she carried it topside. In their absence, Triple had come aboard and the Blades had worked to clean the deck, preparing bodies for burial and washing away the blood. And while half of them watched her every step, the rest made an effort to look away, to busy themselves with some other work as she and Sledge hurried to stern.

It was as though dumping the Silt released the Blades from a spell, and they began to move freely from above to belowdecks. In moments, three Blades returned to Caledonia with sheets of crinkled paper in their hands. On each was drawn a blunt-tipped arrow, one half filled in with black ink.

“They’re in every room.” Glimmer sounded apologetic as he spoke, broad shoulders drooping. “Want us to take them down?”

Caledonia collected the pages, eyes tracing the familiar lines of the family sigil tattooed on her temple. So Lir hadn’t assumed she was dead. And he was still after her. It was almost a compliment.

“Leave them,” she said. It was a good reminder—to her and the rest of the crew—that no matter where they sailed, someone was looking for them.

Glimmer bobbed his head and followed the other two belowdecks. Soon, they had the contents and capabilities of the ship catalogued, and it was beginning to sink in that this sweeper was theirs now.

The ship was well stocked, which came as no surprise. The galley was packed with protein bricks and seed cake, canned vege-tables of every color and even barrels of firm, crisp apples. Caledonia had never seen such a wealthy pantry. If Far were here, the woman might even smile at the prospect of feeding the crew of the Mors Navis so well. Beyond that, the bunks were clean, the med bay stocked with everything from fresh gauze to antibios, and the weapons lockers were flush with any weapon Caledonia could dream of needing. This was a ship ready for combat; all it needed was a willing crew.