The air was cold up here and the rocky ground dry and steep. The Mary sisters led them down through the work camp, picking a trail that darted briefly through towering pines and then along the edge of the cherry orchard before diving upward once more and curling around the northern edge of town. They moved all together, a stream of dusty footsteps and encouraging whispers.

Caledonia started at the rear of the group, jogged steadily at Pisces’s side. Then she shifted, moving from one person to the next and saying their names as she went: Pax, Vera, Hildegard, and Deri. Oran stayed in the corner of her sight, jogging always a few paces away. Soon she’d reached the Mary sisters, still driving along like the tip of a needle. At the very front was Lurin, the second eldest of the five sisters. Her sandy pale cheeks were pink with effort, but her eyes were brimming with energy.

“Keeping us steady, Lurin,” Caledonia called. “I’m surprised I don’t see you lapping the ship more often.”

Lurin laughed along with her sisters.

“That’s only because we threaten to tie her to her rack,” Abrasin teased. “She would run a rut right into the deck if you let her.”

“Don’t hurt my ship, Lurin,” Caledonia warned.

“Noted, Captain,” Lurin responded quickly, her smile growing.

They looped around, retracing their steps and then turning down the trail back to town. By the time they arrived at the stronghold, they were covered in sweat and dust and the sun was dipping low in the western sky.

“Showers!” Pisces called. “And I want to see every one of you on that trail at sunrise or it’ll be twice again!”

“You, too, Tin,” Caledonia said, dismissing the girl. “Everything else can wait.”

Tin nodded, all too happy to take the opportunity for a quick shower, and Caledonia turned her steps toward the upper levels where Hesperus kept his office. Her muscles ached as she entered the spiraling stairwells and stepped into a slow jog. The stairwell was crowded with people heading to or from evening meals, shifts, or their quarters, but as she passed the fifth level, the traffic thinned until it was just her. The only people still on level six were the two guards standing outside Hesperus’s office door, and they let Caledonia pass without challenge.

Inside the wide chamber, Hesperus stood with his back to the door, hands braced low against his hips as he studied the harbor below.

“You smell like the mountain,” he said without turning.

“I’m certain I smell worse,” Caledonia conceded. “How did we do?”

“Better.” Hesperus jumped right into his reports. “Silver Fleet was all accounted for and on the water in seventeen minutes. A new record.”

“A new goal,” Caledonia murmured, glancing at the papers Hesperus slid across the desk toward her. “They beat their previous time by two minutes. What changed?”