“And because it was her idea, she’s the one who had to fight the rearguard,” Jean-Claude surmised.

“She’s the vote captain,” Dok said, which Jean-Claude supposed was a yes.

Jean-Claude scratched under his goatee. “Have you even extended an offer to the Omnifex?” If Jean-Claude had been running this scheme, he would have had that link in place early on.

“Aria does,” Dok said. “She speaks to one close to Papa Justice. She just does it from Craton Auroborea. So I tells truth about that too.”

“For a very loose definition of truth,” Jean-Claude said dryly. “She seems like quite a woman. Visionary.”

“Clear of eyes and strong of voice,” Dok said. “There’s none like her.”

Isabelle and her wardroom officers gathered around the orrery in the chartroom.

Major Bitterlich said, “The culling fleet has a brig and two sloops. Maybe fifty guns between them, none as a heavy as ours. One sloop is at anchor and they’ve brought up guns to pound the garrison. The brig and the other sloop are standing off. There’s no way we’ll sneak up on them.”

This is a distraction, said her ancestors. You risk suffering losses for no gain.

Isabelle’s thoughts were heavy and slow with her potion, but still the voices intruded. I will not leave people to be enslaved.

“How many captives have they taken?” Isabelle asked aloud, and hoped she hadn’t asked that question before. The present streamed by without forming a past.

“None or very few that I can see. The whole town is trapped in the garrison or fled into the uplands.”

To Vrain, Isabelle asked, “What from the Cauldron?”

“They confirm that most of the town is within the walls, but it’s not much more than a stockade. It won’t stand up to a serious bombardment.”

“Then we continue with the plan as set,” Isabelle said to Ensign Pummeroy. “We’ll ride the vortex in. Make your best course.”

Outside a bell rang, and a cry went up. “Skyland ho! Sails! Sails!”

Isabelle’s heart galloped along like a horse spooked at its own shadow. Fear was bad, but useless fear was worse; there were still hours before they made contact with the enemy.

“You all have your orders,” Isabelle said.

She walked out on deck to see Fishers Point for herself. Even through her spyglass, the skyland was hazy against the horizon. Its upper surface was dark with woods and its lower surface hung with a forest of coral cones thrusting down toward the Miasma. Just off shore billowed the triangular sails of a Skaladin sloop.

Pummeroy said, “They’ve spotted us, Capitaine, and they’re moving off station.”

“Where’s the brig?” Isabelle asked.

“Just coming around the headland,” Pummeroy said. “It looks like they want to—”

A tremendous bang shook the Thunderclap and knocked Isabelle from her feet. Her spyglass went flying. Marie grabbed her and helped her up. The ship listed to starboard.