“Then what?” Rebecca asked. “I mean, the ship left without us.” They had stood on the lighthouse and watched the Thunderclap sail into the distance, taking with it what little hope remained for the expedition. What had started with such promise had ended not with success or even failure, but with the disintegration of purpose.

What if Isabelle lived? What if she died? The options in either event were distressingly similar.

He said, “We carry on. A ship will be along in a few days to take us back to Rocher Royale. I will take you on as my apprentice; teach you how to be a Seelenjäger, unless you want to find a different teacher.” He didn’t have much to offer her except training. Other Seelenjägers with better connections could offer her contacts and court positions, things she would need to thrive.

“No,” Rebecca said. “I’m happy with you.”

“You say that now,” he said. “But we have a lot of work to do.”

“More powers?” Rebecca asked, lifting off the ground to sit cross-legged in the air.

“After you practice reading and math.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes so hard she flipped upside down. “Unngh!”

“There’s a time and a place for everything,” Bitterlich said. “The time for setting rocks on fire is after reading lessons.”

They settled in his office in the barracks, it being one of the few rooms in the place with a gimbaled floor. Rebecca brought in her sky bag and rooted through it. Tossing books up on the table. From the look of it, Isabelle, in her enthusiasm for reading, had gone quite overboard in supplying printed material for her cabin girl. Alas that all of it seemed to be histories and philosophical treatises … probably because that was what Isabelle actually had on hand.

Bitterlich flipped open a book full of closely printed text about the historical context of a rebellion in the St. Germain Province two hundred years ago. Another book opened to a description of the various minutiae of distilling naval-grade lift-volume aether from crushed aethercoral.

He cocked an eyebrow at Rebecca. “Did the capitaine actually have you read this stuff?”

Rebecca leaned her elbows on the table, contemplating the books with the same level of enthusiasm as she might look at piles of rotten meat. “Bits of it. She tried to find stuff that wasn’t too hard. That’s why there’s so much of it.”

“Well, that won’t do,” Bitterlich said. He leaned out the door and shouted, “Malgiers!”

The lieutenant appeared with all due alacrity. “Yes, sir.”

“I have a new mission for you, one that requires your particular skills. It will also require the utmost in delicacy and dedication. There is no one else I can entrust with this task. Do you understand?”

Malgiers looked both flattered and terrified. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Then fetch your books of poetry, song, and fantastical tales. You’re going to help me teach Rebecca to read.”