Down from the First Owl war balloon descended a launch loaded with Gyrine. It swooped slowly in on a course to meet the Saint Asne amidships. On its prow stood a rakish-looking Gyrine with silver rings in his ears and gold teeth in his grinning mouth.

“I need that bracelet now,” Marie said. Isabelle handed it over. Marie slipped it on her wrist and then hopped up on the larboard rail and stood there like she was nailed to it.

“Ahoy, the skiff,” she said, voice raised but her tone still flat. “I am Fellhand Marie, daughter of Jackhand Djordji of the Tall Clouds clan. This ship is my prize. We welcome our First Owl kin aboard to feast with us.”

“I am Conductor Feng, vote captain of the Finale, and you are no Gyrine, certainly no fellhand. If that kinslayer Djordji be aboard send him to talk, and you sit down to be counted.”

“My father is dead,” Marie said. “He succumbed to wounds received in battle two days ago. But I wear his token, and I have his homeshard, or did you think I came to Flotsam by chance?”

Feng hesitated, but only for an eyeblink. “Tokens and shards may be stolen.”

“If you wish to challenge my claim, send your champion. Otherwise, come aboard as my guest.”

Feng’s expression hardened. “I’ve no need of yer permission. I can slaughter you where you stand, and every lubber aboard.”

“But then what do you gain?” Marie asked. “An old bucket of a ship, a dead crew, no hostages, no booty, no prize worth having. You gain nothing by fighting. Killing us would cost you more in powder and shot than you’d ever recoup. Come aboard as my guest. Send to my clan that you’ve rescued one of their own adrift and you collect the salvage fee, and then I have to answer to them for the cost.”

Feng’s eyebrows were pierced with gold and silver rings that flashed when he lifted them. “You thinks like a Gyrine. I gives you that, but you are no fellhand, for I know their names.”

“I have come to make my challenge,” she said. “By ancient tradition, it is up to the clans to prove me wrong.”

At that moment, gangs of Gyrine burst up from belowdecks and spread out amongst the terrified aeronauts.

One of them swaggered up to within speaking distance of Feng and hollered, “Ship’s clear and secure, Cap’n. No surprises.”

“My father’s body rests in the turvy hold,” Marie said.

Feng shot a questioning look at the boarding leader, who said, “Aye, there a corpse down there, Tall Clouds motley, made ready for the sky.”

Feng grunted and returned his gaze to Marie, then after a thought pause he said, “In that case, permission to come aboard, Fellhand Marie.”