Isabelle wanted to dispute this, but every argument that came to mind boiled down to “But she’s a child!” which was never a good reason for withholding vital training. The world could not be made safe, so the child must be made capable.

Bitterlich gestured to the hat. “Thinking about him.”

She rubbed the hat brim between her thumb and fingers. “I get the feeling he was trying to send me a message. ‘I’m off hunting the missing trinket.’ Those were his exact words, yes?”

Bitterlich said, “Yes, but was he talking about the relic or the shard? Or was the fisherman I got it from not repeating the message properly?”

“Which one?” Sudden hope bloomed in Isabelle’s breast, rising on wings of inspiration. “And he sent me his hat.”

“It’s a very identifiable hat,” Bitterlich said.

“Oh, it’s unique. I need a mirror.” She led him to the great cabin and drew a hand mirror from her trunk. “About two years ago, Jean-Claude went mirror walking with a Glasswalker and lost his hat’s reflection. It’s never had one since.” She held the battered headgear up to the mirror so she could see where its reflection should have been. “He said he was hunting the missing trinket.”

“Which means the other one isn’t missing,” Bitterlich said.

A grin split her face as she found the gift Jean-Claude had sent her. The hat itself was not visible, but there, floating in approximately the place the feather was pinned, was the Conquest shard.

Isabelle resisted the urge to cackle gleefully as she turned the hat around, unpinned the ancient feather, and drew the bonekeel needle from its hollow shaft. “Thank you, Jean-Claude. We are back in the hunt. Hasdrubal is making his way to the Vault by way of the Conquest, so that’s where Jean-Claude will be.”

“The only problem now is how do we get there?” Bitterlich asked. “Your bargain with Similce doesn’t include challenging the Bittergale.”

“You could put it to a vote with the crew,” Similce said, stepping through the door. Her expression was rigid and her voice flat, as if she were facing a judge or a hangman.

Surprise and wariness bubbled up in Isabelle’s breast and her ancestral chorus shouted warnings of danger and treachery at her, but she put on her diplomat’s face. Everything about Similce’s posture said she was pushing herself past some personal limit.

“I could,” Isabelle said. “But you’re not obligated to us after we get to a neutral port; why would you put your crew in that position?”

Similce snorted and a smidgen of contempt gave life to her voice. “You think you’re the only one who can talk to the crew? My ’nauts have been talking to yours since before we lofted.”

“And what did you learn?” Bitterlich asked, his whiskers bending forward with curiosity.