Similce shrugged as if trying to loosen a knot in her shoulder. “That you treated them well. That some are alive who wouldn’t be if you’d left them to rot. Also that Hasdrubal lied.”

Her mouth worked hard for a moment, as if her tongue had become a stone, and then she said, “He never told us about the Conquest, or the Vault of Ages. He was never going to take us home.” She fixed her stare on Isabelle as if daring her to make something of this.

“Soldiers aren’t enemies,” Isabelle said. “They are opponents.” History was crammed with examples of foes becoming allies at need. Harder to forgive was Similce’s attack on Fishers Point and the slaves they’d tried to take, but if Isabelle meant to die on that hill, she should have done it back on Joubert’s Folly.

“Then put it to the crew,” Similce said stiffly. “We’ve got nowhere to go, no safe port, no other jobs, but there’s still the Conquest’s treasure, enough to set us up for life.”

Isabelle considered this proposition and the obvious strain it put on Similce. What wasn’t she saying?

“Exactly how does this vote work?” Isabelle asked.

“You make a proposal to the crew. Tell ’em what you have planned. Take a vote. If they say yes … that’s where we go.”

“Isabelle, a word,” Bitterlich said. He drew her into a corner and whispered in her ear, “She’s offering to make this arrangement permanent, which means giving up command.”

“Oh,” Isabelle said, feeling the fool for not having tripped to it herself. She’d heard some pirates operated that way. Similce was suggesting what she thought was best for her crew, even at a high cost to herself. That raised her immensely in Isabelle’s estimation.

Isabelle returned to stand before Similce. “I will put it to the crew, on one condition. You must stay on as my second; it’s part of the deal.”

Similce couldn’t have looked more surprised if someone swatted her with a fish. “Why?”

Isabelle placed her taloned hand carefully on Bitterlich’s shoulder. “As a good friend once told me, ‘You’re already a hero, you don’t have to be a martyr.’ This ship is your home. This crew is your family. I have no wish to take them from you.”

After a moment Similce saluted and lifted her chin. “Thank you, Capitaine.”

The weather had gotten so cold that Jean-Claude had to keep his waterskin under his clothes to keep it from freezing. He’d stolen as many clothes as he could wear while being able to move and still wasn’t entirely sure he still had toes.