If you down that ship, you will never obtain the Conquest shard.

It was, he thought, a delicately balanced sentence, allowing the reader to believe the shard might be on the ship, but not allowing them to be sure of it.

He stared at the message until a new, freshly inked message manifested before his eye:

It should occur to you that I can very easily inform Le Comte de Travers that you are stowed away aboard his ship. You should consider very seriously telling me where the shard is.

Jean-Claude waited until that faded. He covered the clockwork eye with a plate of bronze stolen from the ship’s stores and took the time to write out his reply before uncovering it again.

The new message read:

Capitaine Ivar:

You could indeed end my life with a word, but then what? You still won’t have the Conquest shard, nor will you have a spy aboard this ship. If you kill me out of anger or wounded pride, you will cheat yourself out of the prize that you came to claim. Worse, you will have spent considerable time and expenses, not to mention enduring the likes of Travers, only to return empty-handed, a fact I doubt your backers will appreciate.

This last was a guess, but not a difficult one. Ivar was never one to work for one payout when several were available. He would have promised first access to the Craton Auroborea to as many people as possible before he ever lofted. He might have even sold shares in the venture, money on which his clients back on Craton Massif would expect a return.

In the dim light of morning under Flotsam’s perpetual fog bank, Isabelle stood on the quarterdeck of the Saint Asne, with the ship’s crew gathered on the main deck below. They were not her crew, not until they voted, and she’d given them as much to fear as to hope for. Such was the cost of honesty.

She’d told them all of the Conquest treasure, of the Vault of Ages. She laid out the deadly risk of the Bittergale, of their lethal and determined competition, and, of course, the insects that had driven off Hailer Dok’s expedition.

“The dangers are many,” she said. “But the rewards are great. Who is with me?”

She would not be surprised if they voted no, even less so if they thought her mad.

You should have phrased it as a choice between courage and cowardice, Primus said. People such as these will risk much to avoid being named a coward.

Which is why it is a threat I will not make, Isabelle replied. I will not have my people abandon reason for the safety of fear.

They aren’t your people, yet.

“Let the vote be taken,” Similce said. “All in favor!”