“Aye!” came the shout, and every member of the crew threw their fist in the air, albeit some only after seeing everyone else do it.

They are now, Isabelle thought grimly. My crew. My responsibility.

“Capitaine,” Similce said, “what are your orders?”

“Fill her belly and make ready to sail,” Isabelle said.

Drawing on Marie’s account, Isabelle and Similce bargained and hustled and swapped for supplies all morning.

Isabelle gave Similce the lead. She’d been keeping her own crew aloft on breadcrumbs for the last two years, and she drove a bargain like a carpenter drove a nail.

Isabelle was just about to duck into a tent where supposedly they could find a man who could sell them cheese in bulk when Marie’s voice caught up to them.

“Capitaine!” she called, limping along the boardwalk with the help of a staff and a brace on her sprained ankle.

With her came a large blue Seelenjäger with four arms and the aspect of a lizard.

“Fellhand Marie,” Isabelle said, striding to meet her. Isabelle really wanted to ask about what she’d been up to all night, but that would have to wait for a private chat. “Who is your companion?”

“Capitaine,” Marie said, “meet Heinrich von Keisle, who has news you want to hear.”

“Herr von Keisle,” Isabelle said. “What news?”

“I have apparently met a friend of yours,” he said, and presented her with a leather documents wallet that Isabelle would have recognized anywhere.

Nearly breathless, Isabelle received it from him. “Jean-Claude! Thank you for this. Where did you meet him? Where is he?”

“He rescued me from captivity aboard le Comte de Travers’s flagship Potencia, where I had been kept in bondage for many months. He helped me to escape, but he remained aboard as a stowaway.”

Isabelle was stunned, but not entirely surprised. “Did he say why?”

“He actually said nothing at all. When I met him he was voiceless. I suspect le Comte de Travers stole his speech.”

Isabelle was horrified. Jean-Claude’s voice and his wit were his busiest and most accomplished tools. Without them … he would improvise, just like he always did. She’d always envied his ability to adapt to any trouble without breaking stride. Still, what a horrific blow.

She’d heard of the Travers family, a purity cult in which first cousins were considered distant relations. They weren’t known to be militarily adventurous, but if he had a flagship …

“How many in Travers’s fleet?” Isabelle asked.

“Five that I counted,” Heinrich said. “An old galleon and four smaller ships. I was mostly concerned with flying away at the time, so it is hard to be sure.”

“How long ago?” Isabelle asked “How far away?”

“I flew for two days until I stumbled upon this place. It’s been another two since.”

Isabelle weighed the pouch in her hand. “I owe you a debt for this.”