What had happened on that skyland? If Marie was there, could Isabelle be far away? Jean-Claude had hoped his message to Ivar would stave off violence, or at least make the man think, but he hadn’t counted on Czensos.

Stunned and nearly numb with dread he clambered back to his feet. The whole world seemed lopsided and narrow now that he truly could not see on his left side, and the closed-in space of the hold was much tighter since he could not see shadows through the walls.

Worse, he had no way to find out what happened to Marie or Isabelle.

Morning came at last, with no sign of the eye coming back to life. His whole body felt hollow and numb with worry for things he could not know. He had no choice but to carry on with the handful of ideas he was calling a plan, which mostly involved waiting until the ship made land somewhere and sneaking out at the earliest opportunity. Once he had room to maneuver, he could work out how to put an end to Travers and Hasdrubal with at least the chance of not getting himself dead.

He took care exiting the hold and peered out the gun loops on the landward side. Most of the coastline consisted of tall cliffs or reefs of aethercoral that would make landing difficult. Yet beyond the edge was green. The very tops of immense trees waved above the cliff tops. Long leafy vines hung down the granite faces and draped over the aethercoral. The smell of earth and mulch drifted down, and even a few insects found their way to the ship.

It was warmer this side of the Bittergale vortex, though where the heat came from he could not guess. The Solar still hung low on the horizon, and the scant daylight had to filter through the Bittergale, and yet there was enough heat that the officers shed their wool coats, and spent the day on deck, basking like pale lizards. This had the fortunate effect of leaving their quarters unoccupied. Jean-Claude needed to arm himself, and many officers, even these chinless inbreeds, kept weapons in their private storage.

A thief’s anxiety gripped him as he slipped into one vacant chamber. With only one eye, he kept his head on a swivel trying to look everywhere at once even as he picked his way through sky trunks and lockers. He found a decent dagger in the first trunk he looked in, but swords were harder to come by. Most Sanguinaires relied on their bloodshadows in combat, and carried clayborn weapons only as symbols of military status, useful for bolstering flagging pride while strutting through ballrooms. The first two blades he came across were costume quality, and the third was badly rusted, having been improperly stored and promptly forgotten by its owner.