“Aye,” Djordji said. “I teaches him not to bark. One step out of line and I empty the jewels from his wrinkled purse.” His sword appeared as if by magic, and sliced the tongue from the mouth of Dok’s lewd codpiece.

Dok didn’t exactly clench his knees, but he looked like he wanted to. “Yer point be well taken,” he squeaked.

Isabelle sent the Gyrine on their way, and returned to her own preparations, which mostly consisted of double-checking things she had already triple-checked. The town bells tolled eleven and her nerves only grew worse. She wanted to be aloft, out of here, and on her way. The Craton Auroborea wasn’t getting any closer. At the same time she kept scanning the quay for some sign of Bitterlich. He would not miss the loft unless some disaster befell him, but he ought to be here.

Isabelle had just stepped into her cabin to take the next dose of her potion, and to count again to make sure she had enough for a year aloft, when the ship’s bell rang, and the boatswain cried, “L’Impératrice de l’Empire!”

Isabelle’s heart thumped hard. What was Sireen doing here? She hurried out onto the quarterdeck, to see Sireen, or rather one of her bloodhollows, striding up the gangplank to the main deck.

Isabelle’s skin shrank at the sight of the bloodhollow, its clear-as-glass skin stretched over translucent organs and stark-white bones.

Unfortunately, the making of bloodhollows was a divine prerogative, one of the few points of dogma on which l’Empire and the Temple agreed. In his time, Grand Leon had decreed that only condemned murderers were fit to be made bloodhollows, but even that crime did not deserve such a punishment.

Isabelle clamped down hard on her loathing and descended to the main deck to lead her crew in taking a knee before l’impératrice.

“Rise,” Sireen said, her visage pressing out from the bloodhollow’s face. “I would have a private word with you.”

Isabelle led her into the chartroom and shut the door.

“How may I serve you, Madame?” Isabelle asked. What had gone wrong now?

“As you have been,” Sireen said. “But given the nature and importance of your mission, I have decided to accompany you in this form.”

Isabelle blanched. “Madame, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” The last thing she needed was l’impératrice’s bloodhollow on board. As ship’s capitaine Isabelle was the absolute monarch of the Thunderclap. Her word was law and there was no court of appeal. Sireen’s presence on board would undermine her authority, first by implying that la reine did not trust Isabelle enough to let her out of her sight, and second by providing an avenue of appeal to anyone who objected to Isabelle’s decrees.