“Penance in this case will consist of scrubbing down the chute,” Isabelle added quickly. It was a filthy job, but one somebody had to do, and it didn’t involve pain or humiliation, just part of ship life.

Rebecca nodded mutely for a moment and then ventured, “What’s the chute?”

Isabelle laughed, a clear laugh, she hoped, not some madwoman’s cackle. “Marie will show you, and I will see to it Enzo gets his earring back.”

Marie gazed down on Rebecca. “Come. You should change out of your nice new jacket and blouse before your first taste of latrine duty.”

Isabelle hosted her first ship’s dinner that night, with all her guests invited and the upper echelon of her officers included for balance. Marie directed Rebecca in serving Isabelle, which would be one of her regular duties. If all went well in that department, Isabelle would finally be able to seat Marie at the table as a proper guest, a blessing she hadn’t hitherto considered.

After dinner that first night, Isabelle retired to her sleeping room with Marie and only Marie to have that chat she’d been dying for all day.

“You are tired,” Marie said, helping Isabelle off with her jacket.

“Exhausted,” Isabelle said. “Being a capitaine is like trying to hold the ship up by sheer force of will. Everything that happens or doesn’t happen is my responsibility, whether I can do anything about it or not. And I have a whole madhouse wailing and shaking their chains at me.” She tapped the side of her head.

“They are restless again?”

“It’s just all the excitement stirring things up,” Isabelle said. “I’ve taken my draughts on time. Everything will calm down once I get accustomed to the weight of command.”

Marie helped Isabelle unlace her corset. “More likely you will decide you are all better, take on more load, overextend yourself, and break something nobody knows how to fix.”

Isabelle was not in the mood for reprimand, no matter how gently delivered. “Speaking of unexpected burdens, Sagax Quill had a surprise for us today. He thinks he’s found the Vault of Ages…”

When Isabelle had recounted everything Quill had revealed, Marie asked, “Do you think he’s right?”

“I think he believes he is,” Isabelle said. “Right now everything he said is unfalsifiable.” The only rational thing to do was reserve judgment until some useful evidence presented itself.

They fell silent for a time as Marie scrubbed down Isabelle’s back with a sponge and soapy water from a bucket. It was such a relief to feel clean after the grime of the day. The burn scar on her face itched almost like a scab.

Marie asked, “What would you do if the Savior really does come?”