“No,” Apparitor said, voice rising, “no, no-no-no, I will not have one of them on my ship—”

Baru thought of Purity Cartone. An instrument of limitless uses. A man who’d been shot, burnt, and castrated in her service. A man whose utter obedience had thrilled her. She shuddered at the thought of the temptations Iscend would bring—

But a talented bodyguard had just saved Baru’s life, and Iscend would be more talented yet.…

Xate Yawa spoke up before she could. “I’ll take the Clarified miss,” she said, “as my responsibility. I’ve worked with them before.”

*   *   *

HELBRIDE turned south-southeast and ran out to sea.

Baru wondered if the Liminal Library had been flooded yet. Poor Jaman Ryapost. Now he would be a drowned skeleton as well as a suicide. “Do you think the coup’s spread?” she murmured to Apparitor.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “No,” he said, with soft desperation. “This is one revenge-crazed Province Admiral with a couple ships of fanatic crew. The rest of the navy is still loyal. Lindon’s fine. Parliament need never know.”

Captain Branne joined them at the rail. “Sir,” she said, clapping him roughly on the cheeks, brushing at his shoulders, taking an inventory of the boy who ruled her, “you’re a mess.”

He tried to smile. “Another narrow escape, eh, Captain?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll add it to the log.” With rough compassion, as if pulling off a child’s scab. “My lord, should we send out boats to check the fallback at Prydoc River? Maybe others escaped the keep.”

“The only ones who made it out were the other cryptarchs,” Apparitor said. “Why would the keep staff flee? They’re all convicts. They live here or they die. No, no one else survived.”

And very suddenly he embraced the old woman, smearing her from collar to crotch in marsh ooze. She patted him on the back, tolerantly.

“Now I need a course, my lord,” Branne said. “Once we’re offshore and we catch the trade winds we can make Isla Cauteria in—”

“No!” Baru and Yawa barked together.

“You can’t be serious.” Apparitor gaped at them. “You want to keep going?”

“Yes!”

“We need protection! We need to change our identities, re-flag the ship, send a whole fleet to arrest Ormsment—we have to get back to Falcrest and tell the rest of the Throne what’s happened!”

Yawa began to undo her mask. The fine thin skin beneath, the brilliant eyes. A kind of beauty like angry handwriting. “None of us can risk that,” she said. “Not you, not I, not even Baru. Even if they had no hostages at all. We would have to go on.”

Apparitor huffed.

“You know it’s true,” Yawa said. “We’re running out of time. Parliament votes on war at summer’s end. And the moment that war breaks out, and Falcrest’s fleets are drawn south toward Oriati Mbo…”