Trim again. But they caught Baru’s thoughts on her face, and held up a finger in reproach. “Before you cast me as the magical primitive with one answer for everything, which is to wave my hands and call on my gods, consider our respective positions, please. Consider what I have achieved, and by what means. Has it occurred to you that the Falcresti dismiss my beliefs? That they assume I play lip service to trim to guard more cynical maneuvers?”

“You don’t really believe,” she said, with surprising disappointment.

“Oh, I do believe, with all my soul! But”—Tau winked—“isn’t it funny that my genuine belief is most useful to me because the Falcresti think it’s disingenuous?”

That made Baru think of something she’d forgotten. Someone had been telling her, there is a difference between acting out their story, and truly obeying their story. Do you know what it is?

Her stomach knotted up before she could push the thought. “I strive to keep an open mind,” Baru groaned. “Will you excuse me?”

“Take a bath,” Tau-indi suggested.

As Baru bolted aft, she caught the eyes of the Enact-Colonel Osa ayaSegu. She was tying fighting ropes around her fists. As Baru passed, Osa held up a line, taut between her fists, and pulled; Baru heard the creak of fibers at their limit.

Baru lost control. Her stomach revolted. She aimed herself over the rail and gagged up a thin stream of wine-sweet sick. Someone gave her a cup of brine. She swallowed it to gag, threw up again, and washed herself out.

Now the enact-colonel was shaking her head in pity.

“SAILS AWAY NORTH!” cried the masttop girl, a shriek so powerful it roused all the birds off the rigging. “NAVY RED IN THE NORTH!”

“That must be Scylpetaire,” Captain Branne snapped, shoving past Baru. “Sulane’s companion turns up at last—watch girl, what’s her name-flag! Shout it down to me!”

“She’s Ascentatic!”

“Ascentatic?” Baru pushed her way through the scrum after the one-eyed captain. “What ship is that?”

Branne stood halfway up the rail, her lips thin and quivering. “Shit,” she spat. “Bloody shit.”

“She’s from Annalila Fortress on Isla Cauteria.” Apparitor descended from the ropes on Baru’s blind side. “If she’s come to help Ormsment … then Rear Admiral Maroyad is with the mutiny. Which means the mutiny’s spread beyond Ormsment’s command—”

Branne seized his hand and gripped it hard. He stared numbly at the eastern horizon.

“Lindon,” he said, hollow as a new year’s hope. “Lindon needs me.”

*   *   *

THE signal rockets went up from Ascentatic’s prow to cry their questions. Who are you, Juris Ormsment? What are you doing here? Who sent you? Will you ask our help?