Chel smiled without mirth. The fresh bruise on his cheek gave a gentle thrum in the salt air, a memento from yesterday’s sparring session.

‘Are they … I mean, have they been like this before? At each other so much?’

‘I suppose we were due another turn of the wheel.’ At his blank look, Lemon rubbed a hand through her matted braids. ‘Ah, I forget your relative novelty, young bear.’

‘Eh?’

‘You’ve not been with us that long. I’m afraid this is a semi-regular occurrence for our golden couple. Once we’ve been cooped up on hoof or under sail for too long, they each get, you know, what’s the word? When dogs run around widdling on each other?’

‘Territorial?’

‘Aye, that’s the one. Like a pair of yappy wee bastards, each gobbing off to show how little each needs the other. And the rest of us get doused in the arcs of their piss.’

‘So it’s happened before? It’ll blow over?’

She shrugged. ‘Always has before. She’ll threaten to go her own way, he’ll dare her to do so, Whisp will drag them round by the scruff until they calm down – ancestors know she’s the only one who can summon the energy these days – and it’ll be kittens and birdsong come the thaw. Probably.’

‘It sounds like our voyage might soon be over, at least.’

Lemon snorted. ‘Aye, our voyage might be, wee bear, but I fancy our troubles may yet be near their beginning.’

Kosh bustled up from her work area below decks, carrying something bulky in her arms. She went straight toward Whisper, who squatted near the stern with one practised eye on the bickering; her nimble fingers were fletching a bundle of new bolts and arrows. Chel noticed coloured streaks in the Nort’s dark hair, thin stripes bleached and dyed the same flame-red as Loveless. He wondered if they’d exchanged alchemical recipes.

‘It is ready. We must test it!’

Lemon looked up. ‘Oh, aye, what’s ready? What are we testing?’

The Nort shot her a derisive look. ‘We are testing my latest improvements to that dreadful tool you people call a crossbow.’

‘Is that so? As it happens, I have a few ideas for an alternative mechanism—’

‘And I’m sure they are very … optimistic, for someone of your intellectual capacity. Please leave this to people who know what they are doing.’

‘Now just a moment—’

Whisper stood, graceful as ever, and offered Lemon an apologetic shrug, before scooping up a handful of the new bolts and shouldering her bow. She followed Kosh across the deck, to the fore mast where the Nort had assembled some rough targets. The vessel’s crew kept a wide and wary distance as they passed.

Lemon watched them go. ‘You know what, fuck her. She’s a splinter in the sphincter, that one. Why in hells do we keep her around anyway?’