She tore her gaze away long enough to survey me head to foot, as if I were an unknown specimen, and turned away again. “I’m not as big on tales as Tea was,” she said, her flinty, gray eyes once more marking the horizon before her. “Old tales aren’t going to change the world. I’ve performed the darashi oyun for a few years now, and I’d never once believed in the words, only in the dance. That’s what’s important, isn’t it? The things you do. But lately, I don’t know. I never knew about the Blight rune. Never realized there were blighted creatures until I disemboweled one myself. What else didn’t the elder asha tell us? What else hadn’t Tea told us?” Her hands clenched the ship’s bow. “Why would she attack Ankyo?”

I had no answer. All that I knew of the Lady Zoya, I learned from the Dark asha. They were former enemies, rivals and friends, confidants and close companions. And now Lady Zoya directed her anger against the bone witch into the whirling winds that jettisoned salt and other furies into the air.

“We had a bad run of blighted a month ago,” she continued. “Fox saved us. He fought off a couple single-handedly, saved Inessa and Her Majesty’s life. Even had time to rescue Hestia of all people, that ungrateful derriere, as Polaire often liked to say. She would have been blight fodder if I had the choice. I’m the worse of us two, but even I draw the line at what Tea’s done. I could understand why she hated them, but not why she would allow her hatred to harm everyone else.

“Maybe Tea was right to tell you her story. It’s no use keeping emotions bottled up inside. Sooner or later, you burst with all you want to say. Shadi would always listen, but Shadi’s in Ankyo and I’m still here.” She stared at me. “Well, go on. You said you had a song to tell, didn’t you? The crew is clinging to one another, but here you are, holding on to those papers like they’re your lifeline. What do you want to know, while I’m in a mood to talk?”

I looked down at the letters. I had been tempted many, many times to skip forward, to read the end of those pages first—but something held me back. It was not the right way to read a story. “Do you miss her?”