"You are."
The words should not have frightened Xavier.
They did.
The Sierra leaned farther to starboard.
Timber complained throughout the hull. Not the ordinary creak of a ship shifting under its own weight. This was deeper. Long. A groan dragged from bow to stern as twenty tons of wood, copper, cargo, and bad decisions tried to settle somewhere gravity had not intended.
Xavier gripped the helm.
Below him, men shouted from the beach.
One of the anchor stones tore through wet sand.
"Clear the starboard side!" he yelled.
Delo heard him.
"Move! Move!"
Workers scattered from beneath the hull.
The ship dropped another inch on the right.
Elisabeth watched the gauges.
"Starboard four."
"Port?"
"Seventeen."
"Reserve?"
She hesitated.
"Still rising."
That made no sense.
Xavier knew enough to know that.
The reserve should have been draining into the dying starboard channel.
Instead, pressure was accumulating.
"Raymond!"
Nothing answered from the speaking tube.
Only faint static.
Then, somewhere below them, Rex roared.
Xavier's body moved before his mind did.
One foot left the helm.
"Elisabeth—"
"No."
"He's down there."
"And so is Rex."
"That doesn't mean he's alive."
She looked at him.
That landed.
Hard.
Elisabeth's face had gone pale, but her voice remained flat.
"If you go below, I have to fly."
"You've never touched the helm."
"You've touched it for less than an hour."
"Exactly."
"Then congratulations. You're our most experienced pilot."
The Sierra rolled again.
A crate broke loose on the forward deck.
It slid toward the starboard rail.
Mira leaped away as it slammed into the wood.
Xavier looked at the lift lever.
Three percent request.
The ship was still climbing on one side.
"Why isn't it responding?"
Elisabeth stared at the manifold.
"I don't know."
"That's reassuring."
"You wanted command."
"I wanted training."
"So did I."
A second crate shifted.
Xavier released the helm with one hand.
Flow.
The world struck him.
Mana roared beneath the deck.
Too much.
The lift channels were no longer gentle currents. They were rivers trapped inside pipes, hammering through copper and rootwood.
Port burned bright.
Starboard sputtered.
And beneath them—
Xavier frowned.
Something was wrong with the direction.
The reserve was not feeding the starboard channel.
The damaged starboard channel was feeding the reserve.
"Wait."
Elisabeth looked up.
"What?"
"Don't touch anything."
"I wasn't."
"Good."
"That sounded remarkably like an order."
"Please don't touch anything."
"Better."
He narrowed Flow.
One current.
Raymond's lesson.
Not everything.
One.
The starboard conduit.
Mana entered from the core, traveled forward, struck something near the secondary regulator—
—and returned.
Back toward the reserve chamber.
Like water hitting a blocked pipe.
Each pulse came faster than the one before.
"It's backflowing."
Elisabeth's eyes dropped to the gauges.
"What?"
"The starboard channel. It isn't empty. It's blocked."
"Then why is its gauge falling?"
"Because the pressure isn't reaching the gauge."
She understood.
The gauge sat after the blockage.
Everything before it was being compressed.
Her face changed.
"The reserve isn't rising."
"It's being filled backward."
A metallic bang came from below.
The deck jumped.
Elisabeth's right hand spasmed inside its sleeve.
Venom hissed into the stone cup.
"If that pressure reaches the core—"
"I know."
"Do you?"
"No."
"Excellent."
Xavier grabbed the speaking tube.
"Raymond!"
Nothing.
"Rex!"
A roar answered.
Closer this time.
Then scratching.
Xavier looked toward the hatch.
"He's moving."
"Rex or Raymond?"
"I don't know."
Elisabeth grabbed the emergency isolation lever.
"Then we shut starboard."
Xavier turned.
"Raymond said not to."
"He said not to increase port pressure."
"He also said the valve was jammed."
"I'm not touching the purge valve."
She pointed lower.
A red-painted lever sat beneath the manifold.
"Starboard isolation."
Xavier remembered Raymond's explanation from the previous morning.
Four channels.
Each could be isolated if one ruptured.
But isolating a channel under pressure could—
His memory failed.
"What happens if we close it?"
Elisabeth's expression tightened.
"I don't remember."
"You're safety officer."
"I was appointed yesterday."
Another bang answered from beneath them.
"Think!"
"I am thinking!"
Her hand closed around the lever.
Then stopped.
"No."
"What?"
"If we isolate it while pressure is trapped before the valve…"
She looked toward the lower deck.
"We make a sealed container."
Xavier understood.
"And the pressure keeps climbing."
"Yes."
"Until?"
"Something gives."
They both looked downward.
Mira whined.
Xavier tasted salt.
His own sweat.
He wanted Raymond.
Not because Raymond always had the answer.
Because when Raymond chose wrong, at least everyone had someone convenient to hate.
Command was uglier from the chair.
"Can we release the pressure?"
"The purge is jammed."
"Can you unjam it?"
Elisabeth looked at her right hand.
Xavier followed her eyes.
"No."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking it."
"If the mechanism is copper—"
"You don't know what your venom will do."
"It corrodes copper."
"That's precisely the problem."
"If I dissolve the locking pin—"
"You could dissolve the entire valve."
She stared at him.
"What do you suggest?"
Xavier opened his mouth.
Nothing came.
Below them, something scraped against the ladder.
Mira barked.
A dark head appeared through the hatch.
Rex.
He climbed awkwardly, wings compressed against the frame. His jaws held the back of Raymond's coat.
Xavier's heart stopped.
"Raymond!"
Rex dragged him onto the upper deck.
Raymond did not move.
His face was gray beneath the old bruises. One sleeve had been scorched from shoulder to wrist. There was blood beneath his nose, but no obvious new wound.
Rex released him and immediately shoved his muzzle beneath Raymond's shoulder.
No response.
Xavier ran two steps from the helm.
The ship tilted.
Elisabeth screamed.
"HELM!"
Xavier stopped.
Everything inside him rebelled.
He turned back.
Gripped the wheel.
The choice tasted rotten.
"Elisabeth!"
"I have him."
She unfastened the straps holding her chair.
"What are you doing?"
"Moving."
"You can barely—"
"Fly the damn ship."
She pulled herself upright.
Her right leg trembled.
Then her left.
Rex understood before Xavier did.
The manticore moved beside her.
Elisabeth placed her left forearm across his back.
"Don't bite me."
Rex snorted.
Together they crossed the deck.
One step.
Then another.
Elisabeth nearly fell when the ship shifted, but Rex pushed beneath her hip and kept her upright.
She reached Raymond.
Dropped to one knee.
Checked his breathing.
Then his pulse.
Xavier watched while trying not to watch.
"Well?"
"Breathing."
"Pulse?"
"Fast."
"Pupils?"
She lifted one eyelid.
"Equal."
The lessons from Chapters 26 and 27 had become useful faster than either of them wanted.
"He's alive."
Xavier breathed again.
"Can you wake him?"
"I can try."
"No."
Elisabeth looked up.
The word had come from Xavier.
He surprised himself.
"If he wakes confused and tries using mana, he'll make this worse."
A faint smile touched her mouth.
"Look at you."
"Don't."
"You're learning."
"Pressure."
She dragged herself back toward the manifold using Rex for support.
The starboard reserve needle shivered near the end of its scale.
"Bad."
"I gathered."
Elisabeth locked herself into the chair again.
"Two choices."
"Go."
"Close isolation and gamble that the blocked section holds."
"No."
"Or somehow open the purge."
"Can you?"
"Maybe."
Xavier hated that word.
Raymond used it too often.
"How?"
Elisabeth tapped the jammed wheel with her left hand.
"It's physically stuck. The mechanism underneath is bent."
"Can the venom eat the obstruction?"
"Yes."
"And possibly the valve."
"Yes."
"Anything else?"
She looked at the gauges.
"We could depressurize the entire core."
Xavier stared at her.
"Shutdown?"
"Emergency shutdown."
"What happens to lift?"
"We fall."
They were two feet above the cradle.
"That sounds survivable."
"With one side carrying far more lift than the other?"
The image arrived.
The port side would lose power first or last depending on the system response. The ship could twist sideways into the cradle.
People were clear below, but the hull might not survive.
"What would Raymond do?"
Elisabeth's eyes hardened.
"No."
"What?"
"Don't start that again."
"I'm asking."
"And I'm refusing."
Another violent knock came through the starboard side.
A copper seam split above Elisabeth.
Steam-like mana vented through it.
She ducked.
Xavier cursed.
"Fine. What would you do?"
Elisabeth looked at the red isolation lever.
Then the purge wheel.
Then Raymond.
"I would stop trying to save every part."
Xavier understood before she explained.
"What can we sacrifice?"
"The starboard secondary line."
"That's one of our lift feeds."
"We have four."
"Raymond said they balance each other."
"Then later we repair it."
"And now?"
"We destroy the blocked section before it destroys the core."
Xavier looked down.
"How?"
Elisabeth raised the poisoned hand.
This time he did not immediately say no.
"You can't reach the pipe."
"No."
"Raymond can't."
"No."
Xavier looked at Mira.
Then at Rex.
Then back at the deck.
Flow showed him the blockage.
Three meters forward.
Under the starboard floor.
There was an inspection plate beside it.
"Delo!"
He shouted over the rail.
Delo looked up from the beach.
"What?"
"Tool line! Starboard hatch!"
Delo did not ask why.
He grabbed a rope, tied a hammer and pry bar to it, then threw.
Xavier caught the rope.
"Mira."
Her ears rose.
He tied the lighter pry tool across the young manticore's harness.
"Lower deck. Starboard hatch."
Mira stared.
Xavier pointed.
"Go."
She ran.
Elisabeth looked at him.
"She understands that?"
"Hopefully."
"Excellent command doctrine."
"Quiet."
Mira disappeared through the hatch.
Flow followed her.
Blue sparks moving through the hull.
She reached the inspection plate.
Scratched at it.
Could not open it.
"Damn."
Xavier looked at the helm.
Then at Elisabeth.
"I need thirty seconds."
"You leave the helm and we may not have thirty."
"The wheel isn't controlling the pressure."
"It's controlling the rudder."
"We're not moving."
"The ship is leaning."
"I can lock it."
"You told me Raymond's traps taught you not to trust obvious mechanisms."
"Do you have another idea?"
"No."
"Then we use the bad one."
He wrapped rope around the wheel and locked it against the rail.
Elisabeth stared.
"That is appalling."
"Captain."
"Idiot."
"Safety officer."
"Go."
Xavier ran.
The tilted deck fought every step.
He dropped through the hatch, passed Raymond's scorched tools, and followed Mira's sparks.
The air below tasted metallic.
Heat pressed against his face.
Mira clawed at the inspection panel.
"Back."
He drove the pry bar beneath the edge.
Pulled.
Nothing.
Again.
His shoulders screamed.
The plate lifted.
Mana-light flooded the corridor.
The pipe beneath it had swollen almost twice its normal width.
Xavier recoiled.
That looked bad even without engineering knowledge.
Flow showed the blockage inside.
A copper regulator disc had broken loose and wedged sideways.
Everything upstream hammered against it.
Elisabeth's voice came faintly through a secondary tube.
"Xavier!"
"I found it!"
"Can you remove it?"
"Not without opening the pipe!"
"Then don't!"
He nearly laughed.
"Useful!"
"What do you see?"
"Pipe swollen. Something inside blocking it."
"Can we cut the feed before it?"
Xavier followed the conduit backward.
There.
A manual clamp.
Raymond had shown him.
Not a valve.
A mechanical choke designed for repairs when the system was cold.
It was currently very much not cold.
"I found a clamp."
"Don't close it."
"I know."
He stared at the pipe.
Think.
Not like Raymond.
Not like a prince.
Just think.
Flow showed pulses striking the obstruction.
Each pulse briefly reduced pressure behind itself.
A rhythm.
If Elisabeth opened the reserve bypass at exactly the right moment, some pressure might reverse away from the blocked line.
Enough for him to—
"Can you open reserve bypass?"
Elisabeth answered.
"For a few seconds."
"When I say."
"What are you doing?"
"I don't know yet."
"Wonderful. Raymond really is teaching you."
Xavier placed both hands on the mechanical clamp.
"Ready."
Elisabeth's left hand found the bypass wheel.
"Ready."
Xavier watched Flow.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
"Now!"
Elisabeth opened the bypass.
Pressure reversed.
The swollen pipe contracted slightly.
Xavier pulled the clamp.
It resisted.
He screamed and pulled harder.
Metal moved.
One notch.
Two.
The pipe began swelling again.
"Close!"
Elisabeth shut the bypass.
The clamp held halfway.
Starboard feed decreased.
Reserve pressure stopped climbing.
Elisabeth stared at the gauge.
"Again!"
Xavier breathed hard.
"Ready."
She opened.
He pulled.
Third notch.
Fourth.
Something in the clamp cracked.
But it closed.
"Done!"
Elisabeth shut the bypass.
The starboard pressure dropped to zero.
The reserve needle fell.
Fast.
Too fast.
"Xavier!"
"What?"
"Lift is collapsing!"
Above him, the Sierra dropped.
The impact was not catastrophic.
It was worse than gentle.
The hull slammed into one side of the cradle, bounced, then settled crookedly with a thunder of timber.
Xavier hit the wall.
Mira rolled across the floor and immediately stood, offended.
Outside, ropes snapped.
Then silence.
Long.
Heavy.
The ship had stopped moving.
Xavier stayed on the floor for a second.
"Report!"
Elisabeth's voice.
He laughed.
He couldn't help it.
"Alive."
"Mira?"
A bark.
"Insulted."
"Pipe?"
"Closed."
"Core pressure?"
"You tell me."
A pause.
Then:
"Falling normally."
Xavier closed his eyes.
They had done it.
Not beautifully.
Not according to Raymond's plan.
But the Sierra had not exploded.
That seemed worth something.
---
Raymond woke to Rex licking his ear.
He opened one eye.
"Stop."
Rex did not.
"Your concern has become invasive."
The licking stopped.
Xavier stood over him.
Blue paint still stained his shirt from yesterday. A fresh bruise had formed along one cheek.
Elisabeth sat nearby.
Her poisoned hand was unwrapped over a stone basin.
"You're alive," Xavier said.
Raymond considered.
"Disappointing?"
"A little."
"What happened?"
Xavier and Elisabeth looked at each other.
Raymond noticed.
That was new.
Usually they looked at him.
"The secondary regulator failed," Elisabeth said. "A disc broke loose and blocked the starboard line."
Raymond's expression sharpened.
"And?"
"The reserve backflowed."
"I know that part."
"We shut the line manually."
Raymond tried to sit.
Pain objected.
Rex put one paw across his thigh.
Raymond looked at it.
"Traitor."
Xavier continued.
"We used the reserve bypass to reduce pressure between pulses. I closed the manual maintenance clamp."
"You closed a cold-maintenance clamp on a live channel?"
"Yes."
"That clamp is not rated for—"
"It held."
Raymond stopped.
"And the purge?"
"Still jammed," Elisabeth said.
"The regulator?"
"Ruined."
"Starboard secondary?"
"Offline."
"Core?"
"Fine."
"Ship?"
Xavier grimaced.
"Kassi says you'll hate the starboard cradle."
"The ship, Xavier."
"Fine."
"Casualties?"
"None."
Raymond looked toward Elisabeth.
"Your hand?"
She flexed it.
The silver lines had brightened again from stress, and the skin near her wrist had darkened.
"Worse."
Raymond's mouth tightened.
"But," she added, "I didn't use it on the ship."
He understood what that meant.
She had possessed a dangerous shortcut.
She had chosen not to use it blindly.
"Good."
"Careful," she said. "That sounded almost like praise."
"It was a diagnosis."
Xavier sat on a crate.
"You were wrong."
Raymond looked at him.
"About?"
"Your system."
"My system?"
"The crew."
Xavier pointed toward the engine compartment.
"You said if you were unavailable, Elisabeth and I should agree before doing anything important."
"Yes."
"We didn't agree."
Raymond waited.
"She wanted to sacrifice the secondary line before I did."
Elisabeth shrugged.
"He wanted to save every component."
"I wanted to understand it first."
"We didn't have time."
Raymond looked between them.
"What happened?"
"I chose her plan," Xavier said.
"That sounds remarkably like agreement."
"No. I still thought it might be wrong."
Elisabeth leaned back.
"And I still thought his timing was terrible."
"But you acted."
"Yes."
Raymond looked at the ceiling.
Perhaps command did not require agreement.
Only enough trust to move while disagreement remained.
Annoying.
Useful.
He filed the thought away.
"Repair time?"
"Kassi says two days," Xavier said.
Raymond stared at him.
"He said three yesterday."
"We aren't replacing the rib."
"Ah."
"We replace the ruined regulator, reinforce the clamp, rebuild the purge linkage, then test each channel individually."
Raymond's eyebrows rose.
Xavier smiled.
"We made a list."
"Who is 'we'?"
"Elisabeth and me."
Raymond looked at her.
She raised her left hand.
"You were unconscious."
A surprisingly effective argument.
Two days later, the Sierra tried again.
This time the cargo was aboard.
All of it.
Ironwood.
Preserved monster materials.
Medicinal herbs.
Tools.
Maps.
Food.
Water.
Spare copper.
Raymond's alchemical stores.
Marduk's surviving equipment.
Everything they intended to carry to Catington except personal belongings still inside the cabin.
The hull sat visibly lower in its cradle.
Kassi hated the test.
He announced this six times.
On the seventh, Elisabeth threatened to label him another gauge.
Four fresh tethers held the ship.
Delo commanded the ground crew.
Saraounia watched from the beach.
Mira stood beside Xavier at the helm.
Rex stood beside Raymond near the core access.
But Raymond was not touching the controls.
Xavier noticed.
"You're not taking command?"
"No."
Elisabeth narrowed her eyes.
"Why?"
Raymond leaned on his cane.
"Because if this vessel can fly only while I personally keep every mistake from becoming fatal, we haven't built a ship."
He looked at Xavier.
"We've built another dependency."
That settled it.
Xavier took the helm.
Elisabeth locked herself into the manifold station.
"Pressure?"
"Stable."
"Channels?"
"All four responsive."
"Reserve?"
"Eight."
Xavier placed his hand on the lift lever.
"Two percent."
The core hummed.
The Sierra lightened.
"Three."
The cradle groaned.
"Four."
Daylight appeared under the keel.
Workers cheered.
Raymond said nothing.
Xavier kept his eyes forward.
"Five."
The Sierra rose.
One foot.
Two.
All four tethers tightened.
The full cargo remained secured.
Elisabeth watched the gauges.
"Starboard eleven. Port eleven. Forward ten. Rear eleven."
"Six?"
She looked at Raymond.
He offered nothing.
Her decision.
"Six."
Xavier pushed.
The ship rose another foot.
The cradle no longer touched them anywhere.
The Sierra hung beneath its own power with the entire planned load aboard.
Not flying.
Not yet.
But capable of leaving the earth.
Xavier felt the deck beneath his boots and smiled.
Elisabeth touched the manifold with her left hand.
Even Raymond allowed himself one slow breath.
The ship held.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
No screaming pipes.
No broken regulator.
No runaway pressure.
"Bring her down," Elisabeth said.
Xavier nodded.
"Five."
Then four.
Three.
The Sierra descended.
The keel settled into the repaired cradle with a heavy wooden thump.
Silence.
Then the beach erupted.
Delo threw both arms into the air.
Workers shouted.
Saraounia clapped from beneath the canvas.
Mira ran in circles around the helm until Xavier nearly tripped over her.
Rex merely sat.
Raymond scratched beneath his jaw.
"Yes," he murmured. "You're terribly impressive."
Elisabeth looked toward Xavier.
"We did it."
He nodded.
"We did."
Raymond heard the word.
Not he.
Not Raymond.
We.
That was probably the point.
He hated points when they were made at his expense.
Xavier approached him.
"Two days ago, you said a ship depending on you wasn't really a ship."
"I remember my better sentences."
"What about us?"
Raymond looked at him.
"What about you?"
"If we depend on you for every decision?"
Elisabeth turned in her chair.
Raymond glanced between them.
Then toward the Sierra.
Three people.
Three positions.
None sufficient alone.
It was not how Marduk had trained him.
Marduk had taught Raymond to survive absence.
Never partnership.
Perhaps that was why the old bastard had died surrounded by secrets.
Raymond tapped his cane against the deck.
"We have three days before departure."
"Three?" Xavier asked.
"If nothing else explodes."
Elisabeth looked offended.
"Don't invite it."
"One final matter remains."
"What?"
Raymond looked past the beach.
Beyond the village.
Beyond the ruined roofs and graves.
Toward the forest trail leading to the old cabin where Marduk's belongings still waited beneath years of dust.
He had avoided them long enough.
"My teacher left things behind."
Xavier's expression changed.
Raymond stepped toward the ramp.
Rex immediately followed.
"Marduk?" Elisabeth asked.
Raymond did not turn.
"Yes."
The Sierra could carry them.
Now he needed to discover where the dead man intended them to go.