Page 224 of The Cradle of Ice
Their two mounts were the same pair who had carried them out of the Mouth yesterday. Since then, Daal had made modifications to their saddles, relying on his knowledge and that of his ancestors. Already she had noted the improvements. Even the raash’ke seemed to appreciate them. The saddles sat more firmly and seemed to chafe their mounts less.
“How did Metyl fare?” Daal asked as he joined her.
She smiled. Daal had chosen the names in honor of Mattis and Neffa. He hadn’t wanted to use their exact names, as he thought it marred their memory. So he had modified them enough to be unique but still pay tribute to the brave orksos.
“He did well,” Nyx answered. “I think we’re both finding our rhythm. It helps that the horde-mind retains memories from when the raash’ke lived in harmony with your people.”
“Can you still sense the horde-mind’s presence this far away from the Mouth?”
She nodded. “So far, but it grows fainter.”
Nyx and Daal jostled through the raash’ke on the deck to reach the warmth of the firepots blazing under the open gullet of the hot balloon.
In addition to the raash’ke here, there were more in the empty hold below. Darant’s crew had cleared the space out days ago while repairs were underway, and no one had a chance to restock it. This allowed room for a few more raash’ke aboard the Hawk.
Someone nudged her from behind.
She turned to find Bashaliia standing there, rocking on his legs, casting her a scolding pout. She gave him a firm hug and a whisper of an apologetic song.
“Don’t be jealous. You’ll always be first in my heart.”
He nuzzled his forgiveness into her ear, raising a warm smile.
Earlier, to his great disappointment, she hadn’t allowed him to come on this flight. He was still young, prone to distractions, and attracted by curiosities. If he had wandered off too far, the ship could have traveled beyond his range to return.
The Sparrowhawk’s new engines proved to be monsters. After a slow, cautious start, they were now sweeping three or four times faster than any swyftship. A trip that would’ve taken a week now would take under two days. At those speeds, Bashaliia might not be able to catch up. Only larger ships with bigger forges could hope to maintain this pace—and even then, it would be a challenge.
Reminded of that concern, she gave Bashaliia another hug and a scratch behind his ears and turned to Daal. She nodded her head toward the doors into the forecastle.
“I’m sure someone is impatient for our report.”
* * *
GRAYLIN PACED THE wheelhouse, nearly tripping over Kalder as he made a turn and swept the other way. The vargr kept close, unnerved by the number of raash’ke aboard the Hawk. His hackles would raise with every hiss or sharp cry from them.
I get it.
The noise was unnerving, especially with the backdrop of the ship’s continual howl, created by the winds sweeping over the holes in the hull and across the drag of the broken keel.
Graylin headed to the navigation station, where Fenn worked with Jace and Krysh, laboring over star charts and hand-drawn maps. “How much longer until we reach the site that Shiya gave us?”
Jace answered, “Hard to tell with any precision. According to Fenn’s sextant readings, we’re moving swiftly. So rapidly that he wanted to check again to make sure his calculations were correct. We should have an updated consensus in a moment.”
Glace overheard this from her station next to the maesterwheel. “If the Hawk didn’t have gaping holes and a broken keel, we could go even faster.”
“We’re flying fast enough,” Darant warned. “Don’t want to rip her apart. Even at these speeds, best pray she stays in one piece.”
“If that’s a concern, should we slow down?” Graylin asked.
Darant glanced back. “Right now, we don’t know who or what might be following us, so I say we let the Hawk fly as fast as she wants.”
The brigand’s mood continued to remain sullen and short-tempered. Not that anyone faulted his sourness. Between the loss of his daughter and the betrayal behind it, Darant was still struggling to come to some degree of acceptance, if not understanding. Though the latter might never be possible.
Everyone expected a betrayal of trust to be born of larger ambitions or grander schemes or greater umbrages. Sometimes it was just a tired daughter wanting to go home.
The door slammed open behind him, pushed by the winds sweeping through the ship. Nyx ducked in with a bodily shiver, while Daal shouldered the door shut.
“It’s colder down here than up on the deck,” Nyx said.
