57

Night was falling when Ethos arrived on the Retaliant with his entourage. A slurry of soldiers and deckhands were gathered, each more eager than the next to see him. Riggers laughed aloft in their harnesses, lighting lanterns and shaking out matches.

A pother was needed, so one was brought out. Alyce hadn't been able to get a good view through the moving crowd. But at some point during the noise and the banter, Peter appeared and steered her into the stuffy great cabin, and he'd pushed Anouk Battlefrost in right after her.

The better part of an hour passed, and their only guest had been a balding linesman, come with food and drink to appease them. But Alyce wasn't hungry. So she sat and sulked and watched Anouk make an outright mess of the table.

Like most Battlefrosts, Anouk was as much a ravenous animal, not once stopping to savor a bite, reaching for scrap after scrap, insatiable. But then, somewhat abruptly, she leaned to one side and gave the wall a thump with her fist. A panel fell open. From it she plucked a half bottle of wine and bit out its cork with carnivorous teeth.

Alyce asked, "How'd you know that was there?"

Anouk spat out the cork and squinted at her. "How?" she echoed. "This is my ship, my cabin, my red. Mine. I'm just letting Peter borrow it, the turd." Something suddenly caught her eye, and she jerked her chin at the far wall. "What happened to my mirror?"

Shattered. By Una, presumably. "Dunno."

"Born liar." Anouk sat back in her chair and drank. When she'd had her fill, she gestured at Alyce with the bottle. "So explain to me how this came about," she said. "You lot coming to get us belike. Last I heard you were gunning for Wulfstead."

"That was the plan." Alyce nervously picked at the grapes in front of her. "We were a day's sail west, just off the coast," she said. "Running with the wind, they called it. Making good time. The ships were clearing the water when I— " She stopped, glanced up at Anouk. "I have this thing with Ethos. It's sort of hard to explain."

"He told me, aye. Terran. Go on."

"Right. Okay. So it hit me then that he was in danger."

Anouk studied her, swirling the bottle of wine. "What'd it hit you like?"

She shrugged. "He just sort of filled my head," she grumbled. "It hurt. And he usually blocks me out, so I knew it had to be bad. He frowns on snooping."

"So what'd you do about it?"

"I punched Peter."

Anouk split into a goofy grin. "You did what?"

Alyce found herself smiling along with her. "He'd been practicing with the nebule, right, so I knew he could transport small stuff like carts," she said. "And when this went down, he was just hanging on to the quarterdeck banister, not paying attention or anything. I knew I had to get at his belly."

"So you punched him?"

"I wasn't about to feel him up."

Anouk shrugged out of her furs. "And you knew how to find us, being terran and all."

"Yeah," Alyce said, but then added, "We almost collided with your ship."

"Bah. That just means there's room for improvement." Anouk returned to her food. She chewed at Alyce for a moment, flinty eyes narrowed. She shook a finger. "You know what you've done, though," she said, sounding serious. "Don't you?"

"No, what?"

"You've made yourself indispensable."

A slow frown crept across Alyce's face. "What do you mean?"

Anouk sat forward, elbows on the table, back hunched like she was sharing a secret. "You can get Peter anywhere in the world," she whispered. "Anywhere. He could be in Namir right now. He could be in the hot springs of Tarn. Do you really think he's gonna let you out of his sight?"

Anouk held her eyes for a meaningful moment before she resumed her devouring. Alyce was quiet, mood effectively dampened by having the obvious pointed out to her. But it passed. She, too, had some questions. "The woman you brought," she ventured. "Syan?"

"Aye, in the flesh," Anouk said, round a mouthful of food. "My ancestor. We had a bit of a shaky start, but she's not so horrible, really."

"Is she the reason Ethos lost his grip?"

Anouk didn't look up from her plate. "Baroona."

"He's dead," Alyce knew. "I don't sense him anymore."

"Aye, dead and gone. Bone and meat. Good riddance, says I."

Alyce had no problem with Baroona. She didn't want to know how it had happened. "What was it like in there?" she asked, instead. "Was it scary?"

"Dark," Anouk grunted, and she finally glanced. "Oi, what's the deal with the princess?"

Alyce frowned again. "Una? She's heading the Windstar. Why do you ask?"

"Seabird says she's sick, that she tried to take a bite out of him."

"People aren't supposed to know that."

"She died, right?"

A sound at the door silenced them. Peter ducked inside, shaking a light snowfall from his coat. He nodded at them in greeting. "Sorry for the wait."

"Oyo, turkey," Anouk leered. "Thanks for the grub."

Ethos followed and closed the door. He looked exhausted, like he'd come home from work. "Don't get comfortable," he said, to Anouk. "We're headed out when Syan's stable."

She ignored him. "What's that you're eating? Sea biscuit?"

He glanced down at the puck in his hand as if the question hadn't occurred to him. "I'm not sure," he replied. "Somebody gave it to me."

"Is it any good?"

"Food tastes different when you're starving."

Anouk laughed at that. "Get your butt over here and eat properly with me, seabird."

So the boys filled the two remaining seats, one much filthier than the other. Alyce quickly glared at her lap, but she knew the moment Ethos looked over at her. It felt like a weight on her shoulders. "Ho, peanut," he said. "I'm told I have you to thank for the pothers. You moved a whole ship."

"Sorry," she mumbled, automatically. "I can get us back to the fleet."

"Oi, oi," Anouk cut in. "You're scaring her, seabird."

He scowled. "I'm not doing anything."

"Aye, but just lookit her. Her face is all red."

Peter folded his arms and sighed. "Coming here set us back a few hours," he admitted. "I've been avoiding the transmission system. Tanis'll chew me out for sure."

"A few hours is no big deal," Anouk said. "I'll talk to her if you want."

"She's still pissed at you for taking off with the Echo. I'll deal with it somehow."

"It's thanks to me taking the Echo that the byland's safe. Codfish."

Peter scratched at his beard. "Explain that to me."

"It's because we have Syan on our side." This, from Ethos. He plucked a piece of cheese from the table and blew something off of it. "Hive mind," he went on. "Deindividuation, maybe. She's agreed to lure the howlings elsewhere in exchange for a little face time with Alma. It's an easy promise."

"Deindividuation?" Peter asked. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means we can launch eight thousand howlings at the Bonesteel army." Ethos glanced at Anouk and said, "You can kill her when they collide."

She smirked. "You don't mind me impaling your ex?"

"I don't care how you do it."

Satisfied, Anouk shook the snow from his hair. "Copy that, seabird."

"There are Oldden soldiers out there," Peter said. "You'd be putting Calaster's units at risk."

Ethos ducked from Anouk's badgering. "Obviously," he confirmed. "In an ideal world, they'd let bygones be bygones and band together with the Bonesteels, take out the howling threat for good."

"It's not an ideal world, Ethos. It's a shitty world and people will die."

"This is Karna," he returned. "It's not shitty. It's perfect. If people die, it's on them."

Peter didn't respond right away. He watched Ethos eat for a few long seconds. "We need to discuss Alma," he said, and then quickly added, "I'm not going to stop you or anything."

"It's fascinating how you say that like it's an option."

Peter closed his eyes. Maybe he was counting to three. "I'm not going to stop you or anything," he repeated, and he was speaking slowly, keeping his cool. "I'm just saying. Use your resources. I have half of Flint's forces and Alyce to get them wherever you need."

Ethos looked at Alyce. His expression spoke plenty. "Good to know."

"And Rhysa's done well developing the oupir serum. It should slow Alma down for you."

"That's impressive, but the idea of murdering a paralyzed woman doesn't really appeal to me." He calmly put his hand up to silence Peter's retort. "My turn," he said. "Just listen. Slowing her down won't matter, understand. Unless I do this the way I'm supposed to, she'll come back for another round. And it's not like I'm suicidal, Peter. I'm working on a solution."

Peter's brow furrowed. "There's always— "

"The other option. Yes, I'm aware." 

"Ask me and I'll do it for you."

Ethos tore a portion from the center loaf. "The tono are under my protection," he said. "Harming them would be a direct attack on me." 

"There has to be something I can do."

Anouk's fist hit the table, rattling silverware. It hadn't been hard, just a drop of the hand. She even slurped down an oyster before she spoke to Peter. "Sprog," she called him. "Getting worked up, droning on while Wulfstead's undealt with."

Peter sneered at her. "I'm sorry if I prioritize the safety of my friends over work."

Anouk feigned a theatrical swoon, fanning herself with the half shell. "Oh, me, that's proper nice," she said, exaggerating her northern brogue. "Ye've done me in, made me fartstrings all atingle."

Alyce snorted, earning her a glower from Peter. "Don't encourage her," he barked, and he returned to Anouk with a glower much fiercer. "How would you like to be gored by your own bowsprit?"

"Avast, me heart! Not me own bowsprit! Have mercy, Oi'm beggin' ye!"

Peter leapt to his feet. "Stop talking like that!"

"Back!" She wielded the shell at him. "Back, vile beast!"

"Calm down," Ethos said. "Both of you." He ate his bread until they'd quieted. "I'm only going to say this once," he went on. "This thing with Alma is nobody's business but mine. I'll deal with it. And if I need help, I'll ask for it. Sit down, Peter."

The door opened again. Interference. Arngeir emerged from the quarterdeck, an embodiment of weathered experience. "Ethos," he said. "A word."

Ethos didn't gripe or protest; he snatched up a few more pieces of cheese and rose to see what the problem was. "I'll be right back," he promised. "Don't fight."

Arngeir nodded at the rest of them, a distant show of respect. He returned topside as Ethos began to cross the cabin. "You're lucky to have Arn," Anouk said, to the others. "He's a good man." 

But Peter had risen quickly enough to make the table clatter. He stopped Ethos short at the door, hard like, by the shoulder, and seized a small book from his open flap pocket. Purposefully, Peter held it up between them and said, "Not cool."

It was his sketchbook, Alyce realized, and his bearing clearly alluded to something far graver than a lost pad of scribbles. But Ethos— he just laughed. He tossed a cube of cheese in his mouth, shook his head, and left. Peter threw the door shut behind him.

"Careful, cousin," Anouk sang. "You'll lose an ear if he wants it off."

Peter returned to his chair. He stared at the food. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I saw what I saw. He's a hundred leagues of rugged road." She was turning the oyster shell in her hands, unsmiling for once. She set it aside and leaned back in her chair. "Looks like you two made up, anyway," she said. "That's good. A falling out can last for years."

"We didn't make up," Peter grumbled. "He's just tolerating me because knows that he's stuck here for now. He still hasn't forgiven me for the fight."

"What'd you do, exactly?"

He didn't tell her, but Alyce hadn't expected him to. He briefly leafed through the sketchbook and put it away. "What's your take on a jump into Wulfstead?"

Anouk's nose crinkled. "You can start by explaining what a jump is."

"Like when I use the nebule. I'm thinking I can move our men directly into the city at once."

The crinkle deepened. "What, like have them disembark and hold hands?"

"Please don't intentionally make it sound stupid."

His sincerity must have dampened her predisposition for teasing. Anouk studied him, arms folded across her chest. "You'll want them in formation, prior like," she said. "Closed ranks."

"Spearmen at the front?"

"Aye, spearmen. Piked. And bucklers among them." She was quiet another moment, doing the math, eyebrows lightly knitting together. "What about bowmen?" she asked. "Flats?"

"Longs, mostly," he replied. "Some flats. And crossbows— less of."

"So, say, five or so waves of your spearmen, five or so more of your smaller armsmen, fencing in bowmen and heavy artillery, mustered provisions and suchlike, saving flatbows and crossbits for closer quarters. Longs outshoot them both." Anouk drew a tiny circle in the air. "Solidarity," she said. "A tono custom, I'm told. Assess the environment, see that your infantry acts accordingly, and stay focused. The gods favor the sure of heart."

Peter made a disparaging sound. "We'll be trapped if things go south."

"Them Bonesteel northos are leagues away. If you really want to be king so bad, you'd damn well better hope you can conquer a city of peasants and watchmen."

She'd said the last curtly. Peter frowned at her and asked, "What's with you?" 

The door reopened— Ethos, ducking inside. "Nothing," Anouk said. "I just figure you don't want to embarrass yourself by failing at the unfailable."

"I have Alyce," Peter said. "I'll know what I'm going into."

Anouk sent Alyce a knowing look. "See?" she teased. "Indispensable."

"I wanted to know your thoughts, is all," Peter contended. "I'm not nervous. I'm more concerned about coordinating a northern front, communicating with Oldden. Why are you laughing?"

Ethos stopped beside them, unobtrusive, hands buried deep in his pockets. "What are we talking about?" he asked. "The Rift?"

"Aye," Anouk replied. "What'd Arn want?"

"Oh, that. Terrible news." Ethos glanced at Peter and said, "It's Una."

Peter's frown returned. "Is she okay?"

"She's coming."

A stare, long and insipid. "Here?"

"Obviously. Arngeir has her on the air. Get rid of her."

"Why didn't he come directly to me?"

"I don't care, Peter."

Peter raked at his hair. "How did she know where to find us?"

"The Battlefrost rigs share a tracking system. I'm surprised you didn't know that." Ethos took a step to the side to make space for Peter to stand. "You shouldn't have ignored the transmissions," he said, eyes rising. "It's what caused her to act."

"Shut up," Peter hissed. "You don't know what it's been like."

"I know better than to ignore transmissions."

A jab— minor, but personal. Peter looked like he was resisting the urge to retort. "She talks about you," he said. "It's not normal."

"How unsettling."

"I don't know what to do."

"Tell her I'm dead. Problem solved."

"God, you sound exactly like him. I hate it."

It was subtle, but Ethos flinched around the eyes. "Syan might have a solution," he said, and he turned away to clear his throat. "She's keeping it close to her chest, but I think we can persuade her to talk. A part of her still loves Eadric somehow. I could tell."

"You shouldn't." Anouk's interjection invited his gaze. And when her eyes slid up from the floor to meet his, they were piercing and full of warning. "You shouldn't," she repeated. "He'll kill her and everyone else on board if he thinks it's the wise thing to do."

"He won't," Ethos replied. "With the exception of a few key elements, he and I are on the same page. Neither of us would benefit from a slaughter."

"You still shouldn't, seabird."

He smiled. "Doesn't revenge appeal to you more than like?"

Anouk bullied down a grin of her own. He'd surprised her. "Not if you keep it up. Spriggan."

"I'm flattered." Ethos glanced back at Peter. Curtly, he instructed, "Go."

But Peter looked a bit shocked. "He's self-aware?"

"Less and less. Please go talk to Una."

"Did he kill Baroona?"

Ethos sat down. "Baroona tried to murder me," he said. "He decided for himself who I was, saw it as retribution." Purposefully, he stared up at Peter. There was no good or bad in his eyes. "He needed someone to blame, which is fine. People are imperfect. But I disliked all of the kneeling involved and I wasn't about to die for the sake of a former friendship gone awry, so I put a stop to it." He indicated the cabin door. "Now are you going to deal with Una or what?"

Peter looked at Alyce. "You hear it, right?" he asked her. "Right?"

"I hear it," she said. "But there's nothing to do, Peter. And he's not wrong about Una."

Maybe he'd run out of steam, or maybe he'd tired of repeating himself. Whatever the case, Peter angrily turned to leave. But he stopped at door. With a glance back at Ethos, he asked, "What would you do in my position?"

"Intercept her, if necessary," Ethos replied, albeit yawning and rubbing an eye. "I saw a tender on deck that two men should be able to operate without much trouble."

"I meant about you."

Ethos let the hand fall from his face. His smile was a little crooked, somewhere between a leer and a laugh. "I'd be less intrusive."

"Even though I can't tell who I'm talking to anymore?"

To that, Ethos sighed. "Give it a rest," he said. "I'm sitting here developing a secondhand account of everyone Eadric's ever possessed. Your relentless habit of suffocating me with all the worry and judgement of a wildly overprotective mother is the last thing I want or need. And the gawking. I could do without the gawking."

But that was precisely what Peter did. "A secondhand account?"

"That's right," Ethos said. "So go talk to Una. You're giving me a headache."

Peter sneered. "All this on top of the others you've killed?"

Ethos groaned and rolled head back, visibly annoyed. "Possession is different from what I do," he said, more to the ceiling than to Peter. "It's not as violent. Not as irreparable. Eadric defined it as an appropriation of data, and that's all it really is. It's not alive."

"Not like your usual victims, then."

"Not quite."

"And I'm the intrusive one."

Ethos met his eyes. "I'd stop it if I could."

To that, Peter had nothing to say. He withdrew from the cabin in quiet frustration, closing the door too roughly. The lantern flickered. And when silence returned and began to stretch thin, Anouk resumed her ravenous assault on the center loaf.

"I see what you're doing," she said. "It's smart."

Ethos had rolled his head back again. Without looking at her, he asked, "Is it obvious?"

"Not to him. He'll give up soon, admit you're past saving."

"Good intentions give me headaches."

"Not easy, burning bridges."

"Not easy." Ethos threw a hand over his eyes. He was quiet for a time, breathing. "I hate this," he muttered. "I hate everything about it. It's exhausting."

"At least he didn't call you on it, been a pest like I said he'd be."

"When did you— " Ethos stopped and laughed, looking blind. "Oh, right."

Anouk chuckled with him, tearing a hunk of bread into two. "Don't brood, seabird. Brooding's for scugs and I'll be damned if you force me to lower my standards. Scugs and booters. And wantalots."

Ethos glanced, one-eyed, and smiled for her. "I've always loved your bedside manner."

"Better in it than beside it, says I. When do I get you alone?"

"You're like a dirty old man." 

"Aye," she leered, brandishing bread at him like a rapier. "I bought you fair, seabird. I'll have you as mine by my deathless soul."

"Or you'll run me through with bread crust?"

She reddened a little, but gallantly said, "If that's what it takes."

"Then I'm at a disadvantage," he teased, and he put up his hands in mock surrender. "I yield."

"Damn right, you yield," she grumbled. "I could have out your eye with this thing."

"What was the plan if I resisted? Throw me overboard?"

"Nah, you're too pretty. I'd have stuffed you for a figurehead." A moment of tension, filled with good humor. But then she tore off a piece of the crust with her teeth, shook it at him, and said, "This is your last chance, you know."

"Oh? My last chance for what?"

"You said yourself he was too obsessed." She waited for his smile to go. "I can do what he does. I can do it better. So you don't get to change your mind after this."

Ethos searched her eyes. "You want it that badly?"

"Not me, seabird. Us. Redbeard and Battlefrost— together again." 

"I was messed up when I said all that stuff about Peter. He didn't deserve it."

"Aye, but we both know you were right." She turned, elbow hooked on the back of her chair. "You heard him, seabird," she pressed, voice low. "What kind of slimy self-righteous weasel would put eleven women to death to save the life of a single person?"

"Ten," he said. "There are ten now."

"Whatever. He's unwell."

"He's dedicated." Ethos sat forward to reach across the table, picking out grapes from the ravaged platter. "And that's precisely why I'm removing myself," he explained. "Peter hated Eadric more than anything. To him it'll be like I'm already dead."

Alyce asked, "Are you?"

Ethos glanced. Maybe he'd forgotten her. "Of course not," he said, and he leaned farther forward to get at an apple. "I'd have taken Peter up on his offer if I were."

He'd replied too quickly. Alyce sought out the glass between them, felt for the cracks that had split over time and spidered into all directions. There was heat coming through, warming her face; it smelled of old, forgotten clothes, bruised basil, and blood. It was the furnace of him, hard at work, blowing off steam and roiling, alive. 

Ethos swayed and caught himself on the table, gripping the sides to keep upright. Grapes scattered and rolled to the floor. The apple followed and bounced away. Anouk rescued her bottle of red. Those eyes of his flashed and leapt to Alyce, searing the darkness with streaks of green fire.

She said, "You've been calling me peanut for a while now, monster."

"They were all you'd eat," he rumbled. "Boiled soft. Disgusting."

The glass buzzed against her fingers. Alyce backed off so as not to break it. But she stood up and hugged him, held him close, until the monster inside him had calmed. He sat back in his chair with his head bent forward against her chest. 

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know it's my fault."

Ethos quietly breathed for a moment. His returning composure was a soothing sensation. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "Your father's alive," he said. "He sent Eadric to find you."

Silence. Alyce pulled back to see him square. "Why?"

His expression was oddly lacking, neutral, as if he'd just taken a nap. His hooded eyes struggled to rise to meet hers. "He's an earthmover," he explained. "He was going into hibernation when he became aware of you."

"Hibernation? For how long?"

"Forty years, give or take. You were five at the time." Quiet concern softly surfaced and spread, moving his face in sad little ways. His arms encircled her waist. "I'll protect you if I'm still alive," he promised. "I'm stronger than Eadric was. I might be able to help."

Her heart sank. "He's bad, then."

"He gains strength from other terrans." Ethos sighed and blinked rather heavily, perhaps to salvage his self-control. He gestured at Anouk; it was a wordless request for the wine, and she gladly presented it, wide-eyed and rapt. He drank a good measure of it before his gaze returned to Alyce. "The living death," he said. "It's what they called him."

She swallowed. She nodded. "I'll protect you, too."

To that, he smiled. It was his usual smile, authentic and weary. "My hero."

But she sensed that he suddenly needed some space. Alyce used the fallen grapes as good excuse to give him just that. As she gathered them into her shirt, she asked, "How is an earthmover different from a regular terran?" 

"Evolutionary deviation, I'm sure." A glance found him risen from his chair, slowly pacing around with the wine. He was kneading his forehead with his knuckles. "Earthmovers were often born blind," he continued, suddenly sounding strangely mild. "They had no need for eyes, we were told— not since they could communicate with gods, even influence them on rare occasions. There are stories."

It was like the dead had stirred in him. Baroona, maybe. "Is my dad blind?"

He looked at her for a long second. "No."

"What's his name?"

"Kalthar."

She dumped the grapes on the table, shook out her shirt, and studied him sideways. He was gently returning the wine to Anouk, nodding at her to take it. "The glass," Alyce said, drawing his eyes. "What will happen when it breaks?"

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"The glass," she repeated, unhelpfully. "The barrier. The thing keeping us apart."

Comprehension. It didn't improve his dejection. "I don't know," he answered. "But you can't keep going near it, Alyce. I'm serious. It's there to keep you out as much as it is to keep me in." 

It was her turn to frown. "Did you make it on purpose?"

"Well, yeah," he said, with a dismal laugh. "I was a mess without Harken's protection. I couldn't think straight. I puked a lot. I didn't understand what was happening to me. So I took certain measures to fortify myself internally."

"You must really miss your old life."

She'd surprised him somehow. "What makes you think so?"

"You get a look on your face when you talk about it. Am I wrong?"

Ethos sat on the old wooden trunk at the foot of the bed. He clasped his hands, shoulders drawn. "I miss the calm, I guess," he said, and he smirked. "I don't think I miss being naked, though."

"Oi, oi," Anouk interjected. "What's this about being naked?"

"Of course that's where you jump in."

"How could I not?"

He chuckled and shrugged it off. "I grew up in the wilderness," he said, simply. "The creatures that raised me didn't have an awareness of nudity. So neither did I."

Anouk's eyebrows jumped. "Creatures?"

"You know— oldwooders. Have you really not heard about this?"

"Back up, seabird. You grew up naked in the wilderness with a pack of monsters?"

He looked at his hands. "It's not that weird."

"Everything about you is weird. Didn't it get cold?"

"Harken was always warm. It was protected by a land god."

"Aye, of course it was. Next you'll tell me you're really a spriggan."

Ethos smiled up at her and said, "Not a spriggan, no."

She went red again. "Haddock thief."

"You're always calling me names."

"You're always on about how you don't have one."

The smile dissolved. But he hung his head forward and chuckled a little, an effort to hide the fact that she'd hurt him. "Yeah," he said. "It wouldn't kill you to pull the occasional punch."

She scooted forward in her chair, mirroring him. "Are you asking me to tone it down?"

"Just pick another vein from time to time. Give the jugular a rest."

"But it was your angry eyes that I fell for."

He glanced, imparting a glimpse of uncertain amusement. "My angry eyes?" he asked. "How is it that I'm the weird one?"

"You haven't seen them, to be fair." She was smiling now, taking him in. "But I can tone it down," she said. "If that's what you want."

"What's the catch?"

"No catch." She employed her crust to lift his face. "I prefer you as the male in this partnership," she said, close enough now to steal a kiss. "That's all there is of it."

"What a relief," he laughed. "I was afraid I'd have to fight you for it."

A draft coasted through the cabin. Peter entered, expressionless save for a shadow of irritation. He paused at the sight of them and asked, "Mind if I interrupt?"

Ethos raised his chin away from the crust. "What's the situation?"

"You should go while you still can."

"Okay." He lowered Anouk's hand. To her glance of surprise, he indicated the door. "I need you to get our bags," he told her. "Arn has them in his cabin."

She bit at her crust and stood. "Aye."

"Thank you." He then snapped his fingers at Peter— an order for him to approach. It was just like Eadric. "Come sit," he said, as Anouk set out. "We have a few minutes. Sit."

The door rasped shut at Peter's heels. He slowly circled the table, eyeing Alyce. "Sei still needs to be notified," he ventured. "He's in the medical bay with Syan."

"I alerted him after I spoke to Arngeir. Alyce stays."

"I didn't say anything about Alyce."

"You didn't have to. Sit."

So Peter sat in Anouk's empty seat, discomfort replacing his irritation. "I've been thinking about what you proposed," he said. "About setting the howlings on Oldden and the Bonesteels."

"I thought you were speaking with Una."

"I was."

"Then you weren't giving her your full attention."

Peter spoke over him. "I'm willing to ignore the obvious breech of ethics if you take this chance to do what we talked about," he said. "Find Eadric a host. A criminal, maybe. Someone we can kill. You don't need to be stuck with his secondhand possessions."

Ethos sighed and hung his head, and this time he groaned just a little. "I need some assurance that you'll be able to function independently with the Battlefrosts."

"Of course I will. What exactly do you think I've been doing?"

"I think you've been obsessing, inventing cure-alls for fights that aren't yours."

"There aren't any cure-alls." Reminded, Peter fished around in his coat. He produced a small phial and held it out for Ethos to take. "Here," he said. "Just in case. You might find it helps."

Ethos sat back on the trunk, repulsed. "Is that all of it?"

"There's plenty more. Just take it."

"I don't want your poison, Peter. I've told you that."

"I'll stop talking about it if you take it." Peter persisted. "I promise. Just take it."

A pause ensued. Ethos took it and put it away. He stared Peter down again. "I need some assurance that you'll be able to function independently with the Battlefrosts."

"You already said that."

"Obviously," Ethos replied. "But Anouk does what I tell her to do. She's efficient. It's literally her contention to team with me that's keeping me from backing her. So I need some assurance."

Peter blinked. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying show me results in Wulfstead and you'll earn back favor," he said. "I don't want to hear about any side projects or science experiments or self-assigned rescue missions. Forget about me and focus on your part in all this." Ethos abruptly leaned in. His teeth flashed. "And I swear, Peter— I'll set the entire howling horde on you if I catch wind of you scribbling in that book of yours. You should've set it on fire like you were told."

Peter darkened and said, "Stop talking like Eadric."

"That kind of distraction is no longer allowed. Tell me you get it."

"We need to find him a host, Ethos."

Ethos stared; the forge at work. He'd say something awful, Alyce knew. "Few things comfort me more than consistency," he said. "I value that quality over your others, Peter. But consistency is only as practical as its application, and by being this consistently neurotic about my wellbeing, you've somehow managed to make your best asset useless to me. Which is sad, really. And I do pity you. I might've kept it to myself back when we were friends, but now I just feel like you ought to know."

Peter slapped him unexpectedly. It was abrupt, engulfing the cabin.

Ethos shook the hair out of his eyes. "Really?" he asked. "You come at me with a slap?"

The other side of it landed. If the sound was any indication, it had been considerably harder than the first. Again, Peter didn't follow up with anything, only sat there and glared.

Ethos turned out a frightening glare of his own. "Hit me again and see what happens."

"Ethos," Alyce cut in, softly. "Stop it."

He glanced at her. She wondered if it was her expression that talked him down. "Results," he said, and he rose from the trunk. "I'll overlook this if you show me results."

Peter quickly seized his arm. "Don't do this."

"I'll bet you'd like to keep that hand."

"I let you go because you swore this wasn't happening."

"You let me go because I'd have clawed out your eyes if you hadn't."

"And now?" Peter asked. "What'll you do now?"

"It occurs to me that you think I desperately need you for something," Ethos said. "I don't. Now let go of my arm or I'll put a more permanent stop to your infinite worthless badgering." 

Peter's face had blackened up quickly, burnt at the edges like so much charred paper. Voice low, he warned, "I could leave you in that crypt again."

The door burst open. Anouk stumbled in, weighed by their baggage, and promptly toppled a pile of books. She scrambled to kick the door shut behind her.

But she needn't have bothered. It exploded a moment later, blinding.

Alyce found herself pinned by the table, its contents dirtied and strewn all around. The cabin was in shreds. People outside were shouting, a faraway sound, incomparable to the roar that had torn through the room. She wriggled free of the table, stunned by the devastation. 

Anouk was bent over Ethos, a nearby blur. Jaw set, she assessed the state of him in a stony manner that Alyce hadn't known her capable of. She tried to catch his unfocused gaze. "It's okay," she assured him, very professional. "It's all there. You're okay."

He tried to rise, wincing. "Are you?"

"Aye, all good. The little one's to your left."

Ethos felt around until Alyce met his hand halfway. One of his eyes was bloodshot— a blow to the side of his head, maybe. "All good, hero?" he asked. "You're not hurt?"

Her leg was trapped, but she didn't say so. There were more pressing matters. She pointed.

Wind howled in from the wreckage of the door. Una was there at the gutted opening, and a single glance was all that was needed. She'd wanted too much. Aspired too much. It had all melted down into an ingot of rage and resentment. And she was coming.

She closed the gap to them in seconds. An offhand gesture sent Anouk sailing across the cabin. A glare kept Alyce seated. Una came upon Ethos and slammed him against the floor. Once. Twice. Three times. The fury in her eyes could have set the sea on fire.

"Fix me," she seethed, flashing putrid, pointed teeth. "You said you'd fix me! Fix me!"

Peter appeared and yanked her off, hooking her arms with his, clearly straining. "Stop," he snarled, in her ear. "You'll kill him."

"Good!" she shouted. "Good!"

"It's not good. You're not thinking straight."

She easily threw him off, putting that inhuman strength to good use, but Anouk reappeared to back him up. She cracked a plank over Una's head, too fast for untrained eyes to follow. 

The strike was a solid one. Una went down, hard. Abrupt.

Alyce could hardly hear over the ringing in her ears. It drowned out the rest of the world, as if she were at the bottom of the dirty Dire itself. But Anouk was looming over the fallen princess, and Alyce could hear her loud and clear. "Where's your honor?" she demanded, voice ringing out over wind and snow. "Where's your pride? Do these people mean nothing to you?"

Una struggled to stand, trembling with fury. "He— "

Anouk brought down another blow, savage enough to stagger herself. She swept back her hair and spat on the ground. "You're no queen," she said. "You're not even a seacalf."

Una clawed at Anouk's boots, and in seconds the princess had climbed her length, serrated nails tearing at clothes. "Look at me," she rumbled, colorless eyes too wide, too frantic. "He said he'd fix me, but look at me. Look at me!"

Anouk was having a tough time defending herself. She looked repulsed, like nothing in life made her more uncomfortable than Una's cloying, disconsolate grasp. And at the sound of Ethos trying to rise, all of that raw disconsolation transformed into hatred. Una spun Anouk around, nails at her throat, teeth bared, eyes like the mindless howlings themselves.

Ethos immediately stopped, deterred by the obvious threat of bloodshed. "I'll stay right here," he promised. "Don't hurt her. Let's talk."

Una sneered. "Peter tried to keep me away."

"That's right," he agreed. "I asked him to. I wasn't ready."

"You're not allowed to do that. Not when I'm stuck like— like this."

"I get it. I do. And I'm working on a cure like I said I would. I have Syan Battlefrost."

She twisted Anouk's hair and said, "Let me see her."

"No," Ethos replied. "Not yet."

"Let me see her!"

Peter was creeping behind the two girls, low and treading lightly. He was watching Ethos, waiting, it seemed, for a signal. Ethos subtly motioned him still without looking away from Una. "Fine," he said to her. "Just hand Anouk over. I'm not taking you anywhere until I know she's safe."

Una laughed at him. "Fuck you, darling. You'll bring Syan here."

"No." Ethos indicated the ravaged window astern, just beyond which his ship was visible. "She's with Sei, on the Echo," he told her. "Just let Anouk go and I'll take you to her. I swear."

Una's peculiar, wretched laughter was offset by the pain in her eyes. "I used to look at you when we needed someone to guide us forward," she said. "Peter was our enforcer, our protector. Alyce was our navigator." Her voice cracked. "What was I?" she asked. "What was my purpose?"

Ethos gave a single shake of his head. "You don't want an answer to that."

"Why bring me back, if not to love me?" she demanded. "Was it punishment for what I did?"

"It was never my intention to trick you, Una. You're willful by nature and I didn't have a say in the way things turned out. I'm trying to improve your situation."

But now it was her turn to shake her head, over and over. "This is what you do," she cried. "You say whatever you think you're supposed to, never meaning a word. And then you cast us aside when we cease to be useful. You treat the ones who love you like an inconvenience."

Ethos answered with a rare air of honesty. "I don't mean a thing to you people," he said. " 'Fix me.' 'Love me.' 'Save me.' 'Kill me.' It's pathetic. All you see when you look at me is an opportunity to get something you want. I might as well be a hammer." He felt around the back of his head, checked his hand for blood. "Kacha had it right all along," he muttered. "Nobody's ever asked me what I want, but you don't see me throwing fits and hurting the people I claim to be friends with."

Una snarled, "You're not the one turning into a monster."

"I'm already a monster."

"But just look at you, Ethos. And look at me!"

Ethos found it in him to smile at her. "Some package deal," he mused, and it sounded like he was teasing her somehow. "Usurp rule. Misbehave. You were so proud of your hair."

Una lunged at him, but Peter had been waiting for it. He brought her down and held her there with all of his might, jaw clenched. Her hatred was as thick as a hot cloud of mist. Serrated nails scraped up oakum and wood. Ethos just watched, hands in his pockets.

Peter guardedly met his eyes. "Just go."

"All for a stupid fallen star."

Anouk salvaged her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She stopped beside him. "Come on," she urged, jerking her chin at the shattered window. "Let's make like mongrels."

Ethos turned with her. "Mongrels?"

"Aye, and get lost."

"Sure. Where's my bag?"

"It's not like there's anything in it, seabird."

Ethos crouched by Alyce. The green of his bloodshot eye was striking. He smoothed back her hair and forced a small smile. "You be good, hero," he said. "Just a few days more."

Alyce only glared. It felt too much like a last goodbye. She'd have no part of it.

Someone was whispering— deckhands, gathered at the blown entrance. Ethos glanced and seemed to take their presence as a good excuse to take off with Anouk. So he did. But Alyce was sure it'd be a time longer before he escaped Una's quiet sobbing.