Briar didn’t know, but she hoped so.

The time they’d bought with the Daisy was all but up; and even if it wasn’t, they were getting so far from the blast site that the rotters wouldn’t have heard it, and it wouldn’t have stopped them.

Two streets more, and another turn.

Zeke stopped, and sought his bearings.

“Please tell me we aren’t lost,” Briar begged. She threw her back against the nearest wall and pulled Zeke back, urging him to do the same.

He said, “Not lost. No. There’s the tower, see? It’s the tallest thing here. And the fort was over this way. We’re right on top of it, just about.”

He was right. They felt their way through the gas-filled, starless dark until they found the front gate, buckled and latched from within. Briar pounded on it, knowing that she might be drawing the wrong kind of attention, but knowing also that it had to be worth the risk. They had to get inside, because the rotters were coming: She could hear them rallying far too close, and there was only so much farther she could run.

The satchel that hung across her chest and beat against her hip was perilously light, and she couldn’t bring herself to see how much ammunition was left. The answer was “not much,” and any more knowledge than that would only make her sick to her stomach.

Zeke joined in beside her, knocking against the fort’s door with his fists and his feet.

Then, from behind the blocked door came the sound of heavy things being set aside and shoved to the ground. The rows of logs that made up the fort’s wall and doors began to move, and the crack between the wood opened enough to let inside one woman and one boy, just before the first huffing rotter scouts turned the corner and charged.

Twenty-eight

Briar recognized the men by their shapes, because she could not see their faces.

Fang, a slight and perfectly motionless man.

Captain Cly, a giant who could be mistaken for no one else.

Light did not flood the walled compound, but it pooled enough to see by. Lanterns were strung the way the Chinese placed them, bound by ropes and lighting the pathways from above. Two men worked with a tool that spit fire and sparks, and a third pumped a steam generator that gasped and huffed hot clouds, sealing up the torn seams on the Naamah Darling.

It surprised Briar, how she almost hadn’t seen it through the pudding-thick air, but there it was: nearly majestic, despite its multitude of patches.

She said to Cly, “I thought you weren’t passing through again for a while?”

He said, “I didn’t intend to.” He cocked a thumb at another man, who had his back turned and was watching the ongoing repairs. “But old Crog got himself in a bind.”

“Got myself in a bind?” The captain spun and glowered so hard that Briar could see it behind his mask’s visor. “I got myself into no bind at all. Some miserable goddamned son of a bitch thief flew off with the Free Crow !”

“Hello, erm… Captain Hainey,” she said. “I’m very sorry to hear about that.”

“You’re sorry; I’m sorry. All God’s children are sorry” he said angrily. “The most powerful ship for miles, in any direction. The only warship ever successfully stolen from either side, and someone had the temerity to steal it from me ! And you’d better count your lucky stars, ma’am,” he said, pointing a finger at Briar.

“Oh, I do. Every day, as of late,” she assured him. “For what?”

“With the Free Crow gone,” Hainey replied, “I’d have no way to lift you out, and heaven knows who else you might’ve met. But this big bastard agreed to help me catch the bird, so here we are.”

Cly added, “As you can see, it didn’t work out for Crog, but I’m glad to see we caught you, at least. We took a little damage,” he said, cocking his head to indicate the workmen, who had turned off their tools and were sliding down ropes that descended from the side of the ship. “You could ask your boy about that. What were you doing on board the Free Crow, anyway? I’ve been trying to figure that out ever since I realized who you were.”

Zeke, who’d been keeping quiet in hopes of being ignored, said sheepishly, “They told me the ship was called the Clementine. And I was only trying to get outside, back to the Outskirts. Miss Angeline set it up for me. She said they’d take me out and set me down. I didn’t know it was a stolen ship, or nothing,” he fibbed.

“Well, it is a stolen ship, or something. I stole it first, fair and square as a stamp on a letter. I changed it up. I made it worth flying. I made her into the Free Crow, and she’s mine as sure as I’m the one who built her from the rudder up!”

“I’m real sorry,” Zeke said weakly.

“So Angeline’s the one who put you up to it, is she? But she knows most of us who fly in and out of here,” Cly said, scratching idly at a spot where his mask wasn’t quite big enough to comfortably fit over his ear. “I don’t think she’d set you up blind, with a captain she don’t know.”

Zeke said, “She said she knew him. But I didn’t think she knew him real well.”

“Where is she, then?” Croggon Hainey all but shouted his demand. “Where is that crazy old Indian?”

“She’s on her way back to the Vaults,” Briar said, trying to inject some finality into the statement. “And we need to see about taking off. Things are bad back there, over at the station, and the badness is going to spread.”

Hainey said, “I ain’t worried. This fort’ll keep out almost anything. I’m gonna go find that woman and—”

And because he was trying to be helpful, Zeke said, “Mister, the captain’s name was Brink. He was a red-haired guy, with a bunch of tattoos on his arms.”

Hainey froze while he absorbed this information, and then his arms flew up again — and he began to punch at the air. “Brink! Brink! I know that old horse’s ass!” He turned around, still kicking and striking at everything and nothing, and wandered back toward the ship, swearing and making threats that Brink couldn’t hear.

Andan Cly watched his fellow captain storm across the fort’s yard until he disappeared behind the Naamah Darling. Then he turned to Briar and started to say something. She beat him to the punch.

She said, “Captain Cly, I know you didn’t plan to be back inside the city walls so soon, but I’m glad to see you all the same. And” — she paused, unsure of how best to phrase her request — “I hope I can impose on you for one more small favor. I can make it a profitable one, and it won’t even take you anywhere out of your way.”

“Profitable, eh?”

“Profitable, absolutely. When we lift up out of here, I want to stop by my old house. I want Zeke to see where I used to live. And as you must remember, my husband was a rich man. I know where some of his money is hidden away, and I don’t think even the most industrious looters could have found it all. There are… hiding places. I’ll be happy to share whatever I can scrape up and carry out.”

As if he hadn’t heard the rest, Zeke said, “Really? You’ll take me there? You’ll show me the old house?”

“Really,” she said, though saying it made her sound tired beyond her years. “I’ll take you there, and I’ll show you around. I’ll show you everything,” she added. “That is, if the good captain would be so kind as to carry us over there.”

Croggon Hainey came out from around the back side of the Naamah Darling, still swearing to turn the air blue. “I hope Brink has the time of his life flying my ship, because when I catch up to him, I’m going to kill him dead!”

Cly watched Hainey with a narrowing of his eyes that was more a grin than suspicion. He said, “For the prospect of profit, I can probably talk him into a little detour. Besides, it’s my ship. We’ll swing by your house if you want. Is there anyplace we can dock, or at least tie down an anchor? ”