The island did not want us to leave.
I knew this because the wind died the moment Xavier ordered the ground crew to release the first tether.
Naturally.
For three weeks, the eastern beach had suffered storms, rain, collapsing frames, exploding regulators, one abomination, two injured manticores, Xavier's experiments with mud, Elisabeth's experiments with poison, and my increasingly unsuccessful attempts to remain alive.
Now, on the one morning when wind would have been useful, the sea went flat.
I stood on the quarterdeck and looked upward.
"Petty."
Xavier glanced over from the helm.
"Are you arguing with the weather?"
"It started."
"That explains nothing."
"It rarely needs to."
Morning had come gray and clear over the island. The Sierra rested in her cradle beneath us, loaded almost exactly as she had been during the final test.
Ironwood.
Medicinal roots.
Preserved monster parts.
Alchemical tools.
Food.
Water.
Spare copper.
Marduk's surviving instruments.
The sealed letter to Abraham Dubois sat inside a waterproof case beneath my coat.
The broken map was beside it.
So was the black card.
I have debts. Others owe me as well.
White Sage will tell you the truth.
An impressively irritating inheritance.
Below the deck, part of Veys's broken spear had been fitted into the inspection rail beside the lift-core. His mother's cloth binding had been tied around the wood.
Not a shrine.
Something you touched whenever you checked whether the machine keeping you alive was about to fail.
Useful.
I approved.
Rex stood beside me.
The great manticore's injured wing had improved, though he still held it a fraction lower than the other. He watched the beach rather than the sky.
Mira sat beside Xavier.
She had decided the helm belonged to her.
Xavier disagreed.
The argument remained unresolved.
"Elisabeth?" I called.
Her voice came through the copper speaking tube.
"Manifold ready."
"You sound thrilled."
"I'm sitting in front of seventeen gauges, six of which you built while feverish."
"Only four."
"Comforting."
Xavier placed both hands on the helm.
Unlike the first tests, he was dressed for travel rather than training. Sword at his hip. Hair tied back. Boots cleaned badly enough that dried mud still marked the heel.
He looked older.
Not much.
Enough.
The soft prince who had washed onto this island was gone.
Good.
The replacement was more troublesome.
Better.
"Raymond."
"What?"
"You're staring."
"I'm evaluating."
"You do that thing where evaluation looks like you're planning a murder."
"Some murders require evaluation."
"Are we ready?"
That was the question.
I looked across the deck.
Rigging secure.
Cargo tied.
Forward sail furled for vertical ascent.
Lift pressure cold and stable.
Emergency purge repaired.
Starboard secondary regulator replaced.
Four days ago, I would have checked every one of those myself.
Now Xavier held the helm.
Elisabeth controlled the internal safety systems.
And I was standing here pretending that allowing other people to be responsible for my survival was not profoundly offensive.
Chessmaster stirred.
I ignored it.
"No," I said.
Xavier frowned.
"Then what are we waiting for?"
"We're not ready."
He stared.
I smiled.
"We're leaving anyway."
Elisabeth's voice came through the tube.
"I hate when you say things like that."
"It creates character."
"It creates medical work."
On the beach, Djerma raised one arm.
The villagers had gathered farther from the cradle than during the tests.
Most of them.
La Vieille stood much closer because nobody had successfully ordered her anywhere in decades.
Delo was beside her.
Saraounia stood between them with one hand around a walking staff.
She should have been sitting.
La Vieille had apparently decided this was an argument for later.
The repaired village stretched beyond them.
New roof beams.
Fresh rope bridges.
The water pump turning beside the falls.
Nine lamps from the farewell ceremony had been removed, but the little stone platform remained.
Boyka was not there.
Of course.
No corpse.
No farewell.
No explanation.
The first unanswered problem we were leaving behind.
I had written his name elsewhere already.
Not in the new register.
Not yet.
Some people needed evidence before ink.
Djerma shouted.
"Last line!"
Delo moved to the port tether.
Three other workers took the starboard rope.
Xavier looked toward me.
"Captain?"
I disliked the title.
Mostly because he enjoyed using it when something went wrong.
"Pilot."
He rolled his eyes.
"Request two percent lift."
His hand moved.
Below us, the Sierra woke.
The sound entered through my boots first.
A low vibration.
Then the copper plates began humming.
The rootwood ribs answered with a deeper resonance, as if some portion of the trees they had once belonged to objected to being asked to fly.
Elisabeth's voice came through the tube.
"Port ten. Starboard ten. Forward nine. Rear ten."
"Reserve?"
"Seven."
"Any oscillation?"
"None."
I looked toward Xavier.
"Three percent."
The ship grew lighter.
The cradle groaned.
Rex's claws flexed against the deck.
Mira stood.
Outside, Djerma shouted.
"Release port!"
Delo pulled the locking bar.
The first tether dropped.
The Sierra shifted half an inch.
Xavier corrected the helm instinctively.
I noticed.
Said nothing.
"Starboard release!"
The second rope fell.
Only the forward and rear safety tethers remained.
Elisabeth called out.
"Pressure holding."
"Four percent," Xavier said.
I looked at him.
He had stopped waiting for permission.
Interesting.
"Elisabeth?"
"Safe."
I smiled.
"There's your answer."
Xavier advanced the lever.
The keel lifted from the cradle.
Slowly.
No explosion.
No screaming copper.
No regulator throwing me unconscious against a wall.
Almost disappointing.
The Sierra rose one foot.
Two.
Three.
The remaining ropes stretched beneath us.
People on the beach grew quiet.
During the earlier test, they had cheered.
Today nobody did.
This was different.
A test expected a return.
Departure did not.
Djerma looked toward the deck.
I gave him one nod.
He cut the forward tether.
Delo cut the rear.
The Sierra became free.
For the first time since its construction began, nothing connected the ship to the island.
No cradle.
No anchor.
No rope.
Nothing.
The hull drifted sideways.
Xavier cursed.
"What?"
"Crosswind."
"There is no wind."
"Tell the ship."
The stern swung toward the cliff.
Mira's claws scraped over the deck.
"Elisabeth!"
"I see it. Rear channel is two points high."
"Reduce it."
"No."
Xavier turned toward the tube.
"No?"
"If I reduce it now, the stern drops."
"It's already moving."
"I can equalize forward pressure."
"Do it."
She adjusted.
The ship stopped rotating.
Not smoothly.
The entire deck shuddered as the forward channels took load.
One crate below us shifted against its restraints.
But the stern steadied.
Xavier corrected heading.
I remained where I was.
He glanced at me.
"You're unusually quiet."
"You seem disappointed."
"You usually criticize something."
"Your left hand is too high."
"There."
"Better."
He smiled.
I regretted speaking.
"Six percent," Elisabeth said.
Xavier frowned.
"We're at five."
"I know. We need altitude before the sea cliff."
He looked at me.
I looked at the coastline ahead.
The eastern bluff fell almost vertically into the water. Once the Sierra crossed it, there would be no beach beneath us.
No convenient cradle.
If something failed, we would discover whether an ironwood hull could float after falling out of the sky.
Educational.
"Her call," I said.
Xavier stared at me.
"You're serious?"
"She controls structural safety."
"I know."
"Then why ask me?"
Habit.
His, not mine.
Perhaps both.
Xavier looked toward the speaking tube.
"Six."
Elisabeth pushed pressure into the lift channels.
The ship climbed.
Five feet.
Ten.
Twenty.
The beach dropped away.
People became smaller.
La Vieille remained recognizable because she was waving her stick at us like a threat.
Delo lifted one arm.
Saraounia stood beside him.
Xavier saw them.
His hand tightened around the helm.
"Don't wave," I said.
He looked at me.
"Why?"
"It encourages people."
He raised his arm anyway.
Delo answered.
Elisabeth's voice came through the tube.
"I can see them through the port."
"Eyes on the gauges," I said.
"I have two."
"A reckless design."
The Sierra cleared the eastern bluff.
Nothing remained under the keel except open air.
Then ocean.
Xavier stopped smiling.
His face changed when he saw the drop.
The cliff fell hundreds of feet beneath us, waves breaking against black rock far below.
The ship was no longer hovering over a test field.
We were flying.
Actually flying.
The realization hit my body before my mind.
My stomach shifted.
Rex crouched.
Mira made a sound somewhere between excitement and terror.
Xavier gripped the helm.
"Forward thrust."
"Not yet," I said.
"We cleared the cliff."
"Establish stable lift first."
"You told me not to depend on you for every decision."
"And you told me I was captain."
"That was sarcasm."
"Poorly deployed."
Elisabeth interrupted.
"Pressure stable."
Xavier smiled.
"Forward thrust."
"Three percent," I said.
He laughed.
"I thought I was deciding."
"You are. I am criticizing."
"Fine. Four."
"Three."
"Four."
Elisabeth sighed through the tube.
"Three and a half before the two of you kill us through negotiation."
Xavier considered.
"Three and a half."
I said nothing.
He moved the second lever.
The rear propulsion conduits engaged.
The Sierra moved forward.
Not quickly.
Not gracefully.
The first push felt like someone had placed an enormous hand against the stern and decided to shove.
Rigging snapped tight.
The mast groaned.
Wind arrived.
Real wind.
It struck my coat and pulled at my hair.
The village began shrinking behind us.
The waterfall became a white line.
The houses became dark marks.
The pathways vanished first.
Then the people.
I knew exactly where the graves were.
Still, within minutes, I could no longer distinguish the cedar from the surrounding forest.
The island changed when viewed from above.
For most of my second life, it had been a world.
Now it was geography.
A black-green mass surrounded by impossible blue.
I disliked that.
It felt like learning a trick after believing in magic.
Xavier looked back.
"So small."
"Things usually are from far enough away."
"You know what I mean."
"Yes."
Elisabeth emerged from below twenty minutes later.
That was against medical advice.
Naturally.
She climbed the final ladder slowly, using her left hand and one leg at a time. Rex moved toward the hatch before I did and positioned himself beside her.
She accepted his support.
Mine would probably have been considered insulting.
When she reached the deck, she leaned against the rail.
Her face went white when she saw the ocean below.
Xavier noticed.
"First time flying?"
She looked at him.
"Have you secretly done this before?"
"Technically, no."
"Then shut up."
Mira approached her.
Elisabeth scratched behind one blue ear with her left hand.
The poisoned right remained gloved and pressed against her body.
"How are the gauges?" I asked.
"Stable."
"You left them."
"I locked the controls."
"Machines are famously respectful of locks."
"Five minutes."
"Three."
"Four."
"Done."
She looked back toward the island.
For a long time, none of us spoke.
Then she said, "I can't see the graves."
Xavier lowered his eyes.
I did not answer.
Rex rested his head against my good arm.
Traitor.
The island continued shrinking.
Soon it would be a line.
Then nothing.
I went below.
Not because of the graves.
Obviously.
I had work.
The captain's cabin occupied the narrow space behind the navigation room. "Cabin" was generous. It contained one desk, one bunk, two shelves, a locked cabinet, and enough room to turn around if one was emotionally prepared to apologize to the furniture.
I sat.
My ribs appreciated the decision.
From inside the desk, I took out a book.
Blank.
Black leather.
No title.
I had made it the previous night.
Simple binding.
Thick pages.
No runes.
No magic.
No Gaia.
No Chessmaster interface.
Just paper.
For several seconds, I looked at it.
In my first life, lists had kept me alive.
Names.
Accounts.
Favors.
Criminals.
Politicians.
People who owed me something.
People I owed.
People too dangerous to forget.
Knowledge became useful when organized.
Useful became powerful when nobody else knew you possessed it.
Chessmaster had begun doing something similar inside my head.
Pieces.
Relationships.
Conditions.
Threats.
But it classified too quickly.
Delo had proven that.
Elisabeth had proven it.
Xavier, irritatingly, had made an entire lesson out of proving it.
A human being could not be reduced to one piece.
A name needed room for contradictions.
So I opened the book.
First page.
Nothing.
The emptiness was pleasant.
No inherited rules.
No instructions from Marduk.
Mine.
I dipped the pen.
At the top, I wrote:
THE BLACKLIST
I paused.
Too dramatic.
I liked it.
Underneath:
CATINGTON
Then:
— Founder of the Academy
— Marduk's Journal
I looked at the three lines.
The storyboard began there without anyone telling us it did.
Catington.
Abraham Dubois.
Nexus Academy.
Les Manigances du Diable.
The sealed letter.
The impossible formula.
White Sage.
The broken coordinates.
And whatever had marked that symbol into Marduk's notes.
One city.
Far too many questions.
I added another heading beneath the first entry.
Conditions before contact:
1. Do not reveal Xavier's royal identity unless profitable or unavoidable.
2. Do not expose Elisabeth's altered hand before understanding Catington law regarding mutations, alchemy, and familiars.
3. Determine whether Marduk's name opens doors or places knives behind them.
4. Sell nothing rare until market prices are known.
5. Trust Abraham Dubois only after discovering what he regrets.
I stopped.
Then added:
6. Find White Sage.
The ship rolled gently.
My pen slid across the paper.
I caught it.
From above came Xavier's voice.
"Raymond!"
I sighed.
Naturally.
I closed the register and went upstairs.
"What?"
Xavier pointed forward.
Clouds had opened across the horizon.
Beyond them, far beyond the empty sea, a faint dark line cut against the sky.
Land.
Not Catington's capital.
Not yet.
The continent.
Elisabeth stood beside the rail again despite our agreement concerning four minutes.
Mira had climbed onto a cargo chest to see better.
Rex came up behind me.
Xavier looked at the distant line.
"Think they'll let us into port?"
"No."
He turned.
"No?"
"Of course not."
"We have a ship."
"Exactly."
Elisabeth frowned.
"What's wrong with the ship?"
"Nothing."
"That isn't reassuring."
I looked at the Sierra.
Copper hull.
Experimental lift channels.
Monster materials in the hold.
Two manticores.
A prince traveling under a false identity.
His poisoned sister.
A sealed letter from a dead alchemist to the founder of an academy.
And me.
Catington's port authorities were going to adore us.
Xavier groaned.
"Taxes?"
"Certainly."
"Inspections?"
"Without question."
"Registration?"
"Probably."
"Bribes?"
I smiled.
"Now you're thinking."
He shook his head.
"We just escaped an island full of monsters."
"No."
The wind filled the sails.
The Sierra leaned into it.
Behind us, the island vanished beneath the horizon.
Ahead, civilization waited.
I had known monsters.
They were straightforward creatures.
Hungry things generally wanted to eat you.
Poisonous things wanted distance.
Territorial things wanted you gone.
Civilized men were much harder.
They smiled before deciding what part of you they intended to own.
I placed one hand on the rail.
The Sierra pushed farther into the open sky.
Xavier looked toward the continent.
"Ray?"
"What?"
"You said something once."
A terrible opening.
"I've said many regrettable things."
"When we first started building her."
I knew which one.
Of course I did.
He smiled.
"You said we weren't going to fly."
Elisabeth looked between us.
"What?"
Xavier's grin widened.
"He told me we were going to hunt the sky."
I considered denying it.
Then the wind struck harder, filling the sails until the whole ship surged forward.
Rex spread his wings into it.
Mira barked at the clouds.
Elisabeth caught the rail and laughed despite herself.
And Xavier held the helm.
Not behind me.
Not waiting for instructions.
Beside me.
I looked toward the continent.
Catington.
The Academy founder.
Marduk's journal.
Three lines in an empty black book.
The beginning of a very long list.
I smiled.
"Then stop talking, Xavier."
The Sierra climbed.
"We have prey to find."