“It’s good.” I look down at my hands, which are wrapped in leather cords. “Very good. Definitely more … me.”
“I don’t know what Zarun and the others will think,” Meroe says, setting the mirror aside. “But I think it makes you look beautiful and dangerous.” She puts a hand on her stomach, where the marks are on mine. “You’re the Deepwalker. You should look the part.”
Beautiful and dangerous. Not a description I’ve heard very often. I clear my throat to cover a moment’s hesitation. “It’s unfair, isn’t it? You came back from the Deeps as much as I did.”
“Technically, I didn’t do much walking,” Meroe says. She leans on her cane to add the last part of her own costume, a thin silk shawl around her neck. Then she spreads her arms. “What do you think?”
I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my own problems that I’d neglected to watch Meroe changing. Her dress was modest, with a high neckline and long sleeves, but it clung to her figure in appetizing folds. It was cream and light blue, contrasting with her skin, and blue gemstones sparkled at her ears and in her hair.
“Beautiful,” I say. “And dangerous.”
Meroe smirks. “Good.”
* * *
Berun gapes visibly as we leave, and even Aifin sits up to watch. Jack is waiting, her hair slicked back, crisp in a white shirt and black tailcoat. She gives Meroe a smile, then raises an eyebrow at me.
“Thora is with Zarun,” she says. “Shall we proceed, brave companions?”
“Lead the way,” I tell her, looking back at Meroe. “Slowly, if you please.”
Jack is surprisingly solicitous of Meroe’s limited pace, given the way she usually skips across the deck. We leave the tower and wend our way through the Upper Stations. It’s well after dark, which only means the markets are a little more subdued. By the light of torches and mushroom-fed braziers, we make our way to a corner of the deck I haven’t visited before, up where the rear wall rises like a mammoth curtain of darkness.
Up against that wall is a steel cage, unpleasantly similar to the one that brought me aboard ship. For all I know, it might be the same one. Two armed crew stand in front of it, and they nod to Jack as we approach.
“There’s a stairway,” Jack says, “but for our princess I thought this might be more comfortable. It’s a long way up.”
“Thank you,” Meroe says, though I can tell the cage brings up the same associations for her. She steps into it unhesitatingly nevertheless, sitting down near the center. I follow, sitting opposite for balance’s sake.
“More than two would be a strain,” Jack says, “so your valiant hero will take the stairs, for the good of all. See you at the top, pretties.”
She bounds off, and the crew close the door. A few moments later, at an unseen signal, the cage starts to rise. Points of light from torches and lanterns outline the Upper Stations as clearly as a map, a two-by-two square defined by the nine towers that stretch up to meet the distant ceiling. Behind me is the rear wall of the ship, and to the right another slab-like section of hull rises up. To the left and in front of me, only the man-height wall of scrap metal separates the civilized part of Soliton from the crab-infested wilds.
It brings home how small it is, everything the officers and crew have built, compared to the vastness of the great ship. The darkness of Soliton swallows them like the ocean swallows a flung stone, stretching out into the unknowable distance.…
Not my concern, I admonish myself, and lift my head to look up. That’s what I need to worry about. I can see starlight through a square hole in the deck, with the chain a black slash through the center.
“Are you nervous?” Meroe says.
“A bit.” I look across at her. “I have to keep reminding myself nobody’s going to be trying to kill me.”
“Hopefully.”
I smile. “Hopefully.” Then my expression turns sour. “I wish we had a better idea what we were looking for.”
“Play it by ear. Ask about the Captain, but don’t push too hard.” She takes my hand in hers. “If all else fails, try to have a good time. It can’t hurt.”
“Stick close, would you?” I give her hand a squeeze. “This sort of event … isn’t my strong suit.”
The cage rises through the hole in the deck, and suddenly the sky is alive with stars. It takes my breath away for a moment, a river of light stretching from horizon to horizon, diamond dust gleaming on the deepest black velvet. In Kahnzoka, the stars are a few flickering points, visible on a clear night through the haze and the ever-present lights of the city. Here, though, there’s no urban glow to drown them out, and they shine down in their uncounted millions.
It’s only been a few weeks, but I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to see the sky. I take a deep breath, my chest expanding like a weight has come off. I’m so busy staring upward that I barely notice as more crew grab the cage and bring it to a halt over the deck. Meroe touches my hand again, gently, and I look down to see that the door is open.
We step out, carefully. A few lanterns provide enough light to see the deck, but no more than that. Beyond them, there’s nothing but darkness. Soliton is visible only in silhouette, its shape outlined against the spectacular starscape. I can see the vast bulk of it, stretching off into forever. Distance is impossible to judge.
Behind me, a single spear of darkness rises far overhead. It’s a spire, tall and slender. From the descriptions I’ve heard, this can only be the Captain’s tower, set on the very stern of the ship. At the top, a pale light glows, hard to distinguish from the stars around it. I wonder if the Captain is looking down at us.
Beyond the sides of the ship, there’s only darkness. The ocean must be out there, but I can’t see it, only the curtain of stars descending to the horizon on all sides. There’s no sense of motion, though I know the ship is under way. It’s much too big to sway with the waves, so the only hint that we’re moving is a steady breeze.
“Deepwalker,” says one of the crew, a tall, dark-skinned young man with a grave manner. “This way, please.”
We follow him, toward the ring of lanterns. They’re set in a rough circle on the deck, revealing the rusted metal underfoot. And more that that; at the far side, two huge figures stand, barely outlined in the light. They’re twisted amalgamations of human and animal forms, one a coiled serpent with a woman’s multi-armed torso and the head of an ant, the other a bull with a bird’s beak, a human face screaming from inside its open mouth. Angels. I remember the one I saw in the Deeps, its smooth, uncanny motion, and I’m very grateful these two are inanimate.
“Isoka Deepwalker,” a woman says. There’s a small crowd of people inside the ring of lanterns, and while I was staring they noticed our arrival. The woman facing me is an Imperial in a kind of kizen, except it’s been slashed indecently short, well above her knees. A pair of gold snakes twine through her hair. I blink at her, trying to get my bearings, and send up a silent thanks when Meroe steps between us.
“This is Gaetica,” she says. “The head of Pack Two, in Karakoa’s clade.”
I bow slightly. “An honor to meet you.”
“And you.” She’s staring at the blue marks on my face. “I’ve been hearing nothing but stories of your exploits of late.”
I give an uncertain shrug. “I’m just trying to stay alive.”
Gaetica watches me with an unreadable expression, leaving me feeling like I’ve failed some sort of test. By this time, though, more of the crowd has gathered, eager to make my acquaintance. I feel like I’m back at Breda’s in Kahnzoka, except none of the gathered pack leaders have petitions for me. Mostly, it seems, they just want to gawk at the Deepwalker.
Meroe squires me from one to the next, her memory for names and positions apparently infallible. Few of the guests pay her much attention, which makes me feel obscurely offended on her behalf. Instead, they bow to me, or shake hands, or salute. I get more invitations to drinks or dinner than I can count, a half-dozen proposals for friendly sparring matches, and three explicit offers to rut. The last of these comes from a young woman, who looks between me and Meroe with a knowing smile. I’m glad it’s shadowy enough that Meroe can’t see me flush.
“Do you really know everyone here?” I ask her, when we finally find ourselves in a quiet corner for a moment.
“Most of the important ones,” she says.
“How in the Rot can you keep them all straight? And don’t tell me any princess ought to be able to do it.”
She giggles. “My sister Vera used to forget the names of the High Council. It made Father so mad I think she was doing it on purpose.” She shakes her head. “I suppose I’ve always had a knack for it.”
“I feel like a monster in a menagerie,” I say. “They all just want to stare at me.”
“Let them.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “You’re doing fine, Isoka.”
“I’m not getting us any closer to what we need.”
“This is just the beginning. The officers will be here soon, I think.”