‘Whoa! Whoa! Don’t shoot!’ came a voice from inside. And out came Crake, hands held to the sky, a wide grin on his face.
The tension broke. The crew laughed and cried out in relief. They broke cover and went running over to him.
‘Wait!’ Frey called, but nobody was listening. ‘There’s still. . I mean, Coalition craft. . Guns. . Oh, never mind.’ And he went running over himself.
Bess led the charge, pounding across the turf. Crake had to prevent her from hugging him for fear of snapping his bones. But he hugged her first of everyone, and pressed his face against her faceplate, and whispered something that could only be an apology.
When he was done with Bess, he greeted the rest. Ashua lit up at the sight of him. Malvery roared with laughter and pummelled him on the shoulder. The others were grinning, except Pelaru, who stood apart. Even Jez got in on the joy, and Crake, to his credit, didn’t flinch when he touched her. Silo clasped his arm hard. Finally Frey made his way through the press, and Crake’s eyes met his.
Frey felt the warmth of new hope at the sight of his friend. Even though bleak despair lay on his shoulders, Crake lifted him. He’d come back. Frey’s crew was one of the few good things he’d found in this world, and Crake was a big part of that. In the back of his mind, he’d feared the worst when he lost Crake in Korrene, and he blamed himself for it. But that, at least, wouldn’t weigh on his conscience any more.
They looked at each other, both trying to find the words. In the end, none were needed. They embraced, and that was enough.
‘Damned good to have you back, mate,’ Frey said, with feeling.
‘Seems you misplaced your daemonist, Captain Frey,’ said a voice. Samandra Bree was standing on the ramp, one hand on a cocked hip, gazing at them from beneath her tricorn hat with an amused look on her face.
‘Ah, he’s never gone for long,’ Malvery boomed.
‘Not while I’ve got this,’ said Crake, holding up his compass. As ever, it was pointing towards the silver ring on Frey’s little finger.
‘So you made it to the forward base after we lost you, then?’ Frey asked Crake.
‘Not exactly,’ he said. ‘Long story. But what about you? What did I miss? Did you find Trinica?’
Her name killed the mood like a curse. The happiness slid off Frey’s face and he went ashen.
‘Oh,’ said Crake.
Samandra came down the ramp. She laid a supportive hand on Crake’s back, sensing the tragedy in the air. Nobody spoke for a few moments. The wind blew between them, smelling of rain.
‘Miss Bree,’ said Malvery gravely. ‘We gotta talk. There’s some things the Coalition need to know.’
She looked him up and down. ‘Well, alright,’ she said. ‘Can they wait until you’ve all changed out of your pyjamas, though?’
They gathered in the Ketty Jay’s mess over several pots of strong coffee. By the time they’d all squeezed in, there wasn’t much room left. Colden Grudge stood against the wall near the ladder, hulking, bearded and crag-faced. Leaning in the corner was Morben Kyne, arms crossed and head lowered, his cowl hanging over his mask. Silo watched the two Century Knights carefully from where he stood on the other side of the room. He knew Grudge and trusted him well enough, but Kyne was an unknown.
The rest were jammed round the table that was fixed in the centre of the room. Even Slag had attended, sensing an occasion. The oven had been left open and he was sitting inside. He groomed his paw and watched proceedings with half an eye.
They told their stories, and Silo listened. Frey’s he knew. Crake’s he didn’t. The news that the Awakeners were trying to take the countryside by pushing out or converting the aristocracy was troubling, but hardly unexpected. The fact that they were using Imperators to do it made things a sight more serious.
There were things that didn’t add up about the daemonist’s tale, however. He told them his father employed the Shacklemores to find him and bring him back to help Condred, but it sounded more like a kidnapping. The others believed him, but Murthians were adept at reading faces, and he saw a pain much deeper than the loss of his father and family home. Crake’s story was an edited version: there were things he wasn’t telling them.
Samandra’s account was truthful, at least. When Crake hadn’t returned, she’d asked about. It seemed she had a hard time believing Crake would skip out on her when they’d made plans. Well, that woman might be a little full of herself, but she was right. She remembered Crake’s reaction when he saw the Shacklemores in the camp, so she went and asked them, and they told her where he’d been taken. They couldn’t turn down a Century Knight.
‘I’d heard my father had sent bounty hunters looking for me,’ said Crake. ‘I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to go back. That’s why I reacted that way. You’d know why if you met him.’
That was a lie. Silo knew it. And he saw in Jez’s face that she knew it too. Whatever Crake thought the Shacklemores wanted him for, it wasn’t for any family reunion. But the Ketty Jay was a place where a man might keep his secrets, and Silo wasn’t about to pry.
When all the stories were done, they sat in the silence that followed new revelations.
‘So what do we do now?’ Malvery asked eventually. ‘We tell the Archduke, right?’ He was looking at Bree. Authority had shifted to her, as far as he was concerned. Divided loyalties in that man, that was certain. Silo would have to keep an eye on him, like he did with Ashua and Pelaru.
Bree sat back and spread her fingers out on the table. ‘I gotta be honest, fellers. Me, I believe you. You might be a bunch of selfish bastards without the least regard for anything but the safety of your own precious arses, but even you lot aren’t stupid enough to be on the Awakeners’ side for real.’
‘Er. .’ said Ashua. ‘Thanks?’
‘Problem is, you gotta convince the Archduke and his generals,’ she continued. ‘And you wouldn’t believe how stubborn a bunch of dumb old men with medals can be. When we told ’em about what went down in Samarla, I swear they’d’ve called it desert fever or some such bullshit if we hadn’t been Century Knights. Even then, they couldn’t see why they needed to concern ’emselves, since we blew the place up. That little box of delivery orders you gave us, Doc, that was the only thing that convinced ’em. Men like that, they need proof before they’ll do a damn thing.’
‘Told you,’ Ashua said to Malvery, and took a mouthful of coffee.
Malvery ignored her. ‘But you can tell them, can’t you? They’ll believe you.’
‘I ain’t seen what you seen,’ she said. ‘I can vouch for you, but I can’t lie to ’em. And, no offence, but you lot ain’t much in the Archduke’s good graces since you killed his son.’
Ashua choked and blasted a mouthful of coffee across the table into Crake’s face. Crake took out a handkerchief and dabbed at his cheeks.
‘That happens a lot,’ he told Samandra by way of explanation.
‘You killed his bloody son?’ Ashua cried. ‘Earl Hengar? Why didn’t anyone tell me that before I joined this ham-arsed outfit?’
‘Slipped my mind,’ Frey said. He was looking steadily at Pelaru. ‘Besides, it was an accident. You know we were set up.’
Silo was watching Pelaru as well. That may have been new information to him, or it might not. Either way, the whispermonger knew too much. It might become necessary to ensure he didn’t leave the Ketty Jay. Ever.
‘Look, whatever excuses you got don’t improve the Archduke’s disposition any,’ said Samandra. ‘You got off the death warrant ’cause you led us to Retribution Falls, but there’s a long way from that to forgivin’ you, and even longer to believin’ you. Not when Kedmund Drave himself says he saw you fightin’ on the Awakeners’ side with his own eyes.’
‘Oh, Cap’n,’ said Crake, in the tone of a disappointed parent. ‘You didn’t.’