The air plumes with smoke. It's a farce of contained chaos, of soldiers running to and fro, of boxes being Skilled together and carted up on clanging ramps, of officers shouting and directing amongst all the rush.
They're boarding, they're packing up and Ruben is nowhere in sight. Neither is Hiran, Tara informs her in a breathless rush, but this concerns Allayria less. There is plenty of nonsense for the charming, golden-haired man to get up to, even amidst the formation of a marching force.
They're boarding the soldiers, boarding everyone when Ruben finally turns up. Hiran surprisingly trails behind, and he flashes her a brief, white-toothed smile, his feet already leading him to Tara... but he is not the most surprising follower Ruben has.
The other, old and withered, moves remarkably quick, a shadow in Ruben's wake, but Allayria knows this man. Knows him, because he was here the last time she set foot in this city, because—
"I miss Magda," Iaves had spluttered, a hand clutched at his side, after the old innkeep jabbed him with the sharp end of his cane.
When the man's gaze flits over toward her she sees the sly flicker of recognition in his eyes too, and she turns to demand—
Ruben looks at her, eyes a bright blue in the scattered light.
"Don't ask me about it," he tells her quietly. "Don't ask anything about it."
It catches her, snatching the words in her mouth, leaving her staring, hard and lost, as the two old men disappear into the crowd. Lei is at her side now, leaning in, murmuring:
"Who was that?"
A ghost.
At least she knows one thing for certain now: Ruben is keeping secrets.
She turns, ignoring the question she has no answer to, making to follow Hiran, who had been following Ruben—when the Marshall Marron catches her arm.
"You're not on Ship 1," she says, glancing down at the roster. "You're Ship 5."
"Ship 5?" Allayria repeats. "What for? I'd prefer to go to Ship 1."
"No, the General and Lord Baulieu are Ship 1," Marron says doggedly, gesturing to the ship Hiran had climbed on. "Chieftainess Dost and Miss Leaft are Ship 3," —another vague gesture to an identically-looking ship— "and you and Lieutenant Lei are with Master Ruben and the feral child on Ship 5." She points to a cluster of ships at the end of the line.
"I think they could fit—"
"There aren't enough quarters—"
"Thank you, Marshall," Lei cuts in and Allayria's muscles lock as he sets a hand on her shoulder, as if to pull her back. "We'll go to our ship."
He pauses.
"Ah... which..?"
Marron looks down at the cluster too, and then points to one near the end.
Lei takes off and, after a beat, Allayria follows.
He knows a storm brews behind him; she can see it in the rigid set of his shoulders.
Not that they are ever set any other way, she thinks sourly.
"It is not your decision—" she starts, but his sigh cuts her off.
"Can we just get to Vatra?" he asks, voice quiet amidst the bustle. "Can we just get there, and then you can badger whoever you like?"
"Badger," Allayria repeats, "Do you not understand, he's—"
"He's our ally," Lei cuts in, turning around to glare at her. "You have to trust somebody, Allayria."
You, she thinks unbidden, staring into his face. Everyone else is suspect.
He moves to turn away but she grabs ahold of his arm.
"Ruben is doing what he thinks is best for everyone, not me," she says because some part of her needs him to know, needs him to understand, and his dark brown eyes fix on her curiously. "I've been sacrificed at the altar of the greater good before; I'm not doing that again."
Something clicks in his expression, a subtle shift flickers in his eyes, and, between motionless lips, in a low murmur held between the two of them, he says:
"No one's going to sacrifice you."
You are alive as much as I am alive, and as long as I am alive, you'll stay alive.
But I don't want to just be alive, she thinks. I want to be free.
She lets him lead her onto the ship, and they squeeze past the throng of shuffling soldiers, lifting and shoving crates, balancing palettes, cursing in loud voices. The halls of this ship are narrow, the rooms, slim and cramped, and the more Allayria peeks through them the more confused she becomes.
"This is all storage and barracks," she says to Lei. "Where are Ruben and Finn?"
The Nature-caller frowns, turning this way and that, and then stumbling as she stumbles too, the floor beneath them suddenly shifting amongst the loud bray of horns.
They brace themselves against the walls, knees bent, and Allayria's stomach lurches with the strange sensation of being lifted, swooped up, and she knows if there was a window in here, if she could look outside, she would see the ground swiftly dropping beneath them.
Hiran must be flat on the floor right now, she thinks with no small amount of satisfaction.
When the ascent stabilizes Lei finds the way to the bridge, wedging past a stream of sweaty-faced soldiers, striding forward toward the singular man decked in captain regalia at the helm of the ship.
When the captain looks up his brow remains furrowed, mouth pulled into a concentrated frown all the way until his gaze lands on her, and then the thin crease between his brows crumples.
"What are you doing here?"
"I—" she turns to Lei who turns around as if the answer will be written on the wall. "We were told to go—"
She halts.
"What ship is this?"
"This is Ship Four."
"Four?" Allayria repeats. "We're supposed to be on Ship Five."
"I—" the man is flustered. "This is a cargo ship, there's not enough space, you can't be on here—"
"We're on a ship floating in the air, what do you suggest the two of us do? Fly?" she barks.
They lurch again, and she actually teeters into Lei, who grabs at a nearby console. Beneath them, the ship shudders strangely, and somewhere around them someone is yelling about wind gusts.
"Your Excellence," the captain tries again as he too clutches at a table's edge. "I extend my greatest apologies and sympathies; I will do everything in my power—"
The ship lurches once more, and Allayria feels Lei seize her around the waist, bracing the both of them with the uncomfortable swing. Her stomach wobbles with the ship and Allayria bends her knees, trying to stabilize herself before she casts up breakfast.
"Captain," she tries again, a touch more desperately now, "When is the soonest time we can transfer—"
It's then that they hear the first scream.
A/N: Why can't anything ever go according to plan?
(Also, can you see why I saved the owed early chapter for this next one? 😆)