Mercy frowned, troubled, as she considered Leslie's glib remark. There was the possibility, as remote as it might seem, that Nottle knew what he was sending them into. Which would mean that both she and the captain had been played.

"Newly minted ship with a crew desperate for work, and Nottle goes eight days out of his way just to hire us. There's a lot of coincidence and good fortune to believe in, Captain," Mercy mused aloud. "Perhaps there's an ulterior motive to hiring an outsider for the job."

Vincent pursed his lips and looked out at the skies towards Olencia. "The trouble with that suspicion, is the motive Nottle gave us is extremely convincing. We both know having his ship in these skies would have half of Olenica mobilized. And if the Matilda had been found by Olenica, it wouldn't take them long to deduce the island's existence."

"So whatever their motives, it isn't cut far from what we know?" Mercy asked.

"I think so. But we can always interrogate Nottle when we get back," Vincent said. "Anita, could we tow the Matilda? I imagine Captain Preston might be grateful enough to open her purse. Failing that, the Wayfarers would pay well for the prize."

"A prize?" Mercy asked. Captured enemy ships were called prizes, but only by navy sailors. "We aren't privateers, captain. Selling this boat without giving her captain first bid would make us pirates."

The captain mouth wrinkled and his brow furrowed, as if he had just tasted something distinctly unpleasant. Anita, meanwhile, was looking up and down the length of the Matilda, and shaking her head. "Afraid we ain't likely to tow this thing all the way back to the Roost. Drummond's Spite is definitely in our reach, but I ain't thinking our return there would be well-received, captain."

"That's a very polite way of saying we'd be shot on sight," Mercy remarked.

"We could also make it to Ysevar. Reckon it's the closest reputable port to us," Anita added.

"Ysevar's a nice city, but it's on Olenica. One misstep at the port authority and we spend the next few decades forgotten in a dank dungeon. And some Olencian Czarina turns my ship into a yacht."

"Then we don't have enough fuel to tow the Matilda to anyplace that won't shoot us or lock us in prison," Anita concluded. Mercy laughed, finding something unusually appropriate about their circumstances.

"I'm beginning to worry I'm bad at making friends," Vincent mused.

"I reckon it's worse than you suspect, captain," Mercy said. "You're also very good at making enemies."

"Har har. Well, if we can't take the Matilda with us, we'll have to transfer the lenses to the Child," Vincent said, with that slight change in the tenor in his voice that came when he shifted from making conversation to giving orders. "Anita, go open the Child's cargo bay doors, I don't think we'll fit that largest lens in anywhere else. Mercy, Leslie, the Matilda's cargo doors are probably the best way out. You may need extra cabling. This isn't a Wayfarer vessel, so I doubt the outside hull has metal plates for your boots to cling to."

"What will you be doing, while we do all the heavy lifting?" Mercy asked with a grin.

"We're in the free float of the far skies. The cargo literally weighs nothing," Vincent retorted. "And I want a longer look at those log books."

"Aye, sir." Mercy saluted, with a flick of her fingers off the brim of her hat, and lead Leslie back down the stairwell. Once down, she moved over to the cargo doors, climbing up the wall to unclip the chains, and pushed against the top of the door until it began to open.

Once Mercy had the door open enough to climb through the top, she went through and set a clip against the door chains, and stopped to inspect the outside of the Matilda's hull. She could see several metal hoops along the sides, in line with the deck beams, but there were no metal plates to let someone walk along the hull in free float.

There were times Mercy missed Wayfarer ships. She climbed back inside, and started pushing the cargo door open a little more. She turned to Leslie as she worked. "Captain was right about the Matilda. She has anchor points aplenty for our clips, but we'll be drifting these lenses. Do we have enough rope for the big one?"

"It ain't looking like it," Leslie said, as he inspected the supply shelves near the door.

"Then we'll come back for it. Tie up a few of the smaller boxes, and we'll carry them up to the deck."

Using the Matilda's own rope, Leslie began to stack the smaller boxes together, tying them up into a neat pile that quickly ended up being taller than he was. Had they been on one of the great isles, or even under the strange pull of the Roost, the bundle of boxes would have weighed far too much for even Leslie to manage. But out here, she and Leslie managed it effortlessly, guiding the towering stack with little more than a careful shove and a watchful eye.

"We'll take this lot out the cargo bay, and up to the deck," Mercy said as she guided the boxes out along the cargo bay door, following it until Leslie was all the way out. Once he was clear, Mercy gripped the securing ropes hard, looked over to Leslie, and waited until he gave her a wave to let her know that he was clipped-in, and ready.

Mercy tightened her grip, bent her knees, and jumped.

She swung up, straight up at first, along with the boxes. But as Leslie held the other end, her leap became a swing, as she picked up speed and began to fall up at the Matilda's hull. Mercy twisted in the air, aimed her feet at the wood, and landed hard enough that she had to brace her knees to keep the boxes from hitting the ship.

With one hand, she set a clip on the nearby anchoring point, and waved at Leslie. "That went well! Ready when you are."

Leslie jumped. Mercy pulled on the boxes, holding her end just about in place as Leslie swung in the air like a child riding a swing, arcing up and over Mercy's head. As she pulled on the boxes, Leslie's swing arced back towards the ground, where he eventually landed, stopping the boxes easily with one hand as he set his clip.

They did this once more each, until Leslie reached the rails at the top of the Matilda's hull. Once there, Mercy leapt hard, and Leslie swung her and the boxes up, over the rails, and onto the deck. She stepped back and pulled, so that Leslie could climb the rails and plant his boots against the metal strips.

"I'll admit that was fun, but was that wholly necessary, Mercy?" Leslie asked.

"The safest way to move around in free-float is when you're anchored onto something. Lose something to the skies, and there's no guarantee you'll ever get it back," Mercy replied.

The patter of feet running over the metal gangplank turned Mercy around, to see Anita running towards them, nearly throwing herself into the air in her haste. "Lieutenant! There's another ship over there!" she called out, and pointed towards some of the rolling clouds between the green isle of Olencia, and the sun.

Seeing where Anita was pointing left Mercy feeling like she was suddenly standing under the pull of one of the great islands. "That's not good," she said.

"Another pirate?" Leslie asked.

Mercy shook her head. "No. Back on the Hood, if we were looking to get the drop on another ship, what direction do you think we would come from?"

"Use the sun and cloud as cover to get as close as we can," Leslie said, his smile fading as he stared up at the sky. "Piss and vinegar, lieutenant, you think it's an Olenican navy ship?"

"Unless Anita managed to mistake a cloud for a ship," Mercy said. She handed the box to Anita, and stopped at where Vincent had left he telescope. She then scanned the horizon, only needing a moment to spy what Anita had warned them about. She aimed the telescope at the ship, and looked through it.

Beneath a white canvas lift balloon, dozens of tiny figures, little more than specks, flitted about a deck that had to be wider than the length of the pirate rafts they had chased off earlier. Sticking out like the hairs on an arm, dozens of small black bars seemed to sick out of the side of the ship's hull in two rows, one one the top deck and another row below. The long flag billowing in its wake glittered in the sunlight, the white and gold colours so bright it was hard to look at for long.

White and Gold. Olencia's colours. The dozens of black bars in two neat rows along the side of the ship were cannons, on two decks.

"That's an Olencian second-rate ship of the line," Mercy said. She could feel her heartbeat reverberate in her hands and feet, and her left hand was resting on her pistol. "Eighty guns. Leslie, Anita, get that cargo inside, and come back for more. We might need to cast off in a hurry."

Mercy turned and threw herself towards the Matilda's officer cabin, favouring riding in free float rather than trying to run with her magnetic boots. She flew through the open doorway like a beer bottle in a tavern brawl, and caught herself on the cabin's ceiling beams. "Captain!" she shouted, as Vincent looked up at her. "Olencian navy ship, coming in towards us. Looks like it's riding sun and cloud cover, might think we're a pirate or scavenger."

"How long until they get here?" Vincent asked.

"Ten minutes. Fifteen if they have to struggle through some headwind."

"Let's not count on good fortune. Can we get the cargo loaded before then?"

"It'll be tight."

"Which means they'll definitely be in cannon range. I don't fancy pounding-out the dents those guns might leave, even if they don't break my window or punch through my lift balloon," Vincent said. "If I had an excuse for the Matilda being out here, I'd say we could just talk our way out of this one. But asides from Olencia, the only other place they could have been sailing for is the Roost."

"The Roost," Mercy repeated, her thoughts yanked back to just a few days prior. To an odd request given to her by an old woman, wearing a hat much like her own. "The Roost! That's it, captain."

"Explain to me why the Volante Navy is bringing custom spyglass lenses to the wayfarers," Vincent said, though there was a hint of eagerness in his dry delivery.

"Tai'ik, the Roost's keeper, she asked me to acquire a spyglass for one of her clan's captains. She said he was hoping to take the lenses into the thinnest air at the edge of the sky, to see the stars," Mercy said.

There were old stories kept by the Wayfarer's keepers, of what lay beyond the edge of the sky. Of the blue getting thinner and thinner, so thin that you could see through it into the black beyond. And legend has it some of the most daring captains of bygone years, breathing through the air in their balloons, eyes and skin seared by the harsh cold of the thin air and the undiluted sun, saw a glimpse of other suns as tiny specks, wandering in an ocean of emptiness so vast their sky was a tiny thing in comparison.

But to the Wayfarers, it was a story that begged to be proven true. And to the inhabitants of the isles both great and small, it was just a fairytale. Only here, alone with her captain, could Mercy refer to the stars as anything but a myth.

Because he had shown them to her, in a story she likely would never tell.

Vincent considered her words for only a moment, before he smiled. "Mercy, you may have just saved our lives. Get those lenses in the hold. Tell Leslie and Anita to seal the Child, and bring all the paperwork Nottle gave us for this assignment, especially our charter. The Olenican marines might barge through a shut door, but they usually have to ask permission before they break windows."

Mercy smiled, the panic of the moment washing away. Knowing Vincent had a plan helped make even terrible things palatable. "Aye, cap," she said.

"Oh, and Mercy," Vincent added, just as she was turning to the door. "Have you ever had cause to start a fire with a magnifying glass?"

"No, sir. Can't say I have," Mercy admitted. Confusion was a surprising balm for her earlier panic, and it didn't give way to a new fear. Vincent Locklear rarely said or did anything without purpose.

"I'll explain when you get back with that paperwork. But it might be best to have a backup plan," Vincent said.

For a moment, just a moment, Mercy was worried for the Olencians.