so, sailors, listen well
Brimlicker taps Shroudweaver’s shoulder, flicks a thumb at her chest and grins. He smiles wanly, trying to pick up the tune. It’s changed since last he heard it.
A gaggle of chattering girls barrels past, and he loses some of it. Another snatch drifts down after, and he starts to sing along, softly:
oh the night the bones came tumbling down
Old Luss was shining bright
the eyes of all her ladies were like cats caught by the light
the eyes of all her soldiers were a-gleam with blood and hate
and the banner of the Empire flew above its broken gate
The melody’s a little sprightlier than he remembers. Brimlicker joins him, her voice a slightly off-key counterpoint:
the night the bones came tumbling down
we danced into the dark
for weaver’s thread
and shipwright’s hand
had struck the fateful spark
Across the table, Fallon elbows Shipwright. His baritone joins in, a beat late. She winces, buries her head in her hands.
The band picks up momentum and Shroudweaver feels his heart lurch. He hadn’t noticed his hands shaking. And the heat in here. Prickling his skin like a cat’s tongue.
There’s another verse, and a chorus, but it’s all filtered through a pulse in his skull like a deep ocean wave:
’gainst Empire’s tooth and Empire’s bone
we stood in fear and fright
’til shipwright and shroudweaver
drove the dead into the night
and the children of the mountain
sang their name in bloody joy
Dropdancer’s voice raised there, the swing of a tankard in their hand, that for a moment, looks like a sword. Shroudweaver flinches.
and the lady of the towers and her darling baby boy
and the lord of all the falcons
with his bold and martial hand
brought our sailors home
to their own beloved land
There’s a taste in his mouth, like wet copper. He can see sails. Not coming home though. The sails of the fleet before the invasion. Before the shore. Canvas struck white against the sky, the blue recoiling.
