Page 124 of Ship of Smoke and Steel

Somewhere behind me, there are retching sounds. One of the youngest starts to cry.

Thankfully, we leave the mess of bodies behind as we make it onto the bridge. Only a few dead crabs line the way, and we push those over the side. The rear guard contracts as the last of the column pushes through the door. The entire population of Soliton, minus those we left behind and the bodies that line the way, is now trudging across the long, narrow bridge, hanging in the darkness above the Deeps.

“I’m telling you,” Zarun says, “I can’t ask my people to push any further. They’re barely on their feet as it is.”

“We’re all tired,” says Karakoa. “But—”

“We can’t stop here,” Meroe says.

We’re on the broad ring around the first support pylon. The entire crew doesn’t fit, of course, so they spread a little way back along the bridge. Packs watch the rear, and other bridges that lead from this circular platform off into the darkness. The officers, along with me and Meroe, are meeting on the far side of the pylon, out of easy earshot.

I can see the tiny flecks of gray light moving up and down, just under the metal skin of the pillar. Part of what the Scholar describes as a great machine, like a pipe for magic instead of hot water. When I put my hand against the metal, I imagine that I can feel the prickle of the energy on my skin. But it’s weak, here, not enough to try to contact Hagan.

“This is a fine spot,” Zarun says. “I may not be as well-read as our ‘military expert’ here, but I can see this place will be easy to defend.”

“It’s not about defense,” Meroe says. “It’s about water.”

They all look at her.

“We have maybe three days’ worth of water,” she says. “Here in the Center, there’s no way to get more.”

She’d explained the problem to me, before we left. Soliton’s crew collected water from where it gathered on the decks after rains, then strained and boiled it to make it safe to drink. Here in the Center, where there are no decks, only bridges and platforms, there’s nowhere for water to collect. Far below in the Deeps, we’d found a pool, but I knew better than to suggest we try to repeat that journey.

“So we have to reach the Garden before we run out,” Meroe goes on. “That means we have to push on as far as we can before we rest. There will be other platforms we can defend.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Zarun scowls. “We’re the ones going up against the monsters.”

“Zarun.” Karakoa puts a hand on his shoulder. “She is right. We can press on a few more hours. It will be easier, on the bridges.”

Zarun looks up at the big Akemi and sighs. The two of them turn away, and Shiara follows. The Scholar taps his cane on the deck, looking at me.

“At some point, of course,” he says, “you’ll have to direct us to the Garden.”

“When we need direction, I will.” I match his questioning stare. “For now, all we need to know is that we keep going forward.”

“As you say.” He rubs his bad leg and grimaces. “Don’t push too hard, Princess.”

When he’s gone, I lean back against the pillar. Meroe settles herself beside me, our shoulders touching.

“How are you doing?” she says.

“Keeping up, so far.” I put my hand against my bandages. “It’s not enough. I should be helping.”

“You know what Sister Cadua said,” Meroe chides. “This much walking is bad enough.”

“I know. Rot. I just feel … useless.”

“You’re not. You’re—”

“The Deepwalker.” I growl. “What good is that doing anyone?”

“They’re watching you.”

“They’re watching me limp along like an old woman.”

She turns to face me. “Isoka—”

“I know. I know.” I keep looking off into the darkness. In the distance, colored lights shift, ever so slightly, and flicker.